Oblodra Gloom IV
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tales_of_faerunA Darkening of Gloom (5161 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt Do'Urden, Vierna Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Ensemble Cast
Series: Part 4 of Oblodra Gloom
Summary:
1167 D.R.
Bangor Battlehammer wiped away the blood from his son's face, ignoring the attempt to scowl at him for it.
"Me boy," Bangor began, using the quiet voice, the one that spoke of serious tidings. "We cannae hold the upper levels much longer."
"Donnae be sayin' that, me da," Bruenor said, a coldness gripping his heart. At forty-seven, or near enough, he was too close to being an adult to give in to wanting to grab his father's apron and hold on tight, but there was something —
— something terrifying, more than the shadows that whittled their clan down in slow attrition.
"Our king, me own Da, he's gettin' the elders and the dwarrows and the babes," Bangor said, ignoring the protest. "Bruenor, ye have a duty to the clan."
That the duty was with those being gathered was left unsaid, but Bruenor exploded against that fate.
"Me place is defendin' me Hall, with me blood!"
"NAY, boy! Ye be the heir now! Ye will take them, and ye'll find a place, and ye'll grow strong! If'n we can collapse the bridge and drop the stair, we'll be behind ye!" Bangor told him with a hissed, harsh tone. "Ye take them tae Dwarvendarrow, wait three days.
"If'n we donnae come… ye go on, and ye be the king they will need!"
Bruenor met his father's eyes, saw the resolve there, and gave one more try.
"Can ye not be the king?"
"Nay, lad; yer Grandda has said all those above and below certain ages tae go, an' the rest o' us tae trap the shadows here. We owe that much to the Realms outside our Hall."
Bruenor wished he had a beard to soak away the tears trying to come to his eyes, and flung himself in for one last hug.
Bangor gave it, and Bruenor knew, even as he would wait, this would be the last he saw of his father.
Haerinvureem contemplated the tooth once more, then surveyed the forges all around him. Too much light and flame for his liking, but that was what the duergar existed for. They would mine, they would craft, and he would have objects made of mithral to build his new hoard around.
Who needed a drow city that would eventually rebel? Let Kyorl, pleasing as she had been at times, reap those surely-bitter rewards, even let her keep those he had shaped with Shadowfell magic and her psionics. He had gleaned so much knowledge from the soul trapped in the tooth, and now he held a lair befitting him.
He had only to deal with those that had managed to escape.
The hush on the land, a moonless night, and dread filling them all as it was their third one present with no word from the Hall had every dwarf wary. Those that kept Dwarvendarrow, a trading clan, were down to a handful, as the trade season was not yet upon them. They had dug out maps, likely places to go that wouldn't put the small and weakened clan at risk of falling under other, more powerful clans.
Come the morning, Bruenor would have to give the order. His cleric, an old dwarf with hands that shook but a presence that defied fate, had reinforced that the elders were to listen to their heir, even if he was nearly beardless.
The seeping pulse of magic came on the bloodlines, twisted divine energy seeking the heir, seeking all with claim, riding the very splash of potent curse magic invoked and reinforced by a dying king and his son in the Hall. Bruenor felt a blind panic, despair that threatened his very will to live, while it cast out from him to take all those who had escaped.
By morning, the rag tag band of elders and young, with that handful of trade dwarves, were bolting for distant lands, compelled to go as far as possible, to escape the danger that none of them could remember any more than they could recall where they were running from.
1337 D.R.
In Rilauven, a priestess found herself drawn into a dream.
The small family had, through Vierna's religion, found ways to stay hidden, and move away from Menzoberranzan. That city was beginning to open up to heavier trade -- in and out -- in order to reacquire its prestige and standing. Zak was able to work as an instructor, Vierna was polishing her skills as a cleric, and Drizzt was getting much of the education they had not been able to provide him in their former way of life.
To find this dream soaked in the red-tinged swirling clouds of her Lord's presence was worrying, to a degree, but she knew her standing, knew that whatever the summons was could not be about her actions.
"My Lord?" she asked, wondering but not afraid.
She had had no sense of that there was some particular upheaval or trouble that needed her, no awareness that anything was changing...
"My priestess," He answered her. "I have a task for you. The dragon… it was not present in your former city. And all that My informants have found, it did not return to the Shadowfell." The mask that was His symbol formed at a bit above her height, giving the impression of His presence in drow form, though not clearly. "I wish you to discover the destroyer, and orchestrate his ending."
"As You will it, my Lord," Vierna answered, though she did quail slightly at the idea of seeking for something her god did not know. "...perhaps if I seek for its magical signature -- with something like a compass, but tuned to it -- it can be found. I had little experience of it directly, but..."
Vhaeraun let the impression of a smile show in the shadows of His form. "You are a gifted priestess, skilled in designing artifacts." His pride in her radiated with warmth. "Use any resources necessary; I want that murderous upstart ripped from existence!"
She luxuriated in that pride, in His pleasure in her, and smiled back, radiant with delight. "I will do it," she told her Lord. If He thought her idea was reasonable, it would work, as long as she crafted well, "and Your desire is mine as well."
He left her with that pride, with the knowledge she was His favorite, so that she could finish out her rest and begin fresh.
1343 DR
Drizzt focused past the glare on the still snow-covered ground and then looked back to the talisman Vierna had gifted him with. In the six years since Vhaeraun had presented her with the task, the family had established themselves as a force to be reckoned with. Zaknafein and Drizzt often worked in tandem to acquire the materials needed — if it was in the Underdark.
Drizzt had spent his years learning Common, learned all he could of the Surface under the tutelage of Nalatar Ssambra, one of Vhaeraun's more academic-minded clerics. As Nalatar did not mind Drizzt's oddities, it had freed them all of concerns that Drizzt would be attacked, and forced into exile for killing the drow stupid enough to do that.
No one doubted that it would be self-defense or that Drizzt would prevail; he was both too kind to attack first, and too deadly to lose.
That education though, had led to Drizzt occasionally journeying above, finding things his sister decided she needed to craft the device.
