“Why are you here?” he asked Entreri.
“I came with Drizzt.”
“I understand that much, but why are you here?” Regis asked again.
Entreri snorted. “You know how they say that when you get older, you get wiser?”
“Yes.”
“They’re wrong.”
Regis handed Icingdeath to Entreri, who slid it into the sheath on Drizzt’s right hip.
“We have to get out of here,” the assassin said.
“But Wulfgar’s in there,” Regis replied, pointing to the mirror.
“I know, but I don’t think we can take it with us.”
“But …” Regis searched for some answer. “If something goes into the mirror, something else comes out.”
“What comes out?”
“The fire-breathing hydra-dragon thing came out.”
“Lovely.”
“I don’t know how it works,” Regis admitted. “But I heard the demon tell the drow—”
“The drow?”
“There are dark elves down here—priestesses from Menzoberranzan, I think.”
Entreri had been told as much back at Chalmer’s house, but he was hoping against hope that Regis meant a drow, a single priestess, Yvonnel. That didn’t seem to be the case.
“She said that the mirror was full,” Regis explained, “of prisoners, I assume, and so whenever another is entrapped, it will throw one out.”
Artemis Entreri rubbed his face and sighed. “And Wulfgar is in there?”
Regis nodded.
“You are certain?”
The halfling hesitated for just a heartbeat, then nodded again.
“Stay here with Drizzt,” Entreri ordered. “Make him comfortable.”
“Where are you going?”
Entreri moved to the door and peered out. With a look back at Regis and Drizzt, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
THE GOBLINS CHATTERED about what they should do with this gift that had fallen through their door, this helpless woman.
It didn’t matter, though, because they didn’t understand.
The first to realize the error was the goblin with the knife nearest the woman, holding her by the hand and waiting for confirmation from its friends that it should hurt her or kill her.
Malcanthet had come to understand that she would not easily, or quickly, regain control of frantic Concettina’s corporeal form. The human understood the pain, now, and the horror of being dispossessed from her own body, of being invaded by another being.
Malcanthet accepted that reality, because she didn’t need Concettina’s form any longer, not to inhabit it, anyway.
So the demon exited, her soul flying free for just a moment before sweeping into the body of the unsuspecting goblin.
The creature leaped up and fell back, confused. It was not a very smart creature, nor strong of will, and Malcanthet overwhelmed it, terrorizing, scaring, striking mentally.
The meager creature never had a chance, and Malcanthet had control almost immediately, enough so to break the corporeal bonds of the goblin form, to take that flesh and bone and reshape it, basking in the pain as bones twisted and broke, and grew.
Then two women were in the room, a sobbing and broken Concettina and a taller and more solid, black-haired woman, who grinned wickedly as horns sprouted atop her forehead, and as her backbone crackled, sprouting wings that unfolded, tearing away the ragged clothing the goblin had been wearing.
The other goblins fell all over each other trying to get back from the mighty fiend.
Malcanthet pulled her whip from Concettina and cracked it in front of the goblins—and how they ran!
The succubus laughed. She reached down and grabbed up Concettina by the hair, hoisting her with frightening ease. She plucked her rings roughly from the woman’s hand and pulled free her necklace, then took back her favorite dress.
She roughly threw the now-naked Queen of Damara back to the floor.
“You are fortunate that I may need you in the coming days,” she said above Concettina’s sobs.
Malcanthet used her foot to spin the broken woman around, back at the door. “Crawl,” she ordered.
Concettina sobbed.
Malcanthet grabbed her by the hair and yanked her forward. “Crawl, or I will drag you.”
Poor Concettina, barely reoriented back in her body, agonized from the battle with the demonic intruder and the wounds of the fight Malcanthet had waged, pushed herself up to her hands and knees, wobbling.
The whip cracked in the air, the thunderous report shaking the poor, terrified woman.
Out into the hall they went, Malcanthet taunting Concettina continually, threatening her, telling her all the things she would do to the woman once she didn’t need her anymore.
