return to their homes! the most honored burrow warden's thoughts screamed out at him. Any other option was too ridiculous to entertain. But as he calmed and considered Firble's grim demeanor, Belwar began to see the truth of it all. The drow would be back, and if they had made a conquest near or at the surface, a conquest of Mithril Hall, as most believed was their intention, then there would likely remain an open route between Menzoberranzan and that distant place, a route that passed too close to Blingdenstone.
'Words, there are, and from many with influence, that we should go farther west, to find a new cavern, a new Blingdenstone,' Firble said. From his tone it was obvious the little councilor was not thrilled at that prospect.
'Never,' Belwar said unconvincingly.
'King Schnicktick will ask your opinion in this most important matter,' Firble said. 'Consider it well, Belwar Dissengulp. The lives of us all may hinge on your answer.»
A long, quiet moment passed, and Firble gave a curt nod and turned to leave.
'What does Firble say?' Belwar asked before he could scurry off.
The councilor turned slowly, determinedly, staring Belwar straight in the eye. 'Firble says there is only one Blingdenstone,' he answered with more grit than Belwar had ever heard, or ever expected to hear, from him. 'To leave as the drow pass by is one thing, a good thing. To stay out is not so good.»
'Worth fighting for are some things,' Belwar added.
'Worth dying for?' Firble was quick to put in, and the councilor did turn and leave.
Chapter 19 IMPROVISING
Catti-brie knew as soon as she saw the dwarven courier's face, his features a mixture of anxiety and battle- lust. She knew, and so she ran off ahead of the messenger, down the winding ways of Mithril Hall, through the Undercity, seeming almost deserted now, the furnaces burning low. Many eyes regarded her, studied the urgency in her stride, and understood her purpose. She knew, and so they all knew. The dark elves had come.
The dwarves guarding the heavy door leading out of Mithril Hall proper nodded to her as she came through. 'Shoot straight, me girl!' one of them yelled at her back, and, though she was terribly afraid, though it seemed as if her worst nightmare was about to come true, that brought a smile to her face.
She found Bruenor, Regis beside him, in a wide cavern, the same chamber where the dwarves had defeated a goblin tribe not so long ago. Now the place had been prepared as the dwarf king's command post, the central brain for the defense of the outer and lower tunnels. Nearly all tunnels leading to this chamber from the wilds of the Underdark had been thoroughly trapped or dropped
altogether, or were now heavily guarded, leaving the chamber as secure a place as could be found outside Mithril Hall proper.
'Drizzt?' Catti-brie asked.
Bruenor looked across the cavern, to a large tunnel exiting into the deeper regions. 'Out there,' he said, 'with the cat.»
Catti-brie looked around. The preparations had been made; everything had been set into place as well as possible in the time allowed. Not so far away, Stumpet Rakingclaw and her fellow clerics crouched and knelt on the floor, lining up and sorting dozens of small potion bottles and preparing bandages, blankets, and herbal salves for the wounded. Catti-brie winced, for she knew that all those bandages and more would be needed before this was finished.
To the side of the clerics, three of the Harpells—Harkle, Bidderdoo, and Bella don DelRoy—conferred over a small, round table covered with dozens of maps and other parchments.
Bella looked up and motioned to Bruenor, and the dwarf king rushed to her side.
'Are we to sit and wait?' Catti-brie asked Regis.
'For the time,' the halfling answered. 'But soon Bruenor and I will lead a group out, along with one of the Harpells, to rendezvous with Drizzt and Pwent in Tunult's Cavern. I'm sure Bruenor means for you to come with us.»
'Let him try to stop me,' Catti-brie muttered under her breath. She silently considered the rendezvous. Tunult's Cavern was the largest chamber outside Mithril Hall, and if they were going to meet Drizzt there, instead of some out-of-the-way place—and if the dark elves were indeed in the tunnels near Mithril Hall—then the anticipated battle would come soon. Catti-brie took a deep breath and took up Taulmaril, her magical bow. She tested its pull, then checked her quiver to make sure it was full, even though the enchantment of the quiver ensured that it was always full.
Still, when Bruenor and Bidderdoo walked away from the other Harpells, the dwarf motioning to his personal escorts and Regis and Catti-brie, the young woman's heart skipped a few beats.
* * * * *
The Gutbuster Brigade rambled and jostled, bouncing off walls and each other. Drow in the tunnels! They had spotted drow in the tunnels, and now they needed a catch or a kill.
To the few dark elves who were indeed so close to Mithril Hall, forward scouts for the wave that would follow, the thunder of Pwent's minions seemed almost deafening. The drow were a quiet race, as quiet as the Underdark itself, and the bustle of surface-dwelling dwarves made them think that a thousand fierce warriors were giving chase. So the dark elves fell back, stretched their lines thin, with the more-important females taking the lead in the retreat and the males forced to hold the line and delay the enemy.
First contact was made in a narrow but high tunnel. The Gut-busters came in hard and fast from the east, and three drow, levitating among the stalactites, fired hand-crossbows, putting poison-tipped darts into Pwent and the two others flanking him in the front rank.
'What!' the battlerager roared, as did his companions, surprised by the sudden sting. The ever wary Pwent, cunning and comprehending, looked around, then he and the other two fell to the floor.
With a scream of surprise, the rest of the Gutbusters turned about and fled, not even thinking to recover their fallen comrades.
They touched down lightly and drew out fine swords.
Up scrambled the three battleragers, their little legs pumping under them in a wild flurry. No poison, not even the famed drow sleeping poison, could get through the wicked concoctions this group had recently imbibed. Gutbuster was a drink, not just a brigade, and if a dwarf could survive the drink itself, he wouldn't have to worry much about being poisoned (or being cold) for some time.
Closest to the dark elves, Pwent lowered his head, with its long helmet spike, and impaled one elf through the chest, blasting through the fine mesh of drow armor easily and brutally.
The second drow managed to deflect the next battlerager's
charge, turning the helmet spike aside with both his swords. But a mailed fist, the knuckles devilishly spiked with barbed points, caught the drow under the chin and tore a gaping hole in his throat. Fighting for breath, the drow managed to score two nasty hits on his opponent's back, but those two strikes did little in the face of the flurry launched by the wild-eyed dwarf.
Only the third drow survived the initial assault. He leaped high in the air, enacting his levitation spell once more, and got just over the remaining dwarf's barreling charge—mostly because the dwarf slipped on the slick blood of Thibbledorf Pwent's quick kill.
Up went the drow, into the stalactite tangle, disappearing from sight.
Pwent straightened, shaking free of the dead drow. 'That way!' he roared, pointing farther along the corridor. 'Find an open area o' ceiling and take up a watch! We're not to let this one get away!'
Around the eastern bend came the rest of the Gutbusters, whooping and shouting, their armor clattering, the many creases and points on each suit grating and squealing like fingernails on slate.
