Forgotten Realms: Homeland - The Legend of Drizzt Book I

by R. A. Salvatore

  I might have been him. I might have lived, trapped within the helpless rage, buried under the daily assault of the wickedness that is Menzoberranzan and the pervading evil that is my own family, never in life to find escape.

  It seems a logical assumption that we learn from the mistakes of our elders. This, I believe, was my salvation. Without the example of Zaknafein, I, too, would have found no escape—not in life.

  Is this course I have chosen a better way than the life Zaknafein knew? I think, yes, though I find despair often enough sometimes to long for that other way. It would have been easier. Truth, though, is nothing in the face of self-falsehood, and principles are of no value if the idealist cannot live up to his own standards.

  This, then, is a better way.

  I live with many laments, for my people, for myself, but mostly for that weapons master, lost to me now, who showed me how—and why—to use a blade.

  There is no pain greater than this; not the cut of a jagged-edged dagger nor the fire of a dragon’s breath. Nothing burns in your heart like the emptiness of losing something, someone, before you truly have learned of its value. Often now I lift my cup in a futile toast, an apology to ears that cannot hear:

  To Zak, the one who inspired my courage.

  —Drizzt Do’Urden

  ight drow dead, and one a cleric,” Briza said to Matron Malice on the balcony of House Do’Urden. Briza had rushed back to the compound with the first reports of the encounter, leaving her sisters at the central plaza of Menzoberranzan with the gathered throng, awaiting further information. “But nearly two score of the gnomes died, a clear victory.”

  “What of your brothers?” asked Malice. “How did House Do’Urden fare in this encounter?”

  “As with the surface elves, Dinin’s hand slew five,” replied Briza. “They say that he led the main assault fearlessly, and he killed the most gnomes.”

  Matron Malice beamed with the news, though she suspected that Briza, standing patiently behind a smug smile, was holding something dramatic back from her. “What of Drizzt?” the matron demanded, having no patience for her daughter’s games. “How many svirfnebli fell at his feet?”

  “None,” Briza replied, but still the smile remained. “Still the day belonged to Drizzt!” she added quickly, seeing an angry scowl spreading across her volatile mother’s face. Malice did not seem amused.

  “Drizzt defeated an earth elemental,” Briza cried, “all alone, almost, with only minor help from a wizard! The high priestess of the patrol named the kill his!”

  Matron Malice gasped and turned away. Drizzt had ever been an enigma to her, as fine with the blade as any but lacking the proper attitude and the proper respect. Now this: an earth elemental! Malice herself had seen such a monster ravage an entire drow raiding party, killing a dozen seasoned warriors before wandering off on its way. Yet her son, her confusing son, had defeated one single-handedly!

  “Lolth will favor us this day,” Briza commented, not quite understanding her mother’s reaction.

  Briza’s words struck an idea in Malice. “Gather your sisters,” she commanded. “We shall meet in the chapel. If House Do’Urden so fully won the day out in the tunnels, perhaps the Spider Queen will grace us with some information.”

  “Vierna and Maya await the forthcoming news in the city plaza,” Briza explained, mistakenly believing her mother to be referring to information about the battle. “Surely we will know the entire story within an hour.”

  “I care nothing for a battle against gnomes!” Malice scolded. “You have told everything that is important to our family; the rest does not matter. We must parlay your brothers’ heroics into gain.”

  “To learn of our enemies!” Briza blurted as she realized what her mother had in mind.

  “Exactly,” replied Malice. “To learn which house it is that threatens House Do’Urden. If the Spider Queen truly finds favor with us this day, she may grace us with the knowledge we need to defeat our enemies!”

  A short while later, the four high priestesses of House Do’Urden gathered around the spider idol in the chapel anteroom. Before them, in a bowl of the deepest onyx, burned the sacred incense—sweet, deathlike, and favored by the yochlol, the handmaidens of Lolth.

  The flame moved through a variety of colors, from orange to green to brilliant red. It then took shape, heard the beckons of the four priestesses and the urgency in the voice of Matron Malice. The top of the fire, no longer dancing, smoothed and rounded, assumed the form of a hairless head, then stretched upward, growing. The flame disappeared, consumed by the yochlol’s image, a half melted pile of wax with grotesquely elongated eyes and a drooping mouth.

