Twin scimitars were drawn with the telltale ringing of metal,
the faint yet horribly familiar sound alerting the large band
of orcs Drizzt had found. The drow had to concentrate for a
moment to keep Twinkle from illuminating the dark night with
its blue glow.
"Wos that?" cried the largest of the band, who also looked to be the stupidest. Given that evidence, Drizzt guessed him to be the leader of the party. The others shifted uncomfortably.
Drizzt jumped as a very similar ringing sound was heard across the camp from his hidden vantage point. "Innovindil," he whispered under his breath to himself.
"Oo's there?"
Drizzt, seconds before, had been fully prepared to jump out and attack. Now, with another to be concerned about, he thought again. Was this worth the risk, merely to sate his sudden thirst for orc-blood? He thought of his dream, of Zak and Motolio. Would they want him to enter a battle in which he was ridiculously outnumbered, if it was at risk of a friend's life? At the risk of his own life?
Innovindil suddenly made a strangled noise, one that may have been the beginning of a scream that had been cut short. Resisting the overpowering urge to call out to her, Drizzt remained still and silent. The orcs in the camp seemed suddenly very restless, but much less nervous. A very non- orcish voice arose from the cover of the trees.
"Come out here, Drizzt Do'Urden." The words were spoken in a hauntingly familiar language that Drizzt had not spoken for several years. He shuddered as it continued. "Or your faerie friend will not last so long."
There were sounds of a struggle. "Drizzt, don't!" Innovindil managed to shout before she was silenced again with a thud that turned Drizzt's stomach. All he could think was Not another, over and over, desperately. I can't lose another.
"You only have so long before my patience subsides, Do'Urden," the calm, feminine, drow voice threatened.
"Asanque," Drizzt replied, a drow word which could mean either "as you wish" or "likewise." He stepped out into view of the orcs, and, he assumed, their drow companion. Snarls rose up on all sides, and the beasts brandished crude weapons at him. He noted carefully, and with some satisfaction, that none were willing to make any move more threatening towards the dangerous, lavender-eyed drow ranger.
A sharp, mirthless laugh echoed through the trees. "So it is true, what they say about how naïve you are."
"That remains to be seen," Drizzt replied. His purple eyes flitted over the faces of orcs and to the side, where he could just make out where the shadows grew deeper and red glowing eyes peered hungrily out at him. There were at least two drow there, probably more if he knew his treacherously opportunistic kin. He hoped, on more than one level, that he did not.
Drizzt Do'Urden, his rational self, searched for any plausible way he could make it out of this alive, and more importantly, with Innovindil alive as well. He guessed the number of orcs to be about thirty strong, and with the added threat of the drow that was more than Drizzt could hope to defeat. He felt the Hunter trying desperately to surface, that primal being that knew little else beyond survival, the alter ego that he fed with the anger and hatred that Drizzt's natural demeanor pushed away.
He shivered with the effort as he held the Hunter off, knowing that he could not hold on long against it.
A female drow stepped out from under the trees, separated from Drizzt by a hundred meters and all of the orcs. His eyes snapped involuntarily to the snake headed whip displayed prominently on her belt. He quickly averted his gaze, his lip curling in a feral snarl that the Hunter forced through his throat.
How Drizzt wished he could call Guenhwyvar!
"So this is the mighty renegade himself, the lone drow who has incurred the wrath of so many Matron Mothers."
Drizzt had no patience for such meaningless labels, unnecessary words. "What do you want?" he asked with annoyance. "What reason have you to come after me?"
The drow shook her head. "No, Drizzt, you have the wrong idea. I've not come after you. I have merely, fortunately, happened upon you. There are so many things I want, Drizzt Do'Urden. What do you have to offer?"
"Air," he retorted. "Your ability to breathe it in."
"I already have that," she bantered. "Give me the cat."
Drizzt smiled mirthlessly. "No."
"Your heart," she suggested. Drizzt paused for a moment.
"No longer mine to give."
Again the laughter came, a smooth yet incredibly harsh sound. "Ah, Drizzt."
Briefly, Drizzt wondered why he was still standing there, unscathed, negotiating with one of his heartless, evil kind. She was no Jarlaxle, certainly no Zaknafein... but was she a Matron Malice? Briza? She could hardly be trusted, but was she to fear?
"Let me see the faerie," he asked.
The drow smiled. "Come over here and look at her yourself."
Drizzt's hesitation was only momentary, and as he took a step forward it was if the orcs had been let off of leashes. He understood his mistake in thinking that they were apprehensive about fighting him; rather they did not want to vex whoever controlled them. The creatures came ahead strong, crude but ultimately effective weapons chopping in towards him from all sides as they surged around him. He let Twinkle flare to light, choosing to concentrate on more important matters.
