Then Drizzt's keen ears heard the soft thrum of a dozen tiny bowstrings. The elvan song carried on a moment longer, until several of the group dropped to the earth.
No!
Drizzt could feel his thoughts on his face, expressive, but no words would come out-a rage immersed his body, until he was lightheaded, and the word repeated-No!
Dinin and the others were upon them.
The foolish woodland elves were not even armed-not armed! -and fell quickly as the drow warriors sliced through their ranks mercilessly, cutting them down and hacking at their bodies long after the light of life had flown from their eyes.
Drizzt was rooted to the spot, unable to move, his hand clenched tightly to the hilt of his scimitar.
Not even armed!
The idea pervaded his mind-not armed!
One terrified female, dodging this way and that, came directly towards Drizzt, and he was still frozen, staring at her panic-stricken eyes-not even armed!
The female jerked straight as sword drove into her back; it's tip thrusting right through her slender form. Drizzt watched, mesmerized, as the drow holding the blade twisted it savagely, then yanked it free in a weighty pull. The female toppled to the ground, but her head was shorn from her shoulders before her dead hands made contact with the ground.
The drow paid Drizzt no mind, darting back into the fray, and a curious tingling sensation was working down Drizzt's fingers-the automatic response to a fray. Swords, blood, screams-this he knew well. Was he not trained to deal in situations like this?
But they were not armed-surely he was not meant to attack unarmed, unprotected elves?
Another elf had escaped the fray, had run towards his corner of darkness, zigzagging, screaming a single word over, and over and over again. The word was not known, but the meaning was clear-the little girl-child was screaming for her mother. She could only be crying "Mother!"
Mother!
The word pierced his heart more surely than a blade ever could. Mother! His limbs were cold because he could remember saying that same word-"mother!" With the driders-Matron Malice had punished his use of the word 'Mother' clearly.
Mother!
Rage racked him in that horrible moment. He wanted to escape it all, to loose himself in the blind frenzy that his kin engaged him. Conscious! A bane.
"Mother!" the girl-child flung herself across her mother's corpse, sobbing, chest heaving. Her neck was open-unarmed! Unprotected! -And would be so easy to slice apart with a clean blow. Murder? Mercy! The child was begging for her mother, and no mother would come-Malice hadn't replied because she was no mother-this child's wouldn't respond because she was dead. Dead! Because the fool had gone unarmed into a grove of trees, thinking herself safe!
The world wasn't safe!
"Yes, my brother!" Dinin's howl cut through his comrade's whoops of joy at the bloodshed, ringing in Drizzt's ears. "Today you know the glory it is to be a drow!" Dinin punched his fist in the air. "Today we appease the Spider Queen!"
Drizzt responded-who would not? -with a snarl of hate, and the blade was in his hand and coming down, because the child was staring at him with wide, watery eyes, defiantly begging for her mother to save her.
Didn't she know that no mother would ever come for her? A weakling-
The scimitar came down in a mighty sweep and even Dinin was stilled, because not even Dinin had thought it possible that Drizzt Do'Urden could kill an unarmed child.