And when the thing had stubbornly insisted that the two greatest concentrations of shadow-energy on the Material Plane were either back toward where they had come from or in the frozen wastes, Drizzt had volunteered to handle the next steps. He had to find the energies, investigate if it was the despised dragon and more of his minions, then report back to his sister and father with what he found.
They would decide from there, on how to handle it.
Drizzt had scouted where the energy was concentrated, and found no way inside. However, he trusted his sister's magic, he trusted Vhaeraun's power behind it, and his own tracking skills said people used paths near here. He took up a watchful point, enduring the cold with his hat, gloves, and cloak to protect him alongside the occasional use of cantrips to warm his face and hands.
He at least got to be amused by the family of ermine that decided he wasn't a threat, and from them, he learned he was watching for dwarves. That meant he'd have to be extra cautious, as dwarves were one of the races that Vhaeraun generally disapproved of, though not as much as He did the duergar.
Finally, a group of them came out, a hunting party it looked like, and Drizzt bided his time, letting them tend to business. It would be better to approach them after they had a burden to slow them down, and had used energy hunting.
On their approach back, Drizzt slipped down to wait in the approach so that when they rounded a curve, he was there, cloak shove back, arms crossed over his chest, putting his hands far from his hilts.
That did not stop them from scrambling to drop the pole drags and reach for their own lances, hammers, and axes.
"Peace, dwarves. I come in honest search of answers, and seek only to parlay," he told them in Common. "My name is Drizzt Do'Urden, son of that House in Rilauven," he added. "I wish words with your cleric or leader."
"Ye expect us tae believe ye, sorcerous drow?"
Drizzt stood his ground, still not drawing, not dropping his hands to be ready to do so. "I wish to talk," he said in a gentle voice, but the resolve in his posture was firm.
"We don't 'parlay' with evil ones," the speaker snapped.
"Then go your own way, with your kills, and I will wait. As long as it takes for you to be tired of me up here," Drizzt told him, leaping up suddenly enough that they could not give chase and the one lance someone chucked like a spear fell well short.
Bruenor Battlehammer did not like mysteries, did not like evil races, and did not like threats to his clan. That there was a drow in his lands was all three of those things at once.
Two days after the hunters came back with the tale, he put his full kit on, shoving the helmet into place, and stomping out with axe and shield at the ready. He did not want this to drag on, but also didn't want to endanger his clan.
He went out through one of the hidden doors, and worked to try and get behind the drow's position.
He came face to face with the most gigantic cat in all of existence, lounged in a sunbeam, blinking great golden eyes his way.
"Don't mind Guen," came a voice a bit above them. Bruenor, having been startled by the cat, had never noted the drow perched like a goat on a narrow ledge.
"Ye need tae be leavin' me lands!"
"And I am on a quest to find out why your lands are saturated in the energy of the Shadowfell," the drow said calmly. "That is all I am seeking, good dwarf."
Bruenor scowled, not understanding, not really, but the drow dropped to the ground, and the cat sat up, yawning widely. Those teeth were as massive as the rest of it!
"The talisman I'm using to track the energy is very fixated on you, right now," the drow said. "My name is Drizzt Do'Urden, son of that house in Rilauven, and I truly only need to ask questions about the energy."
"Why would it be fixed on me?" Bruenor asked, wary, but confused by the drow being polite and non-violent.
"I don't know; have you been targeted by a Shadowfell spell?"
"I donnae even ken what a Shadowfell is," Bruenor began, "but there be a curse upon me clan. Mayhaps it is what ye seek? Ye have a plan for dealing with such?"
"Not yet, but if I may talk at length with you, perhaps we can be certain, and I will find a way to aid."
Bruenor brought his shield arm down, then lowered the axe. "Bruenor Battlehammer, an' ye best not be lying."
"As my father and sister are fond of saying, I lie poorly," Drizzt told him with a smile. "Guen, go home."
The cat came to her feet, circled him once, and vanished in a fine black mist.
"Bah, magic!" Bruenor grumped, but he turned to head down to the trade door. "Come on, then, an' let us talk in comfort!"
Settled into a room made for trade negotiations, with water at least shared, Drizzt settled to the business of convincing the dwarf of his words.
"This," and he pulled the dial with its moving arrow out, showing the arrow was fixated on Bruenor, with a faint quiver, "was crafted so I could find concentrations of Shadowfell energy on the surface. My sister had determined the quarry we sought was no longer below the faerzress line, when she first was charged with finding it."
"What be she looking for, and why?" Bruenor asked.
"A shadow dragon, that enslaved our original city for much of her life, and had destroyed another drow city," Drizzt explained. "He was not present when we took the city back, and her god is demanding his death."
"Her god, but not yours?"
Drizzt ducked his head a little. "My nature runs in other directions. I am drawn to the surface, to the ways of the wild areas," he explained when he looked back up. "I hear the call of others, but have not had time to explore that, because I am part of this quest."
Bruenor shook his head. "Seems strange, but good of ye tae put family ahead of yerself."
"Family, always," Drizzt avowed. "It might be that the energy here is not related to the dragon I must find, but why is it here and so steeped on you? That is what I need to learn, and then, if it is unrelated, I will ask nothing more of you."
Bruenor's brow furrowed, and he shook his head slightly. "We've nought tae do wi' magic, but... whate'er drove us from our Hall cursed us, cursed our memories, an' almost all th' elders as escaped wi' us died well afore their time. I was nought but forty-seven, an' there's only four left as were older'n me when we were driven out."
"Only a couple of years older then than I am now," Drizzt said with a sad look his way. "My sister was a very young priestess when the dragon came to our city.
"But what you are saying, goes hand in hand with Shadowfell magic. It is a reflection of the Material Plane, in many ways, but cast in perpetual twilight, with a sense of hopelessness. Or so I was taught."
"Hopeless..." Bruenor murmured, and slowly nodded, "aye, that's how they were. Gave up wantin' tae live, out of our Hall, an' laid down an' died, soon as they'd passed on what they knew as they had tae."
"I am sorry for your losses," Drizzt said clearly, and honestly. Do you have any idea where, even roughly, you were driven from? That might aid me in tracking this down properly."
