Daughter of the Drow (17 page)

Daughter of the Drew

For a moment Liriel was tempted. She was intrigued by these draw, so different from any she knew, and she felt the call of the hunt. Yet wouldn’t hunting with these silver-haired females, on the bidding of this upstart Eilistraee, be an insult to Lloth? And if the Spider Queen should turn against her, Baenre or not, there would be no place for her in Menzoberranzan,

Ysolde read the girl’s answer in her hesitation and sent her an understanding smile. “Perhaps that is best. You do not yet understand what we do or what enemy we prepare to fight. But remember, a rightful place awaits you in the Lands Above. You may join us any time you wish, to live beneath the sun and dance in the moonlight.”

And then the drow were gone, melting into the forest with as much stealth as any Underdark patrol.

Liriel stood alone for a long moment, breathing in long draughts of the crisp night air and letting the wind play against her heated skin. Perhaps she would come here again, but only to learn and observe. Fascinating though these strange priestesses might be, Liriel was not willing to relinquish her own goddess to join them, nor could she settle down in this remote forest-cavern. If ever she should come to the surface for any length of time, it would be to travel far on some grand adventure.

That thought came to mind unbidden, and it was as appealing as it was impossible. Liriel quickly thrust it aside. She gathered together her things and prepared for her return to Menzoberranzan.

The trip back to Spelltower Xorlarrin would be more complex than the one that brought her here. That spell, although extremely powerful, only worked one way. To return she could need to take a relay of gate spells. Magical travel was unreliable in the Underdark, for areas of strong magical radiation—like the grotto where Zz’Pzora made her lair—could distort spells and throw the traveler dangerously off track.

Liriel opened her spellbook to the first of the spells. This one, Kharza said, placed a gate somewhere in the series of open caverns near Dead Dragon Gorge, some six or seven days’ travel from Menzoberranzan and very near a labyrinth of caves that lay near the surface. It was an easy site to reach by magical travel, for it had much open space and no radiation magic. From there she could find the site of a second gate that would bring her to the perimeter of the city. The final spell was more difficult, and the gate had a secret to ensnare the wizard who traveled to Spelltower Xorlarrin without Kharza-kzad’s blessing.

She quickly spoke the words to the spell, and darkness enveloped her like a welcoming embrace. Liriel looked around at the Underdark, at the comfortable familiarity of the tunnels and caverns. For good or ill, she was home.

An eerie, high-pitched cry sounded, reverberating off the walls of a good-sized cavern somewhere up ahead. Other voices joined in a chorus of excited, wavering hoots and shrieks. From behind her, Liriel heard an answering call. She spun around, hand on the hilt of her short sword, as two narrow slits of bright light came swooping down toward her. The distinctive violet shade—the color of glowing amethysts—could mean only one thing: a dragazhar.

Liriel threw herself flat and rolled aside. A large form swept over her, close enough for her to feel the rush of air. Her eyes, still attuned to the bright lights of the midnight sky, slipped back fully into the heat-sensing spectrum. The dragazhar, or nighthunter, flapped by on velvet black wings like those of a giant bat. The creature had the long tapered head of a scurry rat, a whiplike tail tipped with a razor-sharp triangular spike, and long curving ears reminiscent of dragon horns. With a wingspan of some seven feet, the nighthunter was one of the most dangerous of all the Underdark bats. Liriel crouched, pulled several throwing knives from their hiding places, and waited for the creature’s next pass.

The expected attack did not come, but sounds of battle—repeated dull thuds and the cries of the wheeling bats—came from the cavern ahead. Ten dragazhar, she guessed from the echoing calls, a full hunting pack. Seldom did they attack anything but small animals, but whatever they’d attacked this time was giving them a good fight.

And if there was anything Liriel enjoyed, it was a good fight. Weapons in hand, the drow inched her way down the tunnel.

Faint light greeted her as she rounded a sharp turn, the pale violet light cast by certain luminescent fungi. The light increased with each step, until the tunnel was nearly as bright as the midnight sky she had left behind. The sounds of battle grew louder, too, and the mighty thwacks of an unseen weapon brought squeals of anger and pain from the giant bats.

