back his hips, and sent Khazid'hea hard into the back of the stone throne. With a crack and a spark, the sword slashed through, leaving a gouge in the granite.
"I will not let you win, and I will not let you flee!" Drizzt cried in that moment, when the stone, though it hadn't stopped the sword, surely broke Tos'un's rhythm.
Drizzt went on the offensive, hacking down at Tos'un with powerful and straightforward strokes, using his advantageous angle to put his weight behind every blow. Tos'un tried to not retreat as a drum roll of bashing blades landed against his upraised swords, sending shivers of numbness down his arms, but Drizzt had him defending against angles varying too greatly for him to ever get his feet fully under him. Soon he had no choice but to fall back, stumbling, and Drizzt was there, leaping from the seat and coming down with a heavy double chop of his blades that nearly took Tos'un's swords from his hands.
"I will not let you win!' Drizzt cried again, throwing out the words in a release of all his inner strength as he backhanded across with Icingdeath, smashing Tos'un's drow-made sword out to the side.
And that was the moment when Drizzt could have ended it, for Twinkle's thrust, turn, and out-roll had Khazid'hea too far to the side to stop the second movement of Icingdeath, a turn and stab that would have plunged the blade deep into Tos'un's chest.
Drizzt didn't want the kill, for all the rage inside him for Innovindil. He played his trump.
"I will again wield the magnificent Khazid'hea!" he cried, disengaging instead of pressing his advantage. He went back just a couple of steps, and only for a few heartbeats - long enough to see a sudden wave of confusion cross Tos'un's face.
"Give me the sword!" Drizzt demanded.
Tos'un cringed, and Drizzt understood. For he had just given Khazid'hea what it had long desired, had just spoken the words Khazid'hea could not ignore. Khazid'hea's loyalty was to Khazid'hea alone, and Khazid'hea wanted, above all else, to be wielded by Drizzt Do'Urden.
Tos'un stumbled, hardly able to bring his blades up in defense as Drizzt charged in. In came Twinkle, in came Icingdeath, but not the blades. The hilts smashed Tos'un's face, one after another. Both Tos'un's swords went flying, and he went with them, back and to the ground. He recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. Drizzt's boot slammed down upon his chest and Icingdeath came to rest against his neck, its diamond edge promising him a quick death if he struggled.
"You have so much to answer for," Drizzt said to him.
Tos'un fell back and gave a great exhale, his whole body relaxing with utter resignation, for he could not deny that he was truly doomed.
PART 4 Chapter 23 BLACK AND WHITE
Nanfoodle lifted one foot and drew little circles on the floor with his toes. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, the gnome presented an image of uncertainty and trepidation. Bruenor and Hralien, who had been sitting discussing their next moves when Nanfoodle and Regis had entered the dwarf's private quarters, looked at each other with confusion.
"Well if ye can't get it translated, then so be it," Bruenor said, guessing at the source of the gnome's consternation. "But ye're to keep working on it, don't ye doubt!"
Nanfoodle looked up, glanced at Regis, then bolstered by Regis's nod, turned back to the dwarf king and squared his shoulders. "It is an ancient language, based on the Dwarvish tongue," he explained. "It has roots in Hulgorkyn, perhaps, and Dethek runes for certain."
"Thought I'd recognized a couple o' the scribbles," Bruenor replied.
"Though it is more akin to the proper Orcish," Nanfoodle explained, and Bruenor gasped.
"Dworcish?" Regis remarked with a grin, but he was the only one who found any humor in it.
"Ye're telling me that the durned orcs took part of me Delzoun ancestors' words?" Bruenor asked.
Nanfoodle shook his head. "How this language came about is a mystery whose answer is beyond the parchments you brought to me. From what I can tell of the proportion of linguistic influence, you've juxtaposed the source and add."
"What in the Nine Hells are ye babblin' about?" Bruenor asked, his voice beginning to take on an impatient undercurrent.
"Seems more like old Dwarvish with added pieces from old Orcish," Regis explained, drawing Bruenor's scowl his way and taking it off of Nanfoodle, who seemed to be withering before the unhappy dwarf king with still the most important news forthcoming.
"Well, they needed