Evermoors, and on a tough road before that. Wulfgar, for one, with his
injured leg and back, had to use a walking stick, and the sleep that Drizzt
had found the night before had been his first, in nearly a week. Unlike the
moors, this forest seemed quite wholesome. And though they knew that they
were still in the wild lands, they felt safe enough to stretch out the road
to the city and enjoy, for the first time since they had left Ten-Towns, a
leisurely walk.
They broke out of the forest by noon of the next day and covered the
last few miles to Silverymoon. Before sunset, they came over the final
climb, and looked down upon the River Rauvin and the countless spires of
the enchanted city.
They all felt the sensation of hope and relief when they glanced down
upon that magnificent sight, but none felt it more keenly than Drizzt
Do'Urden. The drow had hoped from the earliest planning of their adventure
that its path would take him through Silverymoon, though he had done
nothing to sway Bruenor's decision in choosing a course. Drizzt had heard
of Silverymoon after his arrival in Ten-Towns, and were it not for the fact
that he had found some measure of tolerance in the rugged frontier
community, he would have set back at once for the place. Reknowned for
their acceptance of all who came in search of knowledge, regardless of
race, the people of Silverymoon offered the renegade black elf a true
opportunity to find a home.
Many times he had considered traveling to the place, but something
within him, perhaps the fear of false hope and unfulfilled expectations,
kept him within the security of Icewind Dale. Thus, when the decision had
been made in Longsaddle that Silverymoon would be their next destination,
Drizzt had found himself squarely facing the fantasy he had never dared to
dream. Looking down now on his one hope for true acceptance in the surface
world, he courageously forced his apprehensions away.
"The Moonbridge," Bruenor remarked when a wagon below crossed the
Rauvin, seemingly floating in mid-air. Bruenor had heard of the invisible
structure as a boy, but had never seen it firsthand.
Wulfgar and Regis watched the spectacle of the flying wagon in blank
amazement. The barbarian had overcome many of his fear's of magic during
his stay in Longsaddle, and he was truly looking forward to exploring this
legendary city. Regis had been here once before, but his familiarity with
the place did nothing to lessen his excitement.