第 17 页

And if there was anything Liriel enjoyed, it was a good fight. Weapons in hand, the drow inched her way down the tunnel.

Faint light greeted her as she rounded a sharp turn, the pale violet light cast by certain luminescent fungi. The light increased with each step, until the tunnel was nearly as bright as the midnight sky she had left behind. The sounds of battle grew louder, too, and the mighty thwacks of an unseen weapon brought squeals of anger and pain from the giant bats.

This ought to be worth watching, Liriel thought happily as she scrambled down a steep, dipping curve.

Then the cavern was before her. Thick black spears of rock thrust from the floor and the ceiling of the cave, meeting here and there like bared fangs. Several dragazhar wheeled and swooped, darting between the stalactites with astonishing agility. Not one of the creatures had gone unscathed by battle. Most were scored with long, bloody lines, one had lost its tail, and yet another flopped helplessly on the cavern floor, its broken wing hanging limp. Yet the dragazhar's adversary was hidden from view.

She crouched low behind a rock formation and edged her away around for a better look. What she saw was more surprising than anything this night had yet shown her.

The nighthunters' bane was merely this and nothing more: a single human male.

Chapter Nine

THE TREASURE HUNTER

Liriel had glimpsed an occasional human in the market. A few of humankind's shadier and more desperate merchants ventured into the Underdark, but like most dark elves of her class she despised these merchants as vermin and had no dealings with them. She had never been this close to a human. Curious, she crept closer.

This one was young, about her own age as humans reckon time, or perhaps just a bit older. The man was about a head taller than she was. He was taller than most drow mates and much broader. His thick muscles made him resemble a tall dwarf, but his face was beardless and finer of feature. He had none of the drow elegance of form, and in Uriel's estimation his sole claim to masculine beauty was the color of his eyes, which were as bright and clear as pale blue topaz. The man had dark, fine hair cut carelessly short and skin so pale it almost glowed in the faint light of the cavern. Liriel absently fingered a lock of her own white hair. The human was designed backward, dark where she was light, like some inverted mirror.

And the strange way he fought! He had seized one of the deepbats by the tail and was bashing at it with a long club. The man used the creature as a shield, too, by swinging it at any other bat that ventured close. The entrapped dragazhar had given up any thought of fighting and was flapping frantically in an effort to escape. The battle was not without humor, and an amused chuckle escaped Liriel.

Instantly one of the bats swerved and darted toward her hiding place. Its narrow eyes gleamed with hard, gem-colored light, and it fairly cackled with excitement as it closed in on its new, smaller prey.

Liriel leaped to her feet, a knife in each hand. She threw both knives at the same instant. With deadly precision, the knives buried themselves deep into the eyes of the attacking bat. The creature crashed into the tunnel wall and rolled to the floor in a shower of loose rocks and dirt.

Already the dark elf had her second weapon ready: a sling she'd fashioned of leather and rope. Liriel stooped and snatched up a handful of small rocks. She put one into her sling and began to twirl it. The weapon whistled as it whirled around her head, and'the sudden release sent the stone flying with the speed of a fireball toward the place where the human battled the nighthunter.

The missile struck the entrapped dragazhar between the eyes. Stunned, the creature flopped forward. The man flung up his arms to shield himself from the falling beast, but the deepbat's weight was too much for him and he went down under the giant creature. His club skittered along the rocky floor.

After a moment, the human flung aside the bat's wing and crawled out. He met Liriel's amused, curious gaze, and his strange blue eyes widened with alarm. He drew a large dark sword from a shoulder strap and crouched in a defensive position. So intent was he upon the unexpected appearance of a drow that he disregarded the attack coming from the remaining nighthunters, flanking him and swooping in from either side.

Liriel pointed. "Behind you!" she shouted in the drow tongue.

The young man hesitated, perhaps not understanding her words, perhaps unwilling to turn his back on a dark elf. Liriel quickly spat the words of a spell and flung out her hand. Magical fire sped toward the human.

He dropped to the ground and rolled out of the path of Liriel's fireball. He could be quick when he wanted to; she had to give him that much. More agile than he appeared, he was back on his feet in time to see the elf'smagic missile collide with the attacking bats.

