Ричард Бейкер - Condemnation

Kaanyr himself fit the infernal scene well. Tall and powerful, he had the stature of a strong-thewed human warrior and the strength of a stone giant. His skin was red and hot to the touch, and his flesh was hard enough to turn a blade. He was strikingly handsome, though his eyes danced with malice and his teeth were as black as coal. He wore a golden breastplate and carried a pair of wicked short swords made from some demonic black iron in rune-chased scabbards at his belt. He grinned fiercely with delight as he looked out over the gathering storm of his army.

“I now lead nearly two thousand tanarukk warriors,” he said over his shoulder,

“and I have just as many orcs, ogres, trolls, and giants at my command. I think the time has come to try my strength, my love.”

Aliisza allowed herself a smile and moved closer, pressing herself to the demon prince’s side. Like Kaanyr Vhok, she too possessed demonic blood. In her case, she was an alu-fiend, the spawn of a succubus and some mortal sorcerer. Wings as smooth as black leather sprouted from her shoulder blades, but other than that she was dusky and seductive, voluptuous and inviting, a half-demoness whose allure few mortal men could resist. She was also clever, capricious, and very skilled in magic, and therefore well-suited to be the consort of a demonspawned warlord such as Kaanyr.

“Menzoberranzan?” she purred, tracing the filigree of his armor with one fingertip.

“Of course. There seems to be nothing worth the taking in Ched Nasad, after all.” Kaanyr frowned, and his gaze grew distant. “If the dark elves are without the protection of their spider goddess, and unable to govern their interminable feuds, I may have an opportunity to seize the greatness I have always coveted. Having mastered the ruins of Ammarindar, I find that I hunger for something more. Subjugating a city of drow appeals to me.”

“Others have had that thought,” Aliisza pointed out. “The Menzoberranyr I spoke with in Ched Nasad suggested that his own city had suffered a significant slave uprising, sponsored by some outside agency. I think the duergar mercenaries who fought in Ched Nasad would not have left the city to whatever House hired them, once they’d managed to take it. If the duergar firebombs hadn’t worked so well, I suspect Clan Xornbane would rule Ched Nasad now.”

“Or I would,” Kaanyr said. He narrowed his eyes. “If you had reported the situation to me in a more timely manner, I might have been able to bring my army against Ched Nasad when the drow and duergar were exhausted from fighting each other.”

Aliisza licked her lips.

“You would have lost whatever forces you brought into the city,” she replied.

“Your tanarukks could have endured the fires, of course, but the collapse of the city streets destroyed everything in the cavern. Trust me, you missed no opportunities in Ched Nasad.”

Kaanyr did not reply. Instead, he disentangled himself from Aliisza and vaulted lightly over the balcony rail, descending to the foundry floor. The warlord had no wings, but his demonic heritage conferred the ability to fly through effort of will. Aliisza frowned, and followed behind him, spreading her black pinions wide to catch the blazing updrafts of the room. Kaanyr was still sore about Ched Nasad, and that was not good, she reflected. If the warlord ever tired of her, he was certainly capable of having her killed in some grisly manner, past intimacies notwithstanding. There was nothing of which he was not capable, if his temper got the better of him.

The half-demon alighted beside a sand mold filling with molten iron. A pair of tanarukks stood by, carefully watching over the pour. Kaanyr squatted down by the white-hot metal and absently stirred his fingers in it. It was hot enough to cause him discomfort, and after a moment he shook the molten iron from his fingers and brushed them against his thigh.

“Good iron,” he said to the tanarukks. “Carry on, lads.”

He straightened and continued on his way. Aliisza fluttered to the stone floor and fell into step behind him.

“The thing that troubles me is this,” Kaanyr mused. “Why did the Xornbane duergar betray the House that employed them by burning the whole city? Was it simply a dispute over pay? Or did they intend from the start to bring ruin to Ched Nasad? If so, was Horgar Steelshadow behind it? Did the prince of Gracklstugh send his mercenaries to Ched Nasad to destroy the city, or did Clan Xornbane do that for someone else?”

“Does it matter?” Aliisza asked, sidling up beside him again. “The city was destroyed, regardless of anyone’s intentions. The great Houses of Ched Nasad are dead, and there aren’t many Xornbane dwarves remaining, for that matter.”

“It matters because I find myself wondering whether the duergar of Gracklstugh plan to attack Menzoberranzan next,” Kaanyr said. “I have amassed no small strength here, but I do not believe I can take Menzoberranzan unless the dark elves are reduced to utter chaos and helplessness. If the duergar mean to march on the city too, my opportunities are limitless.”

“Ah,” Aliisza breathed. “You could sell your services to the dark elves, the gray dwarves, both, or neither. Hmm, that is interesting.”

“And the price I command will increase with the number of warriors I bring, and my proximity to Menzoberranzan, but it depends on the intentions of the gray dwarves.” The half-demon let out a bark of hard laughter. “I would not care to find myself on Menzoberranzan’s doorstep, facing a strong and united dark elf city with no allies at hand.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to send me away again?” Aliisza pouted. She stretched her wings languorously around Kaanyr, halting him as she reached up to turn him toward her. “I’ve only just come back, you know.”

“Clever girl,” Vhok said with a smile. “Yes, I mean to dispatch you on another mission. This time, though, you won’t have to creep about and stay out of sight. You will call on Horgar Steelshadow, the Crown Prince of Gracklstugh, as my personal envoy—a diplomat, if you like. Find out if the gray dwarves intend to attack Menzoberranzan. If they do, let them know that I would like to join them. If they don’t . . . well, see if you can’t persuade them that it’s in their best interest to destroy Menzoberranzan while the dark elves are weak.”

“The dwarves are not likely to confide in me.”

“Of course they won’t want to confide in you. However, if they do intend to attack, they will see the advantage of gaining me as an ally. If they don’t plan on attacking, the fact that I am willing to ally with them may decide the issue for them. They wish Menzoberranzan no good, so you need not worry that they’ll stand up for the drow.”

“Envoy. ...” Aliisza murmured. “It sounds better than spy, doesn’t it? I suppose I can carry your message for you, my sweet, fierce Kaanyr, but maybe you should provide me with some special incentive to hurry home, hmm?”

Kaanyr Vhok circled her with his powerful arms and nuzzled the hollow of her neck.

“Very well, my pet,” he rumbled. “Though I sometimes wonder if you are utterly insatiable.”

A desperate hour of flight from ruin to ruin saw the battered company to a hard-won refuge from the monsters who ruled Hlaungadath. Beneath the hulking shell of a square tower they found a sand-choked stair descending into cool, lightless catacombs beneath the city. Buoyed by their find, the dark elves slipped through a maze of buried shrines, subterranean wells, and echoing colonnades of brown stone, finally holing up in a deep, disused gallery that showed no signs of recent use. It was a cheerless and desolate spot, but it was free of blinding sunlight and mind-controlling monsters, and that was all they needed.