“There are only three of them,” said Drizzt, his voice holding a fragile edge of calm that threatened to explode at any moment. “We need no surprise.”
Wulfgar didn’t quite know how to take this unexpected change in the dark elf. “You taught me to seek every advantage,” he said cautiously.
“In battle, yes,” answered Drizzt. “This is vengeance. Let the giants see us, let them feel the terror of impending doom!” The scimitars suddenly appeared in his slender hands as he walked out around the bluff, his steady stride unnervingly holding the unswerving promise of death.
One of the giants yelled out in surprise, and they all froze in their tracks when they saw the drow step out before them. Apprehensive and confused, they formed a defensive line across the flat rock. The verbeeg had heard legends of the drow, even some where the dark elves had joined forces with giants, but the sudden appearance of Drizzt caught them totally by surprise.
Drizzt enjoyed their nervous twitchings, and he held back to savor the moment.
“What are ye fer, then?” one of the giants asked cautiously.
“A friend of dwarves,” Drizzt replied with a wicked laugh. Wulfgar leaped out beside him as the largest of the giants charged without hesitation. But Drizzt stopped him cold. The drow pointed one his scimitars at the advancing giant and stated with deathly calm, “You are dead.” At once, the verbeeg was limned by purplish flames. It yelled in terror and retreated a step, but Drizzt stalked it methodically.
An overwhelming impulse came over Wulfgar to throw the warhammer, as though Aegis-fang was exerting a will of its own. The weapon whistled through the night air and exploded into the giant standing in the middle, hurling its broken body into the swollen stream.
Wulfgar was truly awe-stricken with the power and deadliness of the throw, but he worried about how effectively he could fight off the third giant with a small dagger, the only weapon he had left. The giant recognized the advantage as well and charged wildly. Wulfgar went for the dagger.
But instead he found Aegis-fang magically returned to his grasp. He had no idea of this special power Bruenor had imbued upon the weapon, and he had no time now to pause and ponder.
Terrified, but having nowhere to run, the largest giant attacked Drizzt with abandon, giving the elf even more of an advantage. The monster lifted its heavy club high, the movement exaggerated by rage, and Drizzt quickly poked his pointed blades through the leather tunic and into the exposed belly. With only a slight hesitation, the giant continued its mighty swing, but the agile drow still had ample time to dodge the blow. And as the swing threw the lumbering giant off-balance, Drizzt jabbed two more tiny holes into its shoulder and neck.
“Are you watching, boy?” the drow called gaily to Wulfgar. “It fights like one of your kind.”
Wulfgar was heavily engaged with the remaining giant, easily maneuvering Aegis-fang to deflect the monster’s powerful blows, but he was able to catch glimpses of the battle to his side. The scene painted a grim reminder of the value of what Drizzt had taught him, for the drow was toying with the verbeeg, using its uncontrolled rage against it.
Again and again, the monster reared for a killing blow, and each time Drizzt was quick to strike and dance away. Verbeeg blood flowed freely from a dozen wounds, and Wulfgar knew that Drizzt could finish the job at any time. But he was amazed that the dark elf was enjoying the tormenting game he played.
Wulfgar hadn’t yet struck a solid blow on his opponent, biding his time, as Drizzt had taught him, until the enraged verbeeg wore itself out. Already the barbarian could see that the giant’s blows were coming with less frequency and vigor. Finally, lathered in sweat and breathing heavily, the verbeeg slipped up and dropped its guard. Aegis-fang pounded home once, and then again, and the giant toppled in a lump.
The verbeeg fighting Drizzt was down on one knee now, the drow having deftly sliced out one of its hamstrings. When Drizzt saw the second giant fall before Wulfgar, he decided to end the game. The giant took one more futile swing, and Drizzt waded in behind the flow of the weapon, jabbing with one scimitar and this time following the cruel point with his full weight. The blade slipped through the giant’s neck and upward into its brain.
* * *
Later, one question pressed upon Drizzt as he and Wulfgar, resting on one knee, considered the results of their handiwork. “The hammer?” he asked simply.
