Chapter 21: Demons
Many cycles of Narbondel passed. Drizzt and Dinin left Menzoberranzan to patrol the outlying regions of the city, and along with their group of fighters and wizards won many battles against many creatures. Vierna tended the chapel daily, hiding her displeasure from Matron Malice. Briza loomed and schemed and found males who displeased her to taste the vengeance of her snake-headed whip. Matron Malice, well, Matron Malice had a visitor.
The matron was roused early in the morning by muffled shouting from the courtyard. Rising and dressing swiftly, she strode to her balcony to look out. A hovering blue disk, clearly magical, waited by the gates to the Do'Urden compound. Malice sighed. For over four hundred years she had schemed, plotted and maneuvered to win House Do'Urden a place on the ruling council of the city, but this early in the morning it didn't seem so worth the effort. She strode quickly through the hallways of the compound, arriving at the exit in short order, and seated herself on the glowing disk.
The disk whisked away before any of her imbecilic children or hangers-on could ask about going with her or protecting her, for which Malice was very grateful. In the clandestine city of the drow, it was foolish to fear an assassination attempt so clearly announced. Indeed, within moments a protective formation from House Baenre took shape around the disk. It was not such a great honor as the first time Matron Malice had been 'invited' to visit Matron Baenre, when four of Matron Baenre's own daughters had joined the protective formation, but all of the soldiers and priestesses displayed the sigil of House Baenre, First House of Menzoberranzan, a formidable deterrent to any ill-wishers.
They quickly traversed the distance to the Baenre compound and before long Matron Malice was once again seated in the Baenre throne room. These meetings had become regular after House Do'Urden had defeated House Hun'ett and become the Eighth House of Menzoberranzan, and yet Malice still had to clamp down tightly on her feeling of disgust when the wizened old figure of Matron Baenre entered the room. To a young, beautiful Matron, by drow standards at least, this haggard, dusty relic was a terrifying image of her own future, if she survived that long. Living in the city of the drow at all was a dangerous game, much more so for a Matron Mother.
"Greetings, Matron Malice," the wizened crone spoke, "It has been so long. I trust you are well?"
"As well as could be expected," the younger matron replied cagily, "And yourself?" The formalities dispensed with, they got down to business.
"The council will meet again this month," Matron Baenre reminded Malice, as if the younger drow could possibly have forgotten, "I trust you shall support my nominations, as agreed upon?"
"Of course," Malice replied. Placing Vierna and Dinin as instructors in Tier Breche at the same time would have been impossible without the support of the powerful Matron Baenre, but in exchange, Malice had been forced to promise future votes to the ancient matron. And Baenre was the one house in Menzoberranzan that it would be truly foolish to betray.
"Very good. Now, tell me, how is your son? I believe he shall be patrolling the outskirts with my own."
"Drizzt is doing well," replied Malice, passing up the temptation to brag about Drizzt's success, "and we are glad to have such an asset for our house. How I wish we could have as many strong sons and daughters as your house, however," she added, with just enough flattery to be polite, without being too obvious. "Some of my own are somewhat disappointing, and of course, far less numerous."
"Not for lack of trying, I hear," pointed out the older matron. Malice's bedroom adventures were the stuff of many a rumor in Menzoberranzan, though none other than the matron of the First House would dare say such a thing. Even so, Malice's face darkened with anger, until the older female chuckled, "Not that I blame you," she continued, "I was much the same. How do you think I ended up with so many children? Even the most powerful of us need a distraction sometimes, and if it's two distractions in one night, all the better!" That comment broke the tension in the room, and the two females conversed pleasantly for a few hours until Malice returned to the Do'Urden compound.
Far from Menzoberranzan, in the tunnels of the Underdark, camped a group of drow males, in the final years of their adolescence. They sat almost silent in the dark, hand and face signals flashing, whetstones being drawn across weapons, dry rations being slowly chewed. In time, more drow entered, one by one from opposite directions, and flashed quick signals to an older drow male in the middle of the camp. This went on for a few minutes, and then the older drow stood.
"Alright, listen up," he spoke. "The sentries are all back and we're clear, so we can speak verbally for the next hour. But not too loud, sound carries in these tunnels. We've been out here for a few months now, so we're getting pretty used to camping and battling monsters. But we haven't really talked about why. Why do we patrol ten leagues from Menzoberranzan, when we could just put up gates as the svirfnebli do, as the duegar do, and wait for monsters to throw themselves upon our walls?"
"Because we are drow!" came an anonymous call.
