"This fight's our own," the woman said quietly, determinedly, and as she closed on the wounded yeti, she hooked Taulmaril
over the horn of her saddle and once more drew out Khazid'hea.
Still down in the tight hole, Guenhwyvar found her mighty claws gave her the advantage. The yeti tried to bite, but the panther was quicker, her neck more flexible. Guenhwyvar angled under the yeti's chin, her jaws snapping onto the shaggy neck. Her claws kept up their raking motions, kept the yeti's considerable weapons at bay, while the deadly jaws clamped tight and suffocated the beast.
The panther came out of the hole as soon as the yeti had stopped its fighting. Guenhwyvar looked left and right, to Drizzt and Catti-brie. She issued a roar and raced right, where the situation seemed far more dangerous.
Drizzt was charging at the yeti he had wounded, but pulled up short, forcing the yeti, which had been ready to meet the charge, to overcompensate. It leaned too far forward. The drow's scimitars cut fast and hard, ripping into the yeti's hands, severing several of the beast's fingers.
The yeti howled and pulled in its arms. Drizzt, so impossibly quick, chased them back, snapping Twinkle into the yeti's upper arm, and scoring a hit down low, at the beast's waist, with his other blade. Then Drizzt went deftly out to the side, out of range before the beast could counter.
The yeti was not a stupid thing, not where combat was concerned, and it understood that it was overmatched. It turned to flee, long and loping strides that could outrun almost any man, or any elf.
But Drizzt wore the enchanted anklets, and he paced the beast easily. He was behind it and then beside it, scoring hit after hit, turning the dirty, shaggy coat bright red with spilling blood. The ranger knew the truth of tundra yetis, knew that they were not simple animal hunters. They were vicious monsters that murdered for sport as well as for food.
So he continued to pace it, would not let it flee, easily dodging the feeble attempts the beast made to strike at him, and scoring his own brutal hits repeatedly. Finally, the yeti pulled up and turned in a final, desperate rush.
Drizzt, too, charged, scimitars extended, one taking the yeti in the throat, the other in the belly.
Agile Drizzt came out the other side, right under the stumbling yeti's reaching arm. The drow skidded to a stop and
banged his blades hard against the yeti's back, but the beast was already on the way down, already defeated. It fell headlong into the dirt.
Now it became a race between Catti-brie and the one remaining uninjured enemy to get to the yeti she had wounded in the arm.
Catti-brie won that race, and slashed hard as the yeti reached for her with its one working arm. Khazid'hea, fine-edged Khazid'hea, took that arm off cleanly, severing it at the shoulder.
The yeti went into a crazed dance, spinning all about and then toppling to the ground, its lifeblood gushing forth.
Catti-brie rushed away from it, not wanting to get caught up in that frenzied thrashing, and knowing that the fight was not yet won. She turned just in time to meet the charge of the last yeti, extending her sword and bracing herself.
The beast came straight in, arms out wide and extended.
Khazid'hea went right through its chest, but still its strong arms grasped Catti-brie's shoulders and its momentum barreled her over backward.
As she flew and fell, Catti-brie realized the danger of a five hundred pound yeti coming down atop her. Then, suddenly, she was still falling, but the yeti was gone, simply gone, its momentum reversed by the flying Guenhwyvar.
Catti-brie hit the ground hard, managed to roll to absorb some of the force, and then came back to her feet.
The fight was over, though, with Guenhwyvar's strong jaws clamped tight on the throat of the already dead yeti.
Catti-brie looked up from the cat, into the stare of blank amazement splayed across the faces of the other caravan guards.
Six dead tundra yetis in a matter of minutes.
Catti-brie couldn't restrain a smile, nor could Drizzt as he came up to join her, as the men turned their horses away, shaking their heads in disbelief.
According to Cadderly, Drizzt's reputation as a fighter had gotten them onto the caravan in the first place, and now, the pair realized, that reputation would spread wide among the merchants of Luskan. Would spread wide, as would the clear acceptance of this most unusual drow elf.
*****
Soon after, the friends were back on their mounts and back in the lead.
"Three for me," Catti-brie remarked offhandedly.
Drizzt's lavender orbs narrowed as he considered her. He understood the game, had played it often with Wulfgar and even more so with Bruenor, during the days of their exploits.
"Two and a half," Drizzt corrected, remembering the panther's role in killing the last of the beasts.
Catti-brie did the math quickly in her head and then decided that there was no harm in giving the drow the argument, though she believed that the last yeti was dead before Guenhwyvar ever got to it. "Two and a half," she replied, "but only two for yerself!"
Drizzt couldn't suppress a chuckle.
"And only one and a half for the cat!" Catti-brie added with a superior snap of her fingers.
Guenhwyvar, loping along beside the horses, issued a growl, and both Catti-brie and Drizzt burst out in laughter, figuring that the too-intelligent panther had understood every word.
The caravan continued into Icewind Dale without further incident, arriving ahead of schedule in Bryn Shander, the primary marketplace in the dale and the largest of the ten towns that gave this region of the dale its name. Bryn Shander was a walled city, built upon low hills and circular in design. It was located near to the exact center of the triangle created by the three lakes of Maer Dualdon, Lac Dinneshere, and Redwaters. Bryn Shander was the only town of the ten without a fishing fleet, the staple of Ten-Towns' economy, and yet it was the most thriving of the cities, the home of the craftsmen and the merchants, the hub of politics in all the region.
Drizzt's welcome there was not friendly, even after he was formally introduced to the gate guards, and one of them admitted that he remembered the drow ranger from when he was a boy. Catti-brie was well received, though, quite well, particularly because her father had returned to the dale and all in the city were anxious for the precious metals to begin their flow from the dwarven mines.
Because his time of work for the caravan merchants was ended, Drizzt would not have even entered Bryn Shander. He meant to turn instead straight north for the dwarven valley. Before they could settle up with the caravan leaders inside the
city gates, though, the companions were informed that Cassius, the Spokesman of Bryn Shander had requested an audience with Catti-brie.
Though she was dirty from the long ride and wanted nothing more than to fall into a comfortable bed, Catti-brie could not refuse, but she insisted that Drizzt accompany her.
*****
"It went well," the young woman remarked, later that day, when she and Drizzt left the spokesman's mansion.
Drizzt didn't disagree. Indeed it had gone better than Drizzt had expected, for Cassius remembered Drizzt Do'Urden well, and had greeted the drow with an unexpected smile. And now Drizzt was walking openly down the streets of Bryn Shander, suffering many curious looks, but no open hostility. Many, particularly the children, pointed and whispered, and Drizzt's keen ears caught words such as «ranger» and «warrior» more than once, always spoken with respect.
It was good to be home, so good that Drizzt almost forgot the desperate search that had brought him here. For a short while at least, the drow didn't have to think of Errtu and the crystal shard.