mirror.
Still, the image of Catti-brie falling through the eternal gloom of that
horrid place burned at his heart, and he wanted to spring right back through the
Taros Hoop to rush to her aid.
Before the barbarian could decide whether to follow his heart or his
thoughts, a huge fist slammed into the side of his head, dropping him to the
floor. He flopped facedown between the tree trunk legs of two of Pook's hill
giants. It was a difficult way to enter a fight, but Wulfgar's rage was every
bit as intense as Bruenor's.
The giants tried to drop their heavy feet on Wulfgar, but he was too agile
for such a clumsy maneuver. He sprang up between them and slammed one square in
the face with a huge fist. The giant stared blankly at Wulfgar for a long
moment, disbelieving that a human could deliver such a punch, then it hopped
backward weirdly and dropped limply to the floor.
Wulfgar spun on the other, shattering its nose with the butt end of
Aegis-fang. The giant clutched its face in both hands and reeled. For it, the
fight was already over.
Wulfgar couldn't take the time to ask. He kicked the giant in the chest,
launching it halfway across the room.
"Now, there is only me," came a voice. Wulfgar looked across the room to the
huge chair that served as the guildmaster's throne, and to Pasha Pook, standing
behind it.
Pook reached down behind the chair and pulled out a neatly concealed heavy
crossbow, loaded and ready. "And I may be fat like those two," Pook chuckled,
"but I am not stupid." He leveled the crossbow on the back of the chair.
Wulfgar glanced around. He was caught, fully, with no chance to dodge away.
But maybe he didn't have to.
Wulfgar firmed his jaw and puffed out his chest. "Right here, then," he said
without flinching, tapping his finger over his heart. "Shoot me down." He cast a
glance over his shoulder, to where the image in the Taros Hoop now showed the
shadows of gathering demodands. "And you defend the entrance to the plane of
Tarterus."
Pook eased his finger off the trigger.
If Wulfgar's point had made an impression, it was driven home a second later
when the clawed hand of a demodand reached through the portal and latched onto
Wulfgar's shoulder.
* * *
Drizzt moved as if swimming in his descent through the gloom, the pumping
actions gaining him ground on Catti-brie. He was vulnerable, though, and he knew
it.
So did a winged demodand watching him fall by.
The wretched creature hopped off its perch as soon as Drizzt had passed,
flapping its wings at an awkward angle to gain momentum in its dive. Soon it was
overtaking the drow, and it reached out its razor-sharp claws to tear at him as
it passed.
Drizzt noticed the beast at the last moment. He twisted over wildly and spun
about, trying to get out of the diving thing's path and struggling to ready his
scimitars.
He should have had no chance. It was the demodand's environment, and it was
a winged creature, more at home in flight than on the ground.
But Drizzt Do'Urden never played the odds.
The demodand strafed past, its wicked talons ripping yet another tear in
Drizzt's fine cloak. Twinkle, as steady as ever even in midfall, lopped off one
of the creature's wings. The demodand fluttered helplessly to the side and
continued down in a tumble. It had no heart left for battle against the drow
elf, and no wing left to catch him anyway.
Drizzt paid it no heed. His goal was in reach.
He caught Catti-brie in his arms, locking her tightly against his chest. She
was cold, he noted grimly, but he knew that he had too far to go to even think
about that. He wasn't certain if the planar gate was still open, and he had no
idea of how he could stop his eternal fall.
A solution came to him in the form of another winged demodand, one that cut
an intercepting path at him and Catti-brie. The creature did not mean to attack
yet, Drizzt could see; its route seemed more of a flyby, where it would pass
under them to better inspect its foe.
Drizzt didn't let the chance go. As the creature passed under, the dark elf
snapped himself downward, extending to his limit with one blade-wielding hand.
Not aimed to kill, the scimitar found its mark, digging into the creature's
backside. The demodand shrieked and dove away, pulling free of the blade.
Its momentum, though, had tugged Drizzt and Catti-brie along, angling their
descent enough to line them up with one of the intersecting smoky bridges.
