Drizzt wasn't finished. He set his thrusting blade into a se.
ries of short, wicked pokes that kept Zak on the retreat for a
dozen steps and more, back into the conjured darkness.
They now had to rely on their incredibly keen sense of hear.
ing and their instincts. Zak finally managed to regain afoot.
hold, but Drizzt immediately set his own feet into action,
kicking away whenever the balance of his swinging blades
allowed for it. One foot even slipped through Zak's de.
fenses, blasting the breath from the weapon master's lungs.
They came back out the side of the globe, and Zak, too,
glowed in the outline of faerie fire. The weapon master felt
sickened by the hatred etched on his young student's face,
but he realized that this time, neither he nor Drizzt had
been given a choice in the matter. This fight had to be ugly,
had to be real. Gradually, Zak settled into an easy rhythm,
solely defensive, and let Drizzt, in his explosive fury, wear
himself down.
Drizzt played on and on, relentless and tireless. Zak
coaxed him by letting him see openings where there were
none, and Drizzt was always quick to oblige, launching a
thrust, cut, or kick.
Matron Malice watched the spectacle silently. She
couldn't deny the measure of training Zak had given her
son; Drizzt was-physically-more than ready for battle. ~~:
"The cross-down defeats the attack, but to what gain?"
Drizzt continued. "When the move is completed, my sword
tips remain down too low for any effective attack routine,
and you are able to slip back and free”
"But you have defeated my attack”
"Only to face another; Drizzt argued. "The best position I
can hope to obtain from the cross-down is an even stance”
"Yes. . “ Zak prompted, not understanding his student's
problem with that scenario.
"Remember your own lesson!" Drizzt shouted. "'Every
move should bring an advantage: you preach to me, but I
see no advantage in using the cross-down”
"You recite only one part of that lesson for your own pur-
pose” Zak scolded, now growing equally angry. "Complete
the phrase, or use it not at all! 'Every move should bring an
advantage or take away a disadvantage: The cross-down de-
feats the double thrust low, and your opponent obviously
has gained the advantage if he even attempts such a daring
offensive maneuver! Returning to an even stance is far pref-
erable at that moment”
"The parry is wrong!" Drizzt said stubbornly.
"Pick up your blades” Zak growled at him, taking a threat-
ening step forward. Drizzt hesitated and Zak charged, his
swords leading.
Drizzt dropped to a crouch, snatched up the scimitars,
and rose to meet the assault while wondering if it was an-
other lesson or a true attack.
The weapon master pressed furiously, snapping off cut
after cut and backing Drizzt around in circles. Drizzt de.
fended well enough and began to notice an all-too-familiar
pattern as Zak's attacks came consistently lower, again forc-
ing the hilts of Drizzt's weapons up and out over the scimi-
tars' blades.
Drizzt understood that Zak meant to prove his point with
actions, not words. Seeing the fury on Zak's face, though,
Drizzt wasn't certain how far the weapon master would
carry his point. If Zak proved correct in his observations,
would he strike again to Drizzt's thigh? Or to his heart? Zak
came up and under and Drizzt stiffened and straightened.
"Double thrust low" the weapon master growled, and his
swords dove in.
Drizzt was ready for him. He executed the cross-down,
smiling smugly at the ring of metal as his scimitars crossed
over the thrusting swords. Drizzt then followed through
with only one of his blades, thinking he could deflect both of
Zak's swords well enough in that manner. Now with one
blade free of the parry, Drizzt spun it over in a devious
counter.
As soon as Drizzt reversed the one hand, Zak saw the
ploy-a ruse he had suspected Drizzt would try. Zak
dropped one of his own sword tips-the one nearest to the
hilt of Drizzt's single parrying blade-to the ground, and
Drizzt, trying to maintain an even resistance and balance
along the length of the blocking scimitar, lost his balance.
Drizzt was quick enough to catch himself before he had
stumbled too far, though his knuckles pinched into the
stone of the floor. He still believed that he had Zak caught in
his trap, and that he could finish his brilliant counter. He
took a short step forward to regain his full balance.