This ought to be worth watching, Liriel thought happily as she scrambled down a steep, dipping curve.

Then the cavern was before her. Thick black spears of rock thrust from the floor and the ceiling of the cave, meeting here and there like bared fangs. Several dragazhar wheeled and swooped, darting between the stalactites with astonishing agility. Not one of the creatures had gone unscathed by battle. Most were scored with long, bloody lines, one had lost its tail, and yet another flopped helplessly on the cavern floor, its broken wing hanging limp. Yet the dragazhar’s adversary was hidden from view.

She crouched low behind a rock formation and edged her away around for a better look. What she saw was more surprising than anything this night had yet shown her.

The nighthunters’ bane was merely this and nothing more: a single human male.

Liriel had glimpsed an occasional human in the market. A few of humankind’s shadier and more desperate merchants ventured into the Underdark, but like most dark elves of her class she despised these merchants as vermin and had no dealings with them. She had never been this close to a human. Curious, she crept closer.

This one was young, about her own age as humans reckon time, or perhaps just a bit older. The man was about a head taller than she was. He was taller than most drow mates and much broader. His thick muscles made him resemble a tall dwarf, but his face was beardless and finer of feature. He had none of the drow elegance of form, and in Uriel’s estimation his sole claim to masculine beauty was the color of his eyes, which were as bright and clear as pale blue topaz. The man had dark, fine hair cut carelessly short and skin so pale it almost glowed in the faint light of the cavern. Liriel absently fingered a lock of her own white hair. The human was designed backward, dark where she was light, like some inverted mirror.

And the strange way he fought! He had seized one of the deepbats by the tail and was bashing at it with a long club. The man used the creature as a shield, too, by swinging it at any other bat that ventured close. The entrapped dragazhar had given up any thought of fighting and was flapping frantically in an effort to escape. The battle was not without humor, and an amused chuckle escaped Liriel.

Instantly one of the bats swerved and darted toward her hiding place. Its narrow eyes gleamed with hard, gem-colored light, and it fairly cackled with excitement as it closed in on its new, smaller prey.

Liriel leaped to her feet, a knife in each hand. She threw both knives at the same instant. With deadly precision, the knives buried themselves deep into the eyes of the attacking bat. The creature crashed into the tunnel wall and rolled to the floor in a shower of loose rocks and dirt.

Already the dark elf had her second weapon ready: a sling she’d fashioned of leather and rope. Liriel stooped and snatched up a handful of small rocks. She put one into her sling and began to twirl it. The weapon whistled as it whirled around her head, and’the sudden release sent the stone flying with the speed of a fireball toward the place where the human battled the nighthunter.

The missile struck the entrapped dragazhar between the eyes. Stunned, the creature flopped forward. The man flung up his arms to shield himself from the falling beast, but the deepbat’s weight was too much for him and he went down under the giant creature. His club skittered along the rocky floor.

After a moment, the human flung aside the bat’s wing and crawled out. He met Liriel’s amused, curious gaze, and his strange blue eyes widened with alarm. He drew a large dark sword from a shoulder strap and crouched in a defensive position. So intent was he upon the unexpected appearance of a drow that he disregarded the attack coming from the remaining nighthunters, flanking him and swooping in from either side.

Liriel pointed. “Behind you!” she shouted in the drow tongue.

The young man hesitated, perhaps not understanding her words, perhaps unwilling to turn his back on a dark elf. Liriel quickly spat the words of a spell and flung out her hand. Magical fire sped toward the human.

He dropped to the ground and rolled out of the path of Liriel’s fireball. He could be quick when he wanted to; she had to give him that much. More agile than he appeared, he was back on his feet in time to see the elf’smagic missile collide with the attacking bats.

One of the deepbats wheeled aside at the last moment; the fireball struck the other directly. The force of the blow flung the creature backward, and its giant wings folded together before it like prayerful hands. Liriel followed the attack with a series of thrown knives. One after another, three blades hissed through the air and sank deep into the dragazhar’s eyes and heart.

