Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(51)

Two of Drizzt’s enemies were dead, and one of the hook horror sentries in the hallway was down, but Drizzt found no relief in those facts. The third hook horror towered over him as he desperately tried to get his blades free from his latest victim. Drizzt had no escape from this one.

The second patrol arrived then, and Dinin and Berg’inyon Baenre rushed into the cul-de-sac, along the same ledge Drizzt had taken. The hook horror turned away from Drizzt just as the two skilled fighters came at it.

Drizzt ignored the painful gash in his back and the cracks he had no doubt suffered in his slender ribs. Breathing came to him in labored gasps, but this, too, was of no consequence. He finally managed to free one of his blades, and he charged at the monster’s back. Caught in the middle of the three skilled drow, the hook horror went down in seconds.

The corridor was finally cleared, and the dark elves rushed in all around the cul-de-sac. They had lost only one student in their battle against the monster sentries.

“A princess of House Barrison’del’armgo,” remarked one of the students in Dinin’s patrol, looking at the child’s body.

“House Baenre, we were told,” said another student, one from Hatch’net’s group. Drizzt did not miss the discrepancy. Berg’inyon Baenre rushed over to see if the victim was indeed his youngest sister.

“Not of my house,” he said with obvious relief after a quick inspection. He then laughed as further examination revealed a few other details about the corpse. “Not even a princess!” he declared.

Drizzt watched it all curiously, noting the impassive, callous attitude of his companions most of all. Another student confirmed Berg’inyon’s observation. “A boy child!” he spouted. “But of what house?”

Master Hatch’net moved over to the tiny body and reached down to take the purse from around the child’s neck. He emptied its contents into his hand, revealing the emblem of a lesser house.

“A lost waif,” he laughed to his students, tossing the empty purse back to the ground and pocketing its contents, “of no consequence.”

“A fine fight,” Dinin was quick to add, “with only one loss. Go back to Menzoberranzan proud of the work you have accomplished this day.”

Drizzt slapped the blades of his scimitars together in a resounding ring of protest. Master Hatch’net ignored him. “Form up and head back,” he told the others. “You all performed well this day,” He then glared at Drizzt, stopping the angry student in his tracks.

“Except for you!” Hatch’net snarled. “I cannot ignore the fact that you downed two of the beasts and helped with a third,” Hatch’net scolded, “but you endangered the rest of us with your foolish bravado!”

“I warned of the sentries-,” Drizzt stuttered.

“Damn your warning!” shouted the master. “You went off without command! You ignored the accepted methods of battle! You led us in here blindly! Look at the corpse of your fallen companion!” Hatch’net raged, pointing to the dead student in the corridor. “His blood is on your hands!”

“I meant to save the child,” Drizzt argued.

“We all meant to save the child!” retorted Hatch’net. Drizzt was not so certain. What would a child be doing out in these corridors all alone? How convenient that a group of hook horrors, a rarely seen beast in the region of Menzoberranzan, just happened by to provide training for this “practice patrol”. Too convenient, Drizzt knew, considering that the passages farther from the city teemed with the true patrols of seasoned warriors, wizards, and even clerics.

“You knew what was around the bend in the tunnel,” Drizzt said evenly, his eyes narrowing at the master. The slap of a blade across the wound on his back made Drizzt lurch in pain, and he nearly lost his footing. He turned to find Dinin glaring down at him.

“Keep your foolish words unspoken,” Dinin warned in a harsh whisper, “or I will cut out your tongue.”

“The child was a plant,” Drizzt insisted when he was alone with his brother in Dinin’s room.

Dinin’s response was a stinging smack across the face. “They sacrificed him for the purpose of the drill,” growled the unrelenting younger Do’Urden.

Dinin launched a second punch, but Drizzt caught it in mid-swing. “You know the truth of my words,” Drizzt said. “You knew about it all along.”

“Learn your place, Secondboy,” Dinin replied in open threat, “in the Academy and in the family,” He pulled away from his brother.

“To the Nine Hells with the Academy!” Drizzt spat at Dinin’s face. “If the family holds similar…” He noticed that Dinin’s hands now held sword and dirk.

Drizzt jumped back, his own scimitars coming out at the ready. “I have no desire to fight you, my brother,” he said. “Know well that if you attack, I will defend. Only one of us will walk out of here.”

Dinin considered his next move carefully. If he attacked and won, the threat to his position in the family would be at an end. Certainly no one, not even Matron Malice, would question the punishment he levied against his impertinent younger brother. Dinin had seen Drizzt in battle, though.

Two hook horrors! Even Zaknafein would be hard pressed to attain such a victory. Still, Dinin knew that if he did not carry through with his threat, if he let Drizzt face him down, he might give Drizzt confidence in their future struggles, possibly inciting the treachery he had always expected from the secondboy.