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drow to get back, but it was too late. The chitinous clicking sound
crescendoed as the jade spiders attacked.
The weapons master was ready for them. His two blades formed a whirling
barrier before him. The spiders reached out only to have their barbed legs
beaten back. However, the swords did nothing more than keep the spiders at
bay. Even the adamantite blades could not bite through enchanted stone. Zak
continued to swing his swords in a dizzying pattern, fending off the spiders,
but step by step, he lost ground, inching back toward the open archway.
He heard the chittering behind him almost too late. A third jade spider
approached from the rear.
He glanced over his shoulder to see it lumber through the archway, right
toward Drizzt. In its attempt to get at Zak it would kill the boy. "Drizzt,
run!" he shouted.
But the boy held his ground. He gripped the Dagger of Menzoberra in one hand,
and with the other scooped up a carving knife from among the broken crockery
on the floor. With an intent look, he waved the blades at the spider. His
motions were wild and ineffectual, and the spider batted the knives aside,
opening its pincers, ready to sink them into the boy's flesh. Zak tried to
break away from the other spiders but could not disengage. The third
spider lunged toward Drizzt for the killing blow.
It happened with such speed Zak almost didn't believe his eyes. Face
grim with determination, Drizzt thrust out both knives in a distinctive
position: one high, one low, both slightly offset. The higher knife descended
even as the lower knife rose, catching one of the spider's hooked mandibles
between them. As the two contacted, the Dagger of Menzoberra flashed with
violet radiance. The stone mandible shattered to dust. The jade spider reared
back, emitting a piercing wail of pain.
So amazed was Zak that he nearly let down his guard. A leg swiped at him, and
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he renewed his onslaught even as he glanced again at Drizzt. The motion had
been crude and clumsy, but there could be no doubt. It was the torque vise.
Zak had performed the move a thousand times himself on his enemies.
But it was his signature trick. He had never taught it to another. How was it
that this young boy seemed to have known by instinct just how to perform it?
Then the truth hit Zak. Of course. Why had he not seen it before? Drizzt's
spirit, his instinctive skill with weapons, the light of defiance in his
strange lavender eyes . . . Malice had lied to him eleven years ago. This was
no child of Rizzen's.
"My son . . ." Zak breathed in wonder.
The third jade spider was recovering. Even a blow from the Dagger of
Menzoberra had not been enough to keep it at bay for long. Drizzt had the
instinct of a fighter, but he lacked the experience. That first blow had been
lucky. The second might not be.
Zak launched a furious attack at the jade spiders, driving them back for a
moment. He jerked open the door of a side chamber and pushed a surprised
Drizzt inside.
"Lock the door, Drizzt!" he shouted. "And don't open it until I tell you!"
Drizzt shook his head in protest. "But I want to help you fight!"
This was no time to be soft with the boy. "That's an order!" Zak snarled. "Do
it!"
Drizzt hung his head, his expression wounded, then nodded, shutting the door
to the side chamber.
Zak waited to hear the heavy lock slide into place. Satisfied, he turned to
engage his foes. The three jade spiders had recovered and scuttled toward him
as one. A fierce grin spread across Zak's dusky visage as he raised his
swords. He had something to fight for now.
"Come on, you magical vermin," he growled, and the jade spiders did.
Chapter Twelve: Dagger Bearer
"Hello, Drizzt Do'Urden," spoke a sultry voice.
Gasping in surprise, Drizzt spun around. At first the small storeroom
appeared empty. Then the shadows unfolded before him. He blinked and found
he was not alone after all.
She was the most beautiful drow lady he had ever seen. Her skin was as dark
as onyx and as radiant as faerie fire, and her bone-white hair fell over
her smooth shoulders in a single lustrous wave.
She was clad in a trailing gown of what seemed thick black velvet. Her deep
red lips parted in a small smile, revealing pearl-white teeth. Most remarkable
of all were her eyes. They were purple, just like
Drizzt's own.
Muffled but clear, Drizzt heard the sounds of battle outside the door. "I
should be out there, helping him," he protested. "I'm going to be a warrior
one day, you know."
The lady laughed-clear water on dark stone. "Oh, yes. I know. But your place
right now is here, Dagger Bearer."
Drizzt gazed at the ornate dagger in his grip. Its purple gem winked back like
a secret eye. He looked up at the lady.
"How do you know me?" he demanded.
"I know many things," she replied. A breath of wind seemed to ripple the
fabric of her gown, but
Drizzt had felt no breeze. With a start he realized the truth. It was her
dress itself that was moving. The gown was not fashioned of black velvet, but
of tiny spiders, each clinging to another, weaving a living fabric.
Drizzt licked his lips. "I'm not. . . I'm not afraid of spiders, you know."
"Truly?" Her smile deepened, a perilous expression. "Then come closer, child."
The lady in the dress of spiders raised a slender arm, beckoning him, and
Drizzt could not resist her power.
Chapter Thirteen: The Favor of Lloth
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Matron Malice strode down the corridor toward the sounds of commotion, furious
someone had dared disturb her celebration. Curious-or hoping to see blood-much
of the feasting party followed in her wake, including, to her chagrin, Matron
Baenre. Malice could only hope whatever she found would not embarrass her in
front of the powerful matron of Menzoberranzan's First House.
Her hopes were dashed when she rounded a corner and took in the scene before
her. A mixture of emotions crashed through Malice: astonishment, rage, and an
inexplicable feeling of... exultation.
The three jade spiders had him cornered. One of his swords had been knocked
from his hand, and the other was broken a foot from the hilt. Blood trickled
from the corner of his mouth. One jade spider he could have handled with ease,
two with difficulty. But even for him, three was too much. They closed in for
the kill.
"Is that not your weapons master, Matron Malice?" a voice croaked in her ear.
Matron Baenre. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]