The Crystal Shard (19 page)

The room was empty. A door previously invisible to Drizzt from his vantage point at the hearth stood ajar.

*****

Biggrin sent its lone remaining soldier out the secret side door with a message for Akar Kessell. The big giant had been disgraced, and it knew that the wizard wouldn't readily accept the loss of so many valuable troops. Biggrin's only chance was to take care of the two intruding warriors and hope that their heads would appease its unmerciful boss. The giant pressed its ear to the door and waited for its victims to enter the adjoining room.

*****

Wulfgar and Drizzt passed through the second door and came into a lavish chamber, its floor adorned with plush furs and large, puffy pillows. Two other doors led out of the room.

One was slightly open, a darkened corridor beyond, and the other was closed.

Suddenly Wulfgar stopped Drizzt with an outstretched hand and motioned for the drow to be quiet. The intangible quality of a true warrior, the sixth sense that allows him to sense unseen danger, had come into play. Slowly the barbarian turned to the closed door and lifted Aegis-fang above his head. He paused for a moment and cocked his head, straining to hear a confirming sound. None came, but Wulfgar trusted his instincts. He roared to Tempos and launched the hammer. It split the door asunder with a thunderous snap and dropped the planks – and Biggrin – to the floor.

Drizzt noticed the swing of the open secret door across the room beyond the giant chieftain and realized that the last of the giants must have slipped away. Quickly the drow set Guenhwyvar into motion. The panther understood, too, for it bolted away, clearing the writhing form of Biggrin with one great bound, and charged out of the cave to give chase to the escaping verbeeg.

Blood streamed down the side of the big giant's head, but the thick bone of its skull had rejected the hammer. Drizzt and Wulfgar looked on in disbelief as the huge frost giant shook its jowls and rose to meet them.

"It can't do that," protested Wulfgar.

"This giant's a stubborn one," Drizzt shrugged.

The barbarian waited for Aegis-fang to return to his grasp, then moved with the drow to face Biggrin.

The giant stayed in the doorway to prevent either of its foes from flanking it as Wulfgar and Drizzt confidently moved in. The three exchanged ominous stares and a few easy swings as they felt each other out.

"You must be Biggrin," Drizzt said, bowing.

"That I am," proclaimed the giant. "Biggrin! The last foe yer eyes'll see!"

"Confident as well as stubborn," Wulfgar remarked.

"Little human," the giant retorted, "I've squashed a hunnerd o' yen puny kin!"

"More reason for us to kill you," Drizzt stated calmly.

With sudden speed and ferocity that surprised its two opponents, Biggrin took a wide sweep with its huge axe. Wulfgar stepped back out of its deadly range, and Drizzt managed to duck under the blow, but the drow shuddered when he saw the axe blade take a fair-sized chunk out of the stone wall.

Wulfgar jumped right back at the monster as the axe passed him, pounding on Biggrin's broad chest with Aegis-fang. The giant flinched but took the blow. "Ye'll have t' hit me harder 'an that, puny man!" it bellowed as it launched a mighty backswing with the flat head of the axe.

Again Drizzt slipped below the swing. Wulfgar, however, battle-weary as he was, did not move quickly enough to back out of range. The barbarian managed to get Aegis-fang up in front of him, but the sheer force of Biggrin's heavy weapon smashed him into the wall. He crumpled to the floor.

Drizzt knew that they were in trouble. His left arm remained useless, his reflexes were slowing with exhaustion, and this giant was simply too powerful for him to parry any blows.

He managed to slip in one short thrust with his scimitar as the giant recovered for its next swing, and then he fled toward the main corridor.

"Run, ye dark dog!" roared the giant. "I'll after ye, an' I'll have ye!" Biggrin charged after Drizzt, smelling the kill.

The drow sheathed his scimitar as he reached the main passage and looked for a spot to ambush the monster. Nothing presented itself, so he went halfway to the exit and waited.

"Where can ye hide?" Biggrin taunted as its huge bulk entered the corridor. Poised in the shadows, the drow threw his two knives. Both hit home, but Biggrin hardly slowed.

Drizzt moved outside the cave. He knew that if Biggrin didn't follow him, he would have to go back in; he certainly couldn't leave Wulfgar to die. The first rays of dawn had found their way onto the mountain, and Drizzt worried that the growing light would spoil any chance he had for ambush. Scrambling up one of the small trees that concealed the exit, he pulled out his dagger.