Bruenor frowned again, heaving out a long sigh. "The first place we remember bein' was Mason's Hole, almost intae th' Lurkwood, but north, still in th' hills. Afore that... nae, we've no idea a'tall. Sits hard, nae knowin' where our home is."
Drizzt started to answer, but something drew his attention to the door.
He looked to see a small — human — child edging around the door to come in quietly.
Bruenor noticed her too, and opened his mouth.
"Da," the child said in the most imploring voice.
"Catti-brie, I have business, and things tae say that aren't fit for a bairn's ears," the dwarf said with a gentle tone.
"If the child needs you, I can go wait outside again," Drizzt said with infinite patience, watching the child fearlessly study him.
"Nae, no need for all that; believe ye have honor." He got up and walked over to the child, hefting her up on his hip. "Catti-brie, me girl, meet Drizzt Do'Urden, come tae ask questions about bad magic."
"Hi."
"Hello, Catti-brie," Drizzt said with warmth. "May I have your father's attention for just a little while longer?"
He noted the posture of the dwarf shifted favorably, and the girl considered thoughtfully.
"Yes. Talk to me at meal?"
"If — "
"Seems ye have an invite to eat with us," Bruenor said in amusement.
"Then yes."
The girl hugged Bruenor, slithered down and raced off, letting the men get back to talking.
"I'll need to get my map out, but I think I my search may be coming close to an end," Drizzt said, moving slowly to get into the pack's bag of holding where he kept his precious copy of the surface map.
Bruenor watched him, but with more interest and less hostility, as Drizzt drew out the map and spread it between them, then shifted a bit to see the labels better. With some squinting and muttering, and careful consideration of the legend, Bruenor finally tapped a place. "Here, or close enow..."
Drizzt nodded grimly, then pointed out the line of hills reaching down from the Spine of the World. "These are called the Frost Hills. And that is close enough to where my city is, the one I was born to and helped free, that I chose to come here first.
"As that is the general area my sister's artifact also says is steeped in the energies of the Shadowfell. It may well be that the dragon, when it left our city, attacked your home. But, it might not be. I cannot say for certain, yet concentration makes me hope so."
Bruenor frowned, deeply, before he slowly nodded. "I'd nae notion we were sae close tae drow as that makes it sound, but yer lot live deep, deep down, aye? Well beyond our mines. I've nae doubt me da an' grandda cursed our home when they died b'hind me, but... might no' have been strong enow tae take down a dragon..."
"It was worshiped as a god," Drizzt said, "which by draconic ways actually makes it a minor one. We chose our strike on the city when it was away, on purpose, intending to use the full city resources after to destroy it.
"Only, from what we heard, as my family had to leave for various reasons, it never came back." Drizzt shrugged. "It had duergar armies — we saw very few of those while we took the city. Dragon-warped drow, shadow-fey, shadow-hounds… we did see more of those, minus the hounds, than we did the duergar."
"Grey ones?! Stinkin' grey ones as might be in me Hall?!" Bruenor had meant to ask about the idea of becoming a god, but that idea had wiped all else away.
"Likely, if this other energy pool is your Hall," Drizzt said. "I will have to take back what I've learned to my sister, and then, if she thinks it correct, I could return here to plan further?" Vhaeraun might not want to deal directly with dwarves, but death curses were not an easy thing to work around.
"Aye," Bruenor said, after he had fumed a little more, "I donnae think me clan can kill a god by ourselves, wi' nae proper cleric o' our own, even wi' yer artifact there tae lead us back. Ye'll be welcome, though I'm nae sure about yer sister..."
Drizzt chuckled. "She is an ends justify the means person, and her ends are to complete the quest her god gave to her," he said. "I don't know what she will suggest, but ridding the Material Plane of that particular dragon outweighs most other things for her.
"And she does not like to be at odds with me, so she tends to not do things that upset me."
"Well, that last at least, I can understand," Bruenor said, nodding slowly, "an' havin' th' same goal is a help, aye."
"We'll find a way," Drizzt told him firmly. He started folding away his map to put it in the bag of holding, content to let it rest at that. He'd take a meal with them, and then begin on his way back down to his entry to the Underdark.
Drizzt made his way up to the temple of Vhaeraun in Rilauven, feeling a bit more certain of the hypothesis he'd formed, as he'd taken the time to judge the distance to that second pool of Shadowfell energy by how strong the artifact reacted between the two places, aligning his memory of the Underdark maps to the Surface one he carried.
That other place was definitely very close to Menzoberranzan.
Not for the first time, he wondered if his mother had done well for herself, what she was actually like, and if it really was as bad there for one like him as his father said. He had no way of knowing, and if his spirit-uncle, Jarlaxle, had said anything about Matron Malice to his father, it had not been relayed to him.
The guards and acolytes he saw on his way carefully did not impede his way; startling him always led to an embarrassing defeat at his hands, and no one really knew how to deal with him outside of Nalatar and Drizzt's own family.
Soon enough, he was at the apartment his sister and father kept, having not yet decided on their own living space, and tapped at the door a specific way to be let in.
The door came open in invisible hands -- Vierna's invisible servant, then, extension of her will -- for him, and he came in to find her stepping out of her private chamber, a welcoming and relieved smile on her lips. "Welcome home, little brother," she said aloud as she came across to him.
He smiled broadly, sliding his pack off in a fluid motion so he could embrace her fully, having truly missed her and their father both.
"I think I've had success, sister!" he told her when she — and he — were willing to part enough to speak properly.
"Oh? No, wait, you just got home. Go enjoy a bath, and I will send a bat to fetch Father from the training grounds. When you climb out, I will conjure us a meal."
There had been an incident, a few months ago, of compulsion-spells placed on some of the kitchen slaves to poison and pollute (everyone assumed by one of the Llothite priestesses across the way), and Vierna was still summoning any meal not taken in the dining hall where there were greater protections.
Drizzt scooped up his pack, went to put everything in his room, then saw to getting that bath, holding onto the good news for now.
Zaknafein turned the rest of the class period over to one of the senior students, admonished them that everyone had better be healthy for the next day's class, and gone home at the summons.
