She noticed a dark elf on the isle's dock, waving his arms and motioning for her to go back. He seemed to be alone.
Catti-brie lifted Taulmaril and let fly. The arrow cut the darkness as would a bolt of lightning, slamming into the sur prised drow's chest and hurling him back a dozen feet. Catti-brie and Guenhwyvar stepped onto the beach a minute later. The young woman felt the locket and started to tell Guenhwyvar to run around to the right, but the panther had already sensed the nearness of its master, was already in full flight across the broken landscape, veering in from the beach as it ran.
The woman followed as quickly as she could, but lost sight of the speeding cat almost immediately as Guenhwyvar cut a sharp turn around the base of the nearest hillock, claws throwing up moist turf.
Catti-brie heard a startled cry and, when she came around the base of that mound, she saw a dark elf soldier, looking away from her, his gaze apparently following the run of the panther. One of his arms was upraised, steadying a hand crossbow.
Catti-brie fired on the run, her arrow going high and scorching a hole in the side of the mound, just inches above the drow's head. He spun about immediately and retaliated, the dart clipping the turf near the diving and rolling woman.
Quick to fit another arrow, Catti-brie fired next, driving a hole in the drow soldier's trailing piwafzvi as he scrambled to the side. He skidded to one knee, fitted a quarrel as he went, and raised his arm again.
Catti-brie fired also, the arrow blasting through the hand crossbow and the drow's hand, slicing out his wrist and burying deep in his upper chest.
She had won the duel, but had lost precious time. Disoriented, the young woman needed the locket again to direct her, and off she ran.
His skilled opponents' fierce attacks soon became measured strikes as Drizzt parried every move and often managed an effective counter. One of the drow held just one weapon now, with his dirk arm tucked in close to his side to stem the flow of blood from a curv ing scimitar gash.
Drizzt's confidence continued to soar. How many enemies were here on the isle? he wondered, and he dared to believe that he might win.
His blood froze when he heard a roar behind him, thinking that some monstrous ally had come to his enemies' aid. The wounded drow soldier widened his eyes in terror and began to backpedal, but Drizzt took little comfort in that. Most drow allies were tentative at best, chaotic creatures of incredible and unpredictable power. If this were indeed some summoned monster, some demonic ally, stalking' from behind him, then Drizzt was surely its primary target.
The backpedaling drow broke into a dead run, fleeing along the ledge, and Drizzt used his departure to work around to the side, to try to get a look at what he would face next.
A black feline form whipped past him, pursuing his fleeing enemy. For an instant, he thought that some drow must have a fig urine similar to his own, must have summoned a cat similar to Guenhwyvar. But this was Guenhwyvar! Drizzt knew instinctively. This was his Guenhwyvar!
Excitement fast turned to confusion. Drizzt thought that Regis must have called the panther, back in Mithril Hall, and that the cat must have come running out after him. It made no sense, though, for Guenhwyvar could not remain on the Material Plane long enough to make the journey all the way from the dwarven strong hold. The figurine had to have been carried to Menzoberranzan.
A cunning sword thrust slipped through Drizzt's defenses momentarily, the weapon tip nicking into his fine armor and sting ing his breast. It brought the distracted ranger from his reverie, reminding Drizzt that he had to take one enemy and one problem at a time.
He came forward in a blinding burst, scimitars waving and rolling, cutting in at the opposing dark elf from many different angles. The drow soldier was up to the test, though, his swords banging away the deadly blades, even smacking the side of Drizzt's boot as the ranger tried to kick out at the drow's knee.
"Patience, " Drizzt reminded himself, but with Guenhwyvar's appearance and so many unanswered questions, patience was hard to come by.
The fleeing drow rounded a bend. Then, with the panther quickly gaining, he hooked his good arm around a narrow stalag mite and spun to the right, leaping over the ledge to splash into the muck. He got his feet back under him and was bent over, trying to recover his dropped sword, when Guenhwyvar crashed down, driving him into the water.
He spun and kicked briefly, and when the jumble sorted out, the panther's maw was clamped about the pinned drow's neck, squeez ing. He had his face above the water, but could not draw breath, would never again draw breath.
Guenhwyvar came up from the kill, turned to spring back the dozen feet to the ledge, but dropped low and turned its head, snarling suspiciously as a rainbow hued bubble floated over it. Before Guenhwyvar could react, the strange thing burst, and Guen hwyvar was showered by flecks of tingling material.