An orcish spear stabbed in for his thigh. It was systematically swatted away and broken by a sweeping scimitar, which followed the momentum deep into the chest of another orc, dropping it. From his left came a notched axe, swinging high at his throat. The weapon was the final touch that made Drizzt relinquish control to the waiting Hunter within him.
The scimitar wielding drow ducked as he turned on the orc holding the familiar-looking weapon. He looked at the ugly beast and saw Bruenor standing on the tower, one-horned helmet atop his head, axe held aloft. He looked at the weapon, and saw the tower crumble, taking Bruenor with it, taking Catti- Brie and Wulfgar and Regis. Now trying to take Innovindil.
Lavender eyes narrowed, a grim smirk appeared on the sculpted ebony face, two deadly scimitars flowed in, their dance now focused on this offensive foe. The Hunter only noticed the slightest slowing of his momentum as the blades sliced through the orc's shoulders, severing both arms cleanly. The howl of the orc did not create any pity within the Hunter, only more need for blood. One, two, one, two, one, two, two. The Hunter's blades created a clear rhythm as he hacked into the unfortunate orc.
Purely out of instinct, he had Icingdeath in line to catch the swipe of a sword from behind him. As he settled into the fight, so did the creatures. He could not afford to focus on one attack again. He fell more deeply into the warrior instincts.
Drizzt's eyes shut, they could not process information fast enough to aid him at this point. His scimitars created an impenetrable barrier of steel around him, ringing with the song of battle, each new strike creating a unique note. The sound of his enemies and their weapons hitting the ground became a sort of savage drum beat, setting the pace of his dance.
The Hunter automatically knew when no other orc came to meet his attacks, and he stopped short his momentum. His eyes snapped open again, to witness the carnage he had wrought. The drow clapped slowly, sinisterly, as Drizzt Do'Urden once again took control back from the Hunter. He understood that all of the killing had brought him no joy or even satisfaction, and therefore realized that all of his success so far in this battle had come as no true victory.
Drizzt lived for the excitement, the thrill of battle, but even that had lost it's meaning somewhere along the course of his single-minded quest for revenge. As the rage and blood- lust receded, he started to recognize the aching all over his body, the evidence that his defense had not been quite as impenetrable as he had thought. His scimitars seemed to grow heavier in his tired arms, as he looked up to see two drow, one male, one female.
"A beautiful display," said the female. "I do regret that we will have to kill you."
"Wos that?" cried the largest of the band, who also looked to be the stupidest. Given that evidence, Drizzt guessed him to be the leader of the party. The others shifted uncomfortably.
Drizzt jumped as a very similar ringing sound was heard across the camp from his hidden vantage point. "Innovindil," he whispered under his breath to himself.
"Oo's there?"
Drizzt, seconds before, had been fully prepared to jump out and attack. Now, with another to be concerned about, he thought again. Was this worth the risk, merely to sate his sudden thirst for orc-blood? He thought of his dream, of Zak and Motolio. Would they want him to enter a battle in which he was ridiculously outnumbered, if it was at risk of a friend's life? At the risk of his own life?
Innovindil suddenly made a strangled noise, one that may have been the beginning of a scream that had been cut short. Resisting the overpowering urge to call out to her, Drizzt remained still and silent. The orcs in the camp seemed suddenly very restless, but much less nervous. A very non- orcish voice arose from the cover of the trees.
"Come out here, Drizzt Do'Urden." The words were spoken in a hauntingly familiar language that Drizzt had not spoken for several years. He shuddered as it continued. "Or your faerie friend will not last so long."
There were sounds of a struggle. "Drizzt, don't!" Innovindil managed to shout before she was silenced again with a thud that turned Drizzt's stomach. All he could think was Not another, over and over, desperately. I can't lose another.
"You only have so long before my patience subsides, Do'Urden," the calm, feminine, drow voice threatened.
"Asanque," Drizzt replied, a drow word which could mean either "as you wish" or "likewise." He stepped out into view of the orcs, and, he assumed, their drow companion. Snarls rose up on all sides, and the beasts brandished crude weapons at him. He noted carefully, and with some satisfaction, that none were willing to make any move more threatening towards the dangerous, lavender-eyed drow ranger.
A sharp, mirthless laugh echoed through the trees. "So it is true, what they say about how naïve you are."
"That remains to be seen," Drizzt replied. His purple eyes flitted over the faces of orcs and to the side, where he could just make out where the shadows grew deeper and red glowing eyes peered hungrily out at him. There were at least two drow there, probably more if he knew his treacherously opportunistic kin. He hoped, on more than one level, that he did not.
