The small party crossed through several more corridors, through a large, empty room, and down yet another passage. Slowed by the limping svirfneblin, they soon heard heavy footsteps closing in from behind.
“Too heavy for illithids,” Drizzt remarked, looking back over his shoulder.
“Slaves,” Belwar reasoned.
Fwoop! An attack sounded behind them. Fwoop! Fwoop! The sounds came to them, followed by several thuds and groans.
“Slaves once again,” Drizzt said grimly. The pursuing foot steps came on again, this time sounding more like a light shuffle.
“Faster!” Drizzt cried, and Belwar needed no prompting. They ran on, thankful for every turn in the passage, for they feared that the illithids were only steps behind.
They then came into a large and high hall. Several possible exits came into view, but one, a set of large iron doors, held their attention keenly. Between them and the doors was a spiraling iron stairway, and on a balcony not so far above loomed a mind flayer.
“He’ll cut us off,” Belwar reasoned. The footsteps came louder from behind. Belwar looked back toward the waiting illithid curiously when he saw a wide smile cross the drow’s face. The deep gnome, too, grinned widely.
Guenhwyvar took the spiraling stairs in three mighty bounds. The illithid wisely fled along the balcony and off into the shadows of adjoining corridors. The panther did not pursue, but held a high, guarding position above Drizzt and Belwar.
Both the drow and the svirfneblin called their thanks as they passed, but their elation turned sour when they arrived at the doors. Drizzt pushed hard, but the portals would not budge.
“Locked!” he cried.
“Not for long!” growled Belwar. The enchantment had expired in the deep gnome’s mithril hands, but he charged ahead anyway, pounding his hammer-hand against the metal.
Drizzt moved behind the deep gnome, keeping a rear guard and expecting the illithids to enter the hall at any moment. “Hurry, Belwar.” he begged.
Both mithril hands worked furiously on the doors. Gradually, the lock began to loosen and the doors opened just an inch. “Magga cammara, dark elf!” the burrow-warden cried. “A bar it is that holds them! On the other side!”
“Damn!” Drizzt spat, and across the way, a group of several mind flayers entered the hall.
Belwar didn’t relent. His hammer-hand smashed at the door again and again.
The illithids crossed the stairway and Guenhwyvar sprang into their midst, bringing the whole group tumbling down. At that horrible moment, Drizzt realized that he did not have the onyx figurine.
The hammer-hand banged the metal in rapid succession, widening the gap between the doors. Belwar pushed his pickaxe-hand through in an uppercut motion and lifted the bar from its locking clasps. The doors swung wide.
“Come quickly!” the deep gnome yelled to Drizzt. He hooked his pickaxe-hand under the drow’s shoulder to pull him along, but Drizzt shrugged away the hold.
“Guenhwyvar!” Drizzt cried.
Fwoop! The evil sound came repeatedly from the pile of bodies. Guenhwyvar’s reply came as more of a helpless wail than a growl.
Drizzt’s lavender eyes burned with rage. He took a single stride back toward the stairway before Belwar figured out a solution.
“Wait.” the svirfneblin called, and he was truly relieved when Drizzt turned about to hear him. Belwar thrust his hip toward the drow and tore open his belt pouch. “Use this!”
Drizzt pulled out the onyx figurine and dropped it at his feet. “Be gone, Guenhwyvar!” he shouted. “Go back to the safety of your home!”
Drizzt and Belwar couldn’t even see the panther amid the throng of illithids, but they sensed the mind flayers’ sudden distress even before the telltale black mist appeared around the onyx figurine.
As a group, the illithids spun toward them and charged.
“Get the other door!” Belwar cried. Drizzt had grabbed the figurine and was already moving in that direction. The iron portals slammed shut and Drizzt worked to replace the locking bar. Several clasps on the outside of the door had been broken under the burrow-warden’s ferocious assault, and the bar was bent, but Drizzt managed to set it in place securely enough to at least slow the illithids.
“The other slaves are trapped,” Drizzt remarked.
“Goblins and gray dwarves mostly,” Belwar replied.
“And Clacker?”
Belwar threw his arms out helplessly.
“I pity them all,” groaned Drizzt, sincerely horrified at the prospect. “Nothing in all the world can torture more than the mental clutches of mind flayers.”
“Aye, dark elf.” whispered Belwar.
The illithids slammed into the doors, and Drizzt pushed back, further securing the lock.
“Where do we go?” Belwar asked behind him, and when Drizzt turned and surveyed the long and narrow cavern, he certainly understood the burrow-warden’s confusion. They spotted at least a dozen exits, but between them and every one rushed a crowd of terrified slaves or a group of illithids. Behind them came another heavy thud, and the doors creaked open several inches.
“Just go!” Drizzt shouted, pushing Belwar along. They charged down a wide stairway, then out across the broken floor, picking a route that would get them as far from the stone castle as possible.
“‘Ware danger on all sides!” Belwar cried. “Slave and flayer alike!”
“Let them beware!” Drizzt retorted, his scimitars leading the way. He slammed a goblin down with the hilt of one blade as it stumbled into his way, and a moment later, sliced the tentacles from the face of an illithid as it began to suck the brain from a recaptured duergar.
Then another former slave, a bigger one, jumped in front of Drizzt. The drow rushed it headlong, but this time he stayed his scimitars.
“Clacker!” Belwar yelled behind Drizzt.
“B-b-back of… the…cavern,” the hook horror panted, its grumbled words barely decipherable. “The b-b-best exit.”
“Lead on,” Belwar replied excitedly, his hopes returning. Nothing would stand against the three of them united. When the burrow-warden started after his giant hook horror friend, however, he noticed that Drizzt wasn’t following. At first Belwar feared that a mind blast had caught the drow, but when he returned to Drizzt’s side, he realized otherwise.
Atop another of the many wide stairways that ran through the many-tiered cavern, a single slender figure moved through a group of slaves and illithids alike.
“By the gods,” Belwar muttered in disbelief, for the devastating movements of this single figure truly frightened the deep gnome.
The precise cuts and deft twists of the twin swords were not at all frightening to Drizzt Do’Urden. Indeed, to the young dark elf, they rang with a familiarity that brought an old ache to his heart. He looked at Belwar blankly and spoke the name of the single warrior who could fit those maneuvers, the only name that could accompany such magnificent swordplay.
“Zaknafein.”
Chapter 20.
Father, My Father
How many lies had Matron Malice told him? What truth could Drizzt ever find in the web of deceptions that marked drow society? His father had not been sacrificed to the Spider Queen! Zaknafein was here, fighting before him, wielding his swords as finely as Drizzt had ever seen.
“What is it?” Belwar demanded.
“The drow warrior,” Drizzt was barely able to whisper.
“From your city, dark elf?” Belwar asked. “Sent after you?”
“From Menzoberranzan,” Drizzt replied. Belwar waited for more information, but Drizzt was too enthralled by Zak’s appearance to go into much detail.