"Weapons-master Do'Urden," the Matron of the fifth House said stonily, her long hands gripping the arms of her chair. Nearly a month had passed since Vrellin's death, but it still stung Drizzt, haunting him every night. He had never murdered a student before; he had heard that other weapons-masters had done so, but he knew that much of the time these "accidents" were certainly anything but. "Are you aware of an expedition to the surface being conducted by several priestesses of the higher Houses?"
"No, Matron." He kept his eyes obediently low, although he longed to look up. "I was not."
"They have expressed an interest in you. They seem to think you will be useful to them. They will be exiting on the surface a few miles from a dwarven complex called Mithral Hall. The dwarves that reside there came from a place called Icewind Dale. They have recently repopulated it and no doubt have their defenses built up. Thus, we need our most skilled males—the best students from Melee-Magthere, as a test for them—and of course the priestesses will be joining you as well. We also believe there is a passage directly into Mithral Hall from the Underdark, but that will likely be watched closely—even if they have never experienced any drow attacks. It will be easier to go across the surface.
"And I am to go?"
"They want a weapons-master; they are interested in taking prisoners to discover the dwarves' secrets. This is where you will come in handy. They also want to find other hidden surface ways into Menzoberranzan. And seeing as you were a patrol point after your own graduation from Melee-Magthere...and seeing as you have no pupils to train at the moment...." Her red eyes glittered with amusement—and, Drizzt noticed, with a sort of pride. He shuddered inwardly.
"As you wish, Matron."
Several days later, Drizzt stood at the head of a small group of males. A number of priestesses surrounded them, clad in light armor and petting their snake-headed whips. He watched disinterestedly as the young men—truly the most gifted students of Melee-Magthere—milled about the open cavern, eagerly awaiting the appointed time.
At last the high priestess of the group ushered them away from the city. Drizzt took his place behind her, in a small group with the rest of the priestesses. As the most powerful weapons-master in the city, he was second in command—behind the rest of the females, of course.
He could hear the students behind him, their feet just a bit too loud in the tunnels; the hum of the Bazaar could no longer be heard, due to the muffling enchantments placed over it. He cringed as someone accidentally knocked his light steel vambrace against his sword hilt. He turned to put a finger to his lips, glaring at the group. They lowered their heads, and from then on remained silent.
At the end of the day's march, they stopped to rest in a side cavern. Drizzt kept up a vigil with the priestesses, eating as he patrolled the surrounding area, looking for any danger that might be nearby.
The march went on for another thirty or so days, until the high priestess stopped them at the entrance of a small cavern that even Drizzt, the smallest of the party, had trouble getting into. When everyone was gathered inside, several of the priestesses cast a spell to move some of the large boulders blocking their exit.
When Drizzt stepped onto the rocky ground of the surface, he found that it was night. He pulled his cowl over his head to prevent the bright moonlight from stinging his sensitive eyes. As the students filed out behind him, he signed back to them in the sign language of the drow.
Cowls, his fingers spelled out, and they dutifully followed his instruction.
Come, the high priestess signed. The dwarves will be caught unaware if we move now; they don't know we have come, and I prefer to keep it that way. Remember...prisoners. Preferably the king or clerics. Follow me.
Drizzt nodded in confirmation, then moved into place behind the females. They crept along the rocky mountainside of Mithral Hall, keeping to the shadows and using their piwafwis to avoid detection. They silently made their way to the chimney openings and slipped down them and into the furnaces without getting caught. They were drow, after all.
The red light from the constantly-burning furnaces threatened to give them away, but the half dozen or so dwarves that tended them at night were far too busy to turn their glances in their direction, and their cloaks rendered them virtually invisible. They moved into the corridors, separating into five smaller groups of four, Drizzt and a priestess going with two of the less competent students. The weapons-master feared they would give them away; they still weren't being as quiet as he would have liked.
They reached a long hall with long rows of doors lining either side. At the prodding of the priestess, Drizzt drew one scimitar and opened the nearest one without a sound. He took a careful look around, taking note of the abnormally large man in the bed.
Sleeping quarters, he signed behind his back as he shut the door. Perhaps we can find the king down here.
The priestess nodded and moved down the corridor, signaling Drizzt and the two students to begin checking. There was a human woman, a halfling, and several dwarves, but none appeared to be the king.
