ripped out of its chest. The being bore a helmet fashioned like the open mouth of a screaming eagle. Lolth busied herself drawing an enchanted circle about the corpse, daubing her magic symbols with blood taken from an ivory chalice. Behind her, yet more tanar'ri appeared, dragging with them humanoid slaves, a troll, spider servitors, and treasure chests. The hillside had suddenly become crowded.
Lolth painted three final runes, then tore the heart out of a slave to activate her magic. Fastidiously cleaning herself, Morag looked away in disgust, reaching for her notebooks and weapons.
The enchanted circle flashed and flared into life about the corpse. Lolth opened bloody hands, chanted her spell, and a cold wind stirred her hair, lifting her silks about her magnificent body.
Slit-pupil eyes gleamed red as she opened her arms and trilled foul spells.
Lesser creatures fell dead from the magic. Insects, worms, and birds dropped lifeless about the hill. Lolth stood at the center of a storm of screaming energy. A ghostly image half-formed in the winds that swirled across the hill-an image that shrieked and wailed as it was dragged downward from the otherworld. Guardians tried to drag the spirit back, but Lolth flicked out with her hands and sent them spinning away into the storm.
The withered corpse arose slowly, lifted invisibly from the ground. Dead hair, long, golden, and littered with soil, whipped around in the storm's frenzy. The corpse arched, mold dropping from it as the winds raged and swirled. Lolth held her arms wide, her skin crackling pale with energy, then stepped through the circle of enchantment.
Reaching down, she wrenched open the corpse's rent mail armor and tore open its rotted ribs.
'Here is a heart for you, my dear. Fresh and new.'
The sacrificial heart was jammed into the gaping chest. Lolth hissed in pleasure as she stabbed magic down into the dead, dried flesh.
'And now here is some blood for you to pump with it.'
Demons dragged a black marsh troll forward, the huge creature raging with superhuman strength yet utterly impotent in the demons' claws. Lolth took a knife from a drow servant and stabbed the troll through its neck. Her eyes gleamed as she viciously twisted the knife in the wound, keeping it open even as the troll's flesh tried to regenerate and heal. She caught the blood in bowl after bowl, the troll growing weaker as it was drained. Finally she had the troll cast aside to heal, the monster whimpering as its blood was carried over to the floating corpse.
Lolth poured the blood into the cadaver's open chest, her spells wrenching at the air as the hissing fluid flowed. The blood soaked into the corpse's skin and bones. It drew into the withered, rotten veins. With a sizzle, the old body slowly began to fill and heal.
Finally, Lolth opened the corpse's mouth. With one hand she reached up and snatched the screaming spirit that flew about her ears. Wrestling it like a whirlwind she shoved the spirit down into the corpse and sealed it tight. With a wrench, the body heaved against invisible bonds. Arms reached, thrashing in horrific agony, and the throat roared in burning pain. Lolth stepped back, her head tilted like a little girl with one cheek resting on a bloodied finger. In the magic circle, the corpse writhed and spasmed in pure agony, until it fell hissing to the ground. The magic circle faded. The cadaver steamed with cold.
The corpse lay on its face. Slowly it opened one clawed hand and clutched at the soil of its grave. Light and happy as a lark, Lolth walked over to its side. She squatted down and dusted off the cadaver's eagle helm.
'Poor hero. Poor, poor hero..
Lolth spoke in the tongue of the Grass Elves as he squatted, her face half lifted in a smile as the undead creature wrenched itself up from the ground.
The cadaver knelt in the dust, the ice-white pits of its eyes jerking in confusion from side to side. Its last clear memories were of battle. The creature's hand clutched at the rents in its mail-at the wound that had finally ripped away its life. Lolth watched it with a smile.
'Poor hero. Yes, struck down in the dust-betrayed and alone and surrounded.'
The cadaver groped blindly in the dirt. It looked down in puzzlement, then anger as it saw nothing but dust.
'No. No sword. Stolen!' Lolth clucked in sympathy. 'Your sword was taken away! You were betrayed, surrounded, abandoned, robbed. Poor hero. No sword to make you safe. No sword to take revenge.'
Lolth reached out, and a demon threw her a sword. The goddess held the long, heavy weapon in her hands and drew it slowly from its sheath. The blade gleamed the foul red-purple color of clotted blood, smoking as she slowly bared the steel.
'Here is a sword. Yes! See?'
The corpse stared at the weapon. It hissed in lust and slowly reached out its hand. Lolth played a little, keeping the weapon just out of reach for a moment, then thrust it into the corpse's hand.
'There. I give you a new sword, a better sword. Strong, powerful! Now everything you lost can be regained.'
The undead warrior jerked suddenly upright in shock, staring around. It hissed like a serpent, crouching into fighting stance as it searched from side to side, almost as if hunting for blood.
Lolth stood unconcernedly at its side. She pulled the hair back from the side of her face as she bent down to whisper in the warrior's ear.
'Yes… lost. Weren't you a leader? Weren't you alive? That's right! You were feared. You were a fighter! You had renown!' The queen of spiders crossed behind the undead corpse, her voice purring in its ear. 'You were a great leader, but someone took your men away. He became leader in your place. He built on your fame, built on your legend. He stole your life away… and could you really have died here? Not you, not a warrior so great. Not the great swordmaster Recca.'
Lolth covered her mouth in mock surprise.
'He betrayed you! Of course! It's the only way it could have been done!' The goddess looked quite shocked. 'And after you taught him everything he knew! After you trusted him, raised him, treated him like a son!' Lolth leaned close to the monster and furrowed her brows into a frown. 'He took everything you had. Whatever should you do?'
The cadaver roared. The skull-face bared its teeth as the monstrous warrior raised its sword to the sky, screaming in mad hunger for revenge. Clustered about the edge of the magic circle, Lolth's demons, henchmen, and servants laughed in acclaim.
Smiling, Lolth arose and crooked a finger at the walking corpse.
'Well, now
Lolth walked happily toward her secretary, followed by the shambling monster. Twiddling her fingers at Morag, Lolth smiled.
'There we are! And just in time for our invasion to begin. Are there any other problems your tiny little mind can foresee?'
Morag regarded the walking corpse with a gaze rich with irony.
'Very few, Magnificence.' Morag dotted a note in her diary with her pen. 'Incidentally, Magnificence, the creature lacks a left foot and a sword hand.'
Lolth whipped about and stared. Sure enough, the corpse had been buried by a dedicated soldier. Its sword hand and one foot had been cut off, then presumably burned and powdered to prevent the enemy from animating it as a walking skeleton. The missing pieces were not regenerating from the troll's blood inside the cadaver. Lolth felt Morag's smug smile and seethed, flexing her blood-sticky fingers in annoyance.
'It doesn't matter!' Lolth turned and walked away. 'It will find new limbs on its own!'
'Yes, Magnificence. Superb foresight, Magnificence.'
'He will adapt, Morag, That is the beauty of the spell.'
'Yes, Magnificence. Of course.'
6
