Chapter 6: Simmering Rage
Chapter 7: Village-City
Chapter 8: "Friends?"
Chapter 9: Toril
Chapter 10: Orcs
Chapter 6: Simmering Rage
"Don't you think the trail is a little open?" Quetzal asked.
"Open?" Drizzt repeated, as they walked through the ravine to the base of a high, uneven cliff. There was a smooth trail up the place, and there they climbed, feeling vulnerable even through the spell that Quetzal had cast on them.
"Yes. I have a feeling that someone or something wants us to find them," Quetzal said.
"Good," Drizzt muttered, weighing his scimitars in his hand.
"Not good," Quetzal argued, "That means they are waiting for us."
"They can't see us," Drizzt protested.
"Such spells don't work well on drow," Quetzal replied, "We have a resistance to magic. It should be able to pass where the goblins are concerned, though."
"Good enough," Drizzt growled, walking on with an air of determination. Quetzal sighed.
There was a buzzing sound above, and the twins paused and looked at each other in astonishment, holding their weapons into a defensive position.
There was a blur of speed as something came at them and was gone in an instant. Drizzt found that he had been scratched in the shoulder with a small knife, and Quetzal had suffered a hit on the arm.
"Quickling!" Quetzal said in irritation. "How did that get here?"
Drizzt shrugged. There was a growl behind them as Guenhwyvar turned the sprite around, and the buzzing intensified.
The twins, automatically it seemed, went back to back, warily, but there was a high pitched laughter, and the sprite stabbed at their wrists. The twins fell back, and the quickling appeared on a rock, laughing.
Then it leaped at them again. This time, Drizzt thrust out his scimitars in a weaving motion, but the sprite dodged, laughing all the while, until there was a 'bong' sound as he ran full into Quetzal's blades. Concentrating narrowly on Drizzt, he had forgotten about Quetzal.
Guenhwyvar bounded around the bend as the sprite began to shake the dizziness from his head, the wide, pointed ears flopping. Drizzt caught hold of the sprite with a strangle hold, and lifted it off the ground.
"What is your name?" Drizzt said in the goblin tongue. To his surprise, the sprite understood, but the ensuing babble was too fast for him to understand.
He gave the sprite a quick jerk to silence him. "Tephanis," the sprite said indignantly, then glanced down at where his dagger lay.
"Who killed the farmers?" Quetzal asked. Tephanis glanced at her robes, and his eyes widened.
"Ulgulu!" the sprite proclaimed. Tephanis pointed up the path and blurted out a stream of confusing words, "Ulgulu… waiting… dinner" being the more disturbing ones.
Now what are we going to do? Quetzal asked calmly.
It is too fast for us to handle, Drizzt replied. Guenhwyvar was stretching, and did not pay them any attention.
I suppose we could ask why it is here. Quetzal said doubtfully, but Tephanis decided he had suffered too much of the encounter. His hand dived into his boot, too fast for them to see, then slashed again at Drizzt's hand.
There was the trill of a flute behind Drizzt, and Tephanis found himself slowing down, slowing down to a 'normal' speed, with a sense of horror.
Drizzt nodded to his sister in thanks, but the sprite lunged forward again, ears flopping comically, and Drizzt simply ran him through with a scimitar.
***
Some time later they crouched behind a bush on the base of a steep, rocky slope. At the top was a cave, beside which was a steep, sheer drop. Behind the cave the mountain went on, higher and steeper. The tracks led into the cave, where they could hear the voices of goblins.
The spell should work past the goblins. Quetzal told Drizzt doubtfully.
We shall see how many there are first, Drizzt replied. If there are too many to handle, then we go past them quietly.
They walked up the slope, towards the guards. Only two? Quetzal asked, confused, Perhaps we should strike.
Drizzt nodded, and the twins advanced, each picking one guard. The goblins never knew what hit them.
The barghest stood in the middle of the inner room, scarlet skinned and giant sized, arms crossed expectantly as it saw through their spell.
Drizzt charged in, throwing Tephanis' dagger, but it passed through the image and Drizzt saw the trap. Unable to break his momentum, he passed through the image anyway, glancing around for the monster.
Ulgulu, levitating above Drizzt, came down silently behind, in the correct place and position. Then Quetzal barreled into the barghest, sabers flashing at the monster, which was even bigger than the image.
Ulgulu roared, turning with surprising speed, but Quetzal deftly poked her scimitars into one leg, judging and hoping dimly that the monster's anatomy was more or less like that of any humanoid.
Hamstring severed, Ulgulu limped on one leg, and swung at Quetzal, who ducked the heavy blow. Then Ulgulu snarled as Drizzt came up from behind, scimitars stabbing him in the belly and under his chin.
Guenhwyvar pounced on the monster with enough force to slam Ulgulu down on the ground facedown, barely missing Quetzal, who had fumbled for her flute.
Drizzt moved to join in, but there was a shuffle from behind the throne as Kempfana, roaring in protest, came charging out.
Drizzt dropped a globe of darkness on the charging barghest. Kempfana, unable to stop, barged in over the braced drow, kicking Drizzt with enough force to blast the air from his lungs, then fell heavily out of the darkness.
Drizzt was already on the barghest's back, scimitars digging in wildly even as Kempfana braced himself with enough strength then to throw him off.
***
Ulgulu heard the strains of a complex song even when Guenhwyvar's magical claws raked into him, too quick and sleek for him to handle. Already the panther's teeth were clamped on the back of his neck while all four paws raked his back.
He believed he had one more option, and tried to change shape, but the song seemed to become more insistent. There was a feeling of magic draining out of him into the surroundings, as Quetzal played on the spell of anti-magic that she had played before a long time ago, when the twins and Zaknafein had faced the jade spiders in Menzoberranzan.
Guenhwyvar, as if on cue, tightened its hold on the barghest's neck.
***
Kempfana stalked in slowly, with a new respect for Drizzt.