The halfling and the woman would be easy prisoners, one student suggested, shrugging. His armor clinked with the slight movement. Drizzt fought back a groan of frustration and flicked him in the nose.
"Ow!" the male hissed, rubbing the wounded area and glaring at him.
Be silent, for Lolth's sake! the weapons-master replied. And oil your armor when you return.
The priestess rolled her eyes and moved on, pausing at the end of the hall and listening carefully. "Oh...Lolth take you all!" she swore, running back to the group and creating a magical ward, all the while continuing to damn the incompetent males that had brought Mithral Hall down upon them.
Drizzt, understanding that another group had made too much noise, quickly summoned several globes of darkness, shrouding the corridor to bolster the priestess's own defenses. He signaled to the students behind him to draw their weapons and be prepared. He summoned a few more globes for good measure, then drew his own scimitars and crouched down behind the priestess.
He couldn't see the dwarves as they came around the corner, but he heard them. Their armor clanked louder than anything he had ever heard, and he could almost feel their feet pounding as they ran.
Suddenly a door behind him burst open, slamming against the adjacent wall. Alarmed, he whirled around to see the gigantic man, a massive war hammer in his hands. He swore when the man swung the thing, striking one of the students and sending him sailing, only to crash at Drizzt's feet, blood and brains spilling onto the stony floor. The weapons-master looked up into pale blue eyes and knew that he would suffer a similar fate if he didn't move. Reacting, he summoned another dark globe and settled it over the man's head. He stumbled blindly, giving Drizzt the time he needed to escape.
The remaining student rushed up behind the man and brought his dirk across the back of the giant's legs, effectively hamstringing him. But though severely wounded, the man could still throw his hammer to great effect—this time taking out the priestess, breaking her ribs with a resounding crunch.
"Lolth damn it," Drizzt hissed, backing up against the wall. He and the student, Zillak Shobalar, were trapped between a giant, angry man and a full contingent of dwarves intent on protecting their home, with only the faintest hope of reconnecting with the other members of their raiding party.
Behind them, another door opened, and the human woman stepped out, bleary-eyed but fully dressed in leather armor, a bow in hand and a sword on her hip. A moment later the halfling stumbled out, still in his nightclothes but with a tiny mace clutched in a trembling fist.
"Damn it, move!" Drizzt shouted, shoving Zillak ahead of him and into the path of the dwarves. He put his finger to the insignia of his House that pinned his piwafwi and tried to levitate. When he realized that he couldn't, he began to panic.
A flash of silver flew over his head, and he turned to the see the woman with her bow held up in front of her, another arrow already nocked and aimed at him. He ducked, barely in time, and felt it whip through the air above his head as he threw himself down. He kept an eye on the humans and the halfling, while noting that the dwarves had stopped their charge, momentarily baffled by still-functioning defensive wall and the globes of darkness. Maybe he could use that to his advantage somehow...
He tried it, summoning even more globes to confuse the humans, although the silver arrows continued to streak through the air, more than one coming close to him. He grabbed Zillak by the hem of his cloak and dragged him along behind him, opening the door to the nearest bedroom.
Once in, he stood and closed the thick wooden door behind him, locking it, although he doubted it could withstand the strikes of the barbarian's hammer for long. He looked down at Zillak to tell him of his vague plan, the student still slumped in fear by the door. It was then that Drizzt noticed the silver arrow protruding from one eye, and the other that was stuck in his stomach.
Drizzt looked around the room, and immediately dashed for the window in the far wall. It was small and rectangular, but he thought he could fit. He sheathed his scimitars and quickly unlatched it, leaping up to grab the ledge and pull himself up and over. Once outside, he began to climb the rocks and came out after a couple terror-filled minutes on top of Mithral Hall. He ran for the nearest chimney and climbed down it. If he ran for the cavern they had come out of, the patrols would spot him and he would be a dead drow. His best hope was to find another way back to the Underdark inside the Hall.
He came out in a large hall, in a fireplace where a few red coals still smoldered. He again drew his scimitars and pulled his cowl over his head, pulling his piwafwi close as he crept through the shadows.