One of the deepbats wheeled aside at the last moment; the fireball struck the other directly. The force of the blow flung the creature backward, and its giant wings folded together before it like prayerful hands. Liriel followed the attack with a series of thrown knives. One after another, three blades hissed through the air and sank deep into the dragazhar's eyes and heart.

The human gave her a quick, grateful nod and raised his sword to fend off an attack from the surviving deepbat. The dragazhar had circled the cavern and was closing in on the human. Fangs gleamed in the faint light as the creature dove toward its prey. The human held his sword high, ready to ward off the deepbat's bite.

That's it, Liriel thought with a stab of disappointment. The battle is over. She saw clearly what the human could not: the real attack would come from the deepbat's tail. The dragazhar's long tail was curled high and back, ready to strike with the barbed, poisoned tip. No weapon she could throw would stop it in time.

Liriel watched, helpless, as the deepbat swooped in. As she'd expected, the creature's flight curved abruptly upward, taking its body out of sword's reach. The barbed tail whipped forward.

But the man heaved the sword upward. Its heavy blade struck the nighthunter and knocked its flight askew, and the fighter lunged at the creature's striking tail. He caught it, just above the barbed tip, and hung on with both hands.

"Now what?" Liriel muttered grimly. The man had parried the attack successfully, but he had no weapon to finish off the bat.

To her amazement, he began to twirl the deepbat overhead like a giant bolo. It was an amazing defense—the force of the spin kept the bat from attacking him—but it was also woefully shortsighted. Despite his apparent strength, the human could not keep the bat circling for long, nor could he get up enough speed to successfully fling it to its death. An ogre or bugbear might have done so, had such a creature the wits to conceive the plan, but the moment this man released the bat, it would be free to fly back and attack. Unless…

A quirky plan popped into Liriel's mind, and she seized it at once. Marshaling all the discipline of her magical training, she shut out the sounds of battle and traveled back in memory to her last night of freedom in Menzoberranzan. She closed her eyes and remembered the throbbing music and the faerie lights of the nedeirra dance. Deep in the frenzied ecstacy of the dance, she had been only faintly aware of the wizard who floated high above the floor, his hands weaving a spell that would speed the movements of the dancers into a sinuous, syncopated blur. But she had seen, and now she remembered.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hands echoed the gestures of the spell. Immediately blue faerie fire outlined the human and the bat. She heaved a sigh of relief as the magic took hold and the man's movements began to pick up speed. Liriel took her short sword from its belt and stalked in as close as she dared. Gripping the weapon with both hands, she tensed and waited for the right moment.

Faster and faster twirled the man and the bat, caught in the grip of the dark-elven spell and limned with faerie fire. Soon the giant bat was spinning so fast it left a trailing circle of light behind it. Its shrieking wail was entirely lost in the whirl of wind. That should do it, Liriel thought. She leaped forward, her sword lashing up.

The force of the impact nearly wrenched her arms from their sockets, but the keen elven steel slashed through sinew and bone and neatly severed the deepbat's tail. Suddenly released from its spin, the creature arrowed straight toward the cavern wall and splatted there like a giant insect. The human tumbled just as violently in the opposite direction, rolling until he struck the base of a large stalactite. He lay there, either dazed or dead.

Liriel tucked her sword back into its scabbard. Her head tilted to one side as she regarded the strange male. Several minutes passed and still he did not move. She began to feel the stirrings of worry, and she crept over and stooped down for a closer look. Gingerly she reached out to touch the pale skin of his face.

His hand flashed forward and closed around her wrist. Liriel sprang backward with a startled hiss, but the man's grip was too strong to break. Her free hand sought the hilt of a knife, and her narrowed eyes fixed upon the pulsing vein in his neck. One quick slash, and she would be free.

"My thanks, lady," he said, in an unexpectedly deep, rich voice. His blue eyes, at close range, were even more startling. "If not for your magic, that monster would have gotten the better of me. It is said in my land that only a fool takes a snowcat by the tail." He glanced down at her tightly clasped wrist, and at the knife in her other hand. A wry smile twisted his lips. "If that is so, then I am twice a fool."

