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Homeland (part 2 chapter 10)

2006-08-28 22:23

  CHAPTER 10

  BELWAR'S GUILT

  Drizzt went out with Seldig and his new friends many times during the passing days. The young deep gnomes, on advice from Belwar, kept their time with the drow elf in calm and unobtrusive games, no more did they press Drizzt for reenactments of exciting battles he had fought in the wilds.

  For the first few times Drizzt went out, Belwar watched him from the door. The burrow-warden did trust Drizzt, but he also understood the trials the drow had endured. A life of savagery and brutality such as the one Drizzt had known could not so easily be dismissed.

  Soon, though, it became apparent to Belwar, and to all the others who observed Drizzt, that the drow had settled into a comfortable rhythm with the young deep gnomes and posed little threat to any of the svirfnebli of Blingdenstone. Even King Schnicktick, worried of the events beyond the city's borders, came to agree that Drizzt could be trusted.

  “You have a visitor,' Belwar said to Drizzt one morning. Drizzt followed the burrow-warden's movements to the stone door, thinking Seldig had come to call on him early this day. When Belwar opened the door, though, Drizzt nearly toppled over in surprise, for it was no svirfneblin that bounded into the stone structure. Rather, it was a huge and black feline form.

  “Guenhwyvar!” Drizzt cried out, dropping into a low crouch to catch the rushing panther. Guenhwyvar bowled him over, playfully swatting him with a great paw.

  When at last Drizzt managed to get out from under the panther and into a sitting position, Belwar walked over to him and handed him the onyx figurine. “Surely the councilor charged with examining the panther was sorry to part with it,' the burrow-warden said. ”But Guenhwyvar is your friend, first and most:'

  Drizzt could not find the words to reply. Even before the panther's return, the deep gnomes of Blingdenstone had treated him better than he deserved, or so he believed. Now for the svirfnebli to return so powerful a magical item, to show him such absolute trust, touched him deeply.

  “At your leisure you may return to the House Center, the building in which you were detained when first you came to us,' Belwar went on, ”and retrieve your weapons and armor:'

  Drizzt was a bit tentative at the notion, remembering the incident at the mock-up of the basilisk. What damage might he have wrought that day if he had been armed, not with poles, but with fine drow scimitars?

  “We will keep them here and keep them safe,' Belwar said, understanding his friend's sudden distress. ”If you need them, you will have them:'

  “I am in your debt,' Drizzt replied. ”In the debt of all Blingdenstone:'

  “We do not consider friendship a debt,' the burrow-warden replied with a wink. He left Drizzt and Guenhwyvar then and went back into the cave-room of his house, allowing the two dear friends a private reunion.

  Seldig and the other young deep gnomes were in for quite a treat that day when Drizzt came out to join them with Guenhwyvar by his side. Seeing the cat at play with the

  svirfnebli, Drizzt could not help but remember that tragic day, a decade before, when Masoj had used Guenhwyvar to hunt down the last of Belwar's fleeing miners. Apparently,

  Guenhwyvar had dismissed that awful memory altogether, for the panther and the young deep gnomes frolicked together for the entire day.

  Drizzt wished only that he could so readily dismiss the errors of his past.

  “Most Honored Burrow-Warden,' came a call a couple of days later, while Belwar and Drizzt were enjoying their morning meal. Belwar paused and sat perfectly still, and

  Drizzt did not miss the unexpected cloud of pain that crossed his host's broad features. Drizzt had come to know the svirfneblin so very well, and when Belwar's long, hawk-like nose turned up in a certain way, it inevitably signaled the burrow-warden's distress.

  “The king has reopened the eastern tunnels,' the voice continued. ”There are rumors of a thick vein of ore only a day's march. It would do honor to my expedition if Belwar

  Dissengulp would find his way to accompany us:'

  A hopeful smile widened on Drizzt's face, not for any thoughts he had of venturing out, but because he had noticed that Belwar seemed a bit too reclusive in the otherwise open svirfneblin community.

  “Burrow-Warden Brickers,' Belwar explained to Drizzt grimly, not sharing the drow's budding enthusiasm in the least. ”One of those who comes to my door before every expedition, bidding me to join in the journey:'

  “And you never go,' Drizzt reasoned.

