across the way, holding each other and crawling together for an archway.
Doing his best to keep Icingdeath in his right hand, Drizzt pulled a cord from his pack, nimbly tying one end into a knot while still holding the frostbrand. He drew out an arrow, poked its head through that knot, and chanced sheathing Icingdeath to take up Taulmaril.
A flutter behind him alerted him at the last second and he dived aside into a roll, dropping his bow and drawing forth his blades as he came around. The danger had passed—for him—and he realized then that he had narrowly avoiding being knocked from the ledge by the attacker, a giant bat. The creature had clawed him as it passed, and Drizzt reached up to his temple to feel the hot wetness of blood.
Still confused, the drow watched the creature fly across the pit, and on the other side, right before the archway, it flopped over weirdly in mid-air and landed, no longer a bat but a man, staring back at Drizzt.
Cursing himself for his hesitance, Drizzt sheathed his blades and leaped back for his bow. He took up the arrow and knocked the rope aside, setting the missile and letting fly.
But the vampire was quicker, slipping under the archway, and the arrow hit nothing but stones, exploding in a shower of sparks.
“No, Bruenor, no,” Drizzt mouthed, grabbing up the rope, pulling forth another arrow and taking aim. He let fly high above the archway, the arrow driving hard into the wall, burrowing the rope deeply into the solid stone.
More commotion came from behind Drizzt, and he turned just in time to see Dahlia speeding his way.
“Dor’crae!” she yelled, and she dropped her staff to the floor as she charged right past Drizzt, yanking the rope from his hand and swinging across the open lava pit. She leaped off and landed in a run, disappearing under the archway.
Frantically, cursing with every movement, Drizzt fumbled for another length of rope. He glanced back as yet another figure entered the chamber, and how his eyes widened when he saw that it was Jarlaxle.
“How?” he asked.
The drow mercenary replied with a grin and brought his hand up to his mouth to flash the same ring he had given to Dahlia before the fight in the Cutlass.
“Get me across!” Drizzt yelled at him, not having the time to sort it out.
The room shook then, so violently that it threw Drizzt from his feet. Jarlaxle, though, managed to stay standing, and even collected a pair of morningstars lying on the floor. He held them up, his face a mask of puzzlement and horror.
“Athrogate?” Drizzt explained, and as if on cue, they heard the dwarf cry out from the pit below.
Jarlaxle tucked the morningstars into a magical bag as he sprinted to the ledge and looked down.
“Bruenor is across the way!” Drizzt yelled at him. “The lever!”
Jarlaxle turned to face him, the mercenary’s face twisted in pain.
“You cannot!” Drizzt cried.
“My friend, I must, as you must go to your Bruenor,” Jarlaxle replied with a shrug. He put his hand over his House Baenre emblem then, and with a tip of his cap to Drizzt, he hopped off the ledge.
Drizzt growled at the frustration, at the insanity of it all, and went back to his rope, knotting the end.
And the primordial roared, a column of lava once again leaping up from the pit, rushing skyward to the ceiling and beyond.
“Jarlaxle,” Drizzt wailed repeatedly, shaking his head, but he didn’t cover his ears against the roar of the volcano. Instead he kept working at the rope.
Dahlia rushed under the archway just in time to see Thibbledorf Pwent, his throat torn, tumble to the stone beside Bruenor. Gasping, the dwarf reached up, his hands clawing the air as he tried futilely and pitifully to grasp the vampire.
Dor’crae turned to face Dahlia, his face bright with Pwent’s blood.
“You wretched beast,” she said.
“You can leave this place and be redeemed,” Dor’crae replied. “What have you gained, my love?”
He finished abruptly as Dahlia leaped across the small room at him, all punches and kicks.
But just punches and kicks, for she had left Kozah’s Needle behind. As fine a fighter as Dahlia was, even unarmed, the supernaturally strong vampire had no trouble pinning her arms and spinning her around, slamming her into the wall.
“At last, I feast,” Dor’crae promised.
But then he froze in place, only his eyes widening.
“Does it hurt?” Dahlia asked him, poking her finger, tipped with the wooden spike from her ring,