Guenhwyvar leaped for the ledge, but felt as though the intended target was getting farther and farther away. The panther roared again, in protest, understanding then the nature of those flecks, understanding that they were sending it back to its own plane of existence.
The roar was soon lost to the gentle lapping of the stirred ripples and the clang of steel from up on the ledge.
Jarlaxle leaned against the stone wall, considering this new development. He put away his valuable metal whistle, the item that had dismissed the dangerous panther, and lifted one of his boots so that he could wipe the muck from it. Casually, the cocky mercenary looked up to the continuing sounds of battle, confident that Drizzt Do'Urden would soon be taken.
Catti-brie was pinned down in the ravine; two dark elves stood sheltered behind twin mounds directly ahead of her, and a third plucked away with his hand crossbow from the base of the hillock to her left. She squeezed in close to her own stalagmite cover as best she could, but still felt vulnerable as darts ricocheted all about her. Every now and then she managed a shot, but her enemies were well under cover and the streaking arrows skipped and sparked harm lessly off the many stones.
A quarrel nicked the young woman's knee; another forced her to duck deeper into the cubby, forced her to angle her body so that she probably wouldn't be able to fire her bow again. Catti-brie grew scared then, thinking that defeat had caught up with her. There was no way she could win against three well trained and well armed drow soldiers.
A quarrel stuck into the heel of her boot, but did not penetrate. The young woman took a long, deep breath. She told herself stub bornly that she had to try to retaliate, that crouching here would prove worthless and would ensure her, and Drizzt's, death.
The thought of her friend gave her courage, and she wriggled about for a shot. She cursed aloud as she fired, for her enemies, again, were well hidden.
Or were they? Catti-brie scrambled suddenly to the back side of the stalagmite cluster, putting as much interference between herself and the drow on the hillock as possible. She was an open target now to the two soldiers ahead of her, but she was only a target if they managed to get off any shots.
Taulmaril hummed repeatedly, continuously, as the woman loosed a mighty barrage. She saw no dark elf forms to shoot at, but went after their cover instead, each enchanted arrow pounding away at the twin stalagmites. Sparks flew all about the target area. Chips of flying stone sizzled as they arced into the air.
Unable to come out long enough to retaliate, the two drow lost their nerve and fled down the ravine. Catti-brie got one in the back, then lifted an arrow for the second.
She felt a sting in her side and turned about to see another enemy barely ten feet away, smiling confidently with his hand crossbow out in front of him.
Catti-brie whipped about, her deadly bow falling in line. The drow's mouth opened wide in a suddenly terrified scream, and Catti-brie put the arrow right into his face, hurling him head over heels through the air.
The young woman looked to her bleeding side. She grimaced and yanked out the stinging quarrel, then pulled herself up to her feet and looked all about. She couldn't be certain that this last drow had been the one from the hillock, but she felt the insidious poison creeping into her limbs and knew that she couldn't wait around to make sure that no other enemies were creeping behind her. Deter minedly, the young woman began to scale the ravine's broken wall and soon she was up on the ledge, trotting along, trying to keep her focus and her balance.
Twinkle hooked inside the drow's sword, and Drizzt sent it rotating, the two weapons cutting great circles in the air between the combatants. His opponent sneaked a thrust in behind the fast flying blades, but Drizzt's other scimitar was in line, knocking the second sword harmlessly aside.
Drizzt kept the momentum up, even increased the pressure of the spin. Around went the blades, low and high, and now it was Drizzt who kept his free weapon slipping in through their wake, with cunning strikes that kept his opponent dancing back and off balance. With his superior agility, Drizzt was in control of the cir cling blades, and both opponents knew that the ranger was gaining the advantage.
The enemy drow tightened his muscles to apply counterpres sure against Twinkle, exactly what cunning Drizzt had been wait ing for. The instant he felt the pressure on his blade, sword and scimitar coming up again before his eyes, he ended his roundabout cut, reversed direction, and snapped Twinkle in a short loop, strik ing the drow's sword on the other side. Overbalanced by the sud den release, the drow soldier stumbled and could not reverse his pressure on the sword.
His blade dove low and flew out wide across his body, twisting him to the side. He tried to get his other sword around for a block, but Drizzt's second scimitar was too quick, jabbing hard into the side of his abdomen.
