Siege of Darkness

contrasting starkly with her light skin, even in the quiet light of night.

'I do love you,' the drow admitted. The blunt statement did not catch Catti-brie by surprise, not at all. 'As you love me,' Drizzt went on, easily, confident that his words were on the mark. 'And I, too, must look ahead now, must find my place among my friends, beside you, without Wulfgar.»

'Perhaps in the future,' Catti-brie said, her voice barely a whisper.

'Perhaps,' Drizzt agreed. 'But for now…»

'Friends,' Catti-brie finished.

Drizzt moved his hand back from her cheek, held it in the air before her face, and she reached up and clasped it firmly.

Friends.

The moment lingered, the two staring, not talking, and it would have gone on much, much longer, except that there came a commotion from the trail behind them, and the sound of voices they both recognized.

'Stupid elf couldn't do this inside!' blustered Bruenor.

'The stars are more fitting for Guenhwyvar,' huffed Regis breathlessly. Together they crashed through a bush not far behind the plateau and stumbled and skidded down to join their two friends.

'Stupid elf?' Catti-brie asked her father.

'Bah!' Bruenor snorted. 'I'm not for saying…»

'Well, actually,' Regis began to correct, but changed his mind when Bruenor turned his scarred visage the halfling's way and growled at him.

'So ye're right and I said stupid elf!' Bruenor admitted, speaking mostly to Drizzt, as close to an apology as he ever gave. 'But I've got me work to do.' He looked back up the trail, in the direction of Mithril Hall's eastern door. 'Inside!' he finished.

Drizzt took out the onyx figurine and placed it on the ground, purposely right before the dwarf's heavy boots. 'When Guenhwyvar is returned to us, I will explain how inconvenienced you were to come and witness her return,' Drizzt said with a smirk.

'Stupid elf,' Bruenor muttered under his breath, and he fully expected that Drizzt would have the cat sleep on him again, or something worse.

Catti-brie and Regis laughed, but their mirth was strained and nervous, as Drizzt called quietly for the panther. The pain they would have to bear if the magic of the figurine had not healed, if Guenhwyvar did not return to them, would be no less to the companions than the pain of losing Wulfgar.

They all knew it, even surly, blustery Bruenor, who to his grave would deny his affection for the magical panther. Silence grew around the figurine as the gray smoke came forth, swirled, and solidified.

Guenhwyvar seemed almost confused as she regarded the four companions standing about her, none of them daring to breathe.

Drizzt's grin was the first and the widest, as he saw that his trusted companion was whole again and healed, the black fur

glistening in the starlight, the sleek muscles taut and strong.

He had brought Bruenor and Regis out to witness this moment. It was fitting that all four of them stood by when Guenhwyvar returned.

Part 4 THE DROW MARCH

I noticed something truly amazing, and truly heartwarming,as we, all the defenders of Mithril Hall and the immediateregion, neared the end of preparations, neared the time when the drow would come.

I am drow. My skin proves that I am different. The ebony hue showsmy heritage clearly and undeniably. And yet, not a glare was aimed myway, not a look of consternation from the Harpells and the Longriders, notan angry word from volatile Berkthgar and his warrior people. And nodwarf, not even General Dagna, who did not like anyone who was not adwarf, pointed an accusing finger at me.

We did not know why the drow had come, be it for me or for thepromise of treasure from the rich dwarven complex. Whatever the cause, tothe defenders, I was without blame. How wonderful that felt to me, whohad worn the burden of self-imposed guilt for many months, guilt for the previous raid, guilt for Wulfgar, guilt that Catti-brie had been forced byfriendship to chase me all the way to Menzoberranzan.

Ihad worn this heavy collar, and yet those around me who had asmuch to lose as I placed no burden on me.

You cannot understand how special that realization was to one of my past. It was a gesture of sincere friendship, and what made it all the moreimportant is that it was an unintentional gesture, offered without thoughtor purpose. Too often in the past, my «friends» would make such gesturesas if to prove something, more to themselves than to me. They could feelbetter about themselves because they could look beyond the obvious differences, such as the color of my skin.

Guenhwyvar never did that. Bruenor never did that. Neither did Catti-brie or Regis. Wulfgar at first despised me, openly and withoutexcuse, simply because I was drow. They were honest, and thus, they werealways my friends. But in the days of preparation for war, 1 saw that sphere

of friendship expand many times over. I came to know that the dwarves ofMithril Hall, the men and women of Settlestone, and many, many more,truly accepted me.

That is the honest nature of friendship. That is when it becomes sincere, and not self-serving. So in those days, Drizzt Do'Urden came tounderstand, once and for all, that he was not of Menzoberranzan.

I threw off the collar of guilt. I smiled.

Chapter 17 BLINGDENSTONE

They were shadows among the shadows, flickering movements that disappeared before the eye could take them in. And there was no sound. Though three hundred dark elves moved in formation, right flank, left flank, center, there was no sound.

They had come to the west of Menzoberranzan, seeking the easier and wider tunnels that would swing them back toward the east and all the way to the surface, to Mithril Hall. Blingdenstone, the city of svirfnebli, whom the drow hated above all others, was not so far away, another benefit of this roundabout course.

Uthegental Armgo paused in one small, sheltered cubby. The tunnels were wide here, uncomfortably so. Svirfnebli were tacticians and builders; in a fight they would depend on formations, perhaps even on war machines, to compete with the more stealthy and individual-minded drow. The widening of these particular tunnels was no accident, Uthegental knew, and no result of nature. This battlefield had long ago been prepared by his enemies.

So where were they? Uthegental had come into their domain

with three hundred drow, his group leading an army of eight thousand dark elves and thousands of humanoid slaves. And yet, though Blingdenstone itself could not be more than a twenty minute march from his position—and his scouts were even closer than that—there had been no sign of svirfnebli.

The wild patron of Barrison del'Armgo was not happy. Uthegental liked things predictable, at least as far as enemies were concerned, and had hoped that he and his warriors would have seen some action against the gnomes by now. It was no accident that his group, that he, was at the forefront of the drow army. That had been a concession by Baenre to Mez'Barris, an affirmation of the importance of the second house. But with that concession came responsibility, which Matron Mez'Barris had promptly dropped on Uthegental's sturdy shoulders. House Barrison del'Armgo needed to come out of this war with high glory, particularly in light of Matron Baenre's incredible