"You killed them all," Drizzt said slowly, his tone filled with so much ice that it stopped the barghest in his tracks.
"Ulgulu did," Kempfana snarled, but he was not a stupid creature. He had felt the bite of the scimitars and had known such explosive rage before. Calling on his otherworldly powers, he created an extra dimensional gate and stepped through, behind Drizzt.
Once the monster had disappeared, Drizzt instinctively broke to the side, but the blow from behind came faster, landing squarely on Drizzt's back and launching him across the room.
Drizzt hit the opposite wall with speed and came up into a kneel, gasping for breath.
Kempfana stalked in, then snarled as Quetzal attacked, again from behind, again with deadly force, enough for Drizzt to recover and pick up his scimitars, joining in.
***
Ulgulu's struggles slowed down as the pain nearly overwhelmed him. Drained of magic and any protecting shield or resistance, the magical cat was beginning to suffocate him.
The strangle hold tightened yet, like an immense, unbreakable vise, and the barghest's great strength and flailing arms did not help him now.
***
Kempfana again showed a speed uncharacteristic of his size, and a blow connected with Quetzal, again with the result of stunning her against the wall.
Then he turned on Drizzt, again using his extra dimensional gate. Drizzt, expecting the ploy, whirled around, but the barghest reappeared silently in his original position. Giant arms wrapped around the drow, pinning his scimitars down and lifting him off the ground.
"Crush you and bit you!" Kempfana roared, and indeed, Drizzt felt one of his ribs crack. He tried to wiggle around to face his opponent, but then concentrated on freeing at least one of his sword arms.
Kempfana tightened his grip, and another rib snapped. The barghest did not just want to kill Drizzt, however, but wanted to drain his life force, that would be enough to send him back to Gehenna.
"Bite you!" he laughed, then roared as Quetzal attacked again, loosing his grip for only a moment, enough for Drizzt to triumphantly pull out one scimitar and plunge it into the barghest' gaping maw and down the monster's throat.
Kempfana began to whip around wildly, Drizzt's muscles and joints nearly ripped apart from the strain, then Quetzal's sabers flickered in as she enacted a shaky levitation spell, that fed on the released magic in the vicinity, severing several 'points' on Kempfana's arms.
Nerveless and numb, the arms dropped to Kempfana's side, and Drizzt came free, gasping, then lunged into Quetzal as Kempfana went down heavily, trying to crush them both.
Drizzt wanted to curl into a ball, but tried to stand up, as Ulgulu still lived.
Sit down! Quetzal commanded, pushing him back and retrieving her fallen flute.
Ulgulu Drizzt replied, his breath coming in bloodied gasps.
Guenhwyvar padded into view as Drizzt tried to get up, and carefully yet firmly pinned the drow back onto the ground.
Dead. Quetzal said triumphantly, even as the flute again began to play. Drizzt felt numbed, as his wounds healed over slowly, but still felt the pain as he knew he would.
He looked over at the two dead barghests with grim satisfaction, stood up to Guenhwyvar's silent protest and walked over the Kempfana, unceremoniously pulling out his scimitar.
***
Guenhwyvar scouted ahead, tired as the panther was, as the twins supported each other back to down the mountain trail, away from the slaughter. At the foot of the steep slope, they paused to rest, as a thunderous roar sounded from the cave.
Lagerbottoms, the hill giant, had returned, and was outraged at what he had found. Quetzal glanced at Drizzt, then they both stood up unsteadily and picked their way into the wild mountains, running from the giant and the guilt.
***
Chapter 7: Village-City
One curiosity and inconvenience experienced by werewolves is that one's morphic field is weakened when one sleeps. It is also, on the Discworld, a trauma involved with princes that are turned into frogs, and turned back to princes by a fortunate kiss.
In fact, one of the most famous, horrifying, and strangely funny regicides was with such a Frog Prince. His bride, growing sick of such occurrences as well as the fact that he could catch flies with his tongue, smuggled a heron into the bed with them one night.
Such it was with Zaknafein, although not concerning any members of the ornithological kingdom.
Sleeping, his morphic field battled, the wolf with the dark elf. Now, it would also be gratifying to say that the dark elf prevailed with strength of spirit and heart, but the incredibly heady scent emitting from the level below the 'quarters' level was the deciding point all the while. (Scent does travel far if you have the right nose, more or less, or more, in this case)
The wolf woke up, and was again immediately annoyed to find itself encased in a metal, restraining suit. The resulting snarling and irritation woke up Mik, who then defied gravity by leaping up six feet in the air, turning, and running up to the shelf, where it cowered.
The wolf padded off the bed, now and again whining and rubbing itself against the bed. Zaknafein, in an earlier and interesting deduction, had tried strapping on the chain mail tighter, such that the wolf may be slowed down enough by memories for the dark elf side to wrench control.
Zak-wolf reared up to an impressive height and tried scratching on the door, which resolutely refused to open. Instead, the scabbard of Khazid'hea rubbed awkwardly on the floor, adding to the animal's general exasperation.
Padding in an irritated circle, it would be another interesting note to find that the werewolves, in their wolf bits, possess all the basic qualities of their other sides. Such that the Zak-wolf retained a basic ability to get irritated very, very quickly.
There was an inquiring squawk as Jormungand peered into the room, the great kestrel head and beak nearly the length of the Zak-wolf itself.
The Zak-wolf retreated, baring its teeth, and Jormungand blinked, also stepping back.
Zaknafein Do'Urden! Khazid'hea, 'woken' up from its slumber, called into the wolf's mind, forcibly wrenching the dark elf back.
"Wraaow... awoul... wraddamn!" Zaknafein stood up, blinking away the spots that always happened after a Change. Mik landed on his shoulder, and scurried into his hair, squealing in fright.
Zak looked gravely at 'K'seeran'. "It happened again, did it not?" he asked, rubbing his shoulder. It ached where the wolf had, in an act of frustration, banged the chain mail on the side of the table.
