see the severed head of the snake still holding fast, its fangs deeply embedded.
Only then did Drizzt notice the familiar silver flashes of Taulmaril, Catti-brie's bow. Guenhwyvar was alive and about; Catti-brie was out in the hall, fighting; and, from
somewhere far down the other corridor, the one along the right-hand side of the small chamber, Drizzt heard the unmistakable roar of Bruenor Battlehammer's litany of rage.
'Me boy!'
'You said they were dead,' Drizzt remarked to Vierna. He steadied himself against the wall.
'They do not matter!' Vierna yelled back at him, obviously as amazed as Drizzt by the revelation. 'You are all that matters, you and the glories your death will bring me!' She launched herself forward at her wounded brother, three snake heads leading the way.
Drizzt had found his strength again, had found it in the presence of his friends, in the knowledge that they, too, were involved in this fight and would need him to win.
Instead of lashing out or swiping across, Drizzt let then snake heads come to him. He got bit again, twice, but Twinkle split one viper's rushing head down the middle, leaving its torn body writhing uselessly.
Drizzt kicked off the wall, driving Vierna back in surprise. He worked his blades fast and hard, aiming always for the snakes of Vierna's whip, though more than once he felt as if he could have slipped through his sister's defenses and scored a hit on her body.
Another snake head dropped to the floor.
Vierna came across with the decimated whip, but a scimitar sliced deeply into her forearm before she could snap the remaining snake head forward. The weapon flew to the floor. The writhing snake became a lifeless thong as soon as the whip left Vierna's hand.
Vierna hissed-she seemed an animal-at Drizzt, her empty hands grasping the air repeatedly.
Drizzt did not immediately advance, did not have to, for Twinkle's deadly tip was poised only inches from his sister's vulnerable breast.
Vierna's hand twitched toward her belt, where twin maces, carved in intricate runes of spiderwebs, awaited. Drizzt could well guess the power of those weapons, and he knew firsthand from his days in Menzoberranzan Vierna's skill in using them.
'Do not,' he ordered, indicating the weapons.
'We were both trained by Zaknafein,' Vierna reminded him, and the mention of his father stung Drizzt. 'Do you fear to find out who best learned the many lessons?'
'We were both sired by Zaknafein,' Drizzt retorted, tapping Vierna's hand away from her belt with Twinkle's furiously glowing blade. 'Do not continue this and dishonor him. There is a better way, my sister, a light you cannot know.'
Vierna's cackling laughter mocked him. Did he really believe he could reform her, a priestess of Lloth?
'Do not!' Drizzt commanded more forcefully as Vierna's hand again inched toward the nearest mace.
She lurched for it. Twinkle plunged through her breast, through her heart, its bloody tip coming out her back.
Drizzt was right against her then, holding her arms in tight, supporting her as her legs failed her.
They stared at each other, unblinking, as Vierna slowly slumped to the floor. Gone was her rage, her obsession, replaced by a look of serenity, a rare expression on the face of a drow.
'I am sorry,' was all Drizzt could quietly mouth.
Vierna shook her head, refusing any apology. To Drizzt, it seemed as if that buried part of her that was Zaknafein Do'Urden's daughter approved of this ending. Vierna's eyes then closed forever.
Chapter 24 The Long Walk Home
'Well done.' The words came at Drizzt unexpectedly, jerked him into the realization that while Vierna was dead, the battle might not yet be won. He jumped aside, scimitars coming up defensively before him.
He lowered the weapons when he considered Jarlaxle, the mercenary sitting propped against the chamber's far wall, one leg sticking out to the side at a weird angle.
'The panther,' the mercenary explained, speaking the Common tongue as fluidly as if he had spent his life on the surface. 'I thought I would be killed. The panther had me down.' Jarlaxle gave a shrug. 'Perhaps my lightning bolt hurt the beast.'
The mention of the lightning bolt reminded Drizzt of the wand, reminded Drizzt that this drow was still very dangerous. He went down in a crouch, circling defensively.
Jarlaxle winced in pain and held an empty hand up in front of him to calm the alerted ranger. 'The wand is put away,' he assured Drizzt. 'I would have no desire to use it if I had you helpless-as you believe you have me.'
'You meant to kill me,' Drizzt replied coldly.
Again the mercenary shrugged, and a smile widened on his face. 'Vierna would have killed me if she had won and I had not come to her aid,' he explained calmly. 'And, skilled as you may be, I thought she would win.'
It seemed logical enough, and Drizzt knew well that pragmatism was a common trait among dark elves. 'Lloth would reward you still for my death,' Drizzt reasoned.
'I do not slave for the Spider Queen,' Jarlaxle replied. 'I am an opportunist.'
'You make a threat?'
The mercenary laughed loudly, then winced again at the throb in his broken leg.
Bruenor rushed into the chamber from the side passage. He glanced at Drizzt, then focused on Jarlaxle, his rage not yet played out.
'Hold!' Drizzt commanded him as the dwarf started for the apparently helpless mercenary.
Bruenor skidded to a stop and put a cold stare on Drizzt, a look made more ominous by the dwarf's ripped face, his right eye badly gouged and a line of blood running from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his left cheek. 'We're not for needing prisoners,' Bruenor growled.
Drizzt considered the venom in Bruenor's voice and considered the fact that he had not seen Wulfgar anywhere in this fight. 'Where are the others?'
'I'm right here,' replied Catti-brie, coming into the chamber from the main tunnel, behind Drizzt.
Drizzt turned to regard her, her dirty face and incredibly grim expression revealing much. 'Wulf…' he started to ask, but Catti-brie shook her head solemnly, as though she could not bear to hear the name spoken aloud. She walked near Drizzt and he winced, seeing the small crossbow quarrel still sticking from the side of her jaw.
Drizzt gently stroked Catti-brie's face, then took hold of the obscene dart and yanked it free. He brought his hand immediately to the young woman's shoulder, lending her support as waves of nausea and pain swept over her.
'I pray I did not harm the panther,' Jarlaxle interrupted, 'a magnificent beast indeed!'
Drizzt spun about, his lavender eyes flashing.
'He's baiting ye,' Bruenor remarked, his fingers moving eagerly over the handle of his bloody axe, 'begging for mercy without the begging.'
Drizzt wasn't so sure. He knew the horrors of Men zoberranzan, knew the lengths that some drow would travel to survive. His own father, Zaknafein, the drow Drizzt had loved most dearly, had been a killer, had served as Matron Malice's assassin out of a simple will to survive. Might it be that this mercenary was of similar pragmatism?
Drizzt wanted to believe that. With Vierna dead at his feet, his family, his ties to his heritage, were no more, and he wanted to believe that he was not alone in the world.
'Kill the dog, or we drag him back,' Bruenor growled, his patience exhausted.
'What would be your choice, Drizzt Do'Urden?' Jarlaxle asked calmly.
Drizzt considered Jarlaxle once more. This one was not so much like Zaknafein, he decided, for he remembered his father's rage when it was rumored that Drizzt had slain surface elves. There was indeed an undeniable difference between Zaknafein and Jarlaxle. Zaknafein killed only those he believed deserved death, only those serving Lloth or other evil minions. He would not have walked beside Vierna on this hunt.