  Belwar shrugged. “A courtesy call, nothing more,' he said, his nose twitching and his wide teeth grating together.

  “You are not worthy to march beside them,' Drizzt added, his tone dripping with sarcasm. At last, he believed, he had found the source of his friend's frustration.

  Again Belwar shrugged.

  Drizzt scowled at him. “I have seen you at work with your mithril hands,' he said. ”You would be no detriment to any party! Indeed, far more! Do you so quickly consider yourself crippled, when those about you do not?“

  Belwar slammed his hammer-hand down on the table, sending a fair-sized crack running through the stone. “I can cut rock faster than the lot of them!” the burrow-warden growled fiercely. “ And if monsters descended upon us . . :' He waved his pickaxe-hand in a menacing way, and Drizzt did not doubt that the barrel-chested deep gnome could put the instrument to good use.

  “Enjoy the day, Most Honored Burrow-Warden,' came a final cry from outside the door. ”As ever, we shall respect your decision, but, as ever, we also shall lament your absence.'

  Drizzt stared curiously at Belwar. “Why, then?” he asked at length. “If you are as competent as all-yourself included-agree, why do you remain behind? I know the

  love svirfnebli have for such expeditions, yet you are not interested. Nor do you ever speak of your own adventures outside Blingdenstone. Is it my presence that holds you at home? Are you bound to watch over me?“

  “No,' Belwar replied, his booming voice echoing back several times in Drizzt's keen ears. ”You have been granted the return of your weapons, dark elf. Do not doubt our trust.'

  “But. . ?' Drizzt began, but he stopped short, suddenly realizing the truth of the deep gnome's reluctance. ”The fight,' he said softly, almost apologetically. “That evil day more than a decade ago?'

  Belwar's nose verily rolled up over itself, and he briskly turned away.

  “You blame yourself for the loss of your kin!” Drizzt continued, gaining volume as he gained confidence in his reasoning. Still, the drow could hardly believe his words as he spoke them.

  But when Belwar turned back on him, the burrow-warden's eyes were rimmed with wetness and Drizzt knew that the words had struck home.

  Drizzt ran a hand through his thick white mane, not really knowing how to respond to Belwar's dilemma. Drizzt personally had led the drow party against the svirfnebli mining group, and he knew that no blame for the disaster could rightly be placed on any of the deep gnomes. Yet, how could Drizzt possibly explain that to Belwar?

  “I remember that fated day,' Drizzt began tentatively. ”Vividly I remember it, as if that evil moment will be frozen in my thoughts, never to recede.'

  “No more than in mine,' the burrow-warden whispered.

  Drizzt nodded his accord. “Equally, though,' he said, ”for I find myself caught within the very same web of guilt that entraps you:'

  Belwar looked at him curiously, not really understanding.

  “It was I who led the drow patrol,' Drizzt explained. ”I found your troupe, errantly believing you to be marauders intending to descend upon Menzoberranzan:'

  “If not you, then another,' Belwar replied.

  “But none could have led them as well as I,' Drizzt said. ”Out there-“ he glanced at the door-”in the wilds, I was at home. That was my domain:'

  Belwar was listening to his every word now, just as Drizzt had hoped.

  “And it was I who defeated the earth elemental,' Drizzt continued, speaking matter-of-factly, not cockily. ”Had it not been for my presence, the battle would have proved equal. Many svirfnebli would have survived to return to Blingdenstone:'

  Belwar could not hide his smile. There was a measure of truth in Drizzt's words, for Drizzt had indeed been a major factor in the drow attack's success. But Belwar found

  Drizzt's attempt to dispel his guilt a bit of a stretch of the truth.

  “I do not understand how you can blame yourself,' Drizzt said, now smiling and hoping that his levity would bring some measure of comfort to his friend. ”With Drizzt Do'Urden at the lead of the drow party, you never had a chance:'

  “Magga cammara! It is a painful subject to jest of,' Belwar replied, though he chuckled in spite of himself even as he spoke the words.