They had gone a long way from Malcanthet’s chambers in their joined, dizzying run, but after a moment, Malcanthet recognized the area and knew the way to the room of the spriggan leaders. So she guided Concettina on, and like an old and weary dog, Concettina crawled.
Her hands bled, the stones ground her poor knees, but still she crawled.
She crawled and she cried, and around the corner came several other women: dark elves, horrible drow.
“What is happening?” Charri Hunzrin asked, glancing from the true form of Malcanthet to the bloody and beaten woman in front of her.
“You tell me,” the demon demanded.
“Intruders have come to Smeltergard,” Charri explained. “And more are on the way. You should be gone from this place. Long gone, for House Baenre is aware of your flight to the World Above, and they are not pleased.”
The Succubus Queen scoffed. “Children of Lolth, do not presume to tell me what to do,” she warned.
“They speak wisely,” came another voice from behind the Hunzrin contingent, and a fifth drow woman stepped into view. “I am Yvonnel … Baenre,” she said. “The daughter of Archmage Gromph.”
“Then you should thank me,” Malcanthet retorted, hardly seeming impressed or fearful. “For by my hand is Lolth’s most hated heretic destroyed.”
Malcanthet smiled when she noted the newcomer’s slight wince.
“You should leave,” Yvonnel said evenly. “Be far gone.”
“Do you presume to order me about, child of Lolth?”
“It is a prudent warning,” Yvonnel replied, her voice growing stronger. “Your presence here is not unknown, to House Baenre and to powerful enemies you have made in this land. An army approaches, and with mighty foes among its ranks.”
“The pathetic king?” Malcanthet asked. “Good, I wish to see him dead.” She kicked Concettina, just because, tossing the woman to the side of the passageway to crash against the wall where she groaned and cried. Then Malcanthet stepped over and grabbed her up roughly, with frightening strength, and slammed her down on the floor in front of her.
“And others,” Yvonnel said. “Others have noticed much about your presence as well. Do you know me, Malcanthet? I am Yvonnel, who led Menzoberranzan to the demise of Demogorgon.”
Malcanthet hissed and lifted her whip arm.
“I came to find you, to offer you fair warning,” Yvonnel retorted and didn’t back away.
“You think to destroy me?”
Yvonnel shook her head and shrugged. “You know the games we all play,” she explained. “We choose our sides among constant war.”
“And you choose against me?” asked the incredulous succubus.
“In a war against him?” Yvonnel asked, her tone equally incredulous, and she turned and led the succubus’s gaze down the hall beyond her to a far corner where smoke billowed and a tall, black-skinned, demonic humanoid appeared, all smoke and haze and fire, and with a huge wavy sword.
Malcanthet’s eyes went wide. “Graz’zt,” she breathed.
Yvonnel smiled. The Hunzrins fell aside, clearing the way for the possibly titanic fight.
“You have made a great enemy this day!” Malcanthet warned Yvonnel. With a f
eral growl, the succubus lifted her foot and crushed it down upon poor Concettina, grinding her against the stone.
“Look over your shoulder forevermore!” Malcanthet yelled, but she didn’t crack her whip at Yvonnel, and didn’t charge. She wanted no part of Graz’zt.
Malcanthet spun and cast a spell, splitting the very air open wide as if it were a door, and through it she went, disappearing from view.
Back to the Abyss, Yvonnel knew, and she breathed a great sigh of relief.
“Heal her!” she told Charri Hunzrin, pointing to Concettina.
The priestess balked.
“We will need her, you idiot!” Yvonnel scolded. “Heal her! And you, go and get that idiot spriggan out of my sight before I reduce him to ash,” she ordered Denderida, who rushed off to see to Komtoddy.
Yvonnel rubbed her face and tried to sort out her next move. Drizzt was dead, so said Malcanthet, and the young woman could hardly believe the great pain that news had brought upon her.
“Take me to Drizzt,” she said softly, to Charri Hunzrin, though the priestess was deep into spellcasting and clearly had not heard her.
