The Do'Urden Brothers

Chapter Two

The drider was still alive but barely. Breunor grunted from the many wounds he had received in his battle with the disgusting creature. He stared at the body of the thing as it lay on its back, its legs curled up in the air. The bloated body of the drow it once was lay sprawled on the floor, his white hair spilled out around him.

"Me king?" Breunor glanced at his general as he approached. So many dwarves had died today and their battle with the dark elves was far from over.

"We ain't for continuing," the general began again and Breunor eyed him. "We lost good dwarves on the hunt for your pet drow."

Breunor could hear the resentment in the dwarf's tone and immediately felt defensive, his eyes narrowing at his general just as Catti-Brie, who leaned against the wall, still reeling from Wulfgar's demise, shot forward and grabbed the dwarf by the collar.

"Watch yer tongue!" she sneered at the surprised dwarf, shaking him in her grip. "We'd give up the entire hall before we let Drizzt down without even listing a finger."

Breunor pressed his lip, taking control of his own anger as he listened to his daughter's words. While he was still of a mind to go after Drizzt, who no doubt was half way to Menzoberranzan by now, he knew that there wasn't much they could do to help right now. If Drizzt had taught them all one thing, it was that you couldn't allow emotions to cloud your view of the bigger picture, and the safety of those you loved was paramount.

When Breunor didn't immediately rise to back up Catti-Brie, she whirled on him, eyes narrowing confrontationally. He frowned.

"I just lost my husband to be," Catti-Brie pointed out.. "Don't ye dare be telling me ye are for losing Drizzt too!"

"I share yer mind, girl," Breunor offered, his voice even. "But Drizzt himself would tell ye the truth. How are we to break him out of the drow city? An army couldn't get close to the place."

Catti-Brie turned away, dropping the dwarf general and bracing a hand against the wall. She knew her father was right, but she would not give up on Drizzt. Breunor knew that even as he listened to her soft sobs, his daughter's mind was churning with ideas.

"Me king," the general spoke up again. Breunor turned to him. "What are ye for?" he growled. "We have a kingdom to defend."

"We have a thought," the general spoke up again, recovering from Catti-brie's assault. Breunor followed his gaze to the fallen drider. "Harbromm from Citadel Adbar has some of the most gifted dwarf clerics. We have a mind to return that disgusting thing to what it was before."

Breunor raised a brow as he regarded the spider. Catti-Brie tuned in now, glancing at the general as well. "To what end?" Breunor asked. "The thing's half dead, and I'm for finishing the job."

"But suppose it was an important noble afore they changed it," the general pressed the issue. "If we could return it to drow form, we would have ourselves a prisoner. One that could tell us what we need to know about his accursed city. Maybe even how to defeat it."

"And ye think ye can get it to squawk?" Breunor doubted the plan, but glancing at Catti-Brie, he could see she was interested. The general only shrugged.

"Ain't no harm in trying," he said with a shrug. "If it don't work, maybe those spider legs'll be good cooked over an open flame. Get it all packed up then for the trip back to Mithral Hall."

With that, they packed up and headed back for the safety of Mithral Hall, Breunor and Catti-Brie both secretly plotting the rescue of Drizzt Do'Urden.

***

"Wake up, Drizzt Do'Urden!" the husky feminine voice had Drizzt slowly opening his eyes. He stared into the eyes of a thick shouldered drow female, her white hair pulled back tightly behind her head. Her face was barely an inch from his, blocking his view of much else as her deep red eyes shined dangerously. Her robes clearly marked her as a priestess of Lolth.

As he became fully awake, Drizzt flinched, squirming to see past the drow, the eagerness in her eyes making him uncomfortable. He hung painfully on a stone wall, his arms outstretched away from him and bound by metal cuffs. Magical cuffs as he could feel their burn on his wrist when he shifted his sore muscles.

"I expected to have gone to Lolth by now," Drizzt murmured, focusing back on the female who rubbed her hands together eagerly as if she was anticipating digging into a feast.

"Oh no, no, Drizzt Do'Urden," the drow replied to his question as she finally stepped back, allowing him a limited view of his surroundings. "Your heart will not go to Lolth just yet! She cannot take you as you are now, you see for your sins against her were grave indeed. Your heart as it is now is not worthy. Lolth wants your tormented heart."

Drizzt swallowed as the realization of what was about to happen to him dawned. He was in a drow dungeon, no doubt. Of what house, he couldn't be sure. But he noted the dried blood on the dungeon walls around him, and the bones that lay in heeps in corners. "Where am I?" he dared to ask.

"You are a guest of Vendes Baenre, house torturer!" the priestess exclaimed her name and occupation enthusiastically, her almost deranged stare as she turned to pull up a cart full of cruel looking instruments. "Rejoice, Drizzt Do'Urden, you and I are going to spend so much time together! You will come to know my face as vividly as you would a lover. And we will be so much more than that, my prize."

Drizzt didn't share her enthusiasm as she began to recount everything she had in store for him. He swallowed down the rising fear within him as his blood ran cold. He knew when the drow had captured him that he was going to be sacrificed to Lolth. But he expected a ritualistic dagger to the heart, rather than this.

"Oh and did I mention, you have a companion?" Drizzt cocked his head as Vendes moved side, revealing the wall behind her. There, hung the stripped, pale body of a surface elf. His long white blonde hair hung down past his shoulders, and he hung lump in his chains.

"Caught him when he wandered into the city," Vendes explained. "Claimed he was lost. Well, he is certainly lost now, wouldn't you say? He is a pretty one isn't he?"

Drizzt felt sick to his stomach as he looked upon this elf with nothing but sympathy and sorrow. He seemed to be unconscious, though Drizzt could see his torso swell and deflate with even breaths. Drizzt thought he wished the elf would die in his sleep. It would be preferable to what awaited him.

"Can you believe the fortune!" Vendes continued to rattle on. "Two hearts! Two hearts will go to Lolth and to her glory!"

"Curse your spider queen," Drizzt spat boldly. He received a quick backhand across his cheek and a dagger glare from the priestess.

"Hold your tongue, treacherous filth!" Vendes hissed, her face coming an inch from his face once again.

Drizzt opened his mouth to spew out more insults at Lolth, at Vendes, and at all of his own kin, but Vendes's arm shot out and grabbed him by the chin, her long nails digging into his skin and drawing blood.

"Maybe I should cut out that blasphemous tongue," Vendes contemplated out loud. "But of course, we won't do that just yet. We need you to talk, Drizzt Do'Urden."

Drizzt frowned, cocking his head in confusion. But Vendes only grinned. "Do you think that this quest was all about you, traitor?" she broke out in a hearty laugh as she released his chin from her grip and stepped back a few paces. "You flatter yourself with self importance. As if Lolth cares about one renegade drow from a fallen house. No, no Drizzt Do'Urden. You will tell me all you know of the defenses of Mithral Hall."

Drizzt's mouth went dry as he began to realize what this was about. He cursed himself, thinking that all this time, these 30 years since he had deserted his people, that the whole of Menzoberranzan had risen and charged into the Underdark just to bring him back home.

Their true objective was the destruction of Mithral Hall, and the death of Drizzt's dearest friends. And he had fallen into their trap. He was about to be tortured for the pleasure of this callous priestess, but he'd suffer the further torment of knowing that Breunor and Catti-Brie would die at the hands of his own people.