Jormungand nodded stiffly, then shuffled back into a more comfortable position on the perch and fell asleep, tucking his head under his wing.
Zak sighed, then drew Khazid'hea. As always, the blade grew warm, the intimate touch almost like that of a lover. "Apologies for not using you as much as I should," Zak told the sword.
It is no matter. Khazid'hea replied.
"Next time I change when there's no moon, I will be obliged if you'd do what you did just now, unless I wished to change." Zaknafein told the sword.
Assuredly, Khazid'hea sounded suspiciously amused.
"Are you making fun of me?" Zak demanded.
Who, me? A sentient sword? I would not dream of such an undertaking. Khazid'hea replied.
Zak gave up, ramming the sword back into the sheath. Coaxing Mik into a less painful perch, Zak opened the door and strode jauntily out of the room.
***
The inside of the building was unlike what he had been vaguely suspecting, which were narrow corridors, dim lit and filled with arches and cold stone.
The corridors were wide, like a small street, paved with solid, rough slate-like stone. The stone itself was not in any uniform color, but combined a deep iron gray with whirls of blue and seams of red. On the sides of the corridor were openings to chambers, in this particular region with doors.
Zak was reminded of tunnels, though these were certainly less forbidding and more cheery. Magical lights hung from the ceilings, lighting up the place to that of natural sunlight.
Zak decided to follow his nose, and walked through the seemingly endless corridor, Mik jumping up and down in excitement. Then he came to a spiral stairway, without railings, the steps all a massive block of stone. He walked down it, to the sounds of merriment below.
On the floor below, the corridor was now a street. The perches were attached to their ends, now and again the riders dismounting towards the street. And no wonder, for this part resembled a giant, indoor market. There were stalls at each interval of wall between each perch, which appeared to sell all sorts of food. Zak passed by slowly, looking at the wares with interest, his silver 'adventurer' pendant fully in view.
Mik squeaked, jumping up and down, pointing at a stall, the large baskets on display overflowing with multicolored fruit of all sizes. The man minding the store smiled, although Zak must have been the hundredth or more customer of that day. He selected a red, small fruit and tossed it to Mik, beaming as the monkey plucked it out of the air in delight.
"The fruit is fresh, rider! Even your monkey enjoys it," The man grinned in delight, the smile threatening to touch his ears as Zak, with borrowed money from Death, purchased a few more selections for Mik.
"Are you a rider?" Zak inquired.
"Oh no," The man replied, again smiling. "That is a secret of this city. I see you have an adventurer's badge, rider, so you may not know. The city itself perpetuated the rumor that all the citizens are riders, so as to scare off intruders."
"Such that Death himself knows not," Zak mused.
"No. Before citizens die we take them to a ritual in the forest." The stall keeper said, "And the presence of the Living Goddess in this blessed place discourages even Death from coming in."
Zak nodded, handing another of the red fruit 'strawberries' to Mik.
"Tell me, good fellow, is there a good place to eat here?" Zak inquired.
"The stalls further down sell food, and there are tables near by. However, it is late now, and if you would wish a table to sit, you would have to give more evidence than the pendant that you are a Rider." The stall keeper said, "Riders can sit separately if they wish, as can the non-Riders."
Zak nodded again, then sauntered off.
Can you ask Jormungand to come to this perch? Zak asked Khazid'hea cautiously.
Very well, the sword replied.
There was a pause, then a soft, nearly imperceptible flutter of great wings. Zak loitered outside a free perch, and found himself looking at the great kestrel's keen eyes. Although the market was interesting, his stomach was speaking to him loudly.
With as much dignity as he could muster, he clambered onto 'K'seeran', finding a more comfortable position at the neck.
"Fly as close to the side as you can." Zak told Jormungand, "We are going to find somewhere to eat." Then he paused briefly. "Do you need to eat, actually?"
The kestrel shook his head, then jumped off the perch, wings flaring as the downward swoop gave them enough thrust to soar back upwards into the air.
As they lazily glided past perches both filled and otherwise, Zak's nose told him that they were nearing the 'food' section.
"Follow me on the perches as closely as you can," Zak told 'K'seeran', then directed the giant kestrel to land on an unoccupied perch, hopping off as quickly as he could, then darting into the building.
The atmosphere was now hot; the steam radiating off the stalls that served freshly cooked food, and was full of stall owners shouting their advertisements. There were more Riders here, flaunting their uniforms, which the colorful but practical gear. There were some vaguely curious looks as Zak neither wore the gear nor any other markings, but possessed the pendant.
Mik jabbered into his ear, and Zak handed the monkey another fruit.
A faintly rotund man called him from his side. "Stew, Rider! Onna bowl! Stew onna bowl, that's it!" it was the type of voice that could sell ice to Eskimos.
Zak looked suspiciously at the bowl that was thrust under his nose. It was a shade of bay, and there were strange looking substances in it that vaguely resembled vegetables. A portion of meat floated mournfully into view.
"No thank you," he said.
"Your monkey, is it cleared?" the stall keeper
glanced at Mik in interest, as if he had forgotten
about the bowl in his hand.
"Cleared?" Zak asked.
"Quarantine. Very important," the stall keeper said.
"No," Zak replied, his hand, as if on impulse, going to the pendant. It seemed to be his passport in this strange place.
"Ah. Honored to meet an adventurer. My name is D'blar." The stall keeper grinned. "Do you want some stew?"
"No," said Zak.
"Or some bread? Fresh from oven, Rider... No? Or some ice inna drink?" the man asked desperately.
"No," Zak repeated, nodded at him slightly, then walked off to the next stall. D'blar shrugged, then looked at the next passer-by. "Stew, Rider?"
***
Zak sat at the place apparently reserved for 'adventurer' Riders. The people there, at least, all had silver pendants.
He was getting quite sick of the ornament, and so had chosen a table where he didn't have to look at anyone directly.