Drizzt twisted and turned to keep them in line, holding out his cloak with
his free arm to catch a draft, or tucking it in tightly to lessen the drag. At
the last moment, he spun himself under Catti-brie to shield her from the impact.
With a heavy thud and a whoosh of smoke, they landed.
Drizzt crawled out and forced himself to his knees, trying to find his
breath.
Catti-brie lay below him, pale and torn, a dozen wounds visible, most
vividly the gash from the wererat's quarrel. Blood soaked much of her clothing
and matted her hair, but Drizzt's heart did not drop at the gruesome sight, for
he had noted one other event when they had plopped down.
Catti-brie had groaned.
* * *
LaValle scrambled behind his little table. "Keep you back, dwarf," he
warned. "I am a wizard of great powers."
Bruenor's terror was not apparent. He drove his axe through the table, and a
blinding explosion of smoke and sparks filled the room.
When LaValle recovered his sight a moment later, he found himself facing
Bruenor, the dwarf's hands and beard trailing wisps of gray smoke, the little
table broken flat, and his crystal ball severed clean in half.
"That the best ye got?" Bruenor asked.
LaValle couldn't get any words past the lump in his throat.
Bruenor wanted to cut him down, to drive his axe right between the man's
bushy eyebrows, but it was Catti-brie, his beautiful daughter, who truly
abhorred killing with all of her heart, who he meant to avenge. Bruenor would
not dishonor her memory.
"Drats!" he groaned, slamming his forehead into LaValle's face. The wizard
thumped up against the wall and stayed there, dazed and motionless, until
Bruenor closed a hand on his chest, tearing out a few hairs for good measure,
and threw him facedown on the floor. "Me friends might be needin' yer help,
wizard," the dwarf growled, "so crawl! And know in yer heart that if ye make one
turn I don't be liking, me axe'll cleave yer head down the middle!"
In his semiconscious state, LaValle hardly heard the words, but he fathomed
the dwarf's meaning well enough and forced himself to his hands and knees.
* * *
Wulfgar braced his feet against the iron stand of the Taros Hoop and locked
his own iron grip onto the demodand's elbow, matching the creature's mighty
pull. In his other hand the barbarian held Aegis-fang ready, not wanting to
swing through the planar portal but hoping for something more vulnerable than an
arm to come through to his world.
The demodand's claws cut deep wounds in his shoulder, filthy wounds that
would be long in healing, but Wulfgar shrugged away the pain. Drizzt had told
him to hold the gate if ever he had loved Catti-brie.
He would hold the gate.
Another second passed and Wulfgar saw his hand slipping dangerously close to
the portal. He could match the demodand's strength, but the demodand's power was
magical, not physical, and Wulfgar would grow weary long before his foe.
Another inch, and his hand would cross through to Tarterus, where other
hungry demodands no doubt waited.
A memory flashed in Wulfgar's mind, the final image of Catti-brie, torn and
falling. "No!" he growled, and he forced his hand back, pulling savagely until
he and the demodand were back to where they had started. Then Wulfgar dropped
his shoulder suddenly, tugging the demodand down instead of out.
The gamble worked. The demodand lost its momentum altogether and stumbled
down, its head poking through the Taros Hoop and into the Prime Material Plane
for just a second, long enough for Aegis-fang to shatter its skull.
Wulfgar jumped back a step and slapped his war hammer into both hands.
Another demodand started through, but the barbarian blasted it back into
Tarterus with a powerful swipe.
Pook watched it all from behind his throne, his crossbow still aimed to
kill. Even the guildmaster found himself mesmerized by the sheer strength of the
giant man, and when one of his eunuchs recovered and stood up, Pook waved it
away from Wulfgar, not wanting to disturb the spectacle before him.
A shuffle off to the side forced him to look away, though, as LaValle came
crawling out of his room, the axe-wielding dwarf walking right behind.