  “Agreed,' said Drizzt, his tone suddenly serious. ”But dismissing the tragedy in a jest is no more ridiculous than living mired in guilt for a blameless incident. No, not blameless,' Drizzt quickly corrected himself. “The blame lies on the shoulders of Menzoberranzan and its inhabitants. It is the way of the drow that caused the tragedy. It is the wicked existence they live, every day, that doomed your expedition's peaceable miners:'

  “Charged with the responsibility of his group is a burrow-warden,' Belwar retorted. ”Only a burrow-warden may call an expedition. He must then accept the responsibility of his decision:'

  “You chose to lead the deep gnomes so close to Menzoberranzan?” Drizzt asked.

  “I did:'

  “Of your own volition?” Drizzt pressed. He believed that he understood the ways of the deep gnomes well enough to know that most, if not all, of their important decisions were democratically resolved. “Without the word of Belwar Dissengulp, the mining party would never have come into that region?”

  “We knew of the find,' Belwar explained. ”A rich cache of ore. It was decided in council that we should risk the nearness to Menzoberranzan. I led the appointed party:'

  “If not you, then another,' Drizzt said pointedly, mimicking Belwar's earlier words.

  “A burrow-warden must accept the respons- . . :' Belwar began, his gaze drifting away from Drizzt.

  “They do not blame you,' Drizzt said, following Belwar's empty stare to the blank stone door. ”They honor you and care for you:'

  “They pity me!” Belwar snarled.

  “Do you need their pity?” Drizzt cried back. “Are you less than they? A helpless cripple?”

  “Never I was!”

  “Then go out with them!” Drizzt yelled at him. “See if they truly pity you. I do not believe that at all, but if your assumptions prove true, if your people do pity their 'Most Honored Burrow-Warden, then show them the truth of Belwar Dissengulp! If your companions mantle upon you neither pity nor blame, then do not place either burden upon your own shoulders!”

  Belwar stared at his friend for a very long moment, but he did not reply.

  “All the miners who accompanied you knew the risk of venturing so close to Menzoberranzan,' Drizzt reminded him. A smile widened on Drizzt's face. ”None of them, yourself included, knew that Drizzt Do'Urden would lead your drow opponents against you. If you had, you certainly would have stayed at home:'

  “Magga cammara,' Belwar mumbled. He shook his head in disbelief, both at Drizzt's joking attitude and at the fact that, for the first time in over a decade, he did feel better about those tragic memories. He rose up from the stone table, flashed a grin at Drizzt, and headed for the inner room of his house.

  “Where are you going?” Drizzt asked.

  “To rest,' replied the burrow-warden. ”The events of this day have already wearied me:'

  “The mining expedition will depart without you:'

  Belwar turned back and cast an incredulous stare at Drizzt. Did the drow really expect that Belwar would so easily refute years of guilt and just go bounding off with the miners?

  “I had thought Belwar Dissengulp possessed more courage,' Drizzt said to him. The scowl that crossed the burrow-warden's face was genuine, and Drizzt knew that he had found a weakness in Belwar's armor of self-pity.

  “Boldly do you speak,' Belwar growled through a grimace.

  “Boldly to a coward,' Drizzt replied. The mithril handed svirfneblin stalked in, his breathing coming in great heaves of his densely muscled chest.

  “If you do not like the title, then cast it away!” Drizzt growled in his face. “Go with the miners. Show them the truth of Belwar Dissengulp, and learn it for yourself!”

  Belwar banged his mithril hands together. “Run out then and get your weapons!” he commanded. Drizzt hesitated. Had he just been challenged? Had he gone too far in his attempt to shake the burrow-warden loose of his guilty bonds?

  “Get your weapons, Drizzt Do'Urden,' Belwar growled again, ”for if I am to go with the miners, then so are you!“

  Elated, Drizzt clasped the deep gnome's head between his long, slender hands and banged his forehead softly into Belwar's, the two exchanging stares of deep admiration and affection. In an instant, Drizzt rushed away, scrambling to the House Central to retrieve his suit of finely meshed chain mail, his piwafwi, and his scimitars.

  Belwar just banged a hand against his head in disbelief, nearly knocking himself from his feet, and watched Drizzt's wild dash out of the front door.

