Drizzt was pulling on his cloak when Lord Hralien and the elf warriors appeared from the forest. Arrows trained on him immediately, causing Guenhwyvar to growl. She had stood by her friend, guarding Drizzt while he was paralyzed, a last favor to a half-drow rogue.
Lord Hralien looked around at the decapitated corpses, noting that they were covered with the black robes of Casin cu Calas—the robes spread over their bodies to hide them from view. He motioned for his elves to lower their weapons.
"The rogue is gone," Drizzt said, calmly. "He has been gone for more than an hour."
"Which way?" Lord Hralien asked.
Drizzt turned toward the orc kingdom and shook his head. "Leave him," he said. "Hadrian Twilight will not return."
Drizzt turned to the elf leader with a smirk. "A trick worthy of the legacy of the drow who carries it."
Lord Hralien glanced around in confusion, not finding the humor in the situation. Drizzt just shrugged and patted Guenhwyvar's head. The panther purred.
The elf that left the Kingdom of Many-Arrows nearly skipped across the ground. His purse was far heavier than he had anticipated when he first took the assignment from the orc king. Fortune and opportunity had been on his side when he had been able to double the profit by taking the assignment from the very people he was supposed to kill.
He lifted a hand to remove the magical mask from his face. Though his features remained the same, his skin went from the pale of the surface elves to a very dark gray tone. With his hood pulled low, he melted into the shadows of the evening and smiled like his father always did after a sweet and profitable venture.
It was a good day, the elf decided. A very good day, indeed.
That's the end of it. Probably. Most likely. Maybe.
I just want to thank you all for reading and giving me feedback. I hope you enjoyed the story (Next time I'll try to be a little more regular with my updates).