REGIS STARTED WITH fear when the door burst open and a goblin came stumbling through. He relaxed almost immediately, though, for right behind the little wretch was Entreri, sword drawn.
The assassin shut the door, took the goblin by the scruff of its neck, and fast-walked it to the mirror, which was covered by a cloak. He nodded to Regis.
“Are you sure?” the halfling asked. “There are bad things …”
“Do you want to get out of here, or don’t you?”
Regis put down what he was holding, an onyx panther figurine. He had been contemplating recalling Guenhwyvar to see if the Astral Plane had helped heal the damage wrought by the demon’s whip, but held off.
“If the journey home helped Guen, perhaps we can get her to take Drizzt with her back there,” he explained.
“I doubt it.”
“We have to try!” Regis moved over to the other side of the demonic mirror, stepping off to the side and behind it so he didn’t accidentally look in.
“We have to try everything,” Entreri agreed, and he, too, moved behind the mirror’s edge, though he kept his sword upon his prisoner.
“Tell me what you see,” he ordered the goblin, and Regis pulled the cloak aside.
The goblin looked at Entreri, glanced over at Regis, then seemed transfixed by its own image in the looking glass.
Then it was stretched, pulled into the mirror, caught by the magic, and so another prisoner came forth, materializing in front of the glass.
A lizard.
A big blue lizard, longer than ten of Wulfgar’s strides, with a dozen legs and curving horns and a giant crocodilian head. It hissed, the sizzle of its voice echoing off the chamber’s walls. Without looking into the mirror, it leaped to the stalagmite hearth and rushed upward with frightening speed, twelve legs scrambling as it ran a circuitous route to the room’s high ceiling.
Regis and Entreri, of course, fell back.
“What in the Nine Hells is that?” Regis cried.
“Get me the bow!” Entreri yelled at him.
Reptilian eyes stared down at him. The great crocodile maw snapped open and a burst of lightning shot forth, barely missing the running halfling and making the whole room leap under the concussion of the explosion.
“Forget the bow!” Entreri yelled, scrambling the other way for cover. Creatures with such breath weapons—dragons, though this was no dragon Entreri had ever seen!—were rarely affected by that which they breathe, and Drizzt’s bow shot arrows of lightning.
“I will kill you!” the lizard yelled.
“It can talk?” both Regis and Entreri said together.
“How dare you put me in that looking glass?” the lizard cried, and it came rushing down the stalagmite with terrifying, dizzying speed, hitting the floor in a run for Regis, who dived into the pool. It spun with startling agility for a creature of that size, and caught Entreri just before he got to the room’s door.
“We didn’t put you in the mirror!” Entreri gasped, rolling his weapons in his hands—a sword and dagger that seemed feeble indeed next to the clear power and size of this monstrosity. “We let you out!”
The lizard hissed in his face. “Why?”
“We seek our friend, who is also in that mirror,” Entreri explained. “Captured by a demon succubus.”
The lizard backed off a bit. “Yes,” it hissed, extending the word for many heartbeats. “I remember her now.”
The enormous crocodile head nodded—such a strange sight.
“Where is she?”
Entreri nodded at the door. “Somewhere out there, in the caves.”
“Caves?”
“Tunnels,” he blurted. “Many. Do you mean to kill her? We can help …”
“I will stay as far away from that creature as I can!” the lizard promised, and it moved to the door, pulled it open cautiously, and peered out.
“Who are you?” Entreri asked. “What are you? I have never seen such a dragon.”
The lizard scoffed—and who had ever seen a lizard scoff?—and slipped out the door.
Entreri ran to the spot and saw the creature disappearing around a corner far ahead, moving fast. He fell back into the room and closed the door, falling against it with a profound sigh of relief.
“What was that?” Regis asked a few moments later, climbing out of the pool.
“Good to know that when the fight begins, I can count on you,” Entreri said dryly.
“You thought to fight that?” Regis replied, and the assassin could only shrug. If he had been on the other side of the room, he would have been under the water faster than Regis.
