pool, then charged from its hiding place and launched itself into the air at the
verbeeg. The cat landed heavily into the surprised giant, planting its paws in
the monster's chest and rebounding back toward the safety of the shore.
Guenhwyvar splashed into the icy pool, but scrambled quickly out of the perilous
water. The giant, though, swung its arms wildly for a moment, trying to hold its
precarious balance, then toppled in with a splash. The water rushed up to suck
it down. Desperately, the giant lunged for a nearby floating log, the shape that
Guenhwyvar had recognized earlier.
But as the verbeeg's hands came down, the form it had thought to be a log
exploded into movement as the fifty-foot water constrictor threw itself around
its prey with dizzying speed. The unrelenting coils quickly pinned the giant's
arms to its side and began their merciless squeeze.
Guenhwyvar shook the freezing water from its glistening black coat and looked
back to the pool. As yet another length of the monstrous snake locked under the
verbeeg's chin and pulled the helpless monster under the surface, the panther
was satisfied that the mission was complete. With a long, loud roar proclaiming
victory, Guenhwyvar bounded off toward the lair.
BOOK 3:
Cryshal-Tirith
19
Grim Tidings
Drizzt padded through the tunnels and past the bodies of the dead giants,
slowing only to grab another hunk of mutton from the large table. He crossed
through the support beams and started down the dim hallway, tempering his
eagerness with common sense. If the giants had hidden their treasure down here,
the chamber holding it might be behind a concealed door, or there might even be
some beast, though riot likely another giant, since it would have joined in the
fighting:
The tunnel was quite long, running straight northward, and Drizzt figured
that he was now moving underneath the mass of Kelvin's Cairn. He had passed the
last torch, but he was glad for the darkness. He had lived the majority of his
life traveling tunnels in the lightless subterranean world of his people, and
his large eyes guided him in absolute darkness more accurately than in areas of
light.
The hallway ended abruptly at a barred, iron-bound door, its metal holding
bar locked into place by a large chain and padlock. Drizzt felt a pang of guilt
for leaving Wulfgar behind. The drow had two weaknesses; foremost was the thrill
of battle, but a close second the tingle of uncovering the booty of his
vanquished foes. It wasn't the gold or gems that lured Drizzt; he didn't care
for wealth and rarely even kept any of the treasures he had won. It was simply
the thrill of viewing them for the first time, the excitement of sifting through
them and, perhaps, discovering some incredible artifact that had been lost to
knowledge in ages past, or maybe the spellbook of an ancient and powerful mage.
His guilt feelings flew away as he pulled a small lockpick from his
beltpouch. He had never been formally trained in the thieving arts, but he was
as agile and coordinated as any master burglar. With his sensitive fingers and
acute hearing, he wasn't particularly challenged by the clumsy lock; in a matter
of seconds, it fell open. Drizzt listened carefully for any sounds behind the
door. Hearing none, he gently lifted the large bar and set it aside. Listening
one last time, he drew one of his scimitars, held his breath in anticipation,