Biggrin charged out into the sunlight and looked around for signs of the fleeing drow. "Yer about, ye miserable dog! Ye've no place to run!"

Suddenly Drizzt was on top of the monster, gouging its face and neck in a barrage of stabs and slices. The giant howled in rage and jerked its massive body backward violently, sending Drizzt, who could not gain a firm hold with his weakened arm, flying back into the tunnel.

The drow landed heavily on his injured shoulder and nearly swooned in agony. He squirmed and twisted for a moment, trying to regain his feet, but he bumped into a heavy boot. He knew that Biggrin couldn't have gotten to him so quickly. He turned slowly onto his back, wondering where this new giant had come from.

But the drow's outlook changed dramatically when he saw that Wulfgar stood over him, Aegis-fang firmly in his hand and a grim look stamped upon his face. Wulfgar never took his eyes off of the giant as it entered the tunnel.

"He's mine," the barbarian said grimly.

Biggrin looked hideous indeed. The side of its head where the hammer had struck was caked with dark, dried blood, while the other, and several spots on its face and neck, ran bright with blood from new wounds. The two knives Drizzt had thrown were still sticking in the giant's chest like morbid medals of honor.

"Can you take it again?" Wulfgar challenged as he sent Aegis-fang on a second flight toward the giant.

In answer, Biggrin stuck out his chest defiantly to block the blow. "I can take whatere' ye have t' give!" it boasted.

Aegis-fang slammed home, and Biggrin staggered back a step. The hammer had cracked a rib or two, but the giant could handle that.

More deadly, though, and unknown to Biggrin, Aegis-fang had driven one of Drizzt's knives through the lining of its heart.

"I can run, now," Drizzt whispered to Wulfgar when he saw the giant advancing again.

"I stay," the barbarian insisted without the slightest tremor of fear in his voice.

Drizzt pulled his scimitar. "Well spoken, brave friend. Let us fell this foul beast – there's food to be eaten!"

"Ye'll find that more a task than ye talk!" Biggrin retorted. It felt a sudden stinging in its chest, but it grunted away the pain. "I've felt the best that ye can hit, an' still I come at ye! Ye can no' hope t' win!"

Both Drizzt and Wulfgar feared that there was more truth to the giant's boasts than either of them would admit. They were on their last legs, wounded and winded, yet determined to stay and finish the task.

But the complete confidence of the great giant as it steadily approached was more than a little unnerving.

Biggrin realized that something was terribly wrong when it got within a few steps of the two companions. Wulfgar and Drizzt knew, too, for the giant's stride suddenly slowed visibly.

The giant looked at them in outrage as though it had been deceived. "Dogs!" it gasped, a gout of blood bursting from its mouth. "What trick…"

Biggrin fell dead without another word.

*****

"Should we go after the cat?" Wulfgar asked when they got back to the secret door.

Drizzt was wrapping a torch out of some rags he had found. "Faith in the shadow," he answered. "Guenhwyvar will not let the verbeeg escape. Besides, I have a good meal waiting for me back in the cave."

"You go," Wulfgar told him. "I shall stay here and watch for the cat's return."

Drizzt clasped the big man's shoulder as he started to leave. They had been through a lot in the short time they had been together, and Drizzt suspected that the excitement was just beginning. The drow sang a feasting song as he started to the main passage, but only as a dodge to Wulfgar, for the dinner table wouldn't be his first stop. The giant they had spoken with earlier had been evasive when asked about what lay down the one tunnel they had yet to explore. And with everything else they had found, Drizzt believed that could only mean one thing – treasure.

*****

The great panther loped along over the broken stones, easily gaining on the heavy-footed giant. Soon Guenhwyvar could hear the verbeeg's labored breathing as the creature struggled with every leap and climb. The giant was making for Daledrop and the open tundra beyond.

But so frenzied was its flight that it didn't move off the face of Kelvin's Cairn to the easier ground of the valley. It sought a straighter route, believing it to be the quicker path to safety.

Guenhwyvar knew the areas of the mountain as well as its master, knew where every creature on the mountain laired. The cat had already discerned where it wanted the giant to go. Like a shepherd's dog, it closed the remaining distance and scratched at the giant's flanks, veering it into the direction of a deep mountain pool. The terrified verbeeg, certain that the deadly warhammer or darting scimitar weren't far behind, didn't dare stop and engage the panther. It surged blindly along the path Guenhwyvar had chosen.

