The minotaur howled and half-fell, half-dove right for Drizzt, but the drow's feet were already under him, already moving, and the brute slammed hard into the stone.
Drizzt turned back for Catti-brie and Bruenor and the two remaining brutes bearing down on his friends. With incredible speed, he caught up to them almost immediately and his scimitars went to work on one, again going for the legs, stopping the charge.
But the last minotaur caught up to Catti-brie. Its huge club, made of hardened mushroom stalk, came flying about, and Catti-brie ducked fast, whipping her sword above her head.
Khazid'hea sliced right through the club, and as the minotaur stared at the remaining piece dumbfoundedly, Catti-brie countered with a slashing backhand.
The minotaur looked at her curiously. She could not believe she had missed.
* * * * *
Regis watched from the shadows, knowing he was overmatched by any enemy in this fight. He tried to gauge his companions, though, wanting to be ready if needed. Mostly he watched Drizzt, mesmerized by the sheer speed of the drow's charges and dodges. Drizzt had always been quick afoot, but this display was simply amazing, the ranger's feet moving so swiftly that Regis could hardly distinguish them. More than once, Regis tried to anticipate Drizzt's path, only to find himself looking where the drow was not.
For Drizzt had cut to the side, or reversed direction altogether, more quickly than the halfling would have believed possible.
Regis finally just shook his head and filed his questions away for another time, reminding himself that there were other, more important considerations. He glanced about and noticed the last of the enemy drow slipping to the side, out of the way of the panther.
*****
The last drow wanted no part of Guenhwyvar, and was glad indeed that the woman with the killing bow was engaged in close combat. Two of his dark elf companions lay dead from arrows, a third squirmed about on the floor, half her face torn away by the panther's claws, and all five minotaurs were down or engaged. The fourth drow had run off, back around the bend, but that wicked panther was only a couple of strides behind, and the hiding dark elf knew his companion would be down in a matter of moments.
Still, the drow hardly cared, for he saw Drizzt Do'Urden, the renegade, the most hated. The ranger was fully engaged and vulnerable, working furiously to finish the three minotaurs he had wounded. If this drow could seize the opportunity and get Drizzt, then his place of glory, and his house's glory, would be sealed. Even if he was killed by Drizzt's friends, he would have a seat of honor beside Lloth, the Spider Queen.
He loaded his most potent dart, a bolt enchanted with runes of fire and lightning, onto his heavy, two-handed crossbow, an unusual weapon indeed for dark elves, and brought the sights in line.
Something hit the crossbow hard from the side. The drow pulled the trigger instinctively, but the bolt, knocked loose, went nowhere but down, exploding at his feet. The jolt sent him flying; the puff of flames singed his hair and blinded him momentarily.
He rolled over on the floor and managed to get out of his burning piwafwi. Dazed, he noticed a small mace lying on the floor, then saw a small, plump hand reaching down to pick it up. The drow tried to react as the bare feet, hairy on top—something the Under-dark drow had never seen before—steadily approached.
Then all went dark.
* * * * *
Catti-brie cried out and leaped back, but the minotaur did not charge. Rather, the brute stood perfectly still, eyeing her curiously.
"I didn't miss," Catti-brie said, as if her denial of what seemed obvious would change her predicament. To her surprise, she found she was right.
The minotaur's left leg, severed cleanly by Khazid'hea's passing, caved in under it, and the brute fell sidelong to the floor, its lifeblood pouring out unchecked.
Catti-brie looked to the side to see Bruenor, grumbling and groaning, crawling out from under the minotaur he had killed. The dwarf hopped to his feet, shook his head briskly to clear away the stars, then stared at his axe, hands on hips, head shaking in dismay. The mighty weapon was embedded nearly a foot deep in the minotaur's thick skull.
"How in the Nine Hells am I going to got the damned thing out?" Bruenor asked, looking at his daughter.
Drizzt was done, as was Regis, and Guenhwyvar came back around the corner, dragging the last of the dark elves by the scruff of his broken neck.
"Another win for our side," Regis remarked as the friends regrouped.
Drizzt nodded his agreement but seemed not so pleased. It was a small thing they were doing, he knew, barely scratching at the surface of the force that had come to Mithril Hall. And despite the quickness of this latest encounter, and of the three before it, the friends had been, ultimately, lucky. What would have happened had another group of drow or minotaurs, or even kobolds, come about the corner while the fight was raging?
They had won quickly and cleanly, but their margin of victory was a finer line and a more tentative thing than the rout would indicate.
"Ye're not so pleased," Catti-brie said quietly to the ranger as they started off once more.
"In two hours we have killed a dozen drow, a handful of minotaurs and a score of kobold fodder," Drizzt replied.
"With thousands more to go," the woman added, understanding Drizzt's dismay.
Drizzt said nothing. His only hope, Mithril Hall's only hope, was that they and other groups like them would kill enough drow to take the heart from their enemy. Dark elves were a chaotic and supremely disloyal bunch, and only if the defenders of Mithril Hall could defeat the drow army's will for the war did
they have a chance.
Guenhwyvar's ears went flat again, and the panther slipped silently into the darkness. The friends, feeling suddenly weary of it all, moved into position and were relieved indeed when the newest group rambled into sight. No drow this time, no kobolds or minotaurs. A column of dwarves, more than a score, hailed them and approached. This group, too, had seen battle since the fight in Tunult's Cavern. Many showed fresh wounds, and every dwarven weapon was stained with enemy blood.
"How fare we?" Bruenor asked, stepping to the front.
The leader of the dwarven column winced, and Bruenor had his answer. "They're fightin' in the Undercity, me king," said the dwarf. "How they got into the place, we're not for knowin'! And fightin' too, in the upper levels, by all reports. The eastern door's been breached.»
Bruenor's shoulders visibly slumped.
"But we're holdin' at Garumn's Gorge!" the dwarf said with more determination.
"Where're ye from and where're ye going?" Bruenor wanted to know.
"From the last guard room," the dwarf explained. "Come out in a short circuit to find yerself, me king. Tunnels're thick with drow scum, and glad we be to see ye standing!" He pointed behind Bruenor, then jabbed his finger to the left. "We're not so far, and the way's still clear to the last guard room…»
"But it won't be for long," another dwarf piped in glumly.
"And clear all the way to the Undercity from there," the leader finished.
Drizzt pulled Bruenor to the side and began a whispered conversation. Catti-brie and Regis waited patiently, as did the dwarves.
"… keep searching," they heard Drizzt say.
"Me place is with me people!" Bruenor roughly replied. "And yer own is with me!"
Drizzt cut him short with a long stream of words. Catti-brie and the others heard snatches such as "hunting the head" and "roundabout route," and they knew Drizzt was trying to convince Bruenor to let him continue his hunt through the outer, lower tunnels.
Catti-brie decided then and there that if Drizzt and Guenhwyvar were to go on, she, with her Cat's Eye circlet, which Alustriel