Drizzt Do'Urden, his rational self, searched for any plausible way he could make it out of this alive, and more importantly, with Innovindil alive as well. He guessed the number of orcs to be about thirty strong, and with the added threat of the drow that was more than Drizzt could hope to defeat. He felt the Hunter trying desperately to surface, that primal being that knew little else beyond survival, the alter ego that he fed with the anger and hatred that Drizzt's natural demeanor pushed away.
He shivered with the effort as he held the Hunter off, knowing that he could not hold on long against it.
A female drow stepped out from under the trees, separated from Drizzt by a hundred meters and all of the orcs. His eyes snapped involuntarily to the snake headed whip displayed prominently on her belt. He quickly averted his gaze, his lip curling in a feral snarl that the Hunter forced through his throat.
How Drizzt wished he could call Guenhwyvar!
"So this is the mighty renegade himself, the lone drow who has incurred the wrath of so many Matron Mothers."
Drizzt had no patience for such meaningless labels, unnecessary words. "What do you want?" he asked with annoyance. "What reason have you to come after me?"
The drow shook her head. "No, Drizzt, you have the wrong idea. I've not come after you. I have merely, fortunately, happened upon you. There are so many things I want, Drizzt Do'Urden. What do you have to offer?"
"Air," he retorted. "Your ability to breathe it in."
"I already have that," she bantered. "Give me the cat."
Drizzt smiled mirthlessly. "No."
"Your heart," she suggested. Drizzt paused for a moment.
"No longer mine to give."
Again the laughter came, a smooth yet incredibly harsh sound. "Ah, Drizzt."
Briefly, Drizzt wondered why he was still standing there, unscathed, negotiating with one of his heartless, evil kind. She was no Jarlaxle, certainly no Zaknafein... but was she a Matron Malice? Briza? She could hardly be trusted, but was she to fear?
"Let me see the faerie," he asked.
The drow smiled. "Come over here and look at her yourself."
Drizzt's hesitation was only momentary, and as he took a step forward it was if the orcs had been let off of leashes. He understood his mistake in thinking that they were apprehensive about fighting him; rather they did not want to vex whoever controlled them. The creatures came ahead strong, crude but ultimately effective weapons chopping in towards him from all sides as they surged around him. He let Twinkle flare to light, choosing to concentrate on more important matters.
An orcish spear stabbed in for his thigh. It was systematically swatted away and broken by a sweeping scimitar, which followed the momentum deep into the chest of another orc, dropping it. From his left came a notched axe, swinging high at his throat. The weapon was the final touch that made Drizzt relinquish control to the waiting Hunter within him.
The scimitar wielding drow ducked as he turned on the orc holding the familiar-looking weapon. He looked at the ugly beast and saw Bruenor standing on the tower, one-horned helmet atop his head, axe held aloft. He looked at the weapon, and saw the tower crumble, taking Bruenor with it, taking Catti- Brie and Wulfgar and Regis. Now trying to take Innovindil.
Lavender eyes narrowed, a grim smirk appeared on the sculpted ebony face, two deadly scimitars flowed in, their dance now focused on this offensive foe. The Hunter only noticed the slightest slowing of his momentum as the blades sliced through the orc's shoulders, severing both arms cleanly. The howl of the orc did not create any pity within the Hunter, only more need for blood. One, two, one, two, one, two, two. The Hunter's blades created a clear rhythm as he hacked into the unfortunate orc.
Purely out of instinct, he had Icingdeath in line to catch the swipe of a sword from behind him. As he settled into the fight, so did the creatures. He could not afford to focus on one attack again. He fell more deeply into the warrior instincts.
Drizzt's eyes shut, they could not process information fast enough to aid him at this point. His scimitars created an impenetrable barrier of steel around him, ringing with the song of battle, each new strike creating a unique note. The sound of his enemies and their weapons hitting the ground became a sort of savage drum beat, setting the pace of his dance.
The Hunter automatically knew when no other orc came to meet his attacks, and he stopped short his momentum. His eyes snapped open again, to witness the carnage he had wrought. The drow clapped slowly, sinisterly, as Drizzt Do'Urden once again took control back from the Hunter. He understood that all of the killing had brought him no joy or even satisfaction, and therefore realized that all of his success so far in this battle had come as no true victory.
Drizzt lived for the excitement, the thrill of battle, but even that had lost it's meaning somewhere along the course of his single-minded quest for revenge. As the rage and blood- lust receded, he started to recognize the aching all over his body, the evidence that his defense had not been quite as impenetrable as he had thought. His scimitars seemed to grow heavier in his tired arms, as he looked up to see two drow, one male, one female.
"A beautiful display," said the female. "I do regret that we will have to kill you."