He came in to see Drizzt just coming out of the bath chamber, vividly outlined by the heat of the water he'd enjoyed and only in a pair of loose pants.
"Good thing you're not going out any time soon," he said.
"Know I'm safe in here, and anything attacking would be met with the full weight of the Temple behind it," Drizzt answered, but he grinned and came over to hug his father.
Zaknafein chuckled and hugged his son in tight to him, aware some of the warmth was transferring to him, but Drizzt was not wrong. This was as safe as they could be, behind the Temple's walls and Vierna's personal protections. "I suppose you have a point."
He shifted, holding his son out at arms' length, and appraised him closely. "You don't look as though the Surface did you any harm, at least."
"It doesn't, other than the loss of my levitation," Drizzt answered. "For whatever reason, I am well-suited to forays up there, and I enjoy it. The sun gets a little harsh, but I adapt."
He looked his own father over, giving a nod. "Teaching suits you… or are you doing other work again?" Early on, he and his father had handled a few security concerns against nearby duergar.
"Teaching, mostly," Zak replied with a half-shrug, "nothing outside the city recently."
"Excuse me, the what of your what?" Vierna's voice came from the table, where the scents of good and food now drifted into the air.
Drizzt turned her way, then started over there because food was never to be wasted in his opinion. "Nalatar warned me that prolonged exposure would lead to losing one or more of my abilities. Only the levitation is gone. If anything, my darkness is stronger."
Zak frowned; why hadn't his son mentioned that before going off? Well, that would be the infamous stubborn streak, he decided, making certain Vierna hadn't stopped him. He joined them at the table, quiet offer of gratitude in his head for the food.
He'd made peace with the god that preserved his daughter.
"Then I'm making you a ring to replace it before you go out of this city again," his daughter said, her hands braced on her hips above her hilts as she sat down.
"Has anyone told you that you fuss too much?" Drizzt said mildly, but an impish grin touched his lips, as he reveled in being loved by his sister. He'd observed enough drow in this city, remembered the uneasy alliance in their rebels, to understand the truly deep attachment within their family was unusual.
"It's not as if you could have known which would go in advance, so now we know, your sister fixes it, and we keep moving forward," Zak said, reaching for his food. He wound up smacking at Drizzt's hand for trying to take the same stuffed mushroom he'd wanted, but it, like the comment earlier, was all in play.
Once the meal was done, and they'd settled in the living room, with Drizzt sprawled on the rothe hide spread on the floor, they focused more on business.
"Two major repositories of Shadowfell energy visible to your artifact, Vierna," Drizzt began. "One was in the direction of Menzoberranzan, so I chose to ignore it at first, in case it was the residual effect of his occupation there, seeping upwards.
"I turned to the other one, and wound up having to wait a bit to be able to go, as the Icewind Dale is in the far north, and I had to wait for the passes to melt." He paused and wrinkled his nose. "I do not like the surface drow living in the Neverwinter Woods. They are barely more than brigands, preying on anyone that moves through there with no motive but terror and easy riches."
"You didn't get into a fight with them?" Zak asked, getting a sharp negative.
"I know better."
Vierna wrinkled her nose as well, shaking her head. Brigandry and sowing terror for its own sake and easy profit was no fit testament to what their Lord wished, and such folk vexed her. "Thank you for not," she said, stretching out one bare foot to wriggle it under his side affectionately.
He laughed a little, then got serious. "I found, once I could go up, a dwarven stronghold. These dwarves were displaced from somewhere else — they can't remember exactly where — in about the year that the dragon started being absent from Menzoberranzan regularly.
"And with what they can remember, I think they are from that other energy pool, which puts it in the surface mountains above our former city. When I was coming back, I paid attention to the way the artifact reacted and eventually got to a point that was halfway between the two sources to verify my guess.
"I think we have an ally in unseating and killing the dragon!"
"But dwarves," Zaknafein said, knowing that was going to be a sticking point.
"If the chieftain I met is right, the way in from the surface will be hard to find, and death-cursed on top of it," Drizzt said. "We need them."
Vierna frowned, worrying at her lip, as she turned that problem over in her head several times. "It is useful to know what the dragon may have been up to, but... concerning, that dwarves could be so confused about how to return to their hole. I will have to pray about this, Drizzt, and I do not know what answer I will receive. Tell me more. How did this dwarf treat you? Tell me everything that might sway my Lord to their favor."
"The hunting party did not want to parlay with me," Drizzt said, "though they did apologize later, once I was allowed inside. The chieftain came to meet me himself, geared for a battle, but was willing to speak after a time, with no blows exchanged.
"Granted, Guen was right there, and she does make people pause." He grinned for his protector's presence being so formidable. "He took me in, we spoke at length and said it seems reasonable. They are all fogged over everything before the driving out, and the Shadowfell energy is present even in those born after." He looked at his sister intently. "Blood curse maybe?"
"Most likely," Vierna nodded, "given what you say. I cannot think what else would do such a thing, unless they carried some talisman with them unwittingly... but you would have found that."
"And I did not, during the few days I remained with them," he agreed. "From a tactical point, given where Menzoberranzan sits, in addition to the other cities of svirfneblin and duergar, it seems wise to put a power in place between them and the surface, to delay anything their gods demand which might interfere with Vhaeraun's eventual plans."
Zak blinked, and carefully did not smile at hearing his son think in that manner. It was likely only an excuse to allow him to help this misplaced dwarf clan, but it was sound reasoning.
Vierna, though, did smile at him -- she'd asked him for things that might help her, and he had given the best he had. "I think that is a very good point," she told him, nodding. "Well done, little brother."
Drizzt looked pleased with himself.
"If not, we're just going to have to trust our son to rally an army to get it done on his own," Zak said dryly. "Wouldn't that be interesting?"
Being called 'their' son never failed to make Drizzt happy; Vierna had raised him after all.
"Interesting, perhaps, but I would prefer it otherwise," Vierna said, smiling at Zak.