Stew seemed to feature greatly in this place, and none of it was made of livestock. Instead, there was boar, deer, elk... the list went on. And the stew seemed to be compulsory to eat it with large chunks of warm bread.
Zak shrugged. If that was the way they did it, he would too. Meanwhile, he'd try to ignore everyone until he got to his appointment at the temple.
Dumping Mik on the table and fending the monkey's black fingers off the bread, Zak deposited the rest of the fruit in front of it, to the monkey's delight.
After a short while he felt the strange sensation of someone staring. He looked up casually. Strangely, most of the patrons of the sector were surreptitiously glancing at him.
And also more closely, he noticed, at his hand. Zak noted that the Riders all appeared to eat by tearing off dainty pieces off their bread, through dint of practice managing to keep the pieces small, and not spreading crumbs all over the table.
Zak made a decision. He grinned, raised the bread he held in his hand slightly as if toasting them, although he privately would have enjoyed doing the motion with a strong grille and lots of heat, and continued to eat the way he had always done so.
***
Zak walked back through the indoor street to his room, occasionally strolling over to look at wares. In this way, he found the 'armory' section.
The gold that Death had given him was not enough to buy one of the fantastical magic swords, but Zak couldn't care less. He didn't trust magic.
Instead, he purchased a perfectly ordinary sword, with only a very sharp edge, as good swords went. Gauging it by hefting the sword, he noted it had a good balance, and paid the smith. Inserting the sword into the empty sheath, he walked back up to his room.
Zak supposed he could have asked Jormungand to create a sword for him, but he didn't trust the serpent that much to create a workable weapon, considering what the serpent thought flying was all about. Even the already-created sword on the serpent's belt whenever he changed back to his elf shape – Zak was not sure if it would work in a place without any magic whatsoever.
He entered the room and closed the door. Outside, Jormungand settled back on the perch. Then someone knocked on the door.
Zak walked up from where he had been looking outside at the perch, and peered through the hole. The bit of curved glass magnified as well as widened the view outside the door, and Zak saw the distorted image of R'ikar.
He opened the door, allowing the human to step in. "The Goddess is available to see you," R'ikar said, "And your kestrel K'seeran as well. What was your name again?"
"Z'fein," Zaknafein said cautiously, but relaxed when R'ikar nodded. "I'd be taking you there," he said, with a grin, "If you'd like we can pass L'yanne's quarters. I'm sure she's in, and the Goddess doesn't mind a bit of a wait."
"No thank you," Zak said firmly, with all the dignity he could muster.
R'ikar laughed, and started down the passage.
***
Chapter 8: "Friends?"
All through the night, the bulky hill giant followed the trail of the twins. Lagerbottoms was feeling confused as to what to feel about his cave. Already, distant lights of orange glow identified villagers cautiously approaching, and Lagerbottoms knew he could not face all of the humans himself.
The remnants of the goblin tribe had also been squabbling in the cave, and the hill giant knew that diminished as the goblin numbers were, there were still enough to take him out.
The twins realized they were being followed but could do nothing. Guenhwyvar had been allowed to return to its astral home, as the panther was tired. Quetzal, though largely unhurt, was concerned about Drizzt, for the healing spell did not take away the pain.
Light was also coming, another problem for the dark elves, and they really did not wish to take part in any more battles this day.
The trail dipped into a small grouping of various shaped trees, sprouting up at uneven angles through the boulders, broken by weathering into large, angular rocks.
The twins paused to catch their breath, and then Quetzal looked up the trail to where the hill giant plodded along relentlessly.
What if we wait for him? Quetzal asked.
I am tired of running, Drizzt agreed, leaning against a tree for support. Quetzal nodded, and took out her flute, beginning to play a lilting tune.
About half and hour later, the giant crashed into the copse, large club swinging from one massive arm. He stopped when he saw the twins, who looked at him expectantly.
Seizing the giant's hesitation, Quetzal stepped forward, chin raised high, as regally as a queen. "Halt!" she said, in the goblin tongue, and Drizzt enacted a simple spell, limning the giant in purple flames.
Lagerbottoms shifted uncomfortably but did not advance. The twins eyed the giant's shuffling, uncertain feet with more than a casual interest.
"Why do you follow us?" Drizzt demanded, "Do you wish to join the others in the sleep of death?"
Lagerbottoms ran his plump tongue over dry lips, considering his options. Thinking past the purely instinctual urges that had brought him here, he decided he had no desire to actually confront two strange and dangerous enemies. Thinking quickly, something his kind hardly ever did, an idea struck the giant hard enough to let him consider.
"Friends?" Lagerbottoms asked hopefully.
"An ally?" Quetzal asked, before Drizzt could say anything. The giant nodded slowly, relieved.
"Cave gone," Lagerbottoms said, pointing one meaty finger up the trail, "Goblins. Humans."
"And you want us to help you take it back?" Drizzt said skeptically.
The giant shook his massive head. "Humans know where cave is. Humans have weapons and many tricks."
"So you'd accompany us?" Quetzal said incredulously.
"Yes," Lagerbottoms said simply. Thoughts moved slowly in his thick mind, and this seemed to most obvious answer for the present.
Drizzt opened his mouth to say something indignantly, probably about how the giant was connected with the barghests and the gnoll raiding party, but his opinion was never known to Lagerbottoms, as Quetzal stepped neatly on her brother's toe.
"Where we go?" the giant inquired.
Quetzal waved her hand vaguely at the wild mountains, which reared out over the sky in splendor. "Anywhere," she said, "But here."
Lagerbottoms nodded. Of course... that was the most reasonable statement!
"You want to go first?" Drizzt asked, "Lead the way."
The giant shrugged stupidly, ambling to the front, and walked along, the twins warily behind him. They would give their newfound 'friend' the benefit of doubt, but the twins preferred to stay behind, so that they would have ample warning if the giant proved unfriendly.
***
The hill giant seemed to be competent at hunting, crashing back with a dead deer in hand. Through experiment, Drizzt had found the type of stone that created sparks when rubbed together, and this he took out from his pack.