"And why does that make our actions any different?" replied the first speaker. There was no response. "No, it is not because we are drow, but because Menzoberranzan is not merely a city in a cavern. It is capital of the Underdark, and we allow no trespassers in our domain. By controlling the area around the city we increase our power, to the glory of Lloth! And our power brings us tribute and trade, from the duegar, from the illithids, from all the denizens of our domain. This is why we patrol and this is why we fight. For Lloth, and the glory of Menzoberranzan."
"For Lloth, and the glory of Menzoberranzan!" came back the cheer from his audience.
"Fine words, Dinin, secondboy of House Do'Urden, Eighth House of Menzoberranzan," came an unexpected and cool voice from the shadows of the tunnel in which they camped, "and yet you speak of the glory of Lloth while you allow two abominations in your ranks, thirdborn males, who should by rights have been sacrificed to Lloth long ago."
"Show yourself!" Dinin barked. A female priestess blended out of illusion into vision in the tunnel, steps away from where the patrol had made camp.
"There is no time for this, however," she spoke. I have come to lead you to action. An enemy musters nearby, we must go. For the glory of Lloth indeed, this enemy must be defeated, and you are the tools of her will."
The drow patrol packed quickly, and followed the lead of the cleric at a rushed pace. Dinin dropped his pace to the back of the line, and signalled to Drizzt to join him. He whispered quickly to his brother, "You heard what she said about thirdboys. Be wary of spells in the back. Do not allow her out of your sight. And call that cat." Drizzt slipped sideways into a crevice, hiding himself from view for a moment, and pulling out the onyx panther figurine, spoke quietly. "Come, Guenhwyvar." In a swirl of smoke the astral cat arrived, and Drizzt quickly gave the panther her instructions, before jogging out of concealment and making his way to the head of the line, in the scout's position, next to Berg'inyon Baenre. Guenhwyvar didn't move for some moments, then slowly crept out of concealment and padded along silently behind the travelling band of drow warriors.
They travelled for miles at a half-run, half-jog, with Drizzt and Berg'inyon leading the line, darting in and out of tunnels and caverns at the direction of the priestess. Dinin tailed the party, fingering his loaded hand-crossbow all the time, and Guenhwyvar, a silent, unseen shadow, followed behind a few more paces.
Before long the sounds of fighting filled the tunnels, and the party stopped. Drizzt and Berg'inyon crept ahead, to a natural outcropping overlooking a deeper tunnel, leading into a cavern where a small party of drow warriors fought against the strangest group of beings either of the thirdboys had ever seen. Winged demons joined blind hook horrors and tiny troglodytes, along with a number of other species, and spells flashed from casters behind. Bodies of drow littered the cavern, far outnumbering the bodies of their opponents. Drizzt and Berg'inyon dashed back to the group to report, but as they did so, "Drizzt quickly muttered to the other thirdboy, "You heard what she said. Watch your back for cleric spells." The other drow merely nodded.
The argument was quick when they returned. Dinin argued to cut their losses and retreat, but was overruled immediately by the priestess, who demanded an immediate frontal attack. Dinin tried to protest, but in the city of the drow, the word of a female was law. So they attacked.
The spearmen charged ahead first, a tight unit of drow, and they drove the troglodytes before them, setting up a defensive position behind which the drow of the other patrol gratefully sheltered. But they were stymied by the larger monsters. Dinin led a group of swordsmen against the largest of the demons, while the priestess who had brought them here unleashed her own magic against the magic users of the opponents, some strange race with white skin and dark hair, and rounded ears. Berg'inyon leapt into action against one of the hook horrors, and Drizzt joined him, twin scimitars and twin swords flashing in complex patterns, slowly finding gaps in the plates which covered the foul monster. Drizzt ducked a swinging hook and stabbed upwards with both blades, slicing deep into the monster's armpit, then dodged again as the creature's vicious beak sliced down towards him, opening up an opportunity for Berg'inyon. The Baenre did not miss it, cutting deep into the back of the creature's neck through the gap in its scaly exoskeleton revealed by the rash attack. Berg'inyon looked at Drizzt and nodded once, then the two warriors made their way to the next enemy. Drizzt recognized this one immediately, a goat-headed glabrezu. With four arms, the demon was able to match up to the four weapons of its attackers, and before long the dance of blades was in earnest, adamantine ringing against demonic claws.