Oblodra Gloom
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
* Links will work as parts are revealed
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt Do'Urden, Vierna Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Ensemble Cast
Series: Part 4 of Oblodra Gloom
Summary:
Vhaeraun entrusts His Masked Traitor with a quest, and a dwarf hall holds the key.
A Darkening of Gloom
1167 D.R.
Bangor Battlehammer wiped away the blood from his son's face, ignoring the attempt to scowl at him for it.
"Me boy," Bangor began, using the quiet voice, the one that spoke of serious tidings. "We cannae hold the upper levels much longer."
"Donnae be sayin' that, me da," Bruenor said, a coldness gripping his heart. At forty-seven, or near enough, he was too close to being an adult to give in to wanting to grab his father's apron and hold on tight, but there was something —
— something terrifying, more than the shadows that whittled their clan down in slow attrition.
"Our king, me own Da, he's gettin' the elders and the dwarrows and the babes," Bangor said, ignoring the protest. "Bruenor, ye have a duty to the clan."
That the duty was with those being gathered was left unsaid, but Bruenor exploded against that fate.
"Me place is defendin' me Hall, with me blood!"
"NAY, boy! Ye be the heir now! Ye will take them, and ye'll find a place, and ye'll grow strong! If'n we can collapse the bridge and drop the stair, we'll be behind ye!" Bangor told him with a hissed, harsh tone. "Ye take them tae Dwarvendarrow, wait three days.
"If'n we donnae come… ye go on, and ye be the king they will need!"
Bruenor met his father's eyes, saw the resolve there, and gave one more try.
"Can ye not be the king?"
"Nay, lad; yer Grandda has said all those above and below certain ages tae go, an' the rest o' us tae trap the shadows here. We owe that much to the Realms outside our Hall."
Bruenor wished he had a beard to soak away the tears trying to come to his eyes, and flung himself in for one last hug.
Bangor gave it, and Bruenor knew, even as he would wait, this would be the last he saw of his father.
Haerinvureem contemplated the tooth once more, then surveyed the forges all around him. Too much light and flame for his liking, but that was what the duergar existed for. They would mine, they would craft, and he would have objects made of mithral to build his new hoard around.
Who needed a drow city that would eventually rebel? Let Kyorl, pleasing as she had been at times, reap those surely-bitter rewards, even let her keep those he had shaped with Shadowfell magic and her psionics. He had gleaned so much knowledge from the soul trapped in the tooth, and now he held a lair befitting him.
He had only to deal with those that had managed to escape.
The hush on the land, a moonless night, and dread filling them all as it was their third one present with no word from the Hall had every dwarf wary. Those that kept Dwarvendarrow, a trading clan, were down to a handful, as the trade season was not yet upon them. They had dug out maps, likely places to go that wouldn't put the small and weakened clan at risk of falling under other, more powerful clans.
Come the morning, Bruenor would have to give the order. His cleric, an old dwarf with hands that shook but a presence that defied fate, had reinforced that the elders were to listen to their heir, even if he was nearly beardless.
The seeping pulse of magic came on the bloodlines, twisted divine energy seeking the heir, seeking all with claim, riding the very splash of potent curse magic invoked and reinforced by a dying king and his son in the Hall. Bruenor felt a blind panic, despair that threatened his very will to live, while it cast out from him to take all those who had escaped.
By morning, the rag tag band of elders and young, with that handful of trade dwarves, were bolting for distant lands, compelled to go as far as possible, to escape the danger that none of them could remember any more than they could recall where they were running from.
1337 D.R.
In Rilauven, a priestess found herself drawn into a dream.
The small family had, through Vierna's religion, found ways to stay hidden, and move away from Menzoberranzan. That city was beginning to open up to heavier trade -- in and out -- in order to reacquire its prestige and standing. Zak was able to work as an instructor, Vierna was polishing her skills as a cleric, and Drizzt was getting much of the education they had not been able to provide him in their former way of life.
To find this dream soaked in the red-tinged swirling clouds of her Lord's presence was worrying, to a degree, but she knew her standing, knew that whatever the summons was could not be about her actions.
"My Lord?" she asked, wondering but not afraid.
She had had no sense of that there was some particular upheaval or trouble that needed her, no awareness that anything was changing...
"My priestess," He answered her. "I have a task for you. The dragon… it was not present in your former city. And all that My informants have found, it did not return to the Shadowfell." The mask that was His symbol formed at a bit above her height, giving the impression of His presence in drow form, though not clearly. "I wish you to discover the destroyer, and orchestrate his ending."
"As You will it, my Lord," Vierna answered, though she did quail slightly at the idea of seeking for something her god did not know. "...perhaps if I seek for its magical signature -- with something like a compass, but tuned to it -- it can be found. I had little experience of it directly, but..."
Vhaeraun let the impression of a smile show in the shadows of His form. "You are a gifted priestess, skilled in designing artifacts." His pride in her radiated with warmth. "Use any resources necessary; I want that murderous upstart ripped from existence!"
She luxuriated in that pride, in His pleasure in her, and smiled back, radiant with delight. "I will do it," she told her Lord. If He thought her idea was reasonable, it would work, as long as she crafted well, "and Your desire is mine as well."
He left her with that pride, with the knowledge she was His favorite, so that she could finish out her rest and begin fresh.
1343 DR
Drizzt focused past the glare on the still snow-covered ground and then looked back to the talisman Vierna had gifted him with. In the six years since Vhaeraun had presented her with the task, the family had established themselves as a force to be reckoned with. Zaknafein and Drizzt often worked in tandem to acquire the materials needed — if it was in the Underdark.
Drizzt had spent his years learning Common, learned all he could of the Surface under the tutelage of Nalatar Ssambra, one of Vhaeraun's more academic-minded clerics. As Nalatar did not mind Drizzt's oddities, it had freed them all of concerns that Drizzt would be attacked, and forced into exile for killing the drow stupid enough to do that.
No one doubted that it would be self-defense or that Drizzt would prevail; he was both too kind to attack first, and too deadly to lose.
That education though, had led to Drizzt occasionally journeying above, finding things his sister decided she needed to craft the device.
