Robert Salvatore - Sea of Swords

She took aim for a third, but held the shot, for Guenhwyvar leaped in among the nest then, scattering the band. One man tried to scramble up the back side, farther up the mountain, but a great black paw caught him in the back of his leg and tore him back down.

Another man leaped over the rim of the nest, falling and bouncing, preferring to the fall to the grim fate at the claws of the panther. He tried desperately to control his descent and finally managed to settle on a stone.

Right in Catti-brie's sights.

He died quickly, at least.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sheila Kree had him dead, obviously so, and her sword dived in at Wulfgar's exposed flank.

But the pirate leader had to pull back before ever hitting the mark, for a pair of legs wrapped around her waist, and a pair of daggers stabbed in viciously at the sides of her neck.

The veteran pirate bent forward, flipping the cunning assassin over her.

“Morik, ye dog!” she cried as the rogue went into a roll that stood him up right beside Wulfgar, bloody daggers in hand.

Sheila stumbled backward, taking some comfort as more of her fighters passed her by.

“Kill 'em both!” she screamed as she staggered back into the cave complex.

“Like old times, eh?” Morik said to the stunned Wulfgar, who was already back to fending the ogre attacker.

Wulfgar could hardly respond. He just shook his head at the unexpected reprieve.

“Like old times?” Morik said again, as he fell into a fight with a pair of dirty pirates.

“We didn't win many of the fights in the old times,” Wulfgar poignantly reminded him, for the odds had far from evened.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Drizzt worked his scimitars in a flurry of spinning parries, gradually turning them and altering his angle, moving his defensive posture into one more offensive, and forcing the elf back.

“Well done,” the elf congratulated, skipping over one of fallen Bloog's legs.

“I do not even know your name, yet you bear me this hatred,” the drow remarked.

The elf laughed at him. “I am Le'lorinel. That is the only name you need to hear.”

Drizzt shook his head, staring at those intense eyes, somewhat recognizing them, but unable to place them.

And he was back into the fray, as Le'lorinel leaped forward, blades working furiously.

A sword came at Drizzt's head and he picked it off with an upraised scimitar. Le'lorinel turned the sword under the drow's curving blade and came ahead with a left-hand thrust of the dagger, a brilliant move.

But Drizzt was better. He accepted the cunning turn of the blades and instead of trying to move his second blade in front to deflect the dagger, he rolled to his right, driving his scimitar in toward the center, pushing the sword across and forcing his opponent to shift and alter the dagger thrust.

The drow's second blade came around with a sweep, driving against the elf's side.

The blade bounced off. Drizzt might as well have tried to slash through stone.

The drow rushed out, eyeing the turning and smiling Le'lorinel. He knew the enchantment immediately, for he had seen wizards use it. Was this elf a spellsword, then, a warrior trained in both the arcane and martial arts?

Drizzt hopped fallen Bloog's bloody chest, making a fast retreat to the back of the room, near to the hearth.

Le'lorinel continued to smile and held up one hand, whispering something Drizzt did not hear. The ring flared, and the elf moved even faster, hastened by yet another enchantment.

Oh, yes, this one was indeed prepared.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Regis dropped Aegis-fang down onto the burning logs, then scrambled as low as he could, rolled over so that he was going down head first, and caught the lip of the hearth and swung himself out. He was glad, as his feet kicked through the flames, that he was wearing heavy winter boots instead of walking in his typical barefoot manner.

The halfling scanned the room, seeing it much as Drizzt had described. He reached back and pulled Aegis-fang from the fire, then started across the room, to the partially opened door.

He went through silently, coming into a smaller chamber, this one some sort of alchemical workshop. There loomed the other door, with daylight streaming in around it.

The halfling ran for it, grabbed the handle, and tugged it open.

Then he was hit by a series of stinging, burning bursts against his hip and back. With a squeal, Regis scrambled out onto a natural balcony, but one that left him nowhere to run. He saw the fighting almost directly below him, so he threw the warhammer as far as he could, which wasn't very far, and cried out for Wulfgar.

Regis scrambled back, not even watching the hammer's bouncing descent. He saw the sorceress then, her invisibility enchantment dispelled. She stared at him from the side of the room, her hands working in the midst of casting yet another spell.

Regis yelped and ran out of the room into the main chamber, heading first for the hearth, then veering for another door.

The air around him grew thick with drifting strands of sticky, string like material. The halfling changed course yet again, making for the hearth, hoping its flames would burn this magical webbing away. He never got close, though, his strides shortened, his momentum stolen.

He was caught, encased in magical webbing that was holding him fast and was so thick around him he couldn't even breathe.

And the sorceress was there, in front of him, on the outside of the webbing barely a few inches away. She lifted a hand, holding a shining dagger up to Regis's face.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Another archer went down. Ignoring the burning pain and tightness in her arm, Catti-brie set another arrow to her bow.

More archers had appeared above Guenhwyvar. As the woman took aim on that position, she noted another movement in a more dangerous place, a ledge high up above where Wulfgar was fighting.

Catti-brie whirled and nearly fired.

It was Regis, falling back — and Aegis-fang, falling down!

Catti-brie held her breath, thinking that the warhammer would bounce all the way down to the sea, but it caught suddenly and held in place on a small ledge up above and to the side.

“Call for it!” she screamed repeatedly.

With a glance to the lower archer ledge, where she knew Guenhwyvar was still engaged, she ran along the trail.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Drizzt made the hearth and skidded down to one knee, dropping Icingdeath to the stone floor and reaching into the glowing fireplace. Out his arm pumped, then back in, then out again, launching a barrage of missiles at Le'lorinel. One hit, then another. The elf blocked a third, a spinning stick, but the missile broke apart across the elf s blade, each side spinning in to score a hit.

None of them were serious, none of them would have been even without the stoneskin defense, but every one, every strike upon the elf, removed a bit more of the defensive enchantment.

“Very wise, drow!” Le'lorinel congratulated, and on the elf warrior came, sword flashing for the stooping drow.

Drizzt grabbed his blade and started up, then dropped back to the floor and kicked out, his foot barely hitting Le'lorinel's shin.

Then Drizzt had to roll to the side and over backward to his feet, against the wall. His scimitars came up immediately, ringing with parry after parry as Le'lorinel launched a series of strong attacks his way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The bardiche was falling apart in his hands by then, as Wulfgar worked against the ogre.

To the side, Morik, too, found himself hard-pressed by a pair of pirates, both wielding vicious-looking cutlasses,

“We can't win!” the rogue cried.