  It would prove an interesting trip.

  Burrow-Warden Brickers accepted Belwar and Drizzt readily, though he gave Belwar a curious look behind Drizzt's back, inquiring as to the drow's respectability. Even the doubting burrow-warden could not deny the value of a dark elf ally out in the wilds of the Underdark, particularly if the whispers of drow activity in the eastern tunnels proved to be true.

  But the patrol saw no activity, or carnage, as they proceeded to the region named by the scouts. The rumors of a thick vein of ore were not exaggerated in the least, and the twenty-five miners of the expedition went to work with an eagerness unlike any the drow had ever witnessed. Drizzt was especially pleased for Belwar, for the burrow-warden's hammer and pickaxe hands chopped away at the stone with a precision and power that outdid any of the others. It didn't take long for Belwar to realize that he was not being pitied by his comrades in any way. He was a member of the expedition-an honored member and no detriment-who filled the wagons with more ore than any of his companions.

  Through the days they spent in the twisting tunnels, Drizzt, and Guenhwyvar, when the cat was available, kept a watchful guard around the camp. After the

  first day of mining, Burrow-Warden Brickers assigned a third companion guard for the drow and panther, and Drizzt suspected correctly that his new svirfneblin companion had been appointed as much to watch him as to look for dangers from beyond. As the time passed, though, and the svirfneblin troupe became more accustomed to their ebony-skinned companion, Drizzt was left to roam about as he chose.

  It was an uneventful and profitable trip, just the way the svirfnebli liked it, and soon, having encountered not a single monster, their wagons were filled with precious minerals.

  Clapping each other on the backs-Belwar being careful not to pat too hard-they gathered up their equipment, formed their pull-carts into a line, and set off for home, a journey that would take them two days bearing the heavy wagons.

  After only a few hours of travel, one of the scouts ahead of the caravan returned, his face grim.

  “What is it?” Burrow-Warden Brickers prompted, suspecting that their good fortune had ended.

  “Goblin tribe:' the svirfneblin scout replied. ”Two score at the least. They have put up in a small chamber ahead to the west and up a sloping passage,'

  Burrow-Warden Brickers banged a fist into a wagon. He did not doubt that his miners could handle the goblin band, but he wanted no trouble. Yet with the heavy wagons rumbling along noisily, avoiding the goblins would be no easy feat. “Pass the word back that we sit quiet:' he decided at length. ”If a fight there will be, let the goblins come to us,'

  “What is the trouble?” Drizzt asked Belwar as he came in at the back of the caravan. He had kept a rear guard since the troupe had broken camp.

  “Band of goblins:' Belwar replied. ”Brickers says we stay low and hope they pass us by,'

  “And if they do not?” Drizzt had to ask.

  Belwar tapped his hands together. “They're only goblins,' he muttered grimly, ”but I, and all my kin, wish the path had stayed clear,'

  It pleased Drizzt that his new companions were not so anxious for battle, even against an enemy they knew they could easily defeat. If Drizzt had been traveling beside a drow party, the whole of the goblin tribe probably would be dead or captured already.

  “Come with me,' Drizzt said to Belwar. ”I need you to help Burrow-Warden Brickers understand me. I have a plan, but I fear that my limited command of your language will not allow me to explain its subtleties:'

  Belwar hooked Drizzt with his pickaxe-hand, spinning the slender drow about more roughly than he had intended.

  “No conflicts do we desire,' he explained. ”Better that the goblins go their own way:'

  “I wish for no fight,' Drizzt assured him with a wink. Satisfied, the deep gnome fell into step behind Drizzt.

  Brickers smiled widely as Belwar translated Drizzt's plan.

  “The expressions on the goblins' faces will be well worth seeing,' Brickers laughed to Drizzt. ”I should like to accompany you myself!“

  “Better left for me,' Belwar said. ”Both the goblin and drow languages are known to me, and you have responsibilities back here, in case things do not go as we hope:'

  “The goblin tongue is known to me as well,' Brickers replied. ”And I can understand our dark elf companion well enough. As for my duties with the caravan, they are not as great as you believe, for another burrow-warden accompanies us this day:'

  “One who has not seen the wilds of the Underdark for many years,' Belwar reminded him.