And when the thing had stubbornly insisted that the two greatest concentrations of shadow-energy on the Material Plane were either back toward where they had come from or in the frozen wastes, Drizzt had volunteered to handle the next steps. He had to find the energies, investigate if it was the despised dragon and more of his minions, then report back to his sister and father with what he found.
They would decide from there, on how to handle it.
Drizzt had scouted where the energy was concentrated, and found no way inside. However, he trusted his sister's magic, he trusted Vhaeraun's power behind it, and his own tracking skills said people used paths near here. He took up a watchful point, enduring the cold with his hat, gloves, and cloak to protect him alongside the occasional use of cantrips to warm his face and hands.
He at least got to be amused by the family of ermine that decided he wasn't a threat, and from them, he learned he was watching for dwarves. That meant he'd have to be extra cautious, as dwarves were one of the races that Vhaeraun generally disapproved of, though not as much as He did the duergar.
Finally, a group of them came out, a hunting party it looked like, and Drizzt bided his time, letting them tend to business. It would be better to approach them after they had a burden to slow them down, and had used energy hunting.
On their approach back, Drizzt slipped down to wait in the approach so that when they rounded a curve, he was there, cloak shove back, arms crossed over his chest, putting his hands far from his hilts.
That did not stop them from scrambling to drop the pole drags and reach for their own lances, hammers, and axes.
"Peace, dwarves. I come in honest search of answers, and seek only to parlay," he told them in Common. "My name is Drizzt Do'Urden, son of that House in Rilauven," he added. "I wish words with your cleric or leader."
"Ye expect us tae believe ye, sorcerous drow?"
Drizzt stood his ground, still not drawing, not dropping his hands to be ready to do so. "I wish to talk," he said in a gentle voice, but the resolve in his posture was firm.
"We don't 'parlay' with evil ones," the speaker snapped.
"Then go your own way, with your kills, and I will wait. As long as it takes for you to be tired of me up here," Drizzt told him, leaping up suddenly enough that they could not give chase and the one lance someone chucked like a spear fell well short.
Bruenor Battlehammer did not like mysteries, did not like evil races, and did not like threats to his clan. That there was a drow in his lands was all three of those things at once.
Two days after the hunters came back with the tale, he put his full kit on, shoving the helmet into place, and stomping out with axe and shield at the ready. He did not want this to drag on, but also didn't want to endanger his clan.
He went out through one of the hidden doors, and worked to try and get behind the drow's position.
He came face to face with the most gigantic cat in all of existence, lounged in a sunbeam, blinking great golden eyes his way.
"Don't mind Guen," came a voice a bit above them. Bruenor, having been startled by the cat, had never noted the drow perched like a goat on a narrow ledge.
"Ye need tae be leavin' me lands!"
"And I am on a quest to find out why your lands are saturated in the energy of the Shadowfell," the drow said calmly. "That is all I am seeking, good dwarf."
Bruenor scowled, not understanding, not really, but the drow dropped to the ground, and the cat sat up, yawning widely. Those teeth were as massive as the rest of it!
"The talisman I'm using to track the energy is very fixated on you, right now," the drow said. "My name is Drizzt Do'Urden, son of that house in Rilauven, and I truly only need to ask questions about the energy."
"Why would it be fixed on me?" Bruenor asked, wary, but confused by the drow being polite and non-violent.
"I don't know; have you been targeted by a Shadowfell spell?"
"I donnae even ken what a Shadowfell is," Bruenor began, "but there be a curse upon me clan. Mayhaps it is what ye seek? Ye have a plan for dealing with such?"
"Not yet, but if I may talk at length with you, perhaps we can be certain, and I will find a way to aid."
Bruenor brought his shield arm down, then lowered the axe. "Bruenor Battlehammer, an' ye best not be lying."
"As my father and sister are fond of saying, I lie poorly," Drizzt told him with a smile. "Guen, go home."
The cat came to her feet, circled him once, and vanished in a fine black mist.
"Bah, magic!" Bruenor grumped, but he turned to head down to the trade door. "Come on, then, an' let us talk in comfort!"
Settled into a room made for trade negotiations, with water at least shared, Drizzt settled to the business of convincing the dwarf of his words.
"This," and he pulled the dial with its moving arrow out, showing the arrow was fixated on Bruenor, with a faint quiver, "was crafted so I could find concentrations of Shadowfell energy on the surface. My sister had determined the quarry we sought was no longer below the faerzress line, when she first was charged with finding it."
"What be she looking for, and why?" Bruenor asked.
"A shadow dragon, that enslaved our original city for much of her life, and had destroyed another drow city," Drizzt explained. "He was not present when we took the city back, and her god is demanding his death."
"Her god, but not yours?"
Drizzt ducked his head a little. "My nature runs in other directions. I am drawn to the surface, to the ways of the wild areas," he explained when he looked back up. "I hear the call of others, but have not had time to explore that, because I am part of this quest."
Bruenor shook his head. "Seems strange, but good of ye tae put family ahead of yerself."
"Family, always," Drizzt avowed. "It might be that the energy here is not related to the dragon I must find, but why is it here and so steeped on you? That is what I need to learn, and then, if it is unrelated, I will ask nothing more of you."
Bruenor's brow furrowed, and he shook his head slightly. "We've nought tae do wi' magic, but... whate'er drove us from our Hall cursed us, cursed our memories, an' almost all th' elders as escaped wi' us died well afore their time. I was nought but forty-seven, an' there's only four left as were older'n me when we were driven out."
"Only a couple of years older then than I am now," Drizzt said with a sad look his way. "My sister was a very young priestess when the dragon came to our city.
"But what you are saying, goes hand in hand with Shadowfell magic. It is a reflection of the Material Plane, in many ways, but cast in perpetual twilight, with a sense of hopelessness. Or so I was taught."
"Hopeless..." Bruenor murmured, and slowly nodded, "aye, that's how they were. Gave up wantin' tae live, out of our Hall, an' laid down an' died, soon as they'd passed on what they knew as they had tae."
"I am sorry for your losses," Drizzt said clearly, and honestly. Do you have any idea where, even roughly, you were driven from? That might aid me in tracking this down properly."
