Resurrection

When he finished and the spell took effect, Nauzhror drew in a sharp breath.

"Lolth's eight legs," Prath swore, and Gromph forgave him the heretical oath.

Layer upon layer of protective wards sheathed the structure of the house, the bridge, and the moat. More even than Gromph had expected. Gromph's divination translated the wards as a network of glowing lines, a matrix of veins that ran along and within the stone of the fortress,

pulsing with power. The magical energy flowing through the walls, floors, and ceilings of House

Agrach Dyrr nearly matched that of Gromph's own chambers. The lichdrow and the Dyrr priestesses had been busy over the centuries.

Some of the wards glowed ochre and viridian, some a deep blue, and some glowed a hot crimson. Most of them were designed to prevent physical entry, to bolster the structural strength of the House, or to dampen or negate magical effects, but many were designed to prevent scrying within the walls. It was those that Gromph was most interested in, at least at the moment.

Interspersed among all of the various types of wards were a series of spell traps, killing spells,

and alarms that would be triggered by the disruption of a ward.

"One step at a time," Gromph said, both to himself and his undermages.

He whispered a series of arcane words and modified his divination slightly so that it showed him only the glowing blue lines of the anti-scrying wards. They made a complex network that surrounded the fortress. Various sub-networks covered only certain buildings or rooms within buildings.

"It's as fine as a smallfish fisherman's net," Prath observed.

"True," said Nauzhror. "There are alarms, but I see no killing spell traps set amongst the scrying wards."

"Nor do I," said Gromph and was pleased.

The spell traps set in the anti-scrying wards that surrounded his own offices, if triggered,

would trap the soul of the would-be scryer or drive him mad. House Agrach Dyrr had not been as thorough.

Gromph took a long moment to study the structure of the wards, searching for a backdoor.

Unfortunately, he saw none. He settled in for a long assault.

He took a calming breath and said, "Let us begin."

The Scourged Legion was in full retreat, Nimor saw. Already it had entirely withdrawn from the fungus fields of the Donigarten, and only a token force held the tunnels to the east of the city.

Within those tunnels, Shobalar spider cavalry prowled and infantry from House Barrison

Del'Armgo and House Hunzrin massed.

Invisible once more, and also using the shadows and darkness as cover, Nimor avoided detection by the drow forces as he moved through their lines. He could see they were preparing for a counterattack against the tanarukks. He was tempted to kill a few as he passed, just out of spite, but decided against it. His business with the Menzoberranyr was finished.

The counterattack that the drow were so carefully planning likely would find no enemies.

Before Narbondel climbed another hour, the Scourged Legion would have vanished into the

Underdark and be scuttling its way back to the warrens under Hellgate Keep. The war-weary drow were unlikely to pursue, Nimor thought, especially with the duergar still battling at Tier

Breche. Nimor found it ironic and amusing that Vhok had shown more effectiveness in retreat than he had in attack.

After flying over and through the drow lines, Nimor moved through a long series of mostly empty tunnels, encountering only an occasional stealthy drow scout. To judge from the marks in the stone, much of the combat between the Scourged Legion and the Menzoberranyr had occurred within those tunnels. The passage of many hobnailed boots had scored the floor; blood stained the stone here and there; severed body parts and spider carcasses dotted a few of the rooms; broken weapons, shields, and links of armor littered the floors; and burn marks from magical energies blackened walls.

Nimor saw no actual bodies until. .

A winding, narrow, tertiary tunnel opened onto a large cavern in which lay the bloody corpses of forty or so duergar footmen. They looked as though they had formed against the far, dead-end wall and fought to the last. Broken weapons, dented armor, and cloven shields littered the cavern's floor. Blood slicked the floor, still tacky to the touch. The duergar had been hacked to bits-the work of tanarukk axes and swords, not elegant drow blades.

"Well done, Kaanyr," Nimor said.

It seemed that Vhok, like Nimor, had decided to clean up his duergar association before retreating. It seemed that Vhok no more left ends untied than did Nimor.

Vhok had planned his escape well. He would flee the siege of Menzoberranzan with hardly a scratch, and if it mattered, scavengers would strip the cavern clean of duergar bodies within a tenday. Meat, dead or alive, never went unconsumed in the Underdark. No evidence of Kaanyr's betrayal of the duergar would be found by anyone but Nimor.

Nimor left the dead duergar behind and continued his invisible flight through the caverns.