She and Briza sat down to watch.
Drizzt stepped onto the floor of Zaknafein’s training gym for the first time in more than a decade and felt as if he had come home. He’d spent the best years of his young life here, almost wholly here. For all the disappointments he had encountered since―and no doubt would continue to experience throughout his life―Drizzt would never forget that brief sparkle of innocence, that joy, he had known when he was a student in Zaknafein’s gym.
Zaknafein entered and walked over to face his former student. Drizzt saw nothing familiar or comforting in the weapon master’s face. A perpetual scowl now replaced the once common smile. It was an angry demeanor that hated everything around it, perhaps Drizzt most of all. Or had Zaknafein always worn such a grimace? Drizzt had to wonder. Had nostalgia glossed over Drizzt’s memories of those years of early training? Was this mentor, who had so often warmed Drizzt’s heart with a lighthearted chuckle, actually the cold, lurking monster that Drizzt now saw before him?
"Which has changed, Zaknafein." Drizzt asked aloud, "you, my memories, or my perceptions?"
Zak seemed not even to hear the whispered question.
"Ah, the young hero has returned." he said, "the warrior with exploits beyond his years."
"Why do you mock me?" Drizzt protested.
"He who killed the hook horrors." Zak continued. His swords were out in his hands now, and Drizzt responded by drawing his scimitars. There was no need to ask the rules of engagement in this contest, or the choice of weapons.
Drizzt knew, had known before he had ever come here, that there would be no rules this time. The weapons would be their weapons of preference, the blades that each of them had used to kill so many foes.
"He who killed the earth elemental." Zak snarled derisively. He launched a measured attack, a simple lunge with one blade. Drizzt batted it aside without even thinking of the parry.
Sudden fires erupted in Zak’s eyes, as if the first contact had sundered all the emotional bonds that had tempered his thrust. "He who killed the girl child of the surface elves!" he cried, an accusation and no compliment. Now came the second attack, vicious and powerful, an arcing swipe descending at Drizzt’s head. "Who cut her apart to appease his own thirst for blood!"
Zak’s words knocked Drizzt off his guard emotionally, wrapped his heart in confusion like some devious mental whip. Drizzt was a seasoned warrior, though, and his reflexes did not register the emotional distraction. A scimitar came up to catch the descending sword and deflected it harmlessly aside.
"Murderer!" Zak snarled openly. "Did you enjoy the dying child’s screams?" He came at Drizzt in a furious whirl, swords dipping and diving, slicing at every angle.
Drizzt, enraged by the hypocrite’s accusations, matched the fury, screaming out for no better reason than to hear the anger of his own voice.
Any watching the battle would have found no breath in the next few blurring moments. Never had the Underdark witnessed such a vicious fight as when these two masters of the blade each attacked the demon possessing the other, and himself.
Adamantite sparked and nicked, droplets of blood spattered both the combatants, though neither felt any pain, and neither knew if he’d injured the other.
Drizzt came with a two-blade sidelong swipe that drove Zak’s swords out wide. Zak followed the motion quickly, turned a complete circle, and slammed back into Drizzt’s thrusting scimitars with enough force to knock the young warrior from his feet. Drizzt fell into a roll and came back up to meet his charging adversary.
A thought came over him.
Drizzt came up high, too high, and Zak drove him back on his heels. Drizzt knew what would soon be coming, he invited it openly. Zak kept Drizzt’s weapons high through several combined maneuvers. He then went with the move that had defeated Drizzt in the past, expecting that the best Drizzt could attain would be equal footing, double-thrust low.
Drizzt executed the appropriate cross-down parry, as he had to, and Zak tensed, waiting for his eager opponent to try to improve the move. "Child killer!" he growled, goading on Drizzt. He didn’t know that Drizzt had found the solution.
With all the anger he had ever known, all the disappointments of his young life gathering within his foot, Drizzt focused on Zak. That smug face, feigning smiles and drooling for blood. Between the hilts, between the eyes, Drizzt kicked, blowing out every ounce of rage in a single blow.
Zak’s nose crunched flat. His eyes lolled upward, and blood exploded over his hollow cheeks. Zak knew that he was falling, that the devilish young warrior would be on him in a flash, gaining an advantage that Zak could not hope to overcome.
"What of you, Zaknafein Do’Urden?" he heard Drizzt snarl, distantly, as though he were falling far away. "I have heard of the exploits of House Do’Urden’s weapon master! How he so enjoys killing!" The voice was closer now, as Drizzt stalked in, and as the rebounding rage of Zaknafein sent him spiraling back to the battle. "I have heard how murder comes so very easily to Zaknafein!" Drizzt spat derisively. "The murder of clerics, of other drow! Do you so enjoy it all?" He ended the question with a blow from each scimitar, attacks meant to kill Zak, to kill the demon in them both.
But Zaknafein was now fully back to consciousness, hating himself and Drizzt equally. At the last moment, his swords came up and crossed, lightning fast, throwing Drizzt’s arms wide. Then Zak finished with a kick of his own, not so strong from the prone position but accurate in its search for Drizzt’s groin.
Drizzt sucked in his breath and twirled away, forcing himself back into composure when he saw Zaknafein, still dazed, rising to his feet. "Do you so enjoy it all?" he managed to ask again.
"Enjoy?" the weapon master echoed.
"Does it bring you pleasure?" Drizzt grimaced.
"Satisfaction!" Zak corrected. "I kill. Yes, I kill."
"You teach others to kill!"
"To kill drow!" Zak roared, and he was back in Drizzt’s face, his weapons up but waiting for Drizzt to make the next move.
Zak’s words again entwined Drizzt in a mesh of confusion. Who was this drow standing before him?
"Do you think that your mother would let me live if I did not serve her evil designs?" Zak cried.
Drizzt did not understand.
"She hates me." Zak said, more in control as he began to understand Drizzt’s confusion, "despises me for what I know." Drizzt cocked his head.
"Are you so blind to the evil around you?" Zak yelled in his face. "Or has it consumed you, as it consumes all of them, in this murderous frenzy that we call life?"
"The frenzy that holds you?" Drizzt retorted, but there was little conviction in his voice now. If he understood Zak’s words correctly―if Zak played the killing game simply because of his hatred for the perverted drow―the most Drizzt could blame him for was cowardice.
"No frenzy holds me." Zak replied. "I live as best I can, survive in a world that is not my own, not my heart." The lament in his words, the droop of his head as he admitted his helplessness, struck a familiar chord in Drizzt. "I kill, kill drow, to serve Matron Malice―to placate the rage, the frustration, that I know in my soul. When I hear the children scream…" His gaze snapped up on Drizzt and he rushed in all of a sudden, his fury returned tenfold.
Drizzt tried to get his scimitars up, but Zak knocked one of them across the room and drove the other aside. He rushed in step with Drizzt’s awkward retreat until he had Drizzt pinned against a wall. The tip of Zak’s sword drew a droplet of blood from Drizzt’s throat.