Bruenor frowned again, heaving out a long sigh. "The first place we remember bein' was Mason's Hole, almost intae th' Lurkwood, but north, still in th' hills. Afore that... nae, we've no idea a'tall. Sits hard, nae knowin' where our home is."
Drizzt started to answer, but something drew his attention to the door.
He looked to see a small — human — child edging around the door to come in quietly.
Bruenor noticed her too, and opened his mouth.
"Da," the child said in the most imploring voice.
"Catti-brie, I have business, and things tae say that aren't fit for a bairn's ears," the dwarf said with a gentle tone.
"If the child needs you, I can go wait outside again," Drizzt said with infinite patience, watching the child fearlessly study him.
"Nae, no need for all that; believe ye have honor." He got up and walked over to the child, hefting her up on his hip. "Catti-brie, me girl, meet Drizzt Do'Urden, come tae ask questions about bad magic."
"Hi."
"Hello, Catti-brie," Drizzt said with warmth. "May I have your father's attention for just a little while longer?"
He noted the posture of the dwarf shifted favorably, and the girl considered thoughtfully.
"Yes. Talk to me at meal?"
"If — "
"Seems ye have an invite to eat with us," Bruenor said in amusement.
"Then yes."
The girl hugged Bruenor, slithered down and raced off, letting the men get back to talking.
"I'll need to get my map out, but I think I my search may be coming close to an end," Drizzt said, moving slowly to get into the pack's bag of holding where he kept his precious copy of the surface map.
Bruenor watched him, but with more interest and less hostility, as Drizzt drew out the map and spread it between them, then shifted a bit to see the labels better. With some squinting and muttering, and careful consideration of the legend, Bruenor finally tapped a place. "Here, or close enow..."
Drizzt nodded grimly, then pointed out the line of hills reaching down from the Spine of the World. "These are called the Frost Hills. And that is close enough to where my city is, the one I was born to and helped free, that I chose to come here first.
"As that is the general area my sister's artifact also says is steeped in the energies of the Shadowfell. It may well be that the dragon, when it left our city, attacked your home. But, it might not be. I cannot say for certain, yet concentration makes me hope so."
Bruenor frowned, deeply, before he slowly nodded. "I'd nae notion we were sae close tae drow as that makes it sound, but yer lot live deep, deep down, aye? Well beyond our mines. I've nae doubt me da an' grandda cursed our home when they died b'hind me, but... might no' have been strong enow tae take down a dragon..."
"It was worshiped as a god," Drizzt said, "which by draconic ways actually makes it a minor one. We chose our strike on the city when it was away, on purpose, intending to use the full city resources after to destroy it.
"Only, from what we heard, as my family had to leave for various reasons, it never came back." Drizzt shrugged. "It had duergar armies — we saw very few of those while we took the city. Dragon-warped drow, shadow-fey, shadow-hounds… we did see more of those, minus the hounds, than we did the duergar."
"Grey ones?! Stinkin' grey ones as might be in me Hall?!" Bruenor had meant to ask about the idea of becoming a god, but that idea had wiped all else away.
"Likely, if this other energy pool is your Hall," Drizzt said. "I will have to take back what I've learned to my sister, and then, if she thinks it correct, I could return here to plan further?" Vhaeraun might not want to deal directly with dwarves, but death curses were not an easy thing to work around.
"Aye," Bruenor said, after he had fumed a little more, "I donnae think me clan can kill a god by ourselves, wi' nae proper cleric o' our own, even wi' yer artifact there tae lead us back. Ye'll be welcome, though I'm nae sure about yer sister..."
Drizzt chuckled. "She is an ends justify the means person, and her ends are to complete the quest her god gave to her," he said. "I don't know what she will suggest, but ridding the Material Plane of that particular dragon outweighs most other things for her.
"And she does not like to be at odds with me, so she tends to not do things that upset me."
"Well, that last at least, I can understand," Bruenor said, nodding slowly, "an' havin' th' same goal is a help, aye."
"We'll find a way," Drizzt told him firmly. He started folding away his map to put it in the bag of holding, content to let it rest at that. He'd take a meal with them, and then begin on his way back down to his entry to the Underdark.
Drizzt made his way up to the temple of Vhaeraun in Rilauven, feeling a bit more certain of the hypothesis he'd formed, as he'd taken the time to judge the distance to that second pool of Shadowfell energy by how strong the artifact reacted between the two places, aligning his memory of the Underdark maps to the Surface one he carried.
That other place was definitely very close to Menzoberranzan.
Not for the first time, he wondered if his mother had done well for herself, what she was actually like, and if it really was as bad there for one like him as his father said. He had no way of knowing, and if his spirit-uncle, Jarlaxle, had said anything about Matron Malice to his father, it had not been relayed to him.
The guards and acolytes he saw on his way carefully did not impede his way; startling him always led to an embarrassing defeat at his hands, and no one really knew how to deal with him outside of Nalatar and Drizzt's own family.
Soon enough, he was at the apartment his sister and father kept, having not yet decided on their own living space, and tapped at the door a specific way to be let in.
The door came open in invisible hands -- Vierna's invisible servant, then, extension of her will -- for him, and he came in to find her stepping out of her private chamber, a welcoming and relieved smile on her lips. "Welcome home, little brother," she said aloud as she came across to him.
He smiled broadly, sliding his pack off in a fluid motion so he could embrace her fully, having truly missed her and their father both.
"I think I've had success, sister!" he told her when she — and he — were willing to part enough to speak properly.
"Oh? No, wait, you just got home. Go enjoy a bath, and I will send a bat to fetch Father from the training grounds. When you climb out, I will conjure us a meal."
There had been an incident, a few months ago, of compulsion-spells placed on some of the kitchen slaves to poison and pollute (everyone assumed by one of the Llothite priestesses across the way), and Vierna was still summoning any meal not taken in the dining hall where there were greater protections.
Drizzt scooped up his pack, went to put everything in his room, then saw to getting that bath, holding onto the good news for now.
