The Scimitar's Blade

                   

                                "The Scimitar's Blade"
                                      By T.H. Willis

  The drow's bloodcurdling scream of primal rage cut through the damp air of the mountain-side forest like a poisoned arrow driven into a man's heart. Everything seemed to pause. The birds ceased thier chirping and even the majestic evergeens stilled thier long branches as the whisper of the soft breeze faded and died.
  Deep in the shadows below the boughs of an ancient cedar Drizzt Do'Urden kneeled above the fallen body his human lover, cradling her still form in his arms. An unnoticed wound just below his left shoulderblade sent a thin red trickle down Drizzt's back under his armor which he felt but mistook for sweat. Blood also soaked the side of Cattibrie's head from the fatal wound she had recieved, and her chain mail tunic had been slashed open across her belly revealing a deep gash. Her gloved hand still held the ivory unicorn head hilt of her bloody sword, though the enchanted weapon's innate red glow had faded along with her life. Surrounding the dark elf and the woman's body was nearly a score of dead orc warriors and two Drow priestesses laying sprawed out in poses of death amid the ferns and moss of the soft forest floor.
  "Mielliki, I beseach you!", Drizzt roared to his goddess somewhere up in the heavens. Hot tears were burning down his ebony cheeks, "Bring her back! Restore my Cattibrie to life! Mielikki, I beseach you! Take my soul in her stead"
  It was too late, her lifeless corpse was already frowing cold. He'd arrived at the pitched battle just in time to see a the spiked flail of a drow priestess shatter his lover's skull. The dark elves and thier orc minions had set up the ambush for him and now another one of his companions lay dead because of him. He was thier intended target, not her. If only he'd not let Cattibrie run off so far ahead on the trail. If only he'd resonded to the sound of battle a moment sooner. If only...
  "NOOOOOO!", Drizzt screamed to the trees, tossing back to face the sky, "Not her! Why her? Why Mielliki, why?"
  The drow ranger dropped his pointed chin to his mithril mailed chest, letting the thick strands of his long ivory hair drape over his bloodshot violet eyes. He began to sob again as he wrapped his emerald green cloak around Cattibrie's body and himself. His thoughts turned to the ambush that caused all this.

