Resurrection

The cavern was wide enough to accommodate the four of them walking abreast, and they did exactly that. None wanted to show their backs to the others.

Here and there, smaller tunnels branched off of the main corridor and extended away into the darkness. Pharaun wondered if all of Lolth's plane was hollowed out with tunnels, possessed of an Underdark of its own. He thought they might have escaped the chwidencha and the Teeming only to find themselves facing something worse in the depths.

Nothing for it now, he thought, but he kept his hearing attuned for sound from ahead.

He heard nothing other than Jeggred's respiration and the scrape of their boots over the rock.

The draegloth shouldered aside any carcasses in their way, but they encountered nothing alive.

With the chwidencha pack on the surface, it appeared that at least the main horizontal tunnel was empty.

After a short time, they came to another roughly round chamber, one littered with more desiccated spider husks and the hollowed out molt shells of the chwidencha. The shells, each as thin as fine parchment, looked like dozens of chwidencha ghosts. Jeggred clutched one of them by its leg, and the entire shell crumbled away in his grasp.

A few small pools of green acid dotted the chamber and bubbled smoke and stink into the air.

It vented through cracks in the low ceiling. A natural archway in the far side of the chamber opened onto another large tunnel.

"Perhaps here, Mistress?" Pharaun ventured. "We are not vulnerable to attack from behind"-at least not from the chwidencha, he thought-"and can set a watch in the tunnel ahead. A rest would allow me time to study my spellbooks and replace those spells I've cast."

He knew that it would also allow the priestesses, after a brief Reverie, to refresh their own spells from Lolth. He could use the benefit of one or two of Quenthel's healing spells.

Quenthel eyed him with cool disdain, obviously displeased that he had offered yet another

"suggestion." Still, she said, "Here is as good a place as any. We will eat, rest, and pray to Lolth."

Hearing no protests, Pharaun found a choice rock and collapsed atop it.

"Jeggred will take the first watch," Quenthel said.

The draegloth, crumbling yet another chwidencha molt, looked to Danifae, who nodded.

"Very well," Jeggred said to Quenthel and stalked across the chamber to take a position at the mouth of the tunnel before them.

Quenthel watched him go with anger in her eyes. When he seemed situated, she said, "Not there, nephew. Up the tunnel a ways. It does me no good to learn of danger after it is already upon us."

Jeggred offered her an irritated growl and looked again to Danifae. The former battle-captive hesitated.

"Are you concerned to be alone with me?" Quenthel asked Danifae, letting contempt drip from her tone.

Danifae looked at Quenthel with a challenge in her startling gray eyes. "I have yet to see a reason why I should be," she replied.

Quenthel smiled. Still holding Danifae's attention, she waved dismissively at Jeggred and said, "Be off, nephew."

Jeggred held his ground until Danifae gestured him up the tunnel with a flick of her fingers.

"I will not be far," Jeggred warned, for the benefit of everyone.

Even after the draegloth had prowled up the tunnel, Quenthel continued to stare at Danifae.

The former battle-captive studiously ignored Quenthel, examined her wounds, shook out her gear, and stripped down to a tight-fitting tunic and breeches. Scratches, cuts, and bruises from the battle marred her skin but did nothing to diminish her attractiveness.

Pharaun again was struck by the sheer physicality of the woman. Men had fought and died for things much less beautiful than Danifae's form.

It was unfortunate she would have to die. Hopefully, soon.

After a time, Quenthel too began to tend to her gear while her serpents eyed Danifae. Pharaun took that as a truce and settled in himself.

Each of the three rested as far from the others as the chamber allowed, their backs pressed against the web-covered tunnel wall. They ate in silence from the stores Valas Hune had procured for them long ago and brooded in silence amongst the chwidencha molts.

To occupy himself, Pharaun inventoried and organized his spell components in the many pockets of his piwafwi. Afterward he took one of his traveling spellbooks from the extradimensional space contained in his pack and replaced the spells he had cast by committing to memory the arcane words to new spells. Thinking that he might have to use his magic against

Jeggred and Danifae, he chose his spells with care.

By the time he had finished, both priestesses had closed their eyes and entered Reverie.

Pharaun assumed that both had surreptitiously cast alarm spells around them to warn of anyone approaching too near. He activated the power of his Sorcere ring and saw the soft red glow of a ward spell in the area around both priestesses. He smiled.

For creatures of chaos, he thought, drow certainly were predictable.