Zaknafein turned the rest of the class period over to one of the senior students, admonished them that everyone had better be healthy for the next day's class, and gone home at the summons.
He came in to see Drizzt just coming out of the bath chamber, vividly outlined by the heat of the water he'd enjoyed and only in a pair of loose pants.
"Good thing you're not going out any time soon," he said.
"Know I'm safe in here, and anything attacking would be met with the full weight of the Temple behind it," Drizzt answered, but he grinned and came over to hug his father.
Zaknafein chuckled and hugged his son in tight to him, aware some of the warmth was transferring to him, but Drizzt was not wrong. This was as safe as they could be, behind the Temple's walls and Vierna's personal protections. "I suppose you have a point."
He shifted, holding his son out at arms' length, and appraised him closely. "You don't look as though the Surface did you any harm, at least."
"It doesn't, other than the loss of my levitation," Drizzt answered. "For whatever reason, I am well-suited to forays up there, and I enjoy it. The sun gets a little harsh, but I adapt."
He looked his own father over, giving a nod. "Teaching suits you… or are you doing other work again?" Early on, he and his father had handled a few security concerns against nearby duergar.
"Teaching, mostly," Zak replied with a half-shrug, "nothing outside the city recently."
"Excuse me, the what of your what?" Vierna's voice came from the table, where the scents of good and food now drifted into the air.
Drizzt turned her way, then started over there because food was never to be wasted in his opinion. "Nalatar warned me that prolonged exposure would lead to losing one or more of my abilities. Only the levitation is gone. If anything, my darkness is stronger."
Zak frowned; why hadn't his son mentioned that before going off? Well, that would be the infamous stubborn streak, he decided, making certain Vierna hadn't stopped him. He joined them at the table, quiet offer of gratitude in his head for the food.
He'd made peace with the god that preserved his daughter.
"Then I'm making you a ring to replace it before you go out of this city again," his daughter said, her hands braced on her hips above her hilts as she sat down.
"Has anyone told you that you fuss too much?" Drizzt said mildly, but an impish grin touched his lips, as he reveled in being loved by his sister. He'd observed enough drow in this city, remembered the uneasy alliance in their rebels, to understand the truly deep attachment within their family was unusual.
"It's not as if you could have known which would go in advance, so now we know, your sister fixes it, and we keep moving forward," Zak said, reaching for his food. He wound up smacking at Drizzt's hand for trying to take the same stuffed mushroom he'd wanted, but it, like the comment earlier, was all in play.
Once the meal was done, and they'd settled in the living room, with Drizzt sprawled on the rothe hide spread on the floor, they focused more on business.
"Two major repositories of Shadowfell energy visible to your artifact, Vierna," Drizzt began. "One was in the direction of Menzoberranzan, so I chose to ignore it at first, in case it was the residual effect of his occupation there, seeping upwards.
"I turned to the other one, and wound up having to wait a bit to be able to go, as the Icewind Dale is in the far north, and I had to wait for the passes to melt." He paused and wrinkled his nose. "I do not like the surface drow living in the Neverwinter Woods. They are barely more than brigands, preying on anyone that moves through there with no motive but terror and easy riches."
"You didn't get into a fight with them?" Zak asked, getting a sharp negative.
"I know better."
Vierna wrinkled her nose as well, shaking her head. Brigandry and sowing terror for its own sake and easy profit was no fit testament to what their Lord wished, and such folk vexed her. "Thank you for not," she said, stretching out one bare foot to wriggle it under his side affectionately.
He laughed a little, then got serious. "I found, once I could go up, a dwarven stronghold. These dwarves were displaced from somewhere else — they can't remember exactly where — in about the year that the dragon started being absent from Menzoberranzan regularly.
"And with what they can remember, I think they are from that other energy pool, which puts it in the surface mountains above our former city. When I was coming back, I paid attention to the way the artifact reacted and eventually got to a point that was halfway between the two sources to verify my guess.
"I think we have an ally in unseating and killing the dragon!"
"But dwarves," Zaknafein said, knowing that was going to be a sticking point.
"If the chieftain I met is right, the way in from the surface will be hard to find, and death-cursed on top of it," Drizzt said. "We need them."
Vierna frowned, worrying at her lip, as she turned that problem over in her head several times. "It is useful to know what the dragon may have been up to, but... concerning, that dwarves could be so confused about how to return to their hole. I will have to pray about this, Drizzt, and I do not know what answer I will receive. Tell me more. How did this dwarf treat you? Tell me everything that might sway my Lord to their favor."
"The hunting party did not want to parlay with me," Drizzt said, "though they did apologize later, once I was allowed inside. The chieftain came to meet me himself, geared for a battle, but was willing to speak after a time, with no blows exchanged.
"Granted, Guen was right there, and she does make people pause." He grinned for his protector's presence being so formidable. "He took me in, we spoke at length and said it seems reasonable. They are all fogged over everything before the driving out, and the Shadowfell energy is present even in those born after." He looked at his sister intently. "Blood curse maybe?"
"Most likely," Vierna nodded, "given what you say. I cannot think what else would do such a thing, unless they carried some talisman with them unwittingly... but you would have found that."
"And I did not, during the few days I remained with them," he agreed. "From a tactical point, given where Menzoberranzan sits, in addition to the other cities of svirfneblin and duergar, it seems wise to put a power in place between them and the surface, to delay anything their gods demand which might interfere with Vhaeraun's eventual plans."
Zak blinked, and carefully did not smile at hearing his son think in that manner. It was likely only an excuse to allow him to help this misplaced dwarf clan, but it was sound reasoning.
Vierna, though, did smile at him -- she'd asked him for things that might help her, and he had given the best he had. "I think that is a very good point," she told him, nodding. "Well done, little brother."
Drizzt looked pleased with himself.
"If not, we're just going to have to trust our son to rally an army to get it done on his own," Zak said dryly. "Wouldn't that be interesting?"
Being called 'their' son never failed to make Drizzt happy; Vierna had raised him after all.
"Interesting, perhaps, but I would prefer it otherwise," Vierna said, smiling at Zak.
Oblodra Gloom
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
* Links will work as parts are revealed
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