  “Who has summoned me?” the small figure demanded telepathically. The yochlol’s thoughts, too powerful for its diminutive stature, boomed within the heads of the gathered drow.

  “I have, handmaiden,” Malice replied aloud, wanting her daughters to hear. The matron bowed her head. “I am Malice, loyal servant of the Spider Queen.”

  In a puff of smoke, the yochlol disappeared, leaving only glowing incense embers in the onyx bowl. A moment later, the handmaiden reappeared, full size, standing behind Matron Malice. Briza, Vierna, and Maya held their breath as the being laid two sickly tentacles on their mother’s shoulders.

  Matron Malice accepted the tentacles without reply, confident in her cause for summoning the yochlol.

  “Explain to me why you dare to disturb me,” came the yochlol’s insidious thoughts.

  “To ask a simple question,” Malice replied silently, for no words were necessary to communicate with a handmaiden. “One whose answer you know.”

  “Does this question interest you so greatly?” the yochlol asked. “You risk such dire consequences.”

  “It is imperative that I learn the answer,” replied Matron Malice. Her three daughters watched curiously, hearing the yochlol’s thoughts but only guessing at their mother’s unspoken replies.

  “If the answer is so important, and it is known to the handmaidens, and thus to the Spider Queen, do you not believe that Lolth would have given it to you if she so chose?”

  “Perhaps, before this day, the Spider Queen did not deem me worthy to know,” Malice responded. “Things have changed.”

  The handmaiden paused and rolled its elongated eyes back into its head as if communicating with some distant plane.

  “Greetings, Matron Malice Do’Urden,” the yochlol said aloud after a few tense moments. The creature’s spoken voice was calm and overly smooth for the thing’s grotesque appearance.

  “My greetings to you, and to your mistress, Queen of Spiders,” replied Malice. She shot a wry smile at her daughters and still didn’t turn to face the creature behind her. Apparently Malice’s guess of Lolth’s favor had been correct.

  “Daermon N’a’shezbaernon has pleased Lolth,” the handmaiden said. “The males of your house have won the day, even above the females that journeyed with them. I must accept Matron Malice Do’Urden’s summons.” The tentacles slid off Malice’s shoulders, and the yochlol stood rigid behind her, awaiting her commands.

  “Glad I am to please the Spider Queen,” Malice began. She sought the proper way to phrase her question. “For the summons, as I have said, I beg only the answer to a simple question.”

  “Ask it,” prompted the yochlol, and the mocking tone told Malice and her daughters that the monster already knew the question.

  “My house is threatened, say the rumors,” said Malice.

  “Rumors?” The yochlol laughed an evil, grating sound.

  “l trust in my sources,” Malice replied defensively. “I would not have called upon you if I did not believe the threat.”

  “Continue,” said the yochlol, amused by the whole affair. “They are more than rumors, Matron Malice Do’Urden. Another house plans war upon you.”

  Maya’s immature gasp brought scornful eyes upon her from her mother and her sisters.

  “Name this house to me,” Malice pleaded. “If Daerm
on N’a’shezbaernon truly has pleased the Spider Queen this day, then I bid Lolth to reveal our enemies, that we might destroy them!”

  “And if this other house also has pleased the Spider Queen?” the handmaiden mused. “Would Lolth then betray it to you?”

  “Our enemies hold every advantage,” Malice protested. “They know of House Do’Urden. No doubt they watch us every day, laying their plans. We ask Lolth only to give us knowledge equal to that of our enemies. Reveal them and let us prove which house is more worthy of victory.”

  “What if your enemies are greater than you?” asked the handmaiden. “Would Matron Malice Do’Urden then call upon Lolth to intervene and save her pitiful house?”

  “No!” cried Malice. “We would call upon those powers that Lolth has given us to fight our foes. Even if our enemies are the more powerful, let Lolth be assured that they will suffer great pain for their attack on House Do’Urden!”