  It had been a cool spring morning with clear skies and a soft fresh breeze. They'd risen at dawn and dismissed Guenwhyvar, Drizzt's ethereal panther companion, back to her home in the Astral plane to rest. The couple had quickly broken camp and resumed thier jouney. They were three days out from the city of Silverymoon, deep in the wilds of the northern mountains on thier way back to Mithril Hall, the dwarven stronghold where Cattibrie's late father Bruenor Battlehammer had been king. She was still considered a princess there and Drizzt was well respected among the clan's dwarfs despite his dark heritage. The pair was set to be married there in the summer and had been headed back there from thier Silverymoon villa to attend an engagement party thrown by the new king, Strumpet Battlehammer.
  Around noon Drizzt had veered from the trail in pursuit of a stag he had wounded with his bow. He knew his human lover was a well seasoned warrior and thus had little fear for her safety as he took off in pursuit of the deer. Promising to meet her at the next creek crossing with a meal of fresh venison, the dark elven ranger had tossed her the onyx figurine used to summon Guenwhyvar.
  He had been near the rendevou point, the cleaned carcass of the deer across his shoulders, when the sound of steel on steel reached his keen elven ears. The drow ranger dropped the venison and took off at full speed using the enchanted leg bracers he wore to run like the wind. Upon reaching the melee he found Cattibrie surrounded by a score of well armed orcs and a broadsword wielding male drow warrior led by two dark elf priestesses, both carrying spiked flail maces. Barely slowing, the ranger loosed an arrow from his bow, fataly taking one of the drow priestesses in the neck. He dropped the bow and waded into the fight, drawing his twin scimitars, "Twinkle" with it's razor edge and red glow along with the blue hued "Icingdeath". He visiously beheaded the first orc he encountered, desperately to reach his woman, only to have his path blocked by three more of the ugly creatures. All of the orcs were armed with large, yet crudely forged, single edged swords. Cattibrie had been wounded and was sliced across the belly through the chain mail vest she had been wearing. She was barely holding her own against the two remaining dark elves and thier orc minions, four of which had already fallen to the woman's enchanted bastard sword, "Khazadhia". The ambush must have caught her off guard as Guen had not been called forth.
  It had taken only moments for the seasoned drow ranger to dispatch the trio of sword slinging orcs but by that time it was too late. He reached Cattibrie's side just in time to catch a splattering of her blood in his face as the remaining priestess's flail mace connected with her unprotected left temple. The blow issued forth a sickening crunch that caused a wave of nausea to wash over Drizzt. He saw her pale blue eyes go empty as she fell. Cattibrie, the only female that he had ever loved, was dead before she hit the mossy ground.
  That was all it took for Drizzt to lose himself. Immediately all emotion left his face, his purple eyes growing cold as he reverted into his primordial self.  He was no longer the noble dark elf ranger, Drizzt Do'Urden. He was now The Hunter.
  The Hunter had stepped over the body of the fallen human, scimitars flashing. The dark elf priestess attempted to press an attack on the rogue drow male but it was futile, he was too fast. The Hunter simply side-stepped her wild swing and came in close, crossing his curved blades across her unprotected neck and cleanly shearing her head from her shoulders.
  Without slowing his momentum The Hunter then cut down three of the orcs in as many steps before turning on the lone surviving drow warrior. The dozen or so orcs that were still standing had retreated behind thier remaining drow master. The male dark elf, looking nervous and unsure lowered the tip of his black adamantite broadsword toward the forest floor and took a step back away from the crazed rogue. After watching his two sisters so easily slayed he knew he had no hope in combat against his scimitar swinging opponent. Seeing this, three of the orcs behind him dropped thier swords and ran away. The others looked around frantically not sure what to do. The Hunter's cold lavender eyes then narrowed as he took a cautious step forward toward his prey.
  "I, I s-s-surrender!," the drow had stammered in heavily accented Common. He then threw down his weapon and raised his empty hands. " I beg..."
  The Hunter wasn't listening. Scimitars raised he had moved in for the kill, intending to take out the unarmed drow male first. He was only two steps away when a globe of magical blackness appeared, engulfing them all. The Hunter didn't need to see to kill, though. He simply let his other senses take over as he engaged the enemy. Cold steel cut into hot flesh, severed limbs fell and blood flew through the blackness. The Hunter did not even feel the slender blade of the drow-made dagger as it slid in between the links of his chainmail vest, piercing him deeply in the back. The orcs panicked and almost ended up killing more of each other than did The Hunter. When the darkness dissapated moments later not a single orc was left standing. The Hunter scanned the carnage for the drow male but he was nowhere to be seen. His prey had used the conjured darkness and the ensuing chaos to flee. Instinctively, the hunter had reached down to his pouch to retrieve the panther figurine, intending to use the cat to track his fleeing prey. For some reason it was not there. That was when he remembered. The cold gaze left his eyes and was almost immediately replaced by tears.
  Drizzt had sheathed his bloody scimitars and fell to his knees next to Cattibrie's crumpled form, not noticing the fact that he'd been wounded. The Hunter was gone.

  Slightly light-headed now, Drizzt closed his eyes, bent down and kissed his dead lover one last time softly on her cold lips. He then reached into Cattibrie's hip pocket and retrieved his onyx figurine. He stared at the ebony carving, his only link to one of his last remaining friends. He gripped the figurine to his chest, his eyes still shut tightly against the cruel world. With his lover's corpse across his lap and Guen near his heart he sat in silence for some time, engulfed in loss.
  He was startled from his sad reverie by a soft female voice from behind him, "Rise, my noble Drizzt."
  The ranger, still on guard, jumped to his feet and spun around pocketing the figurine and drawing his scimitars, swaying slightly as he did so. The image before him made him lose his breath. It was a beautiful young woman, appearing human for the most part, with long jet black hair and radiant ivory skin. She was tall and thin with delicate yet chiseled features and was wearing a long glittering gown that looked to be made of sky blue silk studded with millions of tiny azure diamonds. An aura of power radiated from her and Drizzt knew immediately who this was.
    "Drizzt, it's time to come home," said Mielliki, godess of the forest, "Your friends are waiting for you."
  The empty shell of Drizzt's body swayed and fell to the ground to land next to the body of Cattibrie. The forest exhaled.