Exile (The Dark Elf Trilogy #2)(50)

“Magga cammara,” whispered the stunned svirfneblin, and Drizzt shared that thought.

“It appears as though the floor was blasted away,” Drizzt remarked when he again found his voice.

“Melted away,” replied Belwar, guessing the liquid’s nature. He hacked off a chunk of stone at his side and, tapping Drizzt to get his attention, dropped it into the green lake. The liquid hissed as if in anger where the rock hit, eating away at the stone before it even sank from sight.

“Acid,” Belwar explained.

Drizzt looked at him curiously. He knew of acid from his days of training under the wizards of Sorcere in the Academy. Wizards often concocted such vile liquids for use their magical experiments, but Drizzt did not figure that acid would appear naturally, or in such quantities.

“Some wizard’s working, I would guess,” said Belwar. “An experiment out of control. It has probably been here for a hundred years, eating away at the floor, sinking down inch by inch.”

“But what remains of the floor seems secure enough,” observed Drizzt, pointing to the walkways. “And we have a score of tunnels to choose from.”

“Then let us begin at once,” said Belwar. “I do not like this place. We are exposed in the light, and I would not care to take quick flight along such narrow bridges- not with a lake of acid below me!”

Drizzt agreed and took a cautious step out on the walkway, but Guenhwyvar quickly moved past him. Drizzt understood the panther’s logic and wholeheartedly agreed.

“Guenhwyvar will lead us,” he explained to Belwar. “The panther is the heaviest and quick enough to spring away if a section begins to fall.”

The burrow-warden was not completely satisfied. “What if Guenhwyvar does not make it to safety?” he asked, truly concerned. “What will the acid do to a magical creature?”

Drizzt wasn’t certain of the answer. “Guenhwyvar should be safe,” he reasoned, pulling the onyx figurine from his pocket. “I hold the gateway to the panther’s home plane.’

Guenhwyvar was a dozen strides away by then-the walkway seemed sturdy enough-and Drizzt set out to follow. “Magga cammara, I pray you are right,” he heard Belwar mumble at his back as he took the first steps out from the ledge.

The chamber was huge, several hundred feet across even to the nearest exit. The companions neared the halfway point-Guenhwyvar had already passed it-when they heard a strange chanting sound. They stopped and glanced about, searching for the source.

A weird-looking creature stepped out from one of the numerous side passages. It was bipedal and black skinned, with a beaked bird’s head and the torso of a man, featherless and wingless. Both of its powerful-looking arms ended in hooked, wicked claws, and its legs ended in three-toed feet. Another creature stepped out from behind it, and another from behind them.

“Relatives?” Belwar asked Drizzt, for the creatures did indeed resemble some weird cross between a dark elf and a bird.

“Hardly,” Drizzt replied. “In all of my life, I have never heard of such creatures.’

Doom! Doom!” came the continuing chant, and the friends looked around to see more of the bird-men stepping out from other passages. They were dire corbies, an ancient race more common to the southern reaches of the Underdark-though rare even there-and almost unknown in this part of the world. Corbies had never been of much concern to any of the Underdark races, for the bird-men’s methods were crude and their numbers were small. For a passing band of adventurers, however, a flock of savage dire corbies meant trouble indeed.

“Nor have I ever encountered such creatures; Belwar agreed. “But I do not believe that they are pleased to see us.”

The chant became a series of horrifying shrieks as the corbies began to disperse out onto the walkways, walking at first, but occasionally breaking into quick trots, their anxiety obviously increasing.

“You are wrong, my little friend; Drizzt remarked. “I believe that they are quite pleased to have their dinner delivered to them.”

Belwar looked around helplessly. Nearly all of their escape routes were already cut off, and they couldn’t hope to get out without a fight. “Dark elf, I can think of a thousand places I would rather do battle,” the burrow-warden said with a resigned shrug and- a shudder as he took another look down into the acid lake. ‘Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Belwar began his ritual to enchant his magical hands.

“Move while you chant,” Drizzt instructed him, leading him on. “Let us get as close to an exit as we can before the fighting begins.”

One group of corbies closed rapidly at the party’s side, but Guenhwyvar, with a mighty spring that spanned two of the walkways, cut the bird-men off.

“Bivrip!” Belwar cried, completing his spell, and he turned toward the impending battle.

“Guenhwyvar can take care of that group,” Drizzt assured him, quickening his steps toward the nearest wall. Belwar saw the drow’s reasoning; still another group of enemies had come out of the exit they were making for.

The momentum of Guenhwyvar’s leap carried the panther straight into the pack of corbies, bowling two of them right off the walkway. The bird-men shrieked horribly as they fell to their deaths, but their remaining companions seemed unbothered by the loss. Drooling and chanting, “Doom! Doom!” they tore in at Guenhwyvar with their sharp talons.