A while later, the remains of the deer was on a makeshift spit, while the giant and the twins ate their dinner in comparative silence. Drizzt gingerly touched his 'wound', and realized the pain was going quickly. Quetzal had decided to 'store' the half-completed spell she had played earlier, that could be finished with a few more notes. It was just for caution.
"What now?" Lagerbottoms asked.
Quetzal shrugged. "Rest. We travel when sun is gone."
The giant nodded, and leaned on a tree that bent back slightly from his weight, to all appearances falling asleep. A few minutes later, Drizzt winced at the loud, hammer-like snores that emitted from the bulk of the giant.
How, exactly, are we supposed to rest? he asked Quetzal acidly.
You'd find a way, Quetzal said airily, I will keep watch.
Drizzt settled down, muttering to himself.
***
They picked their way through the rocky mountains for many days, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the village.
Their trail led them to a wide pass, and a steep gorge cloudy with the mist of some river below, that would have been born from the high mountains, and fed with numerous tributaries. The air had been getting colder, something that the twins did not understand, and the moist vapor felt good indeed. They picked their way down the cliffs, and found themselves at the bank of the river.
The twins had seen many rivers in the Underdark, but none to rival this. The River Rauvin leaped across stones, throwing spray into the air. The rapids roared and spat white foam, and the water crashed mercilessly over the large boulders, that were liberally strewn on the riverbed, then plunged down falls many times the giant's height.
"Beautiful," Quetzal commented.
"Many animals come to drink," Lagerbottoms declared, inspecting the rocky ground.
"Fish, too," Drizzt commented, glancing at the
various pools where fish hid from the racing river.
"Do you know this place?" Quetzal asked. The giant looked around.
"Humans call Dead Orc Pass," Lagerbottoms shrugged.
The twins glanced at each other, but the mist, comfortable against the surprisingly chill air, was very inviting. With the supply of food and water so close by, the gorge seemed a perfect retreat.
During the day, the twins hid in the numerous small caves, while Lagerbottoms stumped out to hunt, and during the night, they caught trout and other fish in the water.
The winds grew colder, and it didn't take long for the twins to realize why the surface dwellers seemed to prefer the sunlight. It was warmer, at least.
Lagerbottoms solved the mystery of why the air was becoming more and more cold, and why ice formed overnight in sheltered pools. "Winter coming," the giant commented, as the wind blew strongly against them.
"So?" Drizzt asked.
"Ice forms. Becomes cold. We must build fire," the giant said.
"For warmth," Quetzal said, suddenly understanding. The twins looked at each other, and the northern gust of wind reminded them of the severe pain in their extremities. Frostbite, the giant had called it. If not treated, it would worsen into 'blood', the giant had awkwardly said in the goblin tongue.
Lagerbottoms nodded, and they set about looking for branches. The wind grew colder and colder yet, but with Lagerbottoms' bulk sheltering most of the sparks, the fire in the kindling grew.
After their shared meal that night, the twins snuggled together with Guenhwyvar.
agerbottoms had eaten most of a grizzly bear he had found wandering along the river, which had been going for a last minute boost to the fat supplies it needed for the winter, and so had politely eaten one fish only to show willing.
The panther yawned. Guenhwyvar seemed to have accepted the giant with a philosophical attitude, knowing that enemies were less likely to attack, but would be ready to put its claws into use if Lagerbottoms showed any signs of hostility.
I still do not feel comfortable with him. Drizzt complained to Quetzal silently, looking at the snoring bulk.
Other than his snoring, dear brother, is anything actually wrong? Quetzal inquired.
Lagerbottoms has been with the barghests. He would have killed too, would he not? Drizzt asked.
Who are we to judge him so? Quetzal retorted, using Drizzt's words of some nights before. Drizzt fell silent.
How were your tries tonight? Drizzt asked finally, changing the subject.
Zaknafein is still under some shielding thing. Quetzal said irritably. But he is near an Opening between worlds. The spell can sense that, at least.
Let us hope he uses it, Drizzt commented, and closed his eyes.
Then a large bird, with tufted, horn-like feathers on its rounded head, flew overhead. Drizzt was up in a second, with drawn scimitars, then laughed at his tight nerves. Glancing back at his companions, the dark elf's mirth turned into a resigned indignation – with Drizzt out of the way, Quetzal and Guenhwyvar had curled up more closely to the fire, leaving him not a space but that of the colder side of the panther.
***
Lagerbottoms glanced up at the gray clouds, then at the twins. "We must find shelter. Snow soon." The giant said.
"Snow? Looks like rain," Quetzal said.
"Snow." The giant insisted, "Shelter soon, or we freeze. Stock with wood."
The twins glanced at each other, then shrugged. Apparently the giant knew about this more than they.
"Bears have caves," Quetzal said, "Perhaps the one you killed that time..."
"One of those you killed," Drizzt corrected, with a grin at Quetzal.
Lagerbottoms nodded, and stumped up the river in search of the bear caves. They found one likely one later – with a stone ridge shielding the cave from the wind. The entrance, though only high enough for the giant to enter stooped, soon wound taller, though far enough from the wind and chill. There was a deeper gloom that spoke of another chamber, and a curious, barred off stockade.
The floor, though uneven, was sprinkled with white sand. Inspecting the cave, the twins found wood in the second chamber, dry and unused, and also a hollow with ashes that had been a fireplace. Hooks hung over the fireplace, as well as an abandoned grille.
"For horses," Drizzt said, looking at the penned area. It seemed long abandoned.
The giant shrugged. Already, he had hauled out clean straw from the penned area, making a nest at the wall opposite that of the fireplace.
"Perhaps a cave used by robbers," Quetzal commented. "Comfortable."
Drizzt nodded, then chanced to look down, seeing the great pawprints in the otherwise smooth sand.
"Bear," he said, even as they sensed another presence in the doorway. The great brown bear looked at the intruders in its cave, and roared with rage.