  Again the handmaiden sank back within itself, finding the link to its home plane, a place darker than Menzoberranzan. Malice clenched tightly to Briza’s hand, to her right, and Vierna’s, to her left. They in turn passed along the confirmation of their bond to Maya, at the foot of the circle.

  “The Spider Queen is pleased, Matron Malice Do’Urden,” the handmaiden said at length. “Trust that she will favor House Do’Urden more than your enemies when battle rings out—perhaps …” Malice flinched at the ambiguity of that final word, grudgingly accepting that Lolth never made any promises, at any time.

  “What of my question,” Malice dared to protest, “the reason for the summons?”

  There came a bright flash that stole the four clerics’ vision. When their eyesight returned to them, they saw the yochlol, tiny again, and glaring out at them from the flames of the onyx bowl.

  “The Spider Queen does not give an answer that is already known!” The handmaiden proclaimed, the sheer power of its otherworldly voice cutting into the drow ears. The fire erupted in another blinding flash, and the yochlol disappeared, leaving the precious bowl sundered into a dozen pieces.

  Matron Malice grabbed a large piece of the shattered onyx and threw it against a wall. “Already known?” she cried in rage. “Known to whom? Who in my family keeps this secret from me?”

  “Perhaps the one who knows does not know that she knows,” Briza put in, trying to calm her mother. “Or perhaps the information is newly found, and she has not yet had the chance to come to you with it.”

  “She?” growled Matron Malice. “What ‘she’ do you speak of, Briza? We are all here. Are any of my daughters stupid enough to miss such an obvious threat to our family?”

  “No, Matron!” Vierna and Maya cried together, terrified of Malice’s growing wrath, rising beyond control.

  “Never have I seen any sign!” said Vierna.

  “Nor l! “added Maya. “By your side I have been these many tendays, and I have seen no more than you!”

  “Are you implying that I have missed something?” Malice growled, her knuckles white at her sides.

  “No, Matron!” Briza shouted above the commotion, loud enough to settle her mother for the moment and turn Malice’s attention fully upon her eldest daughter.

  “Not she, then,” Briza reasoned. “He. One of your sons may have the answer, or Zaknafein or Rizzen, perhaps.”

  “Yes,” agreed Vierna. “They are only males, too stupid to understand the importance of minor details.”

  “Drizzt and Dinin have been out of the house,” added Briza, “out of the city. In their patrol group are children of every powerful house, every house that would dare to threaten us!”

  The fires in Malice’s eyes glowed, but she relaxed at the reasoning. “Bring them to me when they return to Menzoberranzan,” she instructed Vierna and Maya. “You,” she said to Briza, “bring Rizzen and Zaknafein. All the family must be present, so that we may learn what we may learn!”

  “The cousins, and the soldiers, too?” asked Briza. “Perhaps one beyond the immediate family knows the answer.”

  “Should we bring them together, as well?” offered Vierna, her voice edged with the rising excitement of the moment. “A gathering of the whole clan, a general war party of House Do’Urden?”

  “No,” Malice replied, “not the soldiers or the cousins. I do not believe they are involved in this; the handmaiden would have told us the answer if one of my direct family did not know it. It is my embarrassment to ask a question whose answer should be known to me, whose answer someone within the circle of my family knows.” She gritted her teeth as she spat out the rest of her thoughts.

  “I do not enjoy being embarrassed!”

  Drizzt and Dinin came into the house a short while later, exhausted and glad the adventure was over. They had barely passed the entrance and turned down the wide corridor that led to their rooms when they bumped into Zaknafein, coming the other way.

  “So the hero has returned,” Zak remarked, eyeing Drizzt directly. Drizzt did not miss the sarcasm in his voice.

  “We’ve completed our job—successfully,” Dinin shot back, more than a little perturbed at being excluded from Zak’s greeting. “I led—”

  “I know of the battle,” Zak assured him. “It has been endlessly recounted throughout the city. Now leave us, Elderboy. I have unfinished business with your brother.”

  “I leave when I choose to leave!” Dinin growled.

  Zak snapped a glare upon him. “I wish to speak to Drizzt, only to Drizzt, so leave.”

  Dinin’s hand went to his sword hilt, not a smart move. Before he even moved the weapon hilt an inch from the scabbard, Zak had slapped him twice in the face with one hand. The other had somehow produced a dagger and put its tip at Dinin’s throat.

