Free Resurrection by Paul S. Kemp Page A

struggled-large prey. He could not make out their forms because they were covered entirely in webs. The prey nearest him, perhaps agitated by his presence, wriggled, struggled, and some of the web strands parted to reveal an open eye.

    Aliisza's sending had hit Kaanyr Vhok like a lightning bolt. The words still bounced around his head.
    Lolth welcomes home the dead. She lives.
    Then nothing more. Kaanyr had expected Aliisza to return to him, but she had not, nor had she communicated with him since. He found her behavior surprising.
    For a moment he had convinced himself that the alu-fiend was lying about Lolth's return, but he knew he was deceiving himself. He had heard no falsehood in her mental voice, and he knew her well enough that he would have been aware had she been telling a lie. She could have been mistaken, so he would confirm her missive, but in his core he knew it to be true. Soon, he and his men would be facing not only Menzoberranzan's soldiers and wizards, but also its priestesses of Lolth. Lots of them.
    He had warned Nimor already of Lolth's return, though the drow had not so much as acknowledged the sending.
    The ungrateful ass, Kaanyr thought.
    According to Kaanyr's spies, Nimor had fled the battle with the Archmage of Menzoberranzan, leaving the lichdrow Dyrr to face the Baenre wizard alone. Details were few, but it appeared that the Baenre wizard had at last prevailed. Apparently, the city's bazaar had been leveled and many Menzoberranyr destroyed or petrified.
    At least the lichdrow had done something worthwhile, Kaanyr thought.
    Kaanyr evaluated his situation. First, the lichdrow was destroyed and House Agrach Dyrr was closed up and under siege. Second, Nimor Imphraezl had fled. Third, and most importantly, the Spider Queen lived and her priestesses could again cast spells.
    The evaluation allowed only one conclusion, and the conclusion settled over him like a shroud.
    He had lost the battle for Menzoberranzan.
    The realization sat heavily on him. He'd had to turn it around again and again in his mind before he came to accept it.
    Sitting on a luxuriously upholstered divan in the magical tent that served as his headquarters, he held a goblet of brandy to his lips and drank. He barely tasted it, though he ordinarily savored its sweetness. He sighed, set the goblet on a nearby table, and sagged back into the cushions of the divan.
    He had been so tantalizingly close to victory. So close!
    His Scourged Legion had fought well and hard in the tunnels along Menzoberranzan's southeastern border, and in the Donigarten, amidst the dung-fed forests of fungi. He had lost five score of his tanarukks but killed half again that many drow, along with several score of their fighting spiders and a drider or two. For a time, it had appeared that his tanarukks would force their way through the drow lines, penetrate all the way to the great mansions perched on Qu'ellarz'orl, and lay siege to House Baenre itself.
    But then he had received Aliisza's sending.
    He could not win the battle; he knew that. All that was left was to ensure that he did not lose his hide, and that would require quick action. He had no doubt that the drow and their priestesses were planning counterattacks even then.
    Fortunately, Kaanyr Vhok had a plan. He would use Horgar and the duergar to cover the retreat of his Scoured Legion. The stinking, incompetent little waddlers had done nothing in the battle for the city other than hide behind siege walls and lob their stonefire bombs at Tier Breche. If the duergar forces actually had gained and held even a single defended tunnel, Kaanyr would be shocked.
    At least now they will serve a purpose, thought the cambion. They will die so that I will live.
    He took up his goblet and offered a mock toast.
    My gratitude, Horgar, you little vermin, he thought. May you find an ugly death, since you were so ugly in life.
    He drained the glass and smiled. Only then did his mind turn again to Aliisza.
    Did her silence