Instantly, Lagerbottoms was in front of the twins, his club descending and meeting the bear with a loud crack. Quetzal and Drizzt winced.
"Food," the giant commented happily.
***
Chapter 9: Toril
"Bit of a ladies' man, are you?" Zak observed, at the fifth or so blush and giggle as R'ikar bantered with a passing lady Rider.
"Oh yes," R'ikar grinned. "And proud of it."
Zak sighed. It was hard not to like the Rider. "Do you have any idea what I should say to the Goddess?" he asked, swatting Mik's paws from his white hair.
"No," R'ikar said cheerfully, "Never felt occasion to use the Door. The place of my heart's desire can usually be opened with well placed smiles and promises."
"Lots of places then, for you," Zak said sourly, as yet another lady Rider giggled as they passed, beckoning surreptitiously to his companion.
"And what fun I have," R'ikar agreed, leveling a dazzling smile on the lady, who blushed and retreated into her room.
"You and L'yanne are fit for each other," Zak commented.
"Oh no," R'ikar said, "She'd die of irritation in a few days, as any of my friends would if they stayed with me for too long."
"What a puzzling thought," Zak murmured, but R'ikar grinned yet again.
"We are nearing the temple," he commented, "Most of these rooms belong to the priests and priestesses."
"The Goddess has priests of both sex?" Zak said in astonishment.
"Oh yes. And the head man... sorry, person, can be of either sex too," R'ikar said, "Our Goddess is quite free from prejudice."
Zak nodded. Then L'yanne darted out of a room, smiling at the pair. "Going to meet the Goddess, rider of K'seeran?" she asked in a sultry voice.
"Yes," Zak said.
"Perhaps after your business we could..." L'yanne left it hanging.
"After my business I will be far away from this place," Zak said.
"Ah yes. The Door. But I am sure you could stop over..."
"My business is urgent, lady," Zak said, "Or I would not mind."
L'yanne pouted becomingly, though she fell into step with them. "Oh well." She said, shrugging.
***
The corridor was steeper as they advanced to the center of the village-city, also the highest area in the place. As Zak had dimly suspected, the entire place was full of carvings, the patterns basically that of a spiral.
Statues of the Goddess lined the corridor now, and there was the occasional opening to a perch. The sound of chanting reached their ears.
The ground at the end of the corridor sloped upwards, the slope carved into a likeness of the Goddess, with her hounds, motifs of the Riders at each corner. At both sides of the slope were narrow steps, which they climbed up, in reverent silence. Even Mik had fallen still, riding on Zak's shoulder.
At the top of the slopes were two openings, just large enough for the largest Raptor.
"Call K'seeran in," L'yanne said, "These are the last entrances."
Zaknafein nodded, and after a few minutes Jormungand landed outside the openings, and strutted through into the corridor. L'yanne, all business now, nodded to R'ikar, who grinned at Zak and walked back down the stairs, away through the corridor.
Then they walked through the next corridor, which was now narrower, the sides of mosaic art illuminated by magical lights. The next slope was a plan of the entire city, and Zak found that if he concentrated, he could make out every single room, even those on the lower stories.
"A magical diagram," L'yanne shrugged. 'K'seeran', with one hop and a spread of his wings, flew up the slope, even as the two walked up the stairs.
At the end of the slope was a high arch, on top of which was the stuffed head of a giant stag, the twisted horns nearly reaching the high ceiling. They walked/strutted through.
The Temple of Spiral was not that large, considering some of the chapels Zak had seen in Menzoberranzan. The various high priests and priestesses knelt in prayer, and L'yanne also sank to her knees, indicating that Zak do the same.
Zak glanced upwards, however. The ceiling of the temple did not seem to be the normal domed affair, but was also rock. A giant mosaic covered it, depicting the Goddess hunting a unicorn. The floor of the Temple was also a giant pattern, that of a complicated spiral. Zak let his gaze travel past the kneeling faithful, to the high throne draped in animal skin.
On the throne, a smile playing on her lips, was the Living Goddess.
***
Spiral considered the new arrival. He did not appear to be of hers, nor even of this world. For one, his hair was completely white, and his skin a deep midnight black. His ears were pointed, like that of elves, though Spiral felt that this one, was not an elf, at least not the type that this world was used to. In his shape was also that of a wolf.
Even the beautiful kestrel behind him was mysterious, for the Goddess saw that his form, in her magically enhanced eyes, kept shifting back from that of the form of a serpent to a dark elf, all encased in the form of the Raptor.
The monkey on the shoulder of the new arrival looked at her, and immediately hid in the person's hair. Spiral nodded slightly at its reaction, for it was Right.
She would ask the new arrival about his world. Perhaps... perhaps gods truly existed on his world, and did not depend directly on believers for their mere existence. It was one reason why Spiral chose her own city as her abode. The hot flame of pure belief was her power, but would only exist for long if she stayed in sight, the fact of her existence forcefully thrown in the faces of her faithful.
For Spiral did not want to become a Small God, those gods that were thrown aside or abolished when their believers died, or simply stopped believing. She needed a world where she could Be, and the Door would serve as... well, a door. To another world, where she could exist – there she would take some of the faithful with her, and forge another city.
Perhaps.
***
The Ritual ended with the Living Goddess blessing the faithful, and their departure. Then the Goddess turned her face on Zak.
"And this is?" she smiled.
"An adventurer, Divine One," L'yanne said, "He requests the use of the Door."
"I see," Spiral said (her voice resounds and pulls at the very being of their souls), and she smiled that incredible smile. "I thank you for bringing him to my presence, High Priestess," she said.
L'yanne, noting the dismissal, bowed, and departed, after a wink in Zak's direction.
Spiral waited until all the faithful had departed the inner chamber, then turned her attention to Zak. "Well, werewolf and strange elf, why are you on this world?" she inquired languidly, hiding her interest and excitement well.