He could hear the sounds of fighting up ahead as he glided silently through the complex. Whenever he heard heavy footsteps he veered into whatever corridor was next, venturing deeper and deeper into the Hall. He was beginning to lose all sense of direction when he found himself in the same sleeping quarters as before, the dwarven contingent finally overcoming the defenses set by the drow. He set himself to attack from behind, but found that he was faltering. These dwarves were only trying to defend their home. He shook his head, pausing momentarily. Vivid memories flashed through his mind. He recalled a young elven girl, running for her dead mother's body amidst screaming flames.
He heard the faint twang of a bowstring behind him and whirled to see the woman there, the halfling beside her. She had an arrow ready, but he rushed her before she could let it fly. Falling back, she dropped the bow and drew her sword. Drizzt pressed his attack, allowing her no room, but somehow she got her leg up and delivered a ferocious blow to his kneecap. Stumbling with the pain, he silently berated himself for not expecting that. But he was back up in an instant, parrying fiercely. She was a skilled fighter, he noted, and he knew that this battle would go hard for him if he didn't remain vigilant.
Though he tried, he found himself weakening. His frantic flight through the complex had tired him more than he had anticipated, and his movements became a little less tight, a little less in control. He still fought, but even getting his own body to cooperate was a struggle he couldn't afford.
With another kick to the kneecap and a curse, he found himself on the stony floor. He tried to regain his ground, only to find the cold steel of a sword against the back of his neck. He was pinned.
Then he saw another group of drow, three students and a priestess. The males had their weapons drawn as they rushed into the mass of dwarves, while the priestess aimed a hand crossbow in the human woman's direction. With a faint twang it released, and struck its target. The woman staggered forward, her sword slipping from her hand and narrowly missing decapitating Drizzt. Grimacing, he got out from under her as she fell limply and drew two lengths of rope from his cloak. He bound her hand and foot and gagged her.
Drizzt moved through other nearby corridors, noticing that the main congregation of dwarves was in the sleeping halls. The other groups of drow must have heard the fray and gone to help. There were a few dwarves bound and gagged and put in a disheveled group under the watchful guard of a priestess.
I have captured a human, Drizzt signed to her. She's in a nearby hall.
Good. Retrieve her.
At that moment one of the males entered the hall, with the woman's limp body flung over his shoulder. Drizzt fought back a frown. He had long since learned to do what he was told and no trouble would come, but this grated on his honor. She was a prisoner, but should be treated with care. At least, until the priestesses took her.
The ragged group, somewhat smaller in number, made their way back through the furnaces one by one until they were all on the surface. They quickly headed back to the cavern entrance and went into the Underdark, the high priestess first, followed by the rest of the females, then the students, and finally the weapons-master.
A little over a month later they returned to Menzoberranzan. Drizzt was in charge of the prisoners, forced to use cruel tactics at the demands of the priestesses to keep them in line. They had all grown noticeably thinner in their time in the Underdark, unused to the sunless world and lack of available food.
Once they reached Tier Breche, however, the females took over, and took the prisoners to Arach-Tinilith to be questioned and tortured. Drizzt returned to House Do'Urden to give a report on the raid's success to Briza, and returned to the gym he called home.
A few weeks later he was summoned to the throne room. He bowed before the Matron Mother, noticing the other priestesses of House there as well, including his other sisters Maya and Vierna.
"You summoned me, Matron?"
"I did." Briza gave him one of her disconcerting smiles. He hated it when she did that; it suggested something vaguely unpleasant. "Brother, your actions in the dwarven complex heaped Lolth's favor over House Do'Urden. Your defensive measures helped halt the dwarves and aided in the capture of important prisoners. Your transgressions twenty-five years ago have been forgiven."
Drizzt looked up, shocked. What actions? He had been flat on his stomach when the prisoners were captured. Lolth was blind. Remembering his place, he lowered his eyes.
"As a reward, the priestesses have decided to give you the human woman as a battle-captive."
Another shock, but this time Drizzt kept his eyes down, unsure how to react. This was certainly unheard of.
"The Spider Queen demands this as well. However, there will be no Binding in this particular instance. You are a male, and your battle-captive is even lower than you are." Briza snapped her fingers. "Bring her out."
The weapons-master looked up as Vierna pulled the woman from behind the throne, a gag in her mouth and her hands tied behind her back. She stared at him, her blue eyes glinting angrily. Vierna handed him a small hoop earring that he knew carried an enchantment that would allow him to speak with the woman and understand her.
"She is yours to do with what you will, brother," Briza smiled. "You are dismissed."