The weapon master dropped straight down to the floor,
under the arc of Drizzt's swinging scimitar, and spun a sin-
gle circuit, driving his booted heel into the back of Drizzt's
exposed knee. Before Drizzt had even realized the attack,
he found himself lying flat on his back.
Zak abruptly broke his own momentum and threw his
feet back under him. Before Drizzt could begin to under.
stand the dizzying counter-counter, he found the weapon
master standing over him with the tip of Zak's sword pain.
fully and pointedly drawing a tiny drop of blood from his
throat.
"Have you anything more to say?" Zak growled.
"The parry is wrong” Drizzt answered.
Zak's laughter erupted from his belly. He threw his sword
jto the ground, reached down, and pulled the stubborn
young student to his feet. He calmed quickly, his gaze find.
ing that of Drizzt's lavender orbs as he pushed the student
out to arm's length. Zak marveled at the ease of Drizzt's
stance, the way he held the twin scimitars almost as if they
were a natural extension of his arms. Drizzt had been in
training only a few months, but already he had mastered
the use of nearly every weapon in the vast armory of House
Do'Urden.
Those scimitars! Drizzt's chosen weapons, with curving
blades that enhanced the dizzying flow of the young fight-
er's sweeping battle style. With those scimitars in hand, this
young drow, barely more than a child, could outfight half
the members of the Academy, and a shiver tingled through
Zak's spine when he pondered just how magnificent Drizzt
would become after years of training.
It was not just the physical abilities and potential of Drizzt
Do'Urden that made Zaknafein pause and take note, how-
ever. Zak had come to realize that Drizzt's temperament
was indeed different from that of the average drow; Drizzt
possessed a spirit of innocence and lacked any malicious-
ness. Zak couldn't help but feel proud when he looked upon
Drizzt. In all manners, the young drow held to the same
principles-morals so unusual in Menzoberranzan-as Zak.
Drizzt had recognized the connection as well, though he
had no idea of how unique his and Zak's shared perceptions
were in the evil drow world. He realized that "Uncle Zak"
was different from any of the other dark elves he had come
to know, though that included only his own family and a
few dozen of the house soldiers. Certainly Zak was much
different from Briza, Drizzt's oldest sister, with her zealous,
almost blind, ambitions in the mysterious religion of Lloth.
Certainly Zak was different from Matron Malice, Drizzt's
mother, who seemed never to say anything at all to Drizzt
unless it was a command for service.
Zak was able to smile at situations that didn't necessarily
bring pain to anyone. He was the firstdrow Drizzt had met
who was apparently content with his station in life. Zak was
the first drow Drizzt had ever heard laugh.
"A good try” the weapon master conceded of Drizzt's
failed counter.
"In a real battle, I would have been dead” Drizzt replied.
"Surely” said Zak, "but that is why we train. Your plan was
masterful, your timing perfect. Only the situation was
wrong. Still, I will say it was a good try!'
"You expected it” said the student.
Zak smiled and nodded. "That is, perhaps, because I had
seen the maneuver attempted by another student!'
"Against you?" Drizzt asked, feeling a little less special
now that he knew his battle insights were not so unique.
"Hardly” Zak replied with a wink. "I watched the counter
fail from the same angle as you, to the same result!'
Drizzt's face brightened again. "We think alike” he com-
mented.
"We do” said Zak, "but my knowledge has been increased
by four centuries of experience, while you have not even
lived through a score of years. 'fi'ust me, my eager student.
The cross-down is the correct parry!'
"Perhaps” Drizzt replied.
Zak hid a smile. "When you find a better counter, we shall
try it. But until then, trust my word. I have trained more sol-
diers than I can count, all the army of House Do'Urden and
ten times that number when I served as a master in Melee-
Magthere. I taught Rizzen, all of your sisters, and both of
your brothers!'
"Both?"