A short time later, Guenhwyvar broke away from the giant and raced ahead. When the cat reached the edge of the cold water, it tilted its head and concentrated its keen senses, hoping to spy something that could help it complete the task. Then Guenhwyvar noticed a tiny shimmer of movement under the sparkles of the first light on the water. Its sharp eyes sorted out the long shape lying deathly still. Satisfied that the trap was set, Guenhwyvar moved back behind a nearby ledge to wait.

The giant lumbered up to the pool, breathing heavily. It leaned against a boulder for a moment, despite its terror. Things seemed safe enough for the moment. As soon as it had caught its breath, the giant looked around quickly for signs of pursuit, then started forward again.

There was only one path across the pool, a fallen log that spanned the center, and all of the alternative routes around the pool, though the water wasn't very wide, weaved around sheer drops and jutting rockfaces and promised to be slow going.

The verbeeg tested the log. It seemed sturdy, so the monster cautiously started across. The cat waited for the giant to get close to the center of the pool, then charged from its hiding place and launched itself into the air at the verbeeg. The cat landed heavily into the surprised giant, planting its paws in the monster's chest and rebounding back toward the safety of the shore. Guenhwyvar splashed into the icy pool, but scrambled quickly out of the perilous water. The giant, though, swung its arms wildly for a moment, trying to hold its precarious balance, then toppled in with a splash. The water rushed up to suck it down. Desperately, the giant lunged for a nearby floating log, the shape that Guenhwyvar had recognized earlier.

But as the verbeeg's hands came down, the form it had thought to be a log exploded into movement as the fifty-foot water constrictor threw itself around its prey with dizzying speed.

The unrelenting coils quickly pinned the giant's arms to its side and began their merciless squeeze.

Guenhwyvar shook the freezing water from its glistening black coat and looked back to the pool. As yet another length of the monstrous snake locked under the verbeeg's chin and pulled the helpless monster under the surface, the panther was satisfied that the mission was complete. With a long, loud roar proclaiming victory, Guenhwyvar bounded off toward the lair.

BOOK 3:

Cryshal-Tirith

19

Grim Tidings

Drizzt padded through the tunnels and past the bodies of the dead giants, slowing only to grab another hunk of mutton from the large table. He crossed through the support beams and started down the dim hallway, tempering his eagerness with common sense. If the giants had hidden their treasure down here, the chamber holding it might be behind a concealed door, or there might even be some beast, though riot likely another giant, since it would have joined in the fighting:

The tunnel was quite long, running straight northward, and Drizzt figured that he was now moving underneath the mass of Kelvin's Cairn. He had passed the last torch, but he was glad for the darkness. He had lived the majority of his life traveling tunnels in the lightless subterranean world of his people, and his large eyes guided him in absolute darkness more accurately than in areas of light.

The hallway ended abruptly at a barred, iron-bound door, its metal holding bar locked into place by a large chain and padlock. Drizzt felt a pang of guilt for leaving Wulfgar behind.

The drow had two weaknesses; foremost was the thrill of battle, but a close second the tingle of uncovering the booty of his vanquished foes. It wasn't the gold or gems that lured Drizzt; he didn't care for wealth and rarely even kept any of the treasures he had won. It was simply the thrill of viewing them for the first time, the excitement of sifting through them and, perhaps, discovering some incredible artifact that had been lost to knowledge in ages past, or maybe the spellbook of an ancient and powerful mage.

His guilt feelings flew away as he pulled a small lockpick from his beltpouch. He had never been formally trained in the thieving arts, but he was as agile and coordinated as any master burglar. With his sensitive fingers and acute hearing, he wasn't particularly challenged by the clumsy lock; in a matter of seconds, it fell open. Drizzt listened carefully for any sounds behind the door. Hearing none, he gently lifted the large bar and set it aside.

Listening one last time, he drew one of his scimitars, held his breath in anticipation, and pushed in the door.

His breath came back out with a disappointed sigh. The room beyond glowed with the waning light of two torches. It was small and empty, except for a large, metal-rimmed mirror standing in its center. Drizzt dodged out of the mirror's path, well aware of some of the strange magical properties these items had been known to exhibit, and moved in to examine it more closely.

It was about half the height of a man but propped up to eye level by an intricately worked iron stand. That it was lined in silver and in such an out-of-the-way chamber led Drizzt to believe that there was something more here than an ordinary mirror. Yet his scrutinizing inspection revealed no arcane runes or markings of any kind that hinted at its properties.

