Five of the zombies lifted their weapons and advanced on Kethryllia. The Moon elf drew her enchanted sword and lunged at the nearest undead. The creature blocked the strike with a jerky, yet precise parry. Kethryllia flung the enjoined blades high, then pivoted to the side and kicked out hard at the creature's knees. The desiccated bone crumbled, and the undead creature went down. The elf brought Dharasha down in a sweeping backhand. The moment that the enchanted sword touched the undead dark elf, the creature dissolved into dust.

The goddess Kiaranselee shrieked, whether from rage or excitement Kethryllia could not say. Nor did she have time to ponder the matter. The Moon elf warrior blocked the high sweeping cut of another zombie's sword, then spun back to parry the lunge from the undead who crept up behind her. She dropped low to the ground in a crouch, then brought down both of them with a deft leg-sweep. She stabbed first one, then the other creature, before either had the chance to rise.

The remaining pair of zombies rushed Kethryllia while she was down. She rolled aside, then rolled back, bringing the flat of her sword swinging over to smack the nearest undead. This one crumbled instantly, as well. The Moon elf leaped to her feet and faced off against the remaining dark-elven slave. In moments, it too lay at rest-if a drifting pile of foul-smelling dust could be considered eternal peace.

Breathing hard, Kethryllia faced down the dark-elven goddess. She knew that even at her best-rested and unhurt-she could never overcome five dark-elven fighters. But Dharasha had been enchanted to destroy undead creatures with a mere touch. It held no such power over the denizens of the Abyss. Kethryllia figured that the goddess didn't need to know any of this.

The goddess of vengeance and the undead applauded. "Oh, well done, mortal! Not even the tanar'ri can overcome the best of my servants with such ease!"

Kethryllia lifted her sword to her forehead in a gesture of respect. "Then command me, and tell me how I might serve both your vengeance and my own."

With a lightning change of mood, the goddess drew herself up into a regal pose. "Swear allegiance to me, first," she demanded. "Follow me in life and beyond, and you will ever be first among my servants."

The Moon elf hesitated-after all, Anarallath's life was at stake. Though her first instinct was to agree to anything the obviously insane and undoubtedly evil goddess demanded, Kethryllia found that she could not.

"I am sworn to Corellon Larethian, the master of both magic and the fighting arts," she said stoutly. "I will serve you as best I can in this matter alone, but I can swear allegiance to no other god."

Amazingly enough, the flicker of temper in the goddess's eyes did not erupt into full-scale wrath. "Corellon Larethian," she repeated slyly. "Oh, how that will sting! Very well, mortal, I will tell you where Haeshkarr might be found. All that you need do in payment is this: with each tanar'ri you slay, proclaim that you do so in the name of your god!"

Lloth clutched at the armrests of her mushroom throne and gazed down into a scrying pool she had fashioned from black slime. She watched in rage and disbelief as a mortal elf cut her way through a horde of powerful tanar'ri. With each creature that fell, the elf woman proclaimed a victory for Corellon Larethian. And each victory was a dagger-thrust at Lloth's pride.

Without noticing what she did, the beautiful tanar'ri slipped down from her throne to kneel at the edge of the pool, watching in disbelief as the flame-haired elf brought a single sword against the four matched weapons wielded by the mighty Haeshkarr-a tanar'ri that even Lloth herself did not command without a certain degree of diplomacy. Her nails dug deep into the muck as she watched the powerful creature fall-and the victorious elf woman fall into the arms of a mortal being whose golden beauty was far too reminiscent of Corellon himself.

Lloth's first impulse was to seek out and slay the mortals who presumed to enter her realm. The desire to destroy this knight of Corellon was like a fever in her soul-the first true heat she had felt in this world of half-light and eternal despair for many, many years. But enough remained of the wily Araushnee to stay the tanar'ri's hand-at least until she could ascertain how best to serve her own purposes.

Thoughtfully, Lloth watched as the elven lovers struck out in the direction from which the female had come. In time, they would find a gate back to their mortal home. If she did not hinder them, they would probably escape the Abyss. But, Lloth reasoned, they need not escape her.

The tanar'ri's heart quickened as she considered the possibilities. She would follow this formidable champion of Corellon Larethian, and the male cleric whose purity of heart was an offending blot of light on the Abyssal landscape. If these elves were representative of the People they left behind, what better place to begin her vengeance against Corellon and his precious children?

Lloth's lips curved in a smile. And where there were elves, there were potential worshipers. She had little hope of corrupting such elves as these she had seen this day, but did not even the evil and insane Kiaranselee have her followers? Lloth would follow the elven lovers to whatever world they called home, and see if she might stake out a claim there.

The goddess once again consulted the scrying pool. In it she conjured the image of the red-haired warrior and the golden male she had rescued. Lloth watched as the pair emerged triumphant into a ravaged forest, as they waded through the carnage left in the wake of the tanar'ri Haeshkarr. Lloth was intrigued-she had not known that her minion demon had such interesting toys at his disposal as rampaging orc hordes. The destruction they had visited upon the elves was most gratifying. Lloth remembered Malar, and the Great Hunter's desire to gather to him orcish worshipers. She wondered how he'd fared, and whether it might not be time to visit him once again.

As she viewed the world, Lloth felt the tug of a familiar presence. Dimly, she recognized it as the one elven god from whom she was not entirely estranged by her new nature as tanar'ri-her son, Vhaeraun. Curious now, she commanded the scrying globe to seek out the young god's territory.

The scene changed from the trampled elven forest to a city that surrounded a long, narrow bay. Here also was war, but war at its beginning rather than its grim conclusion. The goddess watched with intense interest as hordes of dark-skinned elves readied for battle. A delicious tang of evil was in the air, a weave of dark magic that centered on a single elven male.

Lloth gazed with interest upon the leader of the ready army, a dark elf called Ka'Narlist. Though he looked young and vital, Lloth sensed that he was an ancient being, sustained long past the normal years of an elf by the force of his magic. The source of this incredible power fascinated Lloth: The wizard wore a cunningly woven vest fashioned of chain mail and dark pearls-each of which contained the essence and magic of a slain Sea elf. Delightful, this elf!

The goddess eased her way into his thoughts, and found that his mind was not barricaded against such as she. What she read there was grim enough: Ka'Narlist was utterly rapacious and powerful enough to feel himself able to indulge his desires without qualm or restraint. What he wanted now was power-magical power, and the power that came with conquering and subjugating the fair races of elves-but his ultimate goal required nearly the power of a god. He was vain enough to believe it within his grasp.

Lloth rather liked him.

She smiled as she beheld the ancient, resourceful wizard. She approved of his ambitions, and she eyed with interest the things he offered: a powerful army ready and eager to crush the fair elves, magic that fell just short of godhood, followers that might well become hers. That she would snatch him from his current devotion to Ghaunadar added hugely to his appeal.