The human gave her a quick, grateful nod and raised his sword to fend off an attack from the surviving deepbat. The dragazhar had circled the cavern and was closing in on the human. Fangs gleamed in the faint light as the creature dove toward its prey. The human held his sword high, ready to ward off the deepbat’s bite.

That’s it, Liriel thought with a stab of disappointment. The battle is over. She saw clearly what the human could not: the real attack would come from the deepbat’s tail. The dragazhar’s long tail was curled high and back, ready to strike with the barbed, poisoned tip. No weapon she could throw would stop it in time.

Liriel watched, helpless, as the deepbat swooped in. As she’d expected, the creature’s flight curved abruptly upward, taking its body out of sword’s reach. The barbed tail whipped forward.

But the man heaved the sword upward. Its heavy blade struck the nighthunter and knocked its flight askew, and the fighter lunged at the creature’s striking tail. He caught it, just above the barbed tip, and hung on with both hands.

“Now what?” Liriel muttered grimly. The man had parried the attack successfully, but he had no weapon to finish off the bat.

To her amazement, he began to twirl the deepbat overhead like a giant bolo. It was an amazing defense—the force of the spin kept the bat from attacking him—but it was also woefully shortsighted. Despite his apparent strength, the human could not keep the bat circling for long, nor could he get up enough speed to successfully fling it to its death. An ogre or bugbear might have done so, had such a creature the wits to conceive the plan, but the moment this man released the bat, it would be free to fly back and attack. Unless

A quirky plan popped into Liriel’s mind, and she seized it at once. Marshaling all the discipline of her magical training, she shut out the sounds of battle and traveled back in memory to her last night of freedom in Menzoberranzan. She closed her eyes and remembered the throbbing music and the faerie lights of the nedeirra dance. Deep in the frenzied ecstacy of the dance, she had been only faintly aware of the wizard who floated high above the floor, his hands weaving a spell that would speed the movements of the dancers into a sinuous, syncopated blur. But she had seen, and now she remembered.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hands echoed the gestures of the spell. Immediately blue faerie fire outlined the human and the bat. She heaved a sigh of relief as the magic took hold and the man’s movements began to pick up speed. Liriel took her short sword from its belt and stalked in as close as she dared. Gripping the weapon with both hands, she tensed and waited for the right moment.

Faster and faster twirled the man and the bat, caught in the grip of the dark-elven spell and limned with faerie fire. Soon the giant bat was spinning so fast it left a trailing circle of light behind it. Its shrieking wail was entirely lost in the whirl of wind. That should do it, Liriel thought. She leaped forward, her sword lashing up.

The force of the impact nearly wrenched her arms from their sockets, but the keen elven steel slashed through sinew and bone and neatly severed the deepbat’s tail. Suddenly released from its spin, the creature arrowed straight toward the cavern wall and splatted there like a giant insect. The human tumbled just as violently in the opposite direction, rolling until he struck the base of a large stalactite. He lay there, either dazed or dead.

Liriel tucked her sword back into its scabbard. Her head tilted to one side as she regarded the strange male. Several minutes passed and still he did not move. She began to feel the stirrings of worry, and she crept over and stooped down for a closer look. Gingerly she reached out to touch the pale skin of his face.

His hand flashed forward and closed around her wrist. Liriel sprang backward with a startled hiss, but the man’s grip was too strong to break. Her free hand sought the hilt of a knife, and her narrowed eyes fixed upon the pulsing vein in his neck. One quick slash, and she would be free.

“My thanks, lady,” he said, in an unexpectedly deep, rich voice. His blue eyes, at close range, were even more startling. “If not for your magic, that monster would have gotten the better of me. It is said in my land that only a fool takes a snowcat by the tail.” He glanced down at her tightly clasped wrist, and at the knife in her other hand. A wry smile twisted his lips. “If that is so, then I am twice a fool.”

He spoke in Common, a language used by some merchants. It was similar to the goblin tongue, so Liriel understood it, and could speak it after a fashion. It occurred to her that she could actually communicate with this human, and in her excitement she forgot her murderous intent and her own captivity.

“How did you know how the deepbat would attack?” she demanded.