He fell back, reeling, one sword dropping to the stone.
Drizzt heard a call; someone rammed him hard in the shoulder, slamming him against the stone wall. He bounced off and spun, scimitars up.
Entreri! Drizzt's jaw dropped with his guard.
Catti-brie spotted Drizzt on the ledge, saw the other drow fall away, clutching his side, and she cried out as another dark form rushed from a cranny and barreled into Drizzt. She put her bow up, but realized that if the enemy's body did not stop her arrow, it would drive through to strike Drizzt. Besides, a wave of dizziness assaulted the young woman as the effects of the sleeping poison began to course through her veins.
She kept Taulmaril ready and staggered on, but the fifty or so feet to Drizzt seemed like a hundred miles.
Entreri's sword flared a green light, further revealing the assas sin. But how could it be? Drizzt wondered. He had defeated this one, had left Entreri for dead in a windy ravine outside Mithril Hall.
Apparently, not everyone had left Entreri for dead.
The sword came in a devilish two stroke routine, thrusting low at Drizzt's hip, then slashing high, nearly connecting across the drow's eyes.
Drizzt tried to recover his balance, and his sensibilities, but Entreri was all over him, hacking wildly, growling all the while. A snap kick caught the ranger in the knee, and he had to throw him self away from the wall as the green glowing sword sliced down, igniting a line of sparks.
The snarling assassin spun with Drizzt, sending his dirk in a wide flying hook. Drizzt's scimitar banged against the shorter weapon and it flew away, but Entreri's hand came on, balling into a fist, now inside the blocking angle of Drizzt's weapon.
A split second before the assassin's fist smacked into his nose, Drizzt realized that Entreri had been one step ahead of him, had expected, even desired, that exact parry.
The stunned ranger tumbled backward. Only a narrow stalag mite mound prevented Drizzt from flying over the ledge. Entreri was on him instantly. Sparks, green and blue, erupted as a brutal swipe of the assassin's sword took Twinkle from Drizzt's hands.
Drizzt's remaining blade parried the ensuing backhand, but before he could begin to bend to retrieve his dropped weapon, Entreri crouched and kicked Twinkle from the ledge.
Still off balance, Drizzt tried a downward chop that was easily foiled, and the assassin countered with another heavy punch, con necting solidly with Drizzt's belly.
Up swooped Entreri, his sword running an outward circling arc, taking Drizzt's scimitar with it. It was a game of chess, and Entreri was playing white, advantage gained, and not relinquishing the offensive. Sword and scimitar out wide, the enraged assassin hurled himself into the ranger, forearm leading, smashing Drizzt in the face and snapping the drow's head back brutally against the stone. Entreri's sword hit the scimitar again, knocking it straight out, then again, straight up, and Drizzt, with his sword arm high and Entreri's poised to come in at him, recognized his doom. He rolled away to his right as the sword sliced across, slashing through his fine cloak, banging hard against his dwarf forged armor and cutting a line across his armpit, aiding the momentum of his dive.
Then Drizzt was flying free over the ledge, diving face first into the muck.
Entreri instinctively leaped and rolled as he noticed a flash out of the corner of his eye. A silver streaking arrow sliced across the jumble of man and cloak, then continued on along the ledge, leaving Entreri prone on the stone, groaning. He managed to slip a hand out from under him, fingers inching to his dropped dirk.
"Drizzt!" Catti-brie called, her grogginess temporarily defeated by the sight of her fallen friend. Drawing her sword, the woozy woman increased her pace, not sure of whether to finish the assassin first or look for the downed drow.
Nearing the spot, she veered for the stalagmite, but the choice was moot, for the assassin sprang to his feet, apparently unhurt. The arrow had missed, cutting only a clean hole in Entreri's flapping cloak.
Catti-brie fought through teary eyes and gritted teeth, smacked aside Entreri's first sword thrust and reached for the jeweled dagger on her belt. Her movements were sluggish, though, for the insidious sleeping poison was fast overwhelming the adrenaline rush, and, as her fingers closed on the dagger, she suddenly found her sword slapped away and a dirk pressing the back of her hand, pinning it in place against the dagger hilt.
Entreri's sword tip was up, dangerously high and dangerously free.
The end was upon her, Catti-brie knew, and all her world had flown away. She felt only the cold steel of Entreri's sword slipping through the tender skin of her neck.