  “Ah, but he was the finest of his trade,' retorted Brickers. ”The caravan is under your command, Burrow-Warden Belwar. I choose to go and meet with the goblins beside the drow:'

  Drizzt had understood enough of the words to fathom Brickers's general course of action. Before Belwar could argue, Drizzt put a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “If the goblins are not fooled and we need you, come in fast and hard,' he said.

  Then Brickers removed his gear and weapons, and Drizzt led him away. Belwar turned to the others cautiously, not knowing how they would feel about the decision. His first glance at the caravan's miners told him that they stood firmly behind him, every one, waiting and willing to carry out his commands. Burrow-Warden Brickers was not the least disappointed with the expressions on the goblins' toothy and twisted faces when he and Drizzt walked into their midst. One goblin let out a shriek and lifted a spear to throw, but Drizzt, using his innate

  magical abilities, dropped a globe of darkness over its head, blinding it fully. The spear came out anyway and Drizzt snapped out a scimitar and sliced it from the air as it flew by.

  Brickers, his hands bound, for he was emulating a prisoner in this farce, dropped his jaw open at the speed and ease with which the drow took down the flying spear. The svirfneblin then looked to the band of goblins and saw that they were similarly impressed.

  “One more step and they are dead,' Drizzt promised in the goblin tongue, a guttural language of grunts and whimpers. Brickers came to understand a moment later when he heard a wild shuffle of boots and a whimper from behind. The deep gnome turned to see two goblins, limned by the dancing purplish flames of the drow's faerie fire, scrambling away as fast as their floppy feet could carry them.

  Again the svirfneblin looked at Drizzt in amazement. How had Drizzt even known that the sneaky goblins were back there?

  Brickers, of course, could not know of the hunter, that other self of Drizzt Do'Urden that gave this drow a distinct edge in encounters such as this. Nor could the burrow-warden know that at that moment Drizzt was engaged in yet another struggle to control that dangerous alter ego.

  Drizzt looked at the scimitar in his hand and back to the crowd of goblins. At least three dozen of them stood ready, yet the hunter beckoned Drizzt to attack, to bite hard into the cowardly monsters and send them fleeing down every passageway leading out of the room. One look at his bound svirfneblin companion, though, reminded Drizzt of his plan in coming here and allowed him to put the hunter to rest.

  “Who is the leader?” he asked in guttural goblin.

  The goblin chieftain was not so anxious to single itself out to a drow elf, but a dozen of its subordinates, showing typical goblin courage and loyalty, spun on their heels and poked their stubby fingers in its direction.

  With no other choice, the goblin chieftain puffed out its chest, straightened its bony shoulders, and strode forward to face the drow. “Bruck!” the chieftain named itself, thumping a fist into its chest.

  “Why are you here?” Drizzt sneered as he said it.

  Bruck simply did not know how to answer such a question. Never before had the goblin thought to ask permission for its tribe's movements.

  “This region belongs to the drow!” Drizzt growled. “You do not belong here!”

  “Drow city many walks,' Bruck complained, pointing over Drizzt's head-the wrong way to Menzoberranzan, Drizzt noted, but he let the error pass. ”This svirfneblin land:'

  “For now,' replied Drizzt, prodding Brickers with the butt of his scimitar. ”But my people have decided to claim the region as our own:' A small flame flickered in Drizzt's lavender eyes and a devious smile spread across his face. “Will Bruck and the goblin tribe oppose us?”

  Bruck held its long-fingered hands out helplessly.

  “Be gone!” Drizzt demanded. “We have no need of slaves now, nor do we wish the revealing sound of battle echoing down the tunnels! Name yourself as lucky, Bruck. Your tribe will flee and live. . . this time!”

  Bruck turned to the others, looking for some assistance. Only one drow elf had come against them, while more than three dozen goblins stood ready with their weapons. The odds were promising if not overwhelming.

  “Be gone!” Drizzt commanded, pointing his scimitar at a side passage. “Run until your feet grow too weary to carry you!”