"I . . Zak paused and shot a curious glance at Drizzt. "I
see” he said after a moment. "They never bothered to tell
you!' Zak wondered if it was his place to tell Drizzt the
truth. He doubted that Matron Malice would care either
way; she probably hadn't told Drizzt simply because she
hadn't considered the story of Nalfein's death worth telling.
"Yes, both!' Zak decided to explain. "You had two brothers
when you were born: Dinin, whom you know, and an older
one, Nalfein, a wizard of considerable power. Nalfein was
killed in battle on the very night you drew your first
breath!'
" Against dwarves or vicious gnomes?" Drizzt squeaked, as
wide-eyed as a child begging for a frightening bedtime
story. "Was he defending the city from evil conquerors or
rogue monsters?"
Zak had a hard time reconciling the warped perceptions
of Drizzt's innocent beliefs. "Bury the young in lies” he la-
mented under his breath, but to Drizzt he answered, "No”
"Then against some opponent more foul?" Drizzt pressed.
"Wicked elves from the surface?"
"He died at the hands of a drow!" Zak snapped in frustra-
tion, stealing the eagerness from Drizzt's shining eyes.
Drizzt slumped back to consider the possibilities, and Zak
could hardly bear to watch the confusion that twisted his
young face.
"War with another city?" Drizzt asked somberly. "I did not
know.. “
Zak let it go at that. He turned and moved silently toward
his private chamber. Let Malice or one of her lackeys de-
stroy Drizzt's innocent logic. Behind him, Drizzt held his
next line of questions in check, understanding that the con-
versation, and the lesson, was at an end. Understanding,
too, that something important had just transpired.
The weapon master battled Drizzt through long hours as
the days blended into weeks, and the weeks into months.
Time became unimportant; they fought until exhaustion
overwhelmed them, and went back to the training floor
again as soon as they were able.
By the third year, at the age of nineteen, Drizzt was able to
hold out for hours against the weapon master, even taking
the offensive in many of their contests.
Zak enjoyed these days. For the first time in many years,
he had met one with the potential to become his fighting
equal. For the first time that Zak could ever remember,
laughter often accompanied the clash of adamantite weap-
ons in the training room.
He watched Drizzt grow tall and straight, attentive, eager,
and intelligent. The masters of the Academy would be hard
put just to hold a stalemate against Drizzt, even in his first
year!
That thought thrilled the weapon master only as long as it
took him to remember the principles of the Academy, the
precepts of drow life, and what they would do to his won-
derful student. How they would steal that smile from
Drizzt's lavender eyes.
A pointed reminder of that drow world outside the prac-
tice room visited them one day in the person of Matron Mal-
ice.
"Address her with proper respect” Zak warned Drizzt
when Maya announced the matron mother's entrance. The
weapon master prudently moved out a few steps to greet
the head of House Do'Urden privately.
"My greetings, Matron” he said with a low bow. "To what
do i owe the honor of your presence?"
Matron Malice laughed at him, seeing through his facade.
"So much time do you and my son spend in here” she said. "I
came to witness the benefit to the boy”
"He is a fine fighter” Zak assured her.
"He will have to be” Malice muttered. "He goes to the
Academy in only a year”
Zak narrowed his eyes at her doubting words and
growled, "The Academy has never seen a finer swordsman”
The matron walked away from him to stand before
Drizzt. "I doubt not your prowess with the blade” she said
to Drizzt, though she shot a sly gaze back at Zak as she
spoke the words. "You have the proper blood. There are
other qualities that make up a drow warrior-qualities of
the heart. The attitude of a warrior!"
Drizzt didn't know how to respond to her. He had seen
her only a few times in all of the last three years, and they
had exchanged no words.
Zak saw the confusion on Drizzt's face and feared that the
boy would slip up-precisely what Matron Malice wanted.
Then Malice would have an excuse to pull Drizzt out of
Zak's tutelage-dishonoring Zak in the process-and give
him over to Dinin or some other passionless killer. Zak may
have been the finest instructor with the blade, but now that
Drizzt had learned the use of weapons, Malice wanted him
emotionally hardened.
Zak couldn't risk it; he valued his time with young Drizzt