He spoke in Common, a language used by some merchants. It was similar to the goblin tongue, so Liriel understood it, and could speak it after a fashion. It occurred to her that she could actually communicate with this human, and in her excitement she forgot her murderous intent and her own captivity.

"How did you know how the deepbat would attack?" she demanded.

His blue eyes widened at this unexpected question. "Wyverns attack so," he said simply.

"Wyverns?"

"They are like small dragons, with pointed, poisoned tails."

Dragons, she understood, and she could picture such a creature. "And that sword," she said, gesturing with her knife toward the dull, heavy blade lying several feet away. "Why do you carry such a weapon? What good is a sword without an edge?"

Again, that faint smile. "You see the sword, how large and heavy it is. At most times, I cannot seem to hold on to it. If it were sharp, little raven, would I not cut myself when I dropped it?"

Liriel knew about ravens, too. Some wizards kept them as familiars, and the sleek black birds were both beautiful and treacherous. The comparison pleased her, even if his foolish answer did not.

She rocked back on her heels—as far back as she could go with her wrist still firmly in his grasp—and considered the strange man. A lone human, wandering in the Underdark. Either he was extremely powerful, utterly mad, or more foolish than she could have believed possible, "What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly. His blue eyes searched her face, and he seemed to weigh his words carefully before he spoke. "In my land, it is the custom for young men to go on dajemma. This is a journey to far places, so we may see and understand more of the world."

"Dajemma" she repeated. What a marvel, that a people would actually encourage their young to travel! She couldn't help but contrast this attitude with cloistered, xenophobic Menzoberranzan, and a fierce stab of envy and discontent pierced her.

She brushed away the sharp pain, for such was heresy, and turned her attention back to the human. The lust for exploration and adventure she understood with all her soul, but why would any surface dweller choose to travel the deadly Underdark? He had to have some motive beyond simple curiosity. Perhaps he would not willingly reveal it, but she could simply take it from his mind.

Even a novice priestess could cast a spell that allowed her to glimpse the thoughts of another. To do so, she had to touch the sacred symbol of Lloth. Yet one of her hands was firmly trapped by the human, and her other gripped the knife. She could kill him, but not before he crushed the bones of her wrist. An illithid standoff, she thought wryly, remembering the comic sight of two mind flayers facing each other, frozen by each other's mind-controlling spells. To tip the balance, Liriel reached for another weapon.

She produced her most dazzling smile and turned it full-force upon the human. "Even a snowcat—whatever that might be—must be clever enough to realize when a fight is over. Let go of me, and I shall put away the knife," she purred invitingly. Then we can… talk."

The man regarded her with frank admiration, but his eyes remained wary. Then, suddenly, he shrugged and released her wrist. "I suppose there is no harm in it. Why would you help me in battle, only to turn against me now?"

Why indeed? thought Liriel wryly, noting that this man had a lot to learn about drow. On the other hand, she had a lot to learn about humans, and never had she had the opportunity to study one at close hand. She slowly eased away, backing up until she was beyond his reach. Only then did she tuck the knife away.

Liriel touched the symbol of Lloth that hung about her neck and silently spoke the words that would enable her to glimpse into his thoughts. Lloth was with her, and as the spell took form Liriel saw foremost in the man's mind the image of a tiny golden dagger suspended from a fine chain.

A treasure hunter, the drow thought with disgust, and she rapidly adjusted her opinion of the man downward. For the sake of a golden trinket, he had braved the Underdark alone. Not only was he human and male, but he was also apparently on the simple side.

Yet he had shown both strength and courage. Liriel admired these qualities even in lesser beings. And surely he could tell her more about the surface. It might be amusing to keep him around for a while.

With Liriel, action usually followed on the heels of impulse. She rose to her feet, her chin lifted to a regal angle. "I am returning to my city now. You will come with me," she commanded.

Her mind worked furiously even as she spoke. She would leave the human at her house in Narbondellyn, under the guard of her other servants, and then return to the Academy, No one would be the wiser. Later, she could always claim she'd bought a human slave from a merchant band. Human slaves were rare in Menzoberranzan, but not unheard o￡ Her tale would ring true enough.