Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [131]
Uncertainty flickered in the leader's eyes. "We were told to meet Gromph's forces here."
"Zombies," Liriel said with disdain. "So like my dear father, to use expendable troops." Her gaze swept the battle-ready warriors, and she lifted one eyebrow pointedly.
"We are Matron Triel's," the leader said stiffly, "and as loyal to her as any zombie to its master."
"I don't doubt Gromph's zombies. He only purchases the best of anything, but they have a commander, yes? A high priestess?"
The drow nodded cautiously. "A high priestess of Lolth?" Liriel persisted.
"Who but?" the male said, obviously puzzled by this line of reasoning.
She let out a small, scornful chuckle. "You've heard the stories of Vhaerun, the Masked God. No male in Menzoberranzan hasn't heard them, and many dream that the rumors might be true. Some dare to do more than dream," she said meaningfully.
"We are faithful servants of Matron Triel and followers of the Spider Queen!" the soldier protested.
Liriel nodded crisply. "Good. Then you will stand with me against Shakti Hunzrin, traitor priestess to Vhaerun."
"This is not possible!"
"Then why does she travel with Gorlist, the leader of a band of drow outcasts known as the Dragon's Hoard? They are known followers of Vhaerun who make their living trading on the surface, slaving and stealing."
The drow snapped a look back at his second in command.
"I have heard of this band," the warrior replied. "Their name is sometimes spoken when the stories of Vhaerun are told."
Drow steel flashed, and the speaker's head tipped slowly to one side. The leader turned back to Liriel. "He should not have listened to such tales," he said grimly, "but before we seek out these traitors, perhaps you would be good enough to explain the strange company that you keep."
"These two?" Liriel said dismissively, switching to Common and flicking one hand toward the watchful Rashemi. "They are my slaves."
A howl of protest burst from Petyar. Fyodor slammed one fist into the boy's gut, and the cry ended in a wheezing gasp. "A thousand pardons, princess," he murmured. Fyodor spoke to Liriel, but his eyes never moved from the young man's face. "This one does not yet know when to speak and when to keep silent."
"You have dealt with him properly," Liriel said. "Tell these warriors what we will face."
Fyodor gave a concise, accurate field report.
When he was finished, the drow commander shook his head. "Too many."
"We have a wizard with us," the Rashemi pointed out.
"They have a priestess," the drow shot back, "and apparently their priestess can call upon two gods. We do not know what magic this Masked Lord may grant!"
"We Rashemi also have magic," Petyar said stoutly. "There are no male witches among us, but those men who have the gift craft wondrous magical items, powerful artifacts that any warrior can wield in battle!"
Liriel gritted her teeth and glared at the boy. Where drow was concerned, information like this was the equivalent of throwing blood in shark-infested water!
"I have seen no magic of consequence in this land," she said flatly. "Hold your lying tongue, boy, or I will cut it into three strips and braid the pieces. You," she said to Fyodor. "If he speaks again, see to it."
She turned back to the drow warriors. "You will wait here and engage in battle any drow soldiers, alive or dead, who come through that tunnel," she said, pointing. "Leave none alive."
The drow snapped a quick salute, and Liriel waved Petyar toward the tunnel. As soon as they were beyond the range of hearing, she seized the hem of the boy's vest and pulled him to a stop. "Is there another way out? A way that doesn't go through the cavern?"
Petyar spat at her boots. "So you can escape now and abandon my comrades?"
Fyodor backhanded the boy across the face. "Think before you speak, fool!" he said softly, his voice more angry than Liriel had ever heard it. "You will lead the others to the surface, and Liriel and I will draw the drow warriors and their zombies to fight this new force."