Zak blinked, then bowed. "I hide no secrets from the Goddess," he said, though a trifle mockingly. "I am here through an accident, and wish the use of your Door to return to my world."
"I have a few questions," Spiral said, "Of curiosity's sake."
"You have but to ask," Zak said magnanimously.
"One, do Gods exist on your world?" "Exist? They certainly do," Zak said bitterly, thinking of Lloth.
"Two, do they walk on your world?"
"I do not think so," Zak said.
"Is your world all of your kind?" Spiral asked.
"Are you planning a conquest, Divine One?" Zak asked shrewdly.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Spiral replied enigmatically.
"No. I am a dark elf, and my kind are confined to the Underdark." He said. For the next hour or so, Zaknafein told Spiral of 'his' world, his tongue loosened by the strange 'smell' inside the inner chamber, that discomfited him and reminded him of what Spiral was Goddess of, the Hunt.
***
Spiral felt a sense of satisfaction when the person had left. Her priestesses (it was their turn this month) would aid him in preparing the Door, but the jump would be his to take.
What the faithful were really there for, was to hold the destination of the 'dark elf' in place. Already troops were being gathered for the 'conquest', as 'Zaknafein' had put it, and they would be ready in a fortnight, at least.
Her Archpriestess, K'yane, came in, followed by the four highest in the faithful.
"Has the adventurer left?" Spiral asked.
"Yes, Divine One. May I put to you a question?" K'yane asked.
"Speak," Spiral said.
"Are you sure of this enterprise?" K'yane entreated, "Think, Divine One. This strange world may be something we do not understand, dangerous."
"The Hunt overwhelms and reaches far," Spiral said, "We may adapt."
"And would you leave the faithful here?" K'yane countered. For another god, any others around someone who dared put forth such a question, would edge away, as the smiting began, but Spiral was a different Goddess.
"No," Spiral said, rising from the throne. In front of the faithful, she suddenly became surrounded by bright light. Feeding on the strong belief of the thousands, she 'split' herself.
When the light cleared, there were two Goddesses, who faced each other like Siamese twins, alike in every move.
"I will continue to lead my faithful," one of the Spirals said.
***
Zak appeared in what looked like a 'forest'. Though not as primeval as those surrounding the village-city, these were thick enough. Jormungand stood silently by his side, in the form of the dark elf and Mik released its death hold on Zak's hair.
"Can you find the twins?" Zak asked.
Jormungand shook his head.
"Can you sense that they are on this world?" Zak tried another approach.
Jormungand nodded.
"Good," Zak said in relief, "Now, can you take me to them? No? Oh, very well." He shivered. This then, would be the surface world, and it was very cold.
"We must find shelter," Zak said. The Serpent elf pointed, and Zak could barely make out the smoke, rising in a dancing tendril through the surprisingly chilling air. They walked towards it, and made out a cottage.
It was a crudely but comfortably made log cottage. The smoke rose from the squat chimney, and the roof was thatch. Zak shuddered at how flammable the entire set up was, but then the door opened, and an old woman stood in the doorway, her wrinkled face full of good nature.
There was a mew as a black cat, green eyes glancing at them in a bored way, rubbed against the old woman's legs.
"Greetings, travelers. Welcome to my home," she said simply, "I suppose you'd better come in."
"Why?" Zak asked suspiciously.
"Because you'd freeze to death if you don't, and there's no shelter for miles," the old woman said simply. Zak saw that she was covered in many layers of clothing, a shawl around her neck. The clothing was black, a drab, serviceable black.
"You're a witch," Zak said then.
"True," The old woman admitted, "And you're a dark elf. And your companion is a shapeshifter."
Zak looked indecisive, but sighed, and walked into the doorway. Until he figured out how to locate the twins, it did not look like he had any other choice. Jormungand looked at the cat, whose eyes held a look of intelligence that did not fit that of a mere animal, then followed Zak into the cottage.
***
Chapter 10: Orcs
Winter gave way as quickly as it had come. The snows lessened daily and the southern wind blew in, bringing a blessed warmth. They soon settled into a routine – Lagerbottoms went out during the day, and the twins patrolled at night, sometimes with the assistance of Guenhwyvar.
Well fed, well rested, they looked up one night across the river, to the far side of the valley.
"What is up there?" Drizzt asked.
Lagerbottoms glanced in that direction. Over the months or so, they had become used to each other, and noted their relationship to be that of a beneficial one. The giant liked to eat fish, which its cumbersome manner could not catch, and the twins liked a change from fish sometimes, which the giant provided through hunts.
The giant shrugged. "Food?" he suggested.
"The night is still young..." Drizzt began.
"You want to explore." Quetzal stated in a resigned tone. "Look, there could be all sorts of monsters out there..."
"Have you no soul, sister?" Drizzt said playfully, "Coming?" he darted out of the cave, filled with the wanderlust so typical to the season. Quetzal glanced at the hill giant, who shrugged.
"When the ice melts young ones explore," Lagerbottoms said.
"I suppose we had better follow," Quetzal said in the language of goblins, and walked out after her brother, Lagerbottoms ambling after her.
The dark elves skipped nimbly over the stones of the river, while the giant simply waded through the shallower regions, and went up and around the many rocks and crags, Drizzt without a thought or a care, Quetzal looking sourly around at the shadows, and Lagerbottoms swinging his large club.
***
Graul, the orc chieftain, looked exceedingly displeased when he heard the news.
The orc patrol had reported many sightings of the group before, and the chieftain was unsure of what to make of them. Dark elves – especially high priestesses, were dangerous. Not to mention the large hill giant that appeared to be their ally. They could usurp the leadership of the large orc tribe, something that Graul coveted, and that he would not allow.
Patrols slipped out in the night, with explicit orders to kill the group.
***
They had put nearly a mile between them and the cave, before they realized that they were being pursued. There had been nothing but darker, fleeting shadows, but instincts told them the truth beyond doubt.