Bruenor saw at once the perilous predicament that Wulfgar faced, and knew
that the wizard would only, complicate things. He grabbed LaValle by the hair
and pulled him up to his knees, walking around to face the man.
"Good day for sleepin'," the dwarf commented, and he slammed his forehead
again into the wizard's, knocking LaValle into blackness. He heard a click
behind him as the wizard slumped, and he reflexively swung his shield between
himself and the noise, just in time to catch Pook's crossbow quarrel. The wicked
dart drove a hole through the foaming mug standard and barely missed Bruenor's
arm as it poked through the other side.
Bruenor peeked over the rim of his treasured shield, stared at the bolt, and
then looked dangerously at Pook. "Ye shouldn't be hurtin' me shield!" he
growled, and he started forward.
The hill giant was quick to intercept.
Wulfgar caught the action out of the corner of his eye, and would have loved
to join in - especially with Pook busy reloading his heavy crossbow - but the
barbarian had troubles of his own. A winged demodand swooped through the gate in
a sudden rush and flashed by Wulfgar.
Fine-tuned reflexes saved the barbarian, for he snapped a hand out and
caught the demodand by a leg. The monster's momentum staggered Wulfgar backward,
but he managed to hold on. He slammed the demodand down beside him and drove it
into the floor with a single chop of his war hammer.
Several arms reached through the Taros Hoop, shoulders and heads poked
through, and Wulfgar, swinging Aegis-fang furiously, had all he could handle
simply keeping the wretched things at bay.
* * *
Drizzt ran along the smoky bridge, Catti-brie draped limply over one
shoulder. He met no further resistance for many minutes and understood why when
he at last reached the planar gate.
Huddled around it, and blocking his passage, was a score of demodands.
The drow, dismayed, dropped to one knee and laid Catti-brie gently beside
him. He considered putting Taulmaril to use, but realized that if he missed, if
an arrow somehow found its way through the horde, it would pass through the gate
and into the room where Wulfgar stood. He couldn't take that chance.
"So close," he whispered helplessly, looking down to Catti-brie. He held her
tightly in his arms and brushed a slender hand across her face. How cool she
seemed. Drizzt leaned low over her, meaning only to discern the rhythm of her
breathing, but he found himself too close to her, and before he even realized
his actions, his lips were to hers in a tender kiss. Catti-brie stirred but did
not open her eyes.
Her movement brought new courage to Drizzt. "Too close," he muttered grimly,
"and you'll not die in this foul place!" He scooped Catti-brie up over his
shoulder, wrapping his cloak tightly around her to secure her to him. Then he
took up his scimitars in tight grips, rubbing his sensitive fingers across the
intricate craftings of their hilts, becoming one with his weapons, making them
the killing extensions of his black arms. He took a deep breath and set his
visage.
He charged, as silently as only a drow elf could be, at the back of the
wretched horde.
* * *
Regis rose uncomfortably as the black silhouettes of hunting cats darted in
and out of the starlight surrounding him. They did not seem to threaten him -
not yet - but they were gathering. He knew beyond doubt that he was their focal
point.
Then Guenhwyvar bounded up and stood before him, the great cat's head level
with his own.
"You know something," Regis said, reading the excitement in the panther's
dark eyes. Regis held up the statuette and examined it, noting the cat's
tenseness at the sight of the figurine.
"We can get back with this," the halfling said in sudden revelation. "This
is the key to the journey, and with it, we can go wherever we desire!" He
glanced around and considered some very interesting possibilities. "All of us?"
If cats could smile, Guenhwyvar did.
24
Interplanar Goo
"Outa me way, ye overstuffed bag o' blubber!" Bruenor roared.
The giant eunuch planted its legs wide apart and reached down at the dwarf
with a huge hand - which Bruenor promptly bit.
"They never listen," he grumbled. He stooped low and dashed between the
giant's legs, then straightened quickly, the single horn on his helmet putting
the poor eunuch up on its toes. For the second time that day, its eyes crossed
and it tumbled, this time its hands low to hold its newest wound.
