The Dark Elf Trilogy | Page 9

breath, fitting his hood to the top of his
head.
A giant spider rushed out of its concealment to his side.
Zak dove to his belly and kicked out under the thing, spinning into a roll that
plunged his sword deep into the monster's bulbous body. Sticky fluids gushed out
over the weapon master, and the spider shuddered to a quick death.
"Yes�� Zak whispered, wiping the spider juices from his face, "this must be the
place�� He pulled the dead monster back into its hidden cubby and slipped in
beside the thing, hoping that no one had noticed the brief struggle.
By the sounds of ringing weapons, Zak could tell that the fighting had almost
reached this floor. House DeVir now seemed to have its defenses in place,
though, and was finally holding its ground.
"Now, Malice�� Zak whispered, hoping that Briza, attuned to him in the meld,
would sense his anxiety. "Let us not be late!"
Back in the clerical anteroom of House Do'Urden, Malice and her subordinates
continued their brutal mental assault on the clerics of House DeVir. Lloth heard
their prayers louder than those of their counterparts, giving the clerics of House
Do'Urden the stronger spells in their mental combat. Already they had easily put
their enemies into a defensive posture. One of the lesser priestesses in DeVir's
circle of
eight had been crushed by Briza's mental insinuations and now lay dead on the
floor barely inches from Matron Ginafae's feet.
But the momentum had slowed suddenly and the battle seemed to be swinging
back to an even level. Matron Malice, struggling with the impending birth, could
not hold her concentration, and without her voice, the spells of her unholy circle
weakened.
At her mother's side, powerful Briza clutched her mother's hand so tightly that all
the blood was squeezed from it, leaving it cool-the only cool spot on the laboring
female to the eyes of the others. Briza studied the contractions and the crowning
cap of the coming child's white hair, and calculated the time to the moment of
birth. This technique of translating the pain of birth into an offensive spell attack
had never been tried before, except in legend, and Briza knew that timing would
be the critical factor.
She whispered into her mother's ear, coaxing out the words of a deadly
incantation.
Matron Malice echoed back the beginnings of the spell, sublimating her gasps,
and transforming her rage of agony into offensive power.
"Dinnen douward ma brechen tol�� Briza implored.
"Dinnen douward . . . maaa . . . brechen to" Malice growled, so determined to
focus through the pain that she bit through one of her thin lips.
The baby's head appeared, more fully this time, and this time to stay.
Briza trembled and could barely remember the incantation herself. She
whispered the final rune into the matron's ear, almost fearing the consequences.
Malice gathered her breath and her courage. She could feel the tingling of the
spell as clearly as the pain of the birth. To her daughters standing around the
idol, staring at her in disbelief, she appeared as a red blur of heated fury,
streaking sweat lines that shone as brightly as the heat of boiling-water.
"Abec�� the matron began, feeling the pressure building to a crescendo. "Abec��
She felt the hot tear of her skin, the sudden slippery release as the baby's head
pushed through, the sudden ecstacy of birthing. "Abec dj'n'a'BREG DOUWARD."
Malice screamed, pushing away all of the agoony in a final explosion of magical
power that knocked even the clerics of her own house from their feet.
Carried on the thrust of Matron Malice's exultation, the dweomer thundered into
the chapel of House DeVir, shattered the gemstone idol of Lloth, sundered the
double doors into heaps of twisted metal, and threw Matron Ginafae and her
overmatched subordinates to the floor.
Zak shook his head in disbelief as the chapel doors flew past him. "Quite a kick,
Malice�� He chuckled and spun around the entryway, into the chapel. Using his
infravision, he took a quick survey and head count of the lightless room's seven
living occupants, all struggling back to their feet, their robes tattered. Again
shaking his head at the bared power of Matron Malice, Zak pulled his hood down
over his face.
A snap of his whip was the only explanation he offered as he smashed a tiny
ceramic globe at his feet. The sphere shattered, dropping out a pellet that Briza
had enchanted for just such occasions, a pellet glowing with the brightness of
daylight.
For eyes accustomed to blackness, tuned in to heat emanations, the intrusion of
such radiance came in a blinding flash of agony. The clerics' cries of pain only
aided Zak in his systematic trek around the room, and he smiled widely under his
hood every time he felt his sword bite into drow flesh.
He heard the beginnings of a spell across the way and knew that one of the
DeVirs had recovered enough from the assault to be dangerous. The weapon
master did not need his eyes to aim, however, and the crack of his whip took
Matron Ginafae's tongue right out of her mouth.
Briza placed the newborn on