AN/ This is the sequel to “Night Before” could plausibly be read w/o reading “Night Before,” to recap if you haven’t read it, Drizzt and Dinin were lovers, Drizzt was forced to leave for the surface when Zak died and he spazed on the priestesses. Basically.

After Dawn

Chapter One

In the loveless depths of the Underdark, blackness dripping into every corner and tunnel, the silence, usually stifling in its constancy, was broken by an angry growl. The hook horror responsible cracked its claw viciously at its assailant, determined to rip him from his hiding spot.

Shoved uncomfortably in a narrow crevice Dinin Do’Urden contorted his face in terror at the cruel claws only inches from reaching him.

He had been caught off guard, and, as he had been taught it would since he was a child, being off guard had led him to what would most assuredly be a swift and painful death. Dinin looked out behind the hook horror at the thirty or so feet of cave to its back and could see his longsword glinting coolly on the ground, his shortsword at his hip, broken.

He was pitted against a creature five times the size of him, with massive, vicelike claws, and exoskeleton as hard as stone, and he was unarmed. Not just unarmed, backed into a crevice and unarmed.

‘This wouldn’t have happened to Drizzt,’ a mocking voice in his head cruelly reminded him.

‘Yes, I know, Drizzt was always the better fighter,’ he had begun answering his own thoughts; he had been alone down here far too long.

The mocking voice relentlessly continued, ‘Isn’t that why you let him go alone in the first place? Because you knew you could not survive it, not even with his help. And now you think you can get through here on your own?’

’Shut up!’ oh, now he was quieting his own thoughts, grand.

The hook horror took a particularly close swipe and Dinin flinched, returning his full attention the fight. He had left Menzoberanzan of his own volition, he would find his brother, he would get out of this alive. He took a breath to steady himself and a shudder of very real fear twitched in his hands. The hook horror made another attack and Dinin did the only thing he could.

Dinin swung his foot up hard at the attacking claw forcing it up and away from his face. The claw moved up, but not so far as Dinin had anticipated, meaning his planned escape of darting out of the crevice was turned into dropping to his stomach and shimmying ungracefully away from the monster. Recovering quickly, the hook horror stabbed its claw downward at Dinin’s back and Dinin was forced to twist onto his backside and kick himself backwards in earnest.

Dinin was more than slightly glad no one had been around to witness that particularly unflattering retreat, but it had gotten the job done. Dinin had been certain that now he could leap to his sword twirl defiantly, and swiftly destroy his adversary. But again, he miscalculated. As he flipped to his hands and knees in preparation to spring to his weapons the monster swung at him again. His forward momentum kept him from being impaled but at the claw came up to complete its swing it caught him mid leap, launching him forward.

Dinin landed hard against the wall of the cavern and slouched to the floor, dazed. He recovered swiftly upon seeing the hook horror rushing toward him.

“Ha!” he exclaimed in excitement, finding his sword only a foot or so away from him, the only thing that had gone his way the entire battle. He grabbed his sword and leapt to his feet, glad to once again be in some sort of position of attack.

They began to circle each other stupidly, the monster reassessing its victim now that he was properly armed, Dinin ridiculously reluctant to attack.

Dinin swallowed, disgusted with his own fear and charged, the horror shot out one of its claws to intercept the attack at Dinin took his opportunity. He swung his empty hand up at the claw and caught one of its ridges using the momentum of his charge to swing himself precariously atop it. Feeling his feet slipping on the smooth skeleton Dinin wasted no time ramming his sword defiantly into the monster’s eye.

The hook horror jerked in pain and surprise and Dinin was thrown off, his still imbedded sword making a dignified leap to safety impossible. With a humiliatingly high pitched yelp he fell on his back to the ground seven feet below, groaning in pain upon impact. The wound through the monster’s eye had done its damage Dinin looked up from his position on the floor to see a towering clawbearing, exoskeleton covered corpse falling toward him.

“Vith,” he murmured and scrambled, flipping himself around enough to leap. He landed, sprawled on his stomach, legs spread eagled, though well away from the body.

Aggravated, Dinin pulled himself to his feet, he was perhaps the only drow alive who could singlehandedly bring down a hook horror and look stupid doing it. He sheathed his longsword and angrily brushed dust from his rear. He hoped to the gods that Jarlaxle had lost all interest in him and had not ordered his wizard to skry on him. That would be embarrassing. Not to mention that he hoped to the gods Jarlaxle had lost all interest in him just because he was Jarlaxle and while his interest could serve one immensely well if in Menzoberanzan, struggling to survive, it did not serve one well when trying to escape the damned city.

He had been in the Underdark for perhaps three months, trying his hardest to claw his way to the surface with no map and no direction, perfectly aware that he could be lost in these depths forever. But he had reached the surface before, albeit many years ago, but he was confident that he could reach it again. Well, he had been confident upon setting out, three months in and suffering acutely from a lack of contact however, his confidence was beginning to wane.

In fact, Dinin was positive that had he not such a gleaming prize at the conclusion of his toil; he would have turned back already. He may even have turned back when he still had a chance of finding his way home. The thought of home sent a shiver of nostalgia through him, not that he had enjoyed every minute of his existence in Menzoberanzan, not that he had not seen the flaws of their way of life, seen the lies and hate that were the very fabric of their society, but it was home.

It had been so perfect, Drizzt and he together, a secret standing against the law of the priestesses. An emotion happier than he was used to giving him something to look forward to, something to enjoy and get him through the torture and deception that, though he often enjoyed it, exhausted him.

But Drizzt was gone, to the surface the gnome had said after Dinin had…reasoned with him. He deeply regretted Drizzts’ choice to show his sacrilege openly the night he had fled. He understood that Zaknafein had died and how important the weapon’s master was to Drizzt, but really? Killing priestesses? It was foolish and rash, just as Drizzt had always been, just the kind of thing that he always seemed to do, just the kind of thing that always got him into trouble Dinin had to get him out of. It was just like when he had refused that priestess during graduation, foolish, stupid, suicidal.

‘Like wandering in the wilds of the Underdark after a male you should be glad is gone?’

‘Yes, just like that,’ Dinin answered his own unbidden thought.

It was perhaps true, this was not the wisest course, but it was in all honesty the only course he could have taken. He had planned on following Drizzt eventually, of course, though he had planned on the adventure being a bit better planned out. But when the threat of Vierna had become too imminent Dinin had left with all haste. Had he not left he could have ended up dead or worse.

He thought of himself, bloated and pale, torso grotesquely attached to that of a spider, squirming at Vierna’s bidding, and shuddered. And for a moment there at the end, there had been a look in Vierna’s eyes that promised just that. Better to be shredded in the wilds by hook horrors than become a drider.

But still, he did not want to die down here, he did not especially want to die at all, getting out onto the surface and finding Drizzt would be much preferable. Though he hoped the secondboy was not living amongst the fairies. He had seen the beauty in his surface cousins during the raid so many years ago, but old grudges died hard and he did not fancy living amongst them.

He clung to the thoughts of Drizzt, they made his chest hurt, they made him feel as though he couldn’t breathe, but they gave him something to persevere for, he would find his brother.

***

Miles above, on the surface, Drizzt lay in the sunshine, feeling safe and unthreatened, his weapon’s belt a few feet from him in the grass, his arm around Catti-brie.

AN/ Sorry it took this long to get this started, it was really hard to figure out how I wanted to approach it. And it is no longer following any definite canon timeline. Review plz.