Annihilation by Philip Athans

shared common interests and common goals. Agrach Dyrr had fulfilled its role in the city’s hierarchy. It went to war with the city, defended itself against rival Houses, destroyed a few from time to time as necessity dictated, and in all things followed the teachings and the whims of the Queen of the Demonweb Pits.
    Matron Mother Yasraena Dyrr enjoyed pain. She enjoyed chaos, and she enjoyed the blessings of Lolth. When that last bit went away, things changed.
    From their palace on the wide shelf of Qu’ellarz’orl, the Lichdrow Dyrr had stood with his much younger granddaughter and watched the city turn against them. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate, the lichdrow knew. He had turned against the city, and he had done it with precise and careful timing. He had made the final decision, as he always had in times of greatest peril and greatest opportunity. Yasraena did what she was told, occasionally being made to feel as if it was her idea in the first place, sometimes merely given an order.
    Most days, the youthful matron mother was as much incommand of the House as any of the city’s matrons. When it truly counted, though, the lichdrow stepped in.
    The palace of House Agrach Dyrr was a ring of nine giant stalagmites that rose from the rocky floor of Qu’ellarz’orl, surrounded by a dry moat crossed at only one point by a wide, defensible bridge. In the center of the ring of stalagmites, behind a square wall of spell-crafted stone, was the House temple. That massive cathedral was more than a symbol to the drow of House Agrach Dyrr—it was a sincere and passionate proclamation of their faith in the Spider Queen.
    In the past months, though, the temple had grown as quiet as the goddess it was built to honor.
    “Lolth has abandoned us,” the lichdrow said.
    He stood at the entrance to the temple. A hundred yards in front of him, his granddaughter kneeled before the black altar and stared silently up at an enormous, stylized representation of the goddess. The idol weighed several tons and had been shaped by divine magic out of a thousand of the most precious materials the Underdark had to offer.
    “We have abandoned her,” Yasraena replied.
    Their voices carried through the huge chamber.
    The lichdrow floated toward her, his toes almost touching the marble floor. She didn’t turn around.
    “Well,” he said, “what could she expect?”
    The matron mother let the joke hang there without comment.
    “The bridge holds,” Dyrr reported, sounding almost bored. “Word from agents within Sorcere is that Vorion was captured but was later killed. I’m still finding out if he broke.”
    “Vorion …” the matron mother breathed.
    She had taken Vorion as her consort only a few years before.
    “My condolences,” the lichdrow said.
    “He had a few admirable qualities,” the matron mother replied.“Ah well, at least he died in defense of the House.”
    Dyrr tired of the subject, so he changed it.
    “Gromph has regained his sight.”
    Yasraena nodded and said, “He’ll be coming for us.”
    “He’ll be coming for me,” the lichdrow corrected.
    The matron mother sighed. She must have known he was right. The priestess, bereft of her connection to Lolth, was still a force to be reckoned with. She was experienced, cruel, strong, and she had access to the House’s stores of magical items, artifacts, and scrolls, but against the Archmage of Menzoberranzan, she would be little more than a nuisance. If Gromph was coming, he was coming for the lichdrow, and if Agrach Dyrr was to survive, it would be the lichdrow who would have to save it.
    “I don’t suppose you can count on your new friends,” the matron mother said.
    “My ‘new friends’ have problems of their own,” Dyrr replied. “They lay siege to the city, but Baenre and the others Houses have done a surprisingly good job of holding the entrances to the Dark Dominion.”
    “They have us bottled in our palace like rats in a trap,” said the matron