Able to discover nothing unusual about the piece, Drizzt carelessly stepped in front of the glass. Suddenly a pinkish mist began to swirl within the mirror, giving the appearance of a three-dimensional space trapped within the flatness of the glass. Drizzt jumped to the side, more curious than afraid, and watched the growing spectacle.

The mist thickened and puffed as though fed by some hidden fire. Then its center mushroomed out and opened into a clear image of a man's face, a gaunt, hollowed visage painted in the tradition of some of the southern cities.

"Why do you bother me?" the face asked at the empty room before the mirror. Drizzt took another step to the side, further away from the apparition's line of sight. He considered confronting the mysterious mage, but figured that his friends had too much at stake for him to take such a reckless chance.

"Stand before me, Biggrin!" commanded the image. It waited for several seconds, sneering impatiently, and growing increasingly tense. "When I discover which of you idiots inadvertently summoned me, I shall turn you into a coney and put you in a pit of wolves!" the image screamed wildly. The mirror flashed suddenly and returned to normal.

Drizzt scratched his chin and wondered if there was anything more he could do or discover here. He decided that the risks were simply too great at this time.

*****

When Drizzt returned through the lair, he found Wulfgar sitting with Guenhwyvar in the main passage just a few yards from the closed and barred front doors. The barbarian stroked the cat's muscled shoulders and neck.

"I see that Guenhwyvar has won your friendship," Drizzt said as he approached.

Wulfgar smiled. "A fine ally," he said, giving the animal a playful shake. "And a true warrior!" He started to rise but was thrown violently back to the floor.

An explosion rocked the lair as a ballista bolt slammed into the heavy doors, splintering their wooden bar and blasting them in. One of the doors broke cleanly in half and the other's top hinge tore away, leaving the door hanging awkwardly by its twisted bottom hinge.

Drizzt drew his scimitar and stood protectively over Wulfgar as the barbarian tried to regain his balance.

Abruptly a bearded fighter leaped onto the hanging door, a circular shield, its standard a mug of foaming ale, slung over one arm and a notched and bloodstained battle-ax poised in the other. "Come out and play, giants!" Bruenor called, banging his shield with his axe – as if his clan hadn't already made enough noise to rouse the lair!

"Rest easy, wild dwarf," Drizzt laughed. "The verbeeg are all dead."

Bruenor spotted his friends and hopped down into the tunnel, soon followed by the rest of the rowdy clan. "All dead!" the dwarf cried. "Damn ye, elf, I knew ye'd keep all the play to yerself!"

"What about the reinforcements?" Wulfgar asked.

Bruenor chuckled wickedly. "Some faith, will ye, boy? They're lumped in a common hole, though buryin's too good for 'em, I say! Only one's alive, a miserable orc who'll breath only as long as 'e wags 'is stinkin' tongue!"

After the episode with the mirror, Drizzt was more than a little interested in interrogating the orc. "Have you questioned him?" he asked Bruenor.

"Ah, he's mum to now," the dwarf replied. "But I've a few things should make 'im squeal!"

Drizzt knew better. Orcs were not loyal creatures, but under the enchantment of a mage, torturing techniques weren't usually much good. They needed something to counteract the magic, and Drizzt had a notion of what might work. "Go for Regis," he instructed Bruenor.

"The halfling can make the orc tell us everything we want to know."

"Torturin'd be more fun," lamented Bruenor, but he, too, understood the wisdom of the drow's suggestion. He was more than a bit curious – and worried – about so many giants working together. And now with orcs beside them…

*****

Drizzt and Wulfgar sat in the far corner of the small chamber, as far from Bruenor and the other two dwarves as they could get. One of Bruenor's troops had returned from Lonelywood with Regis that same night, and though they were all exhausted from marching and fighting, they were too anxious about the impending information to sleep. Regis and the captive orc had moved into the adjoining room for a private conversation as soon as the halfling had gotten the prisoner firmly under his control with his ruby pendant.

Bruenor busied himself preparing a new recipie – giant-brain stew – boiling the wretched, foul-smelling ingredients right in a hollowed-out verbeeg skull. "Use yer heads!" he had argued in response to Drizzt and Wulfgar's. expressions of horror and disgust. "A barnyard goose tastes better 'an a wild one cause it don't use its muscles. The same oughta hold true for a giant's brains!"

Drizzt and Wulfgar hadn't seen things quite the same way. They didn't want to leave the area and miss anything that Regis might have to say, though, so they huddled in the farthest corner of the room, carrying on a private conversation.

