Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(82)

“That is the fun of the spell,” the high priestess replied. “The svirfneblin understands what is about to happen. Even now he is struggling to break out of the hold.”

“Prisoners!” Drizzt blurted. Dinin and the others turned to him, the draw with the dagger wearing a scowl both angry and disappointed.

“For House Do’Urden?” Drizzt asked Dinin hopefully. “We could benefit fram-.”

“Svirfnebli do not make good slaves,” Dinin replied.

“No; agreed the high priestess, moving beside the dagger-wielding fighter. She nodded to the warrior and his smile returned tenfold. He struck hard. Only Belwar remained.

The warrior waved his blood-stained dagger ominously and moved in front of the gnome leader.

“Not that one!” Drizzt protested, unable to bear anymore. “Let him live!” Drizzt wanted to say that Belwar could do them no harm, and that killing the defenseless gnome would be a cowardly and vile act. Drizzt knew that appealing to his kin for mercy would be a waste of time.

Dinin’s expression was more a look of anger than curiosity this time. “If you kill him, then no gnomes will remain to return to their ity and tell of our strength,” Drizzt reasoned, grasping at the one slim hope he could find. “We should send him back to his people, send him back to tell them of their folly in entering the domain of the drow!” Dinin looked back to the high priestess for advice.

“It seems proper reasoning,” she said with a nod. Dinin was not so certain of his brother’s motives. Not taking his eyes off Drizzt, he said to the warrior, “Then cut off the gnome’s hands.”

Drizzt didn’t flinch, realizing that if he did, Dinin would surely slaughter Belwar.

The warrior replaced the dagger on his belt and took out his heavy sword.

“Wait,” said Dinin, still eyeing Drizzt. “Release him from the spell first; I want to hear his screams.”

Several drow moved over to put the tips of their swords at Belwar’s neck as the high priestess released her magical hold. Belwar made no moves. The appointed drow warrior grasped his sword in both hands, and Belwar, brave Belwar, held his arms straight out and motionless in front of him.

Drizzt averted his gaze, unable to watch and awaiting, fearing, the gnome’s cry.

Belwar noted Drizzt’s reaction. Was it compassion? The drow warrior then swung his sword. Belwar never took his stare off Drizzt as the sword cut across his wrists, lighting a million fires of agony in his arms.

Neither did Belwar scream. He wouldn’t give Dinin the satisfaction. The gnome leader looked back to Drizzt one final time as two drow fighters ushered him out of the chamber, and he recognized the true anguish, and the apology, behind the young drow’s feigned impassive facade.

Even as Belwar was leaving, the dark elves who had chased off after the fleeing gnomes returned from the other tunnel. “We could not catch them in these tiny passageways,” one of them complained.

“Damn!” Dinin growled. Sending a handless gnome victim back to Blingdenstone was one thing, but letting healthy members of the gnome expedition escape was quite another. “I want them caught!”

“Guenhwyvar can catch them,” Masoj proclaimed, then he called the cat to his side and eyed Drizzt all the while. Drizzt’s heart raced as the wizard patted the great cat.

“Come, my pet,” Masoj said. “There is hunting left to be done!” The wizard watched Drizzt squirm at the words, knowing that Drizzt did not approve of Guenhwyvar engaging in such tactics.

“They are gone?” Drizzt asked Dinin, his voice on the edge of desperation.

“Running all the way back to Blingdenstone,” Dinin replied calmly. “If we let them.”

“And will they return?”

Dinin’s sour scowl reflected the absurdity of his brother’s question. “Would you?”

“Our task is complete, then,” Drizzt reasoned, trying vainly to find some way out of Masoj’s ignoble designs for the panther.

“We have won the day,” Dinin agreed, “though our own losses have been great. We may find still more fun, with the help of the wizard’s pet.”

“Fun,” Masoj echoed pointedly at Drizzt. “Be gone, Guenhwyvar, into the tunnels. Let us learn how fast a frightened gnome may run!”

Only a few minutes later, Guenhwyvar came back into the chamber, dragging a dead gnome in its mouth.

“Return!” Masoj commanded as Guenhwyvar dropped the body at his feet. “Bring me more!”

Drizzt’s heart dropped at the sound of the corpse flopping to the stone floor. He looked into Guenhwyvar’s eyes and saw a sadness as profound as his own. The panther was a hunter, as honorable in its own way as was Drizzt. To the evil Masoj, though, Guenhwyvar was a toy and nothing more, an instrument for his perverted pleasures, killing for no reason other than its master’s joy of killing.

In the hands of the wizard, Guenhwyvar was no more than a murderer. Guenhwyvar paused at the entrance to the small tunnel and looked to Drizzt almost apologetically.

“Return!” Masoj screamed, and he kicked the cat in the rear. Then Masoj, too, turned an eye back on Drizzt, a indictive eye. Masoj had missed his chance to kill the young Do’Urden; he would have to be careful how he explained such a mistake to his unforgiving mother. Masoj decided to worry about that unpleasant encounter later. For now, at least, he had the satisfaction of watching Drizzt suffer.