Drizzt pointed up the steep incline in front of them to the ridge, and they nodded. Climbing up the steep incline, they went past the trees to the high ridge, then the twins hid behind a boulder. Lagerbottoms seemed to melt into the shadows.
Seven dark forms, six humanoid and one canine, came out of the shadows, methodically following their path. Quetzal glanced at Drizzt.
What are they? she asked.
I do not know, Drizzt replied, looking down the slope.
We should attack, Quetzal said, They are getting very close.
No, Drizzt argued. We do not know their purpose.
To kill, Quetzal grumbled, as they heard the guttural language of the pursuers.
Orcs. Drizzt said.
We attack. Quetzal said.
No! We have no justification... we run. Drizzt said.
Lagerbottoms? Run? the twins looked at the hill giant, who looked back at them as if looking for them to decide.
We run, Drizzt said stubbornly. Then there was a growl beside them. Without thinking, Quetzal rammed a saber upward, and the worg, a giant, bristle haired wolf, died, choking on its own blood.
"We fight," Quetzal said, leaping out of their cover, into an unfortunate orc that had advanced too far. With the terrain in their favor, Lagerbottoms rushed down his concealment, his club and massive strength denting the orc ranks, a giant blow crushing two into a tree.
Drizzt sighed, and easily parried the spear thrust of his orc, killing the humanoid creature cleanly, then making short work of his companion, darting around the spear thrust, the scimitars angling up into the orc's chest.
The last orc turned to flee, but a dark shape barreled into it, and Guenhwyvar began to tear out its life. Drizzt looked indignantly at Quetzal, who strangely also had the power to call the panther, and she pointed wordlessly up the ridge.
The terrain had turned against them. At the top of the ridge was yet another patrol, led by a wolf and also having a stone giant, and to their right, in the shadows, emerged yet another, led by two wolves.
"One each," Lagerbottoms said, as the patrol at their right attacked the hill giant. The twins looked up to the stone giant.
That could be a problem. Drizzt commented.
No problem at all, Quetzal said mysteriously. Quickly. Squirrels or mice?
Quetzal! Drizzt protested, as the orc band with the giant advanced.
Squirrels or mice? Quetzal repeated, with an impish grin.
Squirrels... Drizzt said finally, as a worg, snarling its rage, leaped from the top of a boulder. Drizzt ducked and lay the beast open with a single, precise stroke.
Squirrels it is, Quetzal said, and took out her pipe. Drizzt gave her an astonished glance.
Keep them off me. she said irritably, as the flute rose in song. Drizzt noticed that it appeared to be the same tune as the one she had been preparing when they first met Lagerbottoms. He shrugged, turning to face the orcs, who were walking the nervous walk of those who knew that their backup was slow and behind them.
One of them launched a spear, which Drizzt easily deflected with his scimitar. The rest charged, and Drizzt, with a backward glance, stepped forward and dropped a globe of darkness on their heads, before stepping in himself. Shouts and other sounds of battle emitted from the globe, as if an entire army found within it.
Lagerbottoms was enjoying himself. Another huge swing of the club splintered the spears of the three orcs left that were feebly trying to defend themselves, the rest having fled or lay dying on the ground. The next swing smashed yet another orc into the air, sending him flying.
Guenhwyvar was effortlessly pursuing the running orcs, cutting them down leisurely.
Then Drizzt stepped out of the globe of darkness, and the stone giant charged.
Run here! Quetzal commanded, and Drizzt sighed, turning tail and bolting, the giant roaring on his heels, swinging the club.
At the last moment, when Drizzt thought the giant would be on them, the spell ended off with a curious high pitched wail, and the giant paused, dropping and rolling on the ground, roaring.
As the twins watched, the giant grew fur, clumps of red fur, and there was a grinding sound that tore at their hearing as he contracted. His ears grew into pointed tufts, and a bushy tail came into being.
When the spell finished, the stone giant was a normal red squirrel, who gave them one frightened squeak and dove for the treeline.
"That's horrible!" Drizzt turned on his sister.
Quetzal shrugged. "Necessary. Would you rather we killed him?"
"Perhaps that would be a better fate." Drizzt said.
"He does not know he is a giant. Only that he is a squirrel, and out of the trees," Quetzal said. "However, I have prevented us from the great possibility of hurt... ah yes. Look to your left."
Drizzt did so, and the shadows moved. Lagerbottoms advanced, and the elves turned too. Then two arrows shot out of the shadows, embedding themselves into the foreheads of two orcs who had raised their spears behind the elves, with all intentions of ending their lives in as messy a way possible. An owl, fluttering and hooting over the heads of the dead orcs settled on an outcrop not far away.
Then it set off again, hooting, over the heads of the twins, though no arrow came forth. Instead came the archer.
He was tall, straight, and very old, with a huge gray moustache and wild gray hair.
His eyes! Quetzal exclaimed, He is blind. Indeed, the man's eyes were white and with no pupils.
He shot those orcs over there. Drizzt said, eyes fixed intently on the man. Lagerbottoms turned to regard the elves, to see if they were to attack. Even though the man's apparently frail hands were holding a heavy longbow with ease, the bow was no match to a charging giant.
The old man spoke in a series of languages that the twins did not understand, until he came to that of the goblin. "Who are you?" he said.
Quetzal looked at Drizzt, then shrugged. "I am Quetzal Do'Urden, and this is Drizzt Do'Urden, my brother. Our giant friend is Lagerbottoms."
The man shrugged. "Who you are is of little consequence."
"Really," Quetzal said, her voice dripping sarcasm. The owl started swooping and calling wildly, but it was too late for the old man. Even if he could have gotten past Lagerbottoms, Guenhwyvar had crept up behind him.
"You are my prisoner now," the old man said, pointing the bow at the twins. "If the giant moves, the both of you die."
Guenhwyvar issued a low, throaty growl, and the twins grinned. What an idiot this old man was.
"We think not," they said, in unison.
Lledrith RavenWolf
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