It had all happened in a few blinks of an eye, but in the momentary distraction, the remaining elite guards went right back in. Marilith accepted their first strikes, but then met them, three arms sweeping back to engage those from her right, a fourth going at the warrior who had been clipped by the table, as she swung fully around.
Still back a few strides, Malagdorl saw his opening and in he charged, batting aside Marilith’s last-moment attempted parry and driving his trident in hard between the demon’s breasts. With strength beyond that of any other drow in Menzoberranzan, the nephew of Uthegental crouched forward and bore in, pressing and twisting.
Magical rage burst from the demon-every burning sconce in the room exploded in wild pyrotechnics, more objects came flying in from every angle-and the enraged Marilith sent her swords into purely offensive routines, giving hits to the dark elves around her and accepting strikes without apparent concern. Her tail lashed out left and right, then came forward to snap at Malagdorl, to wrap around him and lift him away.
The coils tightened around him. He felt his bones bending and crunching, but he tightened his great muscles and growled through it, watching his warriors leaping all around the demon, and seeing his trident still stuck deeply into Marilith’s chest.
In a great exhale, Marilith unwound her tail, hurling Malagdorl across the room, where he shattered a table and chairs and crashed through the mushroom-stalk planking of the wall. All the other dark elves flew from her as well, her physical shrug accompanied by a burst of telekinesis and a wild sweep of tail and weapons.
Everything seemed to pause for many heartbeats, with Marilith slowly rotating to look at Malagdorl.
“Does it hurt, son of Barrison Del’Armgo?” she asked, blood pouring from her mouth with every determined word.
“You are banished, demon,” Malagdorl replied, his voice pained. Every breath sent fire through his surely broken ribs. “A hundred years. .”
“Not so long,” the demon roared, and she laughed wickedly and simply melted away, the great trident of Malagdorl falling flat to the floor with a metallic clang.
“I will be waiting for you,” Malagdorl threatened, and the voice of Marilith, the demonic spirit still hovering about the room, responded, “I know,” and laughed again.
Six drow limped out of the common room and onto the Stenchstreets, dragging dead Turven’di to strap him across the back of his lizard mount. They were all bloody, some with serious wounds, Malagdorl so twisted and broken that he could barely hold himself in his saddle.
But he did, and he managed to straighten a bit with every lizard stride back across the city, his pride overruling his pain.
By the time they reached the gates of the city’s Second House, another of the band had fallen unconscious, clearly near death, but the remaining guards and their noble leader spoke only of victory.
They had battled and defeated a major demon, banishing the beast back to the smoke of the Abyss. Indeed was this one a foul beast, especially so in the measure of House Barrison Del’Armgo, because they knew that Marilith served at the pleasure of Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre.
Matron Mother Mez’Barris personally greeted the victorious but battered group with spells of healing, and ordered a great feast in their honor, in honor mostly of Malagdorl, whom she proclaimed openly as the greatest weapons master of Menzoberranzan.
“You did not kill the son of House Barrison Del’Armgo?” Lolth asked Marilith when they were together again in the Demonweb Pits.
“He will grimace in pain for many days, whatever spells the priestesses might employ, but he lives,” Marilith assured her. “I killed only the one warrior.”
Lolth nodded her appreciation. “And Malagdorl of Barrison Del’Armgo will be celebrated in many corners not loyal to House Baenre,” she said. “Matron Mother Mez’Barris will be emboldened, surely, perhaps enough to even speak of this at the next meeting of the Ruling Council.”“I wanted to kill them all,” Marilith remarked.
Lolth nodded again, certainly understanding and appreciating that this chaotic creature had stayed her murderous hands, had suppressed that which came so naturally to her, and instead had acceded to Lolth’s requests-no small feat for a major demon in the heat of combat!
“It will not be a hundred years,” Lolth assured her.
“How long?”
“Yes, do tell, Spider Queen of Chaos?” asked a third voice, and the two turned to regard the balor Errtu, striding over to join them. “When the archmage diminishes the barrier of the Faerzress, you will find your freedom,” Lolth promised, looking to Errtu.
“Freedom to kill the weapons master of Barrison Del’Armgo,” Marilith said. She cooed, a discordant sound that resembled some strange cross between a purr and a hiss.
“Freedom to crush the son of House Baenre,” Errtu growled. Lolth just nodded and smiled at one and then the other, offering tacit approval. Their tasks would not be as easy as they presumed, she knew.
For as chaos grew in her beloved city, the Houses would grow strong once more, ever on alert. Even creatures as mighty as these would realize in the dark elves formidable enemies-enemies aided, of course, by the blessings of the Spider Queen.
Marilith slithered away, but Errtu remained, and Lolth became keenly aware of his penetrating stare. She turned to him at last and noted his toothy smile.
“What do you know, balor?” she asked.
“You strengthened House Baenre under the matron mother,” the beast replied. “You foiled me, and the plot against her, with my prisoner K’yorl. You gave to Quenthel the memories of Yvonnel the Eternal, and so tightened her grip on the City of Spiders.”
“I needed unity and singular purpose.”
“But now the dragons have failed. And now the Weave is beyond you once more, and so. . you allow your minions to fall back to chaos. Indeed, you coax the city of Menzoberranzan back to a state of nervous chaos."
“Order bores me.”
“Great risk.”
Lolth shook her head and snickered.
“Will your children of Menzoberranzan not need that unity and strength when demon lords stalk the Underdark?” Errtu asked bluntly, and Lolth’s eyes flared dangerously, warning him to silence. The Spider Queen calmed quickly, though.
“For some tasks, the drow are stronger in chaos,” she replied. “And beware, always angry Errtu, for the Houses of Menzoberranzan will not suffer the whims of a balor.”
That set the hulking Errtu back on his heels, and a simmering growl escaped his toothy maw.
“And beware now,” she warned. “I will make of you a demon lord, or I will hang you in a cocoon beside Balor, to be nibbled by spiders until I decide otherwise.”
On eight clicking spider legs, Lady Lolth walked away.
The cheers filtered through the dark and reached the House Baenre compound, where the matron mother and Sos’Umptu stood on a balcony, looking out across Qu’ellarz’orl, the noble section of Menzoberranzan, to the west and the sprawling compound of House Barrison Del’Armgo.
“I liked them much better when they resided in the Narbondellyn,” the matron mother quipped. The Second House’s move to this plateau in the city’s southern reaches was a relatively recent event. “The family Armgo is a collection of peasants, and nothing more.”