Wulfgar looked down at Aegis-fang and shrugged. “I do not know,” he answered honestly. “It returned to my hand by its own magic!”
Drizzt smiled to himself. He knew. How wondrous the crafting of Bruenor, he thought. And how deeply the dwarf must care for the boy to have given him such a gift!
“A score of verbeeg coming,” groaned Wulfgar.
“And another twenty already here,” added Drizzt. “Go straight away to Bruenor,” he instructed. “These three just came from the lair; I shouldn’t have much trouble backtracking and finding out where the rest of them are.”
Wulfgar nodded his assent, though he looked upon Drizzt with concern. The uncharacteristic smolder he had seen in the drow’s eyes before they attacked the verbeeg had unnerved the barbarian. He wasn’t quite sure just how daring the dark elf might be. “What do you mean to do when you find the lair?”
Drizzt said nothing but smiled wryly, adding to the barbarian’s apprehension. Finally he eased his friend’s worries. “Meet me back at this spot in the morning. I assure you that I shan’t begin the fun without you!”
“I shall return before the first light of dawn,” Wulfgar replied grimly. He spun on his heel and disappeared into the darkness, making his way as fast as he could under starlight.
Drizzt, too, started away, tracing the trail of the three giants westward across the face of Kelvin’s Cairn. Eventually, he heard the baritone voices of giants, and shortly thereafter he saw the hastily constructed wooden doors that marked their lair, cunningly concealed behind some brush halfway up a rocky foothill.
Drizzt waited patiently and soon saw a second patrol of three giants emerge from the lair: And later on, when they returned, a third group came out. The drow was trying to discern if any alarms had gone up due to the absence of the first patrol. But verbeeg were almost always unruly and undependable, and Drizzt was reassured from the small snatches of conversation he was able to hear that the giants assumed their missing companions had either gotten lost or simply deserted. When the drow slipped away a few hours later to set his next plans, he was confident that he still had the element of surprise working for him.
* * *
Wulfgar ran all through the night. He delivered his message to Bruenor and started back to the north without waiting for the clan to be roused. His great strides took him to the flat rock more than an hour before the first light, even before Drizzt had returned from the lair. He went back behind the bluff to wait, his concern for the drow growing with every passing second.
Finally, able to stand the suspense no longer, he sought out the trail of the verbeeg and started tracking it toward the lair, determined to discover what was happening. He hadn’t gone twenty feet when a hand cuffed him on the back of the head. Reflexively he spun to meet his attacker, but his astonishment turned to joy when he saw Drizzt standing before him.
Drizzt had returned to the rock shortly after Wulfgar but had remained hidden, watching the barbarian to see if the impulsive young warrior would trust in their pact or decide to take matters into his own hands. “Never doubt an appointed rendezvous until its hour has passed,” the drow scolded sternly, touched as he was by the barbarian’s concern for his well-being.
Any response that might have been coming from Wulfgar was cut short, for suddenly the two companions heard a gruff shout from a familiar voice. “Get me a pig-squealin’ giant to kill!” Bruenor called from the flat stone by the stream behind them. Enraged dwarves can roll along at an incredible speed. In less than an hour, Bruenor’s clan had assembled and started after the barbarian, nearly matching his frantic pace.
/> “Well met,” Drizzt called as he moved to join the dwarf. He found Bruenor eyeing the three dead verbeeg with grim satisfaction. Fifty iron-visaged, battle-ready dwarves, more than half the clan, stood around their leader.
“Elf,” Bruenor greeted with his customary consideration. “A lair, is it?”
Drizzt nodded. “A mile to the west, but let that be not your first concern. The giants there are not going anywhere, but they are expecting guests this very day.
“The boy told me,” said Bruenor. “A score of reinforcements.” He swung his axe casually. “Somehow I get the feelin’ they’re not goin’ t’ make the lair! Any notion o’ where they’re to be cumin’ in?”
“North and east is the only way.” Drizzt reasoned. “Somewhere down Icewind Pass, around the north of Lac Dinneshere. Your people will greet them, then?”
