of a drow’s eye, only to reappear right in front of one of the two dark elves, his four-bladed mace up high, spitting fire as it descended on the helpless figure.
Sprinting the other way at that moment, trying to block for Bruenor and Athrogate, Drizzt didn’t see the mighty blow, but in the small doorway ahead and to his right, Athrogate did, and cried out, “Jarlaxle!” with such emotion and pain that it seemed to Drizzt as if the tough dwarf had just lost his best friend.
Drizzt glanced back to see a dark form rolling out to the side of the demon, then bursting into flames, and he caught his breath and had to steady himself.
For all his life and in all the world, nothing had seemed more eternal yet reliably unreliable to Drizzt than that strange and strangely endearing fellow drow.
And there stood the pit fiend, triumphant, straddling the still and flaming form and staring hatefully and eagerly for its next victim.
OLD KINGS AND ANCIENT GODS
BRUENOR SALUTED DRIZZT AND RUSHED THROUGH THE FIRST OF A SERIES of doors down the small tunnel, Athrogate right behind him.
Drizzt didn’t see it, and had to just trust in his friend. His glance back at Jarlaxle, his shock at seeing the drow’s demise, had cost him precious seconds, and he sprinted to catch up to Dahlia, who was already furiously working her tri-staff to hold back the rush of Ashmadai. He drew out his onyx figurine as he went and called for Guenhwyvar, but he didn’t keep the cat at his side as she appeared, instead ordering her to bring chaos to the ranks of their enemies.
Off Guenhwyvar leaped, and in came Drizzt, hard. Afraid for his dwarf friend and surprisingly outraged at the loss of his other … friend, the drow charged into the nearest Ashmadai warrior with his scimitars spinning. He hit the cultist’s scepter four times before the Ashmadai man, an ugly half-orc, even knew what hit him. Batting the scepter left and right, not even bothering to work it out to one side or the other, Drizzt had the overmatched warrior confused and off balance. He struck again with a fifth parry, batting the scepter to the right, then hit it with an unexpected uppercut, lifting it away. Even as it cleared the Ashmadai’s torso, Twinkle, in Drizzt’s left hand, slashed across, slicing open the half-orc’s belly. As the Ashmadai lurched forward, the same blade struck a backhand against the half-orc’s temple, sending him tumbling to the side.
Up came Icingdeath in a powerful horizontal presentation as Drizzt stepped ahead to meet the next enemy in line. But before he could strike through the opening with his left-hand blade, he had to launch Twinkle out wide to parry a thrusting staff-spear.
Drizzt missed the opening, but Dahlia didn’t. Under his upraised blade came her staff, a single long pole once more, to stab into the Ashmadai’s chest. When it hit, it threw forth a burst of lightning, launching their opponent through the air and backward. He flew several feet, and several feet high, but he never came back to the floor. A long-bladed sword drove through his chest, impaling him in mid air.
The legion devil easily held the dead Ashmadai aloft with just that one sword arm, and let him hang there for a few heartbeats, arms and legs out wide, lifeblood pouring from the wound. Looking around its macabre human shield, the devil grinned at the drow and the elf, even laughed a bit. Then it jerked its great sword powerfully back and forth and the dead cultist fell to the floor at the devil’s feet in two pieces.
Drizzt presented Twinkle horizontally in front of him, left arm out straight, his right hand tucked at the side of his face, Icingdeath atop the left-hand blade. He stood in a crouch, right foot dropped back and holding most of his weight. Beside him, Dahlia broke her staff again into three parts, pointed one end toward the fiend, and set the pole hanging from that end into a lazy, measured swing.
The great devil’s three hellish companions stepped out beside it.
“You should have kept the cat with you,” Dahlia whispered.
Drizzt shook his head. “We have to fade back to protect the tunnel.”
But they were already too late. The pit fiend appeared there, sliding through another dimensional gate to the entrance to the tunnel. With a mocking laugh, it went in pursuit of the dwarves.
Drizzt turned to give chase, but the lesser devils could