R. Salvatore - The Collected Stories, The Legend of Drizzt

“The sooner I am away from this city, the better,” Drizzt replied. “There are many here who would wish me gone.”

“Found a bit o’ trouble, did ye?”

The drow shrugged as if it did not matter.

“Ye ever kill anyone, Masoj of Menzoberranzan?” Thurgood asked, and he leaned forward in his chair.

“More than anyone in this room,” Drizzt answered, and he doubted he was lying. “More than all of you together.”

Thurgood slumped back in his chair, eyeing the drow and smiling … weirdly, Drizzt thought. At the side of the room, several of the men bristled as if insulted, and the two who had taken Drizzt to this place cautiously approached.

“Well, then,” Thurgood said, his tone, demeanor and accent changing. “Consider yourself taken down by your own words, then, Masoj of Menzoberranzan. Damned by a confession.”

The two flanking Drizzt leaped for him, and the drow fell flat and dove forward, crashing against the front of the dais. His mind worked in one direction, summoning a globe of impenetrable darkness over the highest concentration of men, at the left-hand side of the large room, while his hands worked independently, tearing free the board he had loosened and replaced at the front of the dais. Relief flooded through him when the felt the handles of his scimitars still in position within the cubby, and he rushed back and to his feet, yanking the blades free and raising them up high and wide to intimidate, to freeze in place for just an instant, those attackers closest.

The drow gave a great shout, seeming as if he would charge right for Thurgood, but instead, as he had planned, he dropped right to the floor before the large man.

He heard the splinter of wood behind him; he saw the flash of a silver-streaking magical arrow slash the air above him. He looked forward, expecting to see Thurgood pinned through the chest to the wooden chair, but instead saw the flash of explosion as the arrow slammed against an invisible, magical shield-a globe, he realized, as the lines of sparking blue power fingered out in a tree-like semi-circle about the pirate leader.

The drow muttered a curse under his breath, but had no time to dwell on the unexpected turn, for the two attackers were on him then, even as he rose again. His scimitars worked independently, batting aside surprisingly skillful and coordinated thrusts.

The drow pivoted right, letting his right arm fly out behind him, his scimitar slashing across to defeat a second thrust from the attacker to his left, who was now behind him, while his other blade worked fast and hard against the one presented before him. He tapped the sword outside, moving it across to his right, and then again, and then, surprising his attacker and moving with blinding speed, he brought his left-hand scimitar in a third time, but down lower, hooking it under the blade and yanking it out wide the other way. A short riposte had that scimitar thrusting in hard, scoring a hit that sent the attacker falling to the floor and clutching his chest.

Drizzt hadn’t the time to finish the move, and instead leaped forward and to the side, throwing himself into a forward roll. The man behind him pursued, but a second crackle of wood signaled Catti-brie’s second shot from across the way. The arrow hummed through the air, clipping the man pursuing Drizzt and sending him falling away in pain as the bolt soared past, to again explode against the globe protecting Thurgood.

Drizzt heard that explosion, but didn’t see it as he charged the next three men in line. He came in low, blades leading, and the closest man dropped his axe down low to intercept the thrust. But then Drizzt leaped high, without slowing in the least, coming in above the man’s rising axe. He planted a foot on the surprised man’s chest and sprang away toward the next man in line. The drow’s legs wagged wildly to avoid the upraised sword of the second man, and he even managed a snap-kick at the man’s face as he came down to the side. Again, his scimitar was in place to defeat the thrust of the attacker’s sword, and he even started to counter with his second blade.

But the man proved amazingly resilient, and Drizzt only then realized that the sword thrust had been a feint, and that the real danger was coming from the man’s second weapon, a dagger.

He threw his hips out wide to avoid, but still got cut across the side, and then he had to throw himself backwards and again to the side as the third man came in at him.

He followed right through the roll, coming easily back to his feet and reversing his momentum, and indeed, catching both pursuers by surprise.

Suddenly inside the reach of their long swords, Drizzt pumped his fists and sent his blades in a whirl of motion, scoring minor slashing hits and solid smashes into their respective faces. Not waiting to see if they could withstand that barrage, the drow fast-stepped through.

He cut a quick turn, then froze, startled, as did everyone else in the room, as another arrow plowed through the partially boarded window, and then another right behind.

“Masoj of Menzoberranzan!” Thurgood roared, and Drizzt spun on him.

The man stood on the dais, his shield still crackling with dispersing energy from the last two hits, his face locked in an expression of outrage.

Drizzt did a quick scan. The men across the way had escaped his globe of darkness and regrouped. For all his efforts and surprise, Drizzt had only taken three men out of the fighting, and Catti-brie had been ineffective, other than the one arrow that had accidentally clipped a pursuer.

And now that surprise was gone.

There was only one chance, it seemed, and with an accepting grin on his face, the drow took it, charging the dais, knowing he could get there before Thurgood’s men could intercept and hoping that the magical shield wouldn’t stop him.

Barely three running strides away, Drizzt saw Thurgood flash his hands forward, saw a flare of energy from a ring the man was wearing, and got hit by a blast of wind so powerful that it stopped him in his tracks and sent him flying backwards in a wild tumble!

Drizzt somewhat controlled his roll, but still smashed hard into the wall all the way across the room from Thurgood, below and to the side of the window through which Catti-brie’s arrows had flown. He put his feet under him as fast as possible, expecting pursuit from the many pirates, but saw that it was Thurgood again who was most menacing. The man waggled his fingers and darts of energy shot forth, speeding across the room. Drizzt, as nimble as any fighter in Waterdeep, tried to dodge this way and that, but the magical bolts swerved and pursued and burned into him.

He fought through the stinging pain, he dismissed his surprise that this brutish-looking ruffian was, in fact, a wizard, and his senses caught just enough of an indication of spellcasting for him to react.

He dove flat to the floor as a tremendous bolt of lightning scarred the air above him, blowing out a hole in the wall behind him, its thunderous report and brilliant flash sending men all about the room stumbling back in a blinded daze.

“Kill him!” Thurgood demanded, and his crack crew moved in from every angle.

Drizzt knew he was dead, that there was no escape. He leaped back to his feet, prepared to kill several before he died, and then he fell aside again as the remaining wooden planks over the window burst inward and a great black form crashed into the room.

Guenhwyvar!

Silently praising Catti-brie for putting that magical, summoning statuette to such timely use, ready to turn the tide as the pirates fell back in awe and terror before the six-hundred pound black panther, Drizzt set himself for a second charge.

Guenhwyvar hit the ground running, cut fast left and crashed into a pair of men, sending them flying, then cut back to the right and leaped for Thurgood.