Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(59)

Drizzt just got one blade up in time to deflect the second arrow, and e dropped to one knee to clutch at his wound.

He could feel the cold poison making its way through his limb, but he stubbornly snapped off the arrow shaft and turned his attention back to the attacker. He would have to worry about the wound later, would have to hope that he could tend to it in time. Right now, his only concern was to get out of the chasm.

He turned to flee, to seek a sheltered spot where he could levitate back up to the ledge, but he found himself face-to-face with another drider.

An axe sliced by his shoulder, barely missing its mark. Drizzt blocked the return blow and launched his second scimitar into a thrust, which the drider stopped with a second axe.

Drizzt was composed now, and was confident that he could defeat this foe, even with o ne leg limiting his mobility-until an arrow cracked into his back.

Drizzt lurched forward under the weight of the blow, but managed to parry another attack from the drider before him. Drizzt dropped to his knees and fell face-down.

When the axe-wielding drider, thinking Drizzt dead, started toward him, Drizzt kicked into a roll that put him squarely under the creature’s bulbous belly. He plunged his scimitar up with all his strength, then curled back under the deluge of spidery fluids.

The wounded drider tried to scurry away but fell to the side, its insides draining out onto the stone floor. Still, Drizzt had no hope. His arms, too, were numb now, and when the other wretched creature descended upon him, he could not hope to fight it off.

He struggled to cling to consciousness, searching for some way out, battling to the bitter end. His eyelids became heavy...

Then Drizzt felt a hand grab his robe, and he was roughly lifted to his feet and slammed against the stone wall.

He opened his eyes to see his sister’s face. “He lives,” Drizzt heard her say. “We must get him back quickly and tend to his wounds.”

Another figure moved in front of him. “I thought this the best way,” Vierna apologized.

“We cannot afford to lose him,” came an unemotional reply. Drizzt recognized the voice from his past. He fought through the blur and forced his eyes to focus.

“Malice,” he whispered. “Mother,” Her enraged punch brought him into a clearer mind-set.

“Matron Malice!” she growled, her angry scowl only an inch from Drizzt’s face.”Do not ever forget that!”

To Drizzt, her coldness rivaled the poison’s, and his relief at seeing her faded away as quickly as it had flooded through him.

“You must learn your place!” Malice roared, reiterating the command that had haunted Drizzt all of his young life.

“Hear my words,” she demanded, and Drizzt heard them keenly. “Vierna brought you to this place to have you killed. She showed you mercy.” Malice cast a disappointed glance at her daughter.

“I understand the will of the Spider Queen better than she,” the matron continued, her spittle spraying Drizzt with every word. “If ever you speak ill of Lloth, our goddess, again, I will take you back to this place myself! But not to kill you; that would be too easy,” She jerked Drizzt’s head to the side so that he could look upon the grotesque remains of the drider he had killed.

“You will come back here,” Malice assured him, “to become a drider!”





Part 4

Guenhwyvar


What eyes are these that see

The pain I know in my innermost soul?

What eyes are these that see

The twisted strides of my kindred,

Led on in the wake of toys unbridled:

Arrow, bolt, and sword tip?

Yours... aye, yours,

Straight run and muscled spring,

Soft on padded paws, sheathed claws,

Weapons rested for their need,

Stained not by frivolous blood

Or murderous deceit.

Face to face, my mirror,

Reflection in a still pool by light.

Would that I might keep that image

Upon this face mine own.

Would that I might keep that heart

Within my breast untainted.

Hold tight to the proud honor of you

Mighty Guenhwyvar,

And hold tight to my side,

My dearest friend.

- Drizzt Do’Urden





Chapter 17

Homecoming


Drizzt was graduated-formally-on schedule and with the highest honors in his class. Perhaps Matron Malice had whispered into the right ears, smoothing over her son’s indiscretions, but Drizzt suspected that more likely none of those present at the Ceremony of Graduation even remembered that he had left.

He moved through the decorated gate of House Do’Urden, drawing stares from the common soldiery, and over to the cavern floor below the balcony. “So I am home,” he remarked under his breath, “for whatever that means,” After what had happened in the drider lair, Drizzt wondered if he would ever view House Do’Urden as his home again. Matron Malice was expecting him. He didn’t dare arrive late.

“It is good that you are home,” Briza said to him when she saw him rise up over the balcony’s railing.

Drizzt stepped tentatively through the entryway beside his oldest sister, trying to get a firm grasp on his surroundings. Home, Briza called it, but to Drizzt, House Do’Urden seemed as unfamiliar as the Academy had on his first day as a student.