  Drizzt watched in amazement, certain that Zak would kill Dinin if this continued.

  “Leave,” Zak said again, “on your life.”

  Dinin threw his hands up and slowly backed away. “Matron Malice will hear of this!” he warned.

  “I will tell her myself,” Zak laughed at him. “Do you think she will trouble herself on your behalf, fool? As far as Matron Malice cares, the family males determine their own hierarchy. Go away, Elderboy. Come back when you have found the courage to challenge me.”

  “Come with me, brother,” Dinin said to Drizzt.

  “We have business,” Zak reminded Drizzt.

  Drizzt looked to both of them, once and back again, stunned by their open willingness to kill each other. “I will stay,” he decided. “I do indeed have unfinished business with the weapons master.”

  “As you choose, hero,” Dinin spat, and he turned on his heel and stormed away.

  “You have made an enemy,” Drizzt remarked to Zak.

  “I have made many,” Zak laughed, “and I will make many more before my day ends! But no mind. Your actions have inspired jealousy in your brother—your older brother. You are the one who should be wary.”

  “He hates you openly,” reasoned Drizzt.

  “But would gain nothing from my death,” Zak replied. “I am no threat to Dinin, but you …” He let the word hang in the air.

  “Why would I threaten him?” Drizzt protested. “Dinin has nothing I desire.”

  “He has power,” Zak explained. “He is the elderboy now but was not always.”

  “He killed Nalfein, the brother I never met.”

  “You know of this?” said Zak. “Perhaps Dinin suspects that another secondboy will follow the same course he took to become the elderboy of House Do’Urden.”

  “Enough,” Drizzt growled, tired of the whole stupid system of ascension. How well you know it, Zaknafein, he thought. How many did you murder to attain your position?

  “An earth elemental,” Zak said, blowing a low whistle with the words. “It is a powerful foe that you defeated this day.” He bowed low, showing Drizzt mockery beyond any doubt. “What is next for the young hero? A daemon, perhaps? A demigod? Surely there is nothing that can—”

  “Never have I heard su
ch senseless words stream from your mouth,” Drizzt retorted. Now it was time for some sarcasm of his own. “Is it that I have inspired jealousy in another besides my brother?”

  “Jealousy?” Zak cried. “Wipe your nose, sniveling little boy! A dozen earth elementals have fallen to my blade! Daemons, too! Do not overestimate your deeds or your abilities. You are one warrior among a race of warriors. To forget that surely will prove fatal.” He ended the line with pointed emphasis, almost in a sneer, and Drizzt began to consider again just how real their appointed “practice” in the gym would become.

  “I know my abilities,” Drizzt replied, “and my limitations. I have learned to survive.”

  “As have I,” Zak shot back, “for so many centuries!”

  “The gym awaits,” Drizzt said calmly.

  “Your mother awaits,” Zak corrected. “She bids us all to the chapel. Fear not, though. There will be time for our meeting.”

  Drizzt walked past Zak without another word, suspecting that his and Zak’s blades would finish the conversation for them. What had become of Zaknafein? Drizzt wondered. Was this the same teacher who had trained him those years before the Academy? Drizzt could not sort through his feelings. Was he seeing Zak differently because of the things he had learned of Zak’s exploits, or was there truly something different, something harder, about the weapons master’s demeanor since Drizzt had returned from the Academy?

  The sound of a whip brought Drizzt from his contemplations.

  “I am your patron!” he heard Rizzen say.

  “That’s of no consequence!” retorted a female voice, the voice of Briza. Drizzt slipped to the corner of the next intersection and peeked around. Briza and Rizzen faced off, Rizzen unarmed, but Briza holding her snake-headed whip.

  “Patron,” Briza laughed, “a meaningless title. You are a male lending your seed to the matron and of no more importance.”

  “Four I have sired,” Rizzen said indignantly.

  “Three!” Briza corrected, snapping the whip to accentuate the point. “Vierna is Zaknafein’s, not yours! Nalfein is dead, leaving only two. One of those is female and above you. Only Dinin is truly under your rank!”