Entreri almost turned his head to the left, to look directly into the room. “Cover the mirror,” he said to Regis, and he put his hand over his eyes to make sure he didn’t slip up.
“The creature was too smart to look back into the glass,” he said. “So we are left right back where we began.”
He rolled around and opened the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Same place I went last time,” Entreri answered.
“You can’t be serious!” said the halfling, “You mean to do this again?”
“Do you want your friend back or don’t you?” And he left the room.
“STOP SNIVELING,” CHARRI Hunzrin said to Concettina.
The woman, healed by the drow priestess, stood trembling and crying, overwhelmed and horrified.
“Leave her alone,” Yvonnel scolded. She cast a spell, summoning a small chest to her side, and pulled it open revealing many clothes. Rummaging quickly, she tossed a robe to the naked human, and said, “You are safe now.”
Charri Hunzrin gave a slight but noticeable growl of disapproval.
“Take me to Malcanthet’s chamber,” Yvonnel ordered Charri.
Concettina gasped and fell back, the mere name of her possessor stealing her strength.
“The demon is gone and not to return,” Yvonnel told her. “It has found another body, and you are safe.”
Charri Hunzrin started past Yvonnel, her expression showing that she was not pleased by these events.
“No, wait,” Yvonnel reconsidered. “You, all of you of House Hunzrin, are done here. Leave this place now, with all speed.”
“Gladly,” said Charri.
Yvonnel noted Denderida, who was far more worldly and understanding of the truth of Yvonnel Baenre than the First Priestess of House Hunzrin, wincing at Charri’s attitude, her body language warning Charri to contain her aggressiveness.
“Down the foothills to the south of the Damaran exit is a road,” Yvonnel said evenly, threateningly, and she moved a bit closer and locked Charri’s eyes with her own. “That road will take you to a small hamlet. In the house of Chalmers, you will find a dwarf, Pikel Bouldershoulder by name. He is gravely ill, stung by the whip of Malcanthet.”
She paused, noting hopefu
l recognition on the face of Concettina.
“Heal him,” Yvonnel ordered.
“A dwarf?”
“If he dies, and I learned that he died after your arrival and failure, then return home to Matron Mother Shakti and assure her that her House will soon face the wrath of Baenre,” Yvonnel calmly explained. “In full.”
Denderida winced again, Charri’s bluster disappeared.
“You—”
“Shut up,” Yvonnel interrupted. “Get out of this place and heal the dwarf.”
Charri Hunzrin stood as if slapped, but Denderida came up quickly and grabbed her by the arm, tugging her aside and back up the tunnel.
Komtoddy turned to follow.
“Not you,” Yvonnel told her demon impersonator. “You will take me to Malcanthet’s chambers, at once!”
The Graz’zt lookalike clumsily rushed to comply.
ENTRERI SHOVED THE goblin ahead of him, in front of the cloaked mirror.
“Are you sure?” Regis asked.
“Get me the bow,” Entreri replied.
Regis moved over to Drizzt’s limp form and fumbled with the belt buckle until Taulmaril came into his hand. He grabbed up the magical quiver and brought both to Entreri.
On a nod from the assassin, Regis brought his rapier tip in at the goblin’s throat, holding the creature helpless while Entreri switched weapons and set an arrow.
“The demon said there are worse things in there than the hydra,” Regis warned again as he took his position by the side of the mirror.
“We’re not leaving him.”
“But we could take the mirror and release the captives with more allies around,” the halfling offered.
The assassin stared at him hard and motioned for him to pull the damned cloth aside.
With a sigh, Regis complied. The goblin, on a glance, was yanked into the looking glass.
Another form appeared in front, a vulture-like demon Regis had seen before.
The halfling fell back and pulled his hand crossbow.
Entreri shot the thing in the face, scorching and cracking its beak.
The vrock leaped at Regis and the desperate halfling drew out his dagger, broke free the side-blades, and threw the living snakes, one, two. Those magical snakes worked fast, slithering up around the demon’s neck, and the specters appeared as expected, tugging hard.