Bruenor strained to hear them, for they were talking of something that he had more than a passing interest in.

"Half for the last one in the kitchen," Wulfgar insisted, "and half for the cat."

"And you only get half for the one at the chasm," Drizzt retorted.

"Agreed," said Wulfgar. "And we split the one in the hall and Biggrin down the middle?"

Drizzt nodded. "Then with all halves and shared kills added up, it's ten and one-half for me and ten and one-half for you."

"And four for the cat," added Wulfgar.

"Four for the cat," Drizzt echoed. "Well fought, friend. You've held your own up to now, but I've a feeling that we have a lot more fighting before us, and my greater experience will win out in the end!"

"You grow old, good elf," Wulfgar teased, leaning back against the wall, the whiteness of a confident grin showing through his blond beard. "We shall see. We shall see."

Bruenor, too, was smiling, both at the good-natured competition between his friends and at his continued pride in the young barbarian. Wulfgar was doing well to keep pace with a skilled veteran like Drizzt Do'Urden.

Regis emerged from the room, and the gray pall upon his usually jovial face deadened the lighthearted atmosphere. "We are in trouble," the halfling said grimly.

"Where's the orc?" Bruenor demanded as he pulled his axe from his belt, misunderstanding the halfling's meaning.

"In there. He's all right," Regis replied. The orc had been happy to tell its new-found friend everything about Akar Kessell's plans to invade Ten-Towns and the size of the gathering forces. Regis visibly trembled as he told his friends the news.

"All of the orc and goblin tribes and verbeeg clans of this region of the Spine of the World are banding together under a sorcerer named Akar Kessell," the halfling began. Drizzt and Wulfgar looked at each other, recognizing Kessell's name. The barbarian had thought Akar Kessell to be a huge frost giant when the verbeeg had spoken of him, but Drizzt had suspected differently, especially after the incident at the mirror.

"They plan to attack Ten-Towns," Regis continued. "And even the barbarians, led by some mighty, one-eyed leader, have joined their ranks!"

Wulfgar's face reddened in anger and embarrassment. His people fighting beside orcs! He knew the leader that Regis spoke of, for Wulfgar was of the Tribe of the Elk and had even once carried the tribe's standard as Heafstaag's herald. Drizzt painfully recalled the one-eyed king, too. He put a comforting hand on Wulfgar's shoulder.

"Go to Bryn Shander," the drow told Bruenor and Regis. "The people must prepare."

Regis winced at the futility. If the orc's estimation of the assembling army had been correct, all of Ten-Towns joined together could not withstand the assault. The halfling dropped his head and mouthed silently, not wanting to alarm his friends any more than was necessary, "We have to leave!"

*****

Though Bruenor and Regis were able to convince Cassius of the urgency and importance of their news, it took several days to round up the other spokesmen for council. It was the height of knucklehead season, late summer, and the last push was on to land a big catch for the final trading caravan to Luskan. The spokesmen of the nine fishing villages understood their responsibilities to their community, but they were reluctant to leave the lakes even for a single day.

And so, with the exceptions of Cassius of Bryn Shander, Muldoon, the new spokesman from Lonelywood, who looked up to Regis as the hero of his town, Glensather of Easthaven, the community ever-willing to join in for the good of Ten-Towns, and Agorwal of Termalaine who held fierce loyalty to Bruenor, the mood of the council was not very receptive.

Kemp, still bearing a grudge against Bruenor for the incident over Drizzt after the Battle of Bryn Shander, was especially disruptive. Before Cassius even had the opportunity to present the Formalities of Order, the gruff spokesman from Targos leaped up from his seat and slammed his fists down on the table. "Damn the formal readings and be on with it!" Kemp growled. "By what right do you order us in from the lakes, Cassius? Even as we sit around this table, the merchants in Luskan are preparing for their journey!"

"We have news of an invasion, Spokesman Kemp," Cassius answered calmly, understanding the fisherman's anger. "I would not have summoned you, any of you, at this time of the season if it were not urgent."

"Then the rumors are true," Kemp sneered. "An invasion, you say? Bah! I see beyond this sham of a council!"

He turned on Agorwal. The fighting between Targos and Termalaine had escalated in the past few weeks, despite Cassius's efforts to diffuse it and bring the principles of the warring towns to the bargaining table. Agorwal had agreed to a meeting, but Kemp was steadfastly against it. And so, with suspicions running high, the timing of this urgent council could not have been worse.