Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(49)

Chapter 14

Proper Respect


They moved through the winding tunnels as quietly as a whispering breeze, each step measured in stealth and ending in an alert posture. They were ninth-year students working on their last year in Melee-Magthere, and they operated as often outside the cavern of Menzoberranzan as within. No longer did padded poles adorn their belts; adamantite weapons hung there now, finely forged and cruelly edged.

At times, the tunnels closed in around them, barely wide enough for one dark elf to squeeze t hrough. Other times, the students found themselves in huge caverns with walls and ceilings beyond their sight. They were drow warriors, trained to operate in any type of Underdark landscape and learned in the ways of any foe they might encounter.

“Practice patrols,” Master Hatch’net had called these drills, though he had warned the students that “practice patrols,” often met monsters quite real and unfriendly. Drizzt, still rated in the top of his class and in the point position, led this group, with Master atch’net and ten other students following in formation behind. Only twenty-two of the original twenty-five in Drizzt’s class remained. One had been dismissed and subsequently executed-for a foiled assassination attempt on a higher-ranking student, a second had been killed in the practice arena, and a third had died in his bunk of natural causes-for a dagger in the heart quite naturally ends one’s life.

In another tunnel a short distance away, Berg’inyon Baenre, holding the class’s second rank, led Master Dinin and the other half.

The class in a similar exercise. Day after day, Drizzt and the others had struggled to keep the fine edge of readiness. In three months of these mock patrols, the group had encountered only one monster, a cave fisher, a nasty crablike denizen of the Underdark. Even that conflict had provided only brief excitement, and no practical experience, for the cave fisher had slipped out along the high ledges before the drow patrol could even get a strike at it.

This day, Drizzt sensed something different. Perhaps it was an unusual edge on Master Hatch’net’s voice or a tingling in the stones of the cavern, a subtle vibration that hinted to Drizzt’s subconscious of other creatures in the maze of tunnels. Whatever the reason, Drizzt knew enough o follow his instincts, and he was not surprised when the telltale glow of a heat source flitted down a side passage on the periphery of his vision. He signaled for the rest of the patrol to halt, then quickly climbed to a perch on a tiny ledge above the side passage’s exit.

When the intruder emerged into the main tunnel, he found himself lying back, down on the floor with two scimitar blades crossed over his neck. Drizzt backed away immediately when he recognized his victim as another drow student.

“What a re you doing down here?” Master Hatch’net demanded of the intruder. “You know that the tunnels outside Menzoberranzan are not to be traveled by any but the patrols!”

“Your pardon, Master,” the student pleaded. “I bring news of an alert,” All in the patrol crowded around, but Hatch’net backed them off with a glare and ordered Drizzt to set them out in defensive positions.

“A child is missing,” the student went on, “a princess of House Baenre! Monsters have been spotted in the tunnels!”

“What sort of monsters?” Hatch’net asked. A loud clacking noise, like the sound of two stones being clapped together, answered his question. “Hook horrors!” Hatch’net signaled to Drizzt at his side. Drizzt had never seen such beasts, but he had learned enough about them to understand why Master Hatch’net had suddenly reverted to the silent hand code. Hook horrors hunted through a sense of hearing more acute than that of any other creature in all the Underdark. Drizzt immediately relayed the signal around to the others, and they held absolutely quiet for instructions from the master. This was the situation they had trained to handle for the last nine years of their lives, and only the sweat on their palms belied the calm readiness of these young drow warriors.

“Spells of darkness will not foil hook horrors,” Hatch’net signaled to his troops. “Nor will these,” He indicated the pistol crossbow in his hand and the poison-tipped dart it held, a common first-strike weapon of the dark elves. Hatch’net put the crossbow away and drew his slender sword.

“You must find a gap in the creature’s bone armor,” he reminded the others, “and slip your weapon through to the flesh.” He tapped Drizzt on the shoulder, and they started off together, the other students falling into line behind them.

The clacking resounded clearly, but, echoing off the stone walls of the tunnels, it provided a confusing beacon for the hunting drow. Hatch’net let Drizzt steer their course and was impressed by the way the student soon discerned the pattern of the echo riddle. Drizzt’s step came in confidence, though many of the others in the patrol glanced about anxiously unsure of the peril’s direction or distance.

Then a singular sound froze them all where they stood, cutting through the din of the clacking monsters and resounding again and again, surrounding the patrol in the echoing madness of a terrifying wail. It was the scream of a child.

“Princess of House Baenre!” Hatch’net signaled to Drizzt. The master started to order his troops into a battle formation, but Drizzt didn’twait to watch the commands. The scream had sent a shudder of revulsion through his spine, and when it sounded again, it lighted angry fires in his lavender eyes.