  The goblin chieftain defiantly hooked its fingers into the piece of rope holding up its loincloth.

  A cacophonous banging sounded all around the small chamber then, showing the tempo of purposeful drumming on the stone. Bruck and the other goblins looked around nervously, and Drizzt did not miss the opportunity.

  “You dare defy us?” the drow cried, causing Bruck to be edged by the purple-glowing flames. “Then let stupid Bruck be the first to die!”

  Before Drizzt even finished the sentence, the goblin chieftain was gone, running with all speed down the passage Drizzt had indicated. Justifying the flight as loyalty to their chieftain, the whole lot of the goblin tribe set off in quick pursuit. The swiftest even passed Bruck by.

  A few moments later, Belwar and the other svirfneblin miners appeared at every passage. “Thought you might need some support:' the mithril-handed burrow-warden explained, tapping his hammer hand on the stone.

  “Perfect was your timing and your judgment, Most Honored Burrow-Warden:' Brickers said to his peer when he managed to stop laughing. ”Perfect, as we have come to expect from Belwar Dissengulp!“

  A short while later, the svirfneblin caravan started on its way again, the whole troupe excited and elated by the events of the last few days. The deep gnomes thought themselves very clever in the way they had avoided trouble. The gaiety turned into a full-fledged party when they arrived in Blingdenstone-and svirfnebli, though usually a serious, work-minded people, threw parties as well as any race in all the Realms.

  Drizzt Do'Urden, for all of his physical differences with the svirfnebli, felt more at home and at ease than he had ever felt in all the four decades of his life.

  And never again did Belwar Dissengulp flinch when a fellow svirfneblin addressed him as “Most Honored Burrow-Warden:'

  The spirit-wraith was confused. Just as Zaknafein had begun to believe that his prey was within the svirfneblin city, the magical spells that Malice had placed upon him sensed Drizzt's presence in the tunnels. Luckily for Drizzt and the svirfneblin miners, the spirit-wraith had been far away when he caught the scent. Zaknafein worked his way back through the tunnels, dodging deep gnome patrols. Every potential encounter he avoided proved a struggle for Zaknafein, for Matron Malice, back on her throne in Menzoberranzan, grew increasingly impatient and agitated.

  Malice wanted the taste of blood, but Zaknafein kept to his purpose, closing in on Drizzt. But then, suddenly, the scent was gone.

  Bruck groaned aloud when another solitary dark elf wandered into his encampment the next day. No spears were hoisted and no goblins even attempted to sneak up behind this one.

  “We went as we were ordered!” Bruck complained, moving to the front of the group before he was called upon. The goblin chieftain knew now that his underlings would point him out anyway.

  If the spirit-wraith even understood the goblin's words, he did not show it in any way. Zaknafein kept walking straight at the goblin chieftain, his swords in his hands.

  “But we-” Bruck began, but the rest of his words came out as gurgles of blood. Zaknafein tore his sword out of the goblin's throat and rushed at the rest of the group.

  Goblins scattered in all directions. A few, trapped between the crazed drow and the stone wall, raised crude spears in defense. The spirit-wraith waded through them, hacking away weapons and limbs with every slice. One goblin poked through the spinning swords, the tip of its spear burying deep into Zaknafein's hip.

  The undead monster didn't even flinch. Zak turned on the goblin and struck it with a series of lightning-fast, perfectly aimed blows that took its head and both of its arms from its body.

  In the end, fifteen goblins lay dead in the chamber and the tribe was scattered and still running down every passage in the region. The spirit-wraith, covered in the blood of his enemies, exited the chamber through the passage opposite from the one in which he had entered, continuing his frustrated search for the elusive Drizzt Do'Urden.

  Back in Menzoberranzan, in the anteroom to the chapel of House Do'Urden, Matron Malice rested, thoroughly exhausted and momentarily sated. She had felt every kill as

  Zaknafein made it, had felt a burst of ecstacy every time her spirit-wraith's sword had plunged into another victim.

  Malice pushed away her frustrations and her impatience, her confidence renewed by the pleasures of Zaknafein's cruel slaughter. How great Malice's ecstacy would be when the spirit-wraith at last encountered her traitorous son!

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