"The parry is wrong!" Drizzt said stubbornly.
"Pick up your blades." Zak growled at him, taking a threatening step forward. Drizzt hesitated and Zak charged, his swords leading.
Drizzt dropped to a crouch, snatched up the scimitars, and rose to meet the assault while wondering if it was another lesson or a true attack.
The weapon master pressed furiously, snapping off cut after cut and backing Drizzt around in circles. Drizzt defended well enough and began to notice an all-too-familiar pattern as Zak’s attacks came consistently lower, again forcing the hilts of Drizzt’s weapons up and out over the scimitars’ blades.
Drizzt understood that Zak meant to prove his point with actions, not words. Seeing the fury on Zak’s face, though, Drizzt wasn’t certain how far the weapon master would carry his point. If Zak proved correct in his observations, would he strike again to Drizzt’s thigh? Or to his heart? Zak came up and under and Drizzt stiffened and straightened.
"Double thrust low." the weapon master growled, and his swords dove in.
Drizzt was ready for him. He executed the crossdown, smiling smugly at the ring of metal as his scimitars crossed over the thrusting swords. Drizzt then followed through with only one of his blades, thinking he could deflect both of Zak’s swords well enough in that manner. Now with one blade free of the parry, Drizzt spun it over in a devious counter.
As soon as Drizzt reversed the one hand, Zak saw the ploy, a ruse he had suspected Drizzt would try. Zak dropped one of his own sword tips―the one nearest to the hilt of Drizzt’s single parrying blade―to the ground, and Drizzt, trying to maintain an even resistance and balance along the length of the blocking scimitar, lost his balance. Drizzt was quick enough to catch himself before he had stumbled too far, though his knuckles pinched into the stone of the floor. He still believed that he had Zak caught in his trap, and that he could finish his brilliant counter. He took a short step forward to regain his full balance.
The weapon master dropped straight down to the floor, under the arc of Drizzt’s swinging scimitar, and spun a single circuit, driving his booted heel into the back of Drizzt’s exposed knee. Before Drizzt had even realized the attack, he found himself lying flat on his back.
Zak abruptly broke his own momentum and threw his feet back under him. Before Drizzt could begin to understand the dizzying counter, he found the weapon master standing over him with the tip of Zak’s sword painfully and pointedly drawing a tiny drop of blood from his throat.
"Have you anything more to say?" Zak growled.
"The parry is wrong." Drizzt answered.
Zak’s laughter erupted from his belly. He threw his sword to the ground, reached down, and pulled the stubborn young student to his feet. He calmed quickly, his gaze finding that of Drizzt’s lavender orbs as he pushed the student out to arm’s length. Zak marveled at the ease of Drizzt’s stance, the way he held the twin scimitars almost as if they were a natural extension of his arms. Drizzt had been in training only a few months, but already he had mastered the use of nearly every weapon in the vast armory of House Do’Urden.
Those scimitars! Drizzt’s chosen weapons, with curving blades that enhanced the dizzying flow of the young fighter’s sweeping battle style. With those scimitars in hand, this young drow, barely more than a child, could outfight half the members of the Academy, and a shiver tingled through Zak’s spine when he pondered just how magnificent Drizzt would become after years of training.
It was not just the physical abilities and potential of Drizzt Do’Urden that made Zaknafein pause and take note, however. Zak had come to realize that Drizzt’s temperament was indeed different from that of the average drow, Drizzt possessed a spirit of innocence and lacked any maliciousness. Zak couldn’t help but feel proud when he looked upon Drizzt. In all manners, the young drow held to the same principles―morals so unusual in Menzoberranzan―as Zak.
Drizzt had recognized the connection as well, though he had no idea of how unique his and Zak’s shared perceptions were in the evil drow world. He realized that "Uncle Zak" was different from any of the other dark elves he had come to know; though that included only his own family and a few dozen of the house soldiers. Certainly Zak was much different from Briza, Drizzt’s oldest sister, with her zealous, almost blind, ambitions in the mysterious religion of Lolth. Certainly Zak was different from Matron Malice, Drizzt’s mother, who seemed never to say anything at all to Drizzt unless it was a command for service.
Zak was able to smile at situations that didn’t necessarily bring pain to anyone. He was the first drow Drizzt had met who was apparently content with his station in life. Zak was the first drow Drizzt had ever heard laugh.
"A good try." the weapon master conceded of Drizzt’s failed counter.
"In a real battle, I would have been dead." Drizzt replied.
"Surely," said Zak, "but that is why we train. Your plan was masterful, your timing perfect. Only the situation was wrong. Still, I will say it was a good try!’
"You expected it," said the student.
Zak smiled and nodded. "That is, perhaps, because I had seen the maneuver attempted by another student."
"Against you?" Drizzt asked, feeling a little less special now that he knew his battle insights were not so unique.
"Hardly." Zak replied with a wink. "I watched the counter fail from the same angle as you, to the same result." Drizzt’s face brightened again. "We think alike." he commented.
"We do," said Zak, "but my knowledge has been increased by four centuries of experience, while you have not even lived through a score of years. Trust me, my eager student. The crossdown is the correct parry."
"Perhaps." Drizzt replied.
Zak hid a smile. "When you find a better counter, we shall try it. But until then, trust my word. I have trained more soldiers than I can count, all the army of House Do’Urden and ten times that number when I served as a master in Melee-Magthere. I taught Rizzen, all of your sisters, and both of your brothers!"
"Both?"
"I…" Zak paused and shot a curious glance at Drizzt. "I see," he said after a moment. "They never bothered to tell you!" Zak wondered if it was his place to tell Drizzt the truth. He doubted that Matron Malice would care either way she probably hadn’t told Drizzt simply because she hadn’t considered the story of Nalfein’s death worth telling.
"Yes, both." Zak decided to explain. "You had two brothers when you were born, Dinin, whom you know, and an older one, Nalfein, a wizard of considerable power. Nalfein was killed in battle on the very night you drew your first breath!"
"Against dwarves or vicious gnomes?" Drizzt squeaked, as wide-eyed as a child begging for a frightening bedtime story. "Was he defending the city from evil conquerors or rogue monsters?"
Zak had a hard time reconciling the warped perceptions of Drizzt’s innocent beliefs. "Bury the young in lies." he lamented under his breath, but to Drizzt he answered, "No."
"Then against some opponent more foul?" Drizzt pressed. "Wicked elves from the surface?"
"He died at the hands of a drow!" Zak snapped in frustration, stealing the eagerness from Drizzt’s shining eyes. Drizzt slumped back to consider the possibilities, and Zak could hardly bear to watch the confusion that twisted his young face.
"War with another city?" Drizzt asked somberly. "I did not know…"
Zak let it go at that. He turned and moved silently toward his private chamber. Let Malice or one of her lackeys destroy Drizzt’s innocent logic. Behind him, Drizzt held his next line of questions in check, understanding that the conversation, and the lesson, was at an end. Understanding, too, that something important had just transpired.