Exile (The Dark Elf Trilogy #2)(57)

“As have I.’ agreed the burrow-warden.” Magga cammara, dark elf, I have seen the wizards of Blingdenstone use similar magic when we needed to infiltrate.. ,” The deep gnome paused suddenly, remembering the heritage of the elf he was addressing.

“Menzoberranzan,” Drizzt finished with a chuckle.

Belwar cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed, and turned back to the monster. “A pech you once were,” he said, needing to hear the whole explanation spelled out in one clear thought, “and some wizard changed you into a hook horror.”

“True,” the monster replied. “Pech no more.”

“Where are your companions?” the svirfneblin asked. “If what I have heard of your people is true, pech do not often travel alone.”

“D-d-d-dead,” said the monster. “Evil w-w-w-“

“Human wizard?” Drizzt prompted.

The great beak bobbed in an excited nod. “Yes, mom-man.”

“And the wizard then left you to your pains as a hook horror,” Belwar said. He and Drizzt looked long and hard at each other and then the drow stepped away, allowing the hook horror to rise.

“I w-w-w-wish you w-w-w-would k-k-kill me,” the monster then said, twisting up into a sitting position. It looked at its clawed hands with obvious disgust. “The s-stone, the stone ... lost to me.”

Belwar raised his own crafted hands in response. “So had I once believed,” he said. “You are alive, and no longer are you alone. Come with us to the lake, where we can talk some more.”

Presently the hook horror agreed and began, with much effort, to raise its quarter-ton bulk from the floor. Amid the scraping and shuffling of the creature’s hard exoskeleton,

Belwar prudently whispered to Drizzt, “Keep your blades at the ready!”

The hook horror finally stood, towering to its imposing ten-foot height, and the drow did not argue Belwar’s logic.

For many hours, the hook horror recounted its adventures to the two friends. As amazing as the story was the monster’s growing acclimation to the use of language. This fact, and the monster’s descriptions of its previous existence-of a life tapping and shaping the stone in an almost holy reverence-further convinced Belwar and Drizzt of the truth of its bizarre tale.

“It feels g-g-good to speak again, though the language is not my own,” the creature said after a while. “It feels as if I have f-found again a part of what I once wow-was.”

With his own similar experiences so clear in his mind, Drizzt understood the sentiments completely.

“How long have you been this way?” Belwar asked.

The hook horror shrugged, its huge chest and shoulders rattling through the movement. “Weeks, m-months,’ it said. “I cannot remember. The time is I-lost to me.”

Drizzt put his face in his hands and exhaled a deep sigh, in full empathy and sympathy with the unfortunate creature. Drizzt, too, had felt so lost and alone out in the wilds. He, too, knew the grim truth of such a fate. Belwar patted the drow softly with his hammer-hand.

“And where now are you going’?” the burrow-warden asked the hook horror. “Or where were you coming from?”

“Chasing the w-w-w-“ the hook horror replied, fumbling helplessly over that last word as though the mere mention of the evil wizard pained the creature greatly. “But so much is I-lost to me. I would find him with I-little effort if I was still p-p-pech. The stones would tell me where to I-look. But I cannot talk to them very often anymore.’ The monster rose from its seat on the stone. “I will go.’ it said determinedly. “You are not safe with me around.”

“You will stay,” Drizzt said suddenly and with a tone of finality that could not be denied.

“I c-cannot control,” the hook horror tried to explain.

“You’ve no need to worry,” said Belwar. He pointed to the doorway up on the ledge at the side of the cavern. “Our home is up there, with a door too small for you to get through. Down here by the lake you must rest until we all decide our best course of action.”

The hook horror was exhausted, and the svirfneblin’s reasoning seemed sound enough. The monster dropped heavily back to the stone and curled up as much as its bulky body would allow. Drizzt and Belwar took their leave, glancing back at their strange new companion with every step.

“Clacker,” Belwar said suddenly, stopping Drizzt beside him. With great effort, the hook horror rolled over to consider the deep gnome, understanding that Belwar had uttered the word in its direction.

“That is what we shall call you, if you have no objections.’ the svirfneblin explained to the creature and to Drizzt.

“Clacker”

“A fitting name,” Drizzt remarked.

“It is a g-good name,” agreed the hook horror, but silently the creature wished that it could remember its pech name, the name that rolled on and on like a rounded boulder in a sloping passage and spoke prayers to the stone with each growling syllable.

“We will widen the door,” Drizzt said when he and Belwar got inside their cave complex. “So that Clacker may enter and rest beside us in safety.”

“No, dark elf,” argued the burrow-warden. “That we shall not do?’

“He is not safe out there beside the water,” Drizzt replied. “Monsters will find him.’