“Of course,” replied Bruenor. “They’ll be passin’ Daledrop for certain.” A twinkle edged his eye. “What do ye mean to do?” he asked Drizzt. “An what o’ the boy?”
“The boy remains with me,” Drizzt insisted. “He needs rest. We’ll watch over the lair.”
The eager gleam in Drizzt’s eye gave Bruenor the impression that the drow had more in mind than watching. “Crazy elf,” he said under his breath. “Probably’ll take on the whole lot of ‘em by himself!” He looked around curiously again at the dead giants. “And win!” Then Bruenor studied the two adventurers, trying to match their weapons with the types of wounds on the verbeeg.
“The boy felled two,” Drizzt replied to the dwarf’s unspoken question.
A hint of a rare smile found its way onto Bruenor’s face. “Two to yer one, eh? Yer slippin’, elf.”
“Nonsense,” Drizzt retorted. “I recognized that he needed the practice!”
Bruenor shook his head, surprised by the extent of the pride he felt toward Wulfgar, though of course he wasn’t about to tell the boy and swell his head. “Yer slippin’!” he called again as he moved up to the head of the clan. The dwarves took up a rhythmic chanting, an ancient tune that had once echoed off the silvery halls of their lost homeland.
Bruenor looked back at his two adventurous friends and honestly wondered what would be left of the giant lair by the time he and his fellow dwarves returned.
17. Vengeance
Tirelessly, the heavily laden dwarves marched on. They had come prepared for war, some carrying heavy packs and others shouldering the great weight of large wooden beams.
The drow’s guess about which direction the reinforcements would be coming from seemed the only possible way, and Bruenor knew exactly where to meet them. There was only one pass that afforded easy access down into the rocky valley: Daledrop, up on the level of the tundra yet below the southern slopes of the mountain.
Though they had marched without rest throughout half of the night and most of the morning, the dwarves set right to work. They had no idea what time the giants would be coming in, though it probably wouldn’t happen under the light of day; they wanted to make certain that everything was ready. Bruenor was determined to take out this war party quickly and with minimal losses to his people. Scouts were posted on the high spots of the mountainside, and others were sent out onto the plain. Under Bruenor’s direction, the remainder of the clan prepared the area for an ambush. One group set to digging a trip-trench and another began reassembling the wooden beams into two ballistae. Heavy crossbowmen sought out the best vantage points among the boulders on the nearby mountainside from which to launch their assault.
In a short time, all was ready. But the dwarves still did not stop to rest. They continued canvassing every inch of the area, searching for any possible advantage they could gain over the verbeeg.
Late in the day, the sun already dipping its lowest edges below the horizon, one of the lookouts on the mountain announced that he had sighted a dust cloud growing in the distant east. Soon after; a scout came in from the plain to report that a troop of twenty verbeeg, a few ogres, and at least a dozen orcs was making speed toward Daledrop.
Bruenor signaled the crossbowmen into their concealed positions. The ballista crews inspected the camouflage on the great bows and added perfecting touches. Then the strongest fighters of the clan, with Bruenor himself among them, dug themselves into small holes along the worn path of Daledrop, carefully cutting the tufts of thick grass so that they could roll it back over them.
They would strike the first blows.
* * *
Drizzt and Wulfgar had taken up a position among the boulders of Kelvin’s Cairn above the giant’s lair. They had slept in shifts throughout the day. The drow’s only concern for Bruenor and his clan was that some of the giants would leave the lair to meet the incoming reinforcements and spoil the dwarves’ advantage of surprise.
After several uneventful hours, Drizzt’s worries proved true. The drow was resting in the shadow of a ledge while Wulfgar kept watch over the lair. The barbarian could hardly see the wooden doors concealed behind the brush, but he clearly heard the creak of a hinge when one of them opened. He waited for a few moments before moving to rouse the drow to make sure that some of the giants were actually coming out of the hole.
Then he heard giants talking within the blackness of the open door, and suddenly, a half dozen verbeeg emerged into the sunlight. He turned to Drizzt but found the ever-alert drow already standing behind him, his large eyes squinting as he watched the giants in the bright light.
“I do not know what they are about,” Wulfgar told Drizzt.
“They’re seeking missing companions,” Drizzt replied. He’d heard, more clearly with his keen ears than his friend, distinct pieces of the conversation that had taken place before the giants emerged. These verbeeg had been instructed to exercise all possible caution, but they were to find the long overdue patrol, or at least determine where the missing giants had gone off to. They were expected to return that same night, with or without the others.
“We must warn Bruenor,” said Wulfgar.
“This group will have found their dead companions and alerted the lair long before we could return,” replied Drizzt. “Besides, I believe that Bruenor has enough giants to deal with already.”
“What, then?” asked Wulfgar. “Surely the lair will be tenfold more difficult to defeat if they expect trouble.” The barbarian noticed that the simmering flame had returned to the drow’s eye.
“The lair will be none the wiser if these giants never return,” Drizzt said matter-of-factly, as though the task of stopping six hunting verbeeg was a minor obstacle. Wulfgar listened in disbelief, though he had already guessed what Drizzt had in mind.
The drow noted Wulfgar’s apprehension and smiled broadly. “Come, boy,” he instructed, using the condescending title to stir up the barbarian’s pride. “You have trained hard for many weeks in preparation for a moment such as this.” He sprang lightly across a small chasm on the stone ledge and turned back on Wulfgar, his eyes sparkling wildly as they caught the afternoon sun.
“Come,” the drow repeated, beckoning with one hand. “There are only six of them!”
Wulfgar shook his head resignedly and sighed. During the weeks of training, he had come to know Drizzt as a controlled and deadly swordsman who weighed every feint and strike with calm precision. But in the last two days, Wulfgar had seen an overly daring—even reckless—side of the drow. Drizzt’s unwavering confidence was the only thing that convinced Wulfgar that the elf wasn’t suicidal, and the only thing that compelled Wulfgar to follow him against his own better judgement. He wondered if there was any limit to how far he would trust the drow.
He knew then and there that Drizzt would someday lead him into a situation from which there was no escape.
* * *
The giant patrol traveled southward for a short while, Drizzt and Wulfgar secretly in tow. The verbeeg found no immediate trace of the missing giants and feared that they were getting too close to the dwarven mines, so they turned sharply back to the northeast, in the general direc
tions of the flat rock where the skirmish had taken place.
“We must move on them soon,” Drizzt told his companion. “Let us close in on our prey.”
Wulfgar nodded. A short time later, they approached a broken area of jagged stones, where the narrow path twisted and turned suddenly. The ground was sloping upward slightly, and the companions recognized that the path they traveled would move out to the rim of a small chasm. The daylight had faded enough to provide some cover. Drizzt and Wulfgar exchanged knowing glances; the time had come for action.
Drizzt, by far the more battle-seasoned of the two, quickly discerned the mode of attack that offered the best chance of success. He motioned silently for Wulfgar to pause. “We have to strike and move away,” he whispered, “and then strike again.”
“Not an easy task against a wary foe,” Wulfgar said.
“I have something that may aid us.” The drow pulled his pack from his back and took out the small figurine and called his shadow. When the wondrous feline abruptly appeared, the barbarian gasped in horror and leaped away.
“What demon have you conjured?” he cried as loudly as he dared, his knuckles whitening under the pressure of his clutch on Aegis-fang.
“Guenhwyvar is no demon,” Drizzt reassured his large companion. “He is a friend and a valuable ally.” The cat growled, as if it understood, and Wulfgar took another step away.
“No natural beast,” the barbarian retorted. “I shall not fight beside a demon conjured with sorcery!” The barbarians of Icewind Dale feared neither man nor beast, but the black arts were absolutely foreign to them, and their ignorance left them vulnerable.
“If the verbeeg learn the truth of the missing patrol, Bruenor and his kin will be in danger,” Drizzt said darkly. “The cat will help us to stop this group. Will you allow your own fears to hinder the rescue of the dwarves?”
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