jagged spines of rock below.
A flush of excitement tingled the cleric-beast’s body as the scent of blood reached his nostrils. He felt the presence of the god of war-Zaltec was near.’ Eagerly Hoxitl turned his
thoughts to the trail and the victims ahead.
“Advance!” howled the manned beast. Mindless of the blood spattering his feet, Hoxitl started through the pass.
Behind him, his grumbling file of monsters started to follow.
Through the long subterranean night, the driders crept onward, gradually leaving the flaming seas of lava behind. No path upward greeted them, but this was satisfactory to the corrupted creatures of the drow. As dark elves, they had shunned the sun; now, as driders, they had little desire to walk the surface.
Yet only on the surface, sensed Darien, could they begin to wreak their vengeance. The queen of the driders now, she led her creatures eastward, thirsting for the blood of her enemies, desperately craving the chance to attack. Her albino skin, which had allowed her to conceal her drow nature among the humans, now set her apart from the black driders. Yet the fire that drove her to lead them came from within, blazing in hatred and power, giving her the strength to master her kin,
Her bitterness and hatred encompassed all the world and beyond, even including the dark form of Lolth, goddess of the drow. Yet, though she hated all things, she feared Lolth. Lolth had wounded her too profoundly, taking her lithe, female body and corrupting it into this malformed monstrosity, this hideous creature! And because of this, she feared Lolth.
She knew that the lime for vengeance must wait for now until the driders recovered their strength. Allies-an army of them- would-be necessary before the humans could be made to suffer the full wrath of the spider-beasts. She could not know that Lolth herself propelled her toward these allies.
Darien led her followers to the east, far from the volcanic reaches below central Maztica. Through great schisms in the limestone subsurface of the world they crept, finally reaching the jungled stretches of Payit. Always they traveled underground. Here great pools of water blocked their passage, but they plunged ahead, swimming for hours.
Once a channel of brine rose around them, and here she turned southward, for she knew that they approached the sea. Ever onward they pressed, until the dank, impenetrable recesses of the Far Payit jungle lurked above them. Now she was guided by a deep, primordial memory, a lingering awareness of a presence that the driders could employ for their own ends. Here, she sensed, they would find the tools of their vengeance, awaiting only her masterful command.
Darien did not sense the hand of Lolth in her discovery She did not know that, once again, she had become a tool of that hateful goddess. Instead, she only knew that she herself burned with hatred, and perhaps now she discovered the means to act upon that malevolence.
They came upon the nest in a great, moss-draped cavern, far below the steaming jungles. All around her were the eggs, and the dormant forms of the giant ants. Thousands of them, her army, cowered here and awaited her command.
A myriad of dark antennae flicked upward as the driders entered through a narrow, connecting cavern. The soldiers rose to meet her. but Darien raised a hand and twisted it before her, employing the magic that had so empowered her as a drow. It did no less for the drider.
The soldiers, antennae quivering with tension, stood aside as the pale, spider-shaped woman-thing crept past. The red ants stiffened and jerked with conflicting compulsions, but the might of the drider held them at bay. Holding her torso erect, Darien at last confronted the queen.
The great insect, her belly bloated with eggs, sensed her doom in that moment. Glittering, multifaceted eyes faced the drider as Darien again raised a hand.
This time she barked a harsh command, and power flew from her lips, wrapping the queen in a hazy glow of blue sparks. For long moments, that arcane might surged, and the great form before her twisted in unspeakable agony. The segments of the queen’s body bent and creaked, spilling eggs and ichor throughout the nest, until at last the magic tore her to pieces.
The great ants looked impassively at their queen’s gory remains. Again antennae twitched along huge, dark columns of soldiers. Hundreds and hundreds of the creatures, each nearly as large as the driders themselves, observed the killing and saw the spidery creature that now claimed them. Darien raised a hand, and they obediently followed her forward and upward.
She had found her army, and now the driders’ vengeance could begin.
Erixitl looked at Halloran. She said nothing, but the joy radiating from her face was a great tonic for him. All around them the camp of the Mazticans was breaking up as the refugees once again started their southward trek.
He looked upward, at the soaring eagle, and shook his head in wonder at the miracle that had apparently befallen him.
“You told me all along Poshtli was alive,” Hal admitted. “I shouldn’t have doubted your faith.”
“My faith.” Erix smiled wryly. “My faith in Poshtli was one thing; why can’t I find the same faith in Qotal?” She looked at the bright cloak that swung from her shoulders, touching it with her long brown fingers. “Perhaps there is a lesson for me in the return of our friend. Perhaps if I showed the same belief in the god who has chosen me…” She did not conclude the thought.
“Something must have brought him out of that mountain alive,” Hal observed. “What’s more likely than the power of Qotal?”
She looked at him seriously. “You’re right, you know. I have to find the hope and the strength to keep searching. Poshtli could be the sign that brings me to that point. After all these days of running and fleeing, maybe there is a goal for us and for our child.”
“The eagle will show us the way,” said Hal, going to Erix and taking her hands. “But after all this is done, we’ll go where we please. We won’t run from anything, and we won’t chase anything-just go and live where we want to.”
She leaned against him and pulled his body close to hers. The slight roundness of her belly was a firm bond between them. “Where should we go, then?” she asked. “Where do you want to go?”
Hal was silent for a moment. “Someday I’d like to go back to the Sword Coast-with you. Would like to see my world?”
“I… don’t know,” she replied honestly. “It frightens me, the thought of going so far away So much frightens me now!” He could hear her voice tighten and could feel the tension in her body
He held her for a while, not speaking, and they stood together among the departing folk. His arms wrapped and protected her, and in the warmth of his embrace, once again she grew strong.
Thousands of miles away, eastward across the Trackless Sea, the sun warmed a long coastline. Many nations thrived here, trading and building and warring among themselves. These lands, places with names such as Calimshan, Amn, Waterdeep, Tethyr, Moonshae, and the rest, had developed a certain smugness over the centuries.
Were they not the highest centers of culture and learning-indeed, of civilization itself-to be found among the Realms? True, the recent advances of nomadic horsemen, raging from the great central steppe, might give this smugness a short jolt. And of course the great oriental nations of Kara-Tur offered certain amenities not to be found here on the Sword Coast…
But still, the center of everything that mattered couldn’t be declared to be elsewhere, at least not by any rational individual.
The serene merchant princes of the Council of Amn considered themselves to be very rational indeed. Masters of all within their borders and influential over important matters without, the six anonymous men and women who ruled the mighty southern kingdom expected obedience and performance from those in their service.
Amn, a nation of traders, shippers, buyers, and sellers, controlled its empire not by the might of its swords nor the range of its catapults, but by the power of its gold. Governed by the six princes, all of whom kept their