Elsewhere in the cavern, the drow were faring poorly. Dinin's group had managed to overpower their demon, but at great cost, and were being held at bay now by another. There were still other groups of drow fighting three hook horrors, but the larger monsters held the advantage, and the group of spearmen were clinging on desperately against the remaining troglodytes, who had rallied around a smaller demon and were attacking the drow in waves. The drow priestess was struggling as well, sweat beading on her forehead as she countered the foreign magic, the numerical difference between herself and the strange casters proving a substantial impediment.
Drizzt ducked as the glabrezu swung yet again at his head, before being forced to tuck his legs up under his body to avoid another swinging limb at his legs. He fell to the ground, hard, and rolled quickly to avoid the first clawed hand, coming back for a second swipe. Drizzt quickly got back to his feet, and rolled his wrists to get the twin scimitars moving again. Hand over hand he came on, drilling in towards the demon, scimitars whirling, but the glabrezu batted away the scimitars seemingly effortlessly, and Drizzt was forced to dance away again. Berg'inyon was having little more success, his hard, sweeping cuts too powerless to overcome their much larger foe. The glabrezu seemed almost to be toying with them. Drizzt steeled his resolve, and dove back into the melee. Swinging a scimitar down from above his shoulder he forced the demon to parry high, and then dove into a roll between the glabrezu's legs, turning quickly to attack the infernal creature's back. Almost simultaneously his companion stepped into the breach, driving cold adamantine blades forward to leech the demon's strength. And it was almost succesful, but the cuts the swords made were too shallow, and a swift backwards kick from the demon forced Drizzt to dance aside before his own scimitars could make contact. They danced around each other, Drizzt, Berg'inyon, and the demon, for some moments.
Drizzt glanced at the rest of the battlefield. The others of the patrol were in desperate need. All of the hook horrors had now been felled, but so had all of the drow spearmen, and now Dinin and a group of barely a half dozen drow warriors faced off against two demons, though the smaller of the two seemed badly wounded. Drizzt watched as a flash of lightning tore the life from the priestess who had led them here, and his shoulders sagged, resigned. Eight drow warriors against two demons and a group of foreign magic users of unknown skills? Well, if he were to die here, he would make sure he took this glabrezu with him.
In complete synchronization, Drizzt and Berg'inyon rushed in again. The Do'Urden ducked and thrust low as the Baenre leapt and thrust high, before each rolled around to an opposite side of the demon. With the demon flanked, they advanced quickly, blades biting, scoring little nicks on the creature's limbs. On and on they drove, scoring more hits, drawing more demonic ichor from the creature, and Drizzt smiled the grim smile of a hunter certain of a kill. But suddenly Berg'inyon was blasted away by a flash of magic, and the demon rounded on Drizzt, grabbing him wholehandedly in one great claw.
All of a sudden a shape dropped onto the head of the beast, a small, pale humanoid clutching a jeweled dagger. And as the dagger bit into the beast's neck, it screamed, an unholy yell of pain. Drizzt, lightheaded, barely managed to focus as he was dropped, and almost missed the black blur that charged into the side of the beast, a giant astral panther come with reinforcements to protect her master. But most fearsome of all was the drow warrior who strode in moments later, sword and whip flashing and biting, not relenting for a moment, not stopping until minutes after the demon was downed, carving into the flesh of the beast that dared threaten his precious son. Zaknafein Do'Urden had arrived.
Elsewhere, Dinin had nearly accepted his own defeat, as the numbers surrounding him dwindled, but all of a sudden a storm of magical bolts all but decapitated the smaller of the two demons against which his party battled. Encouraged by this development the remaining drow turned their blades on the sole surviving creature of their enemies, driving the demon back by force of numbers. Nalfein Do'Urden turned his dark gaze on the human wizards who had found their way to the most dangerous part of the Underdark, and spoke a word of power, releasing another dweomer. One of the wizards fell dead, instantly killed. Nalfein prepared another dweomer, and laughed as scorching meteors fell on the remaining wizards, too sluggish and surprised to dodge. As the smell of scorched meat filled the air, Nalfein inhaled deeply and smiled. The arrogance of humans was astounding, to come so close to Menzoberranzan, but even greater to believe that they could attack with impunity the family of Nalfein Do'Urden. A final dweomer banished the remaining demon to from whence it came, and the battle was finally over.
Author's Note: Writer's block has been shattered! I was held up with trying to find the right scene to write to follow directly from the previous chapter, but everything I wrote seemed like garbage. Which it was, because it didn't need to be written. So I skipped a bit, and we got some fighting, and the gang is back together. Which means we're most of the way towards the end of Thirdboy, and the beginning of the sequel. In other news, I started writing a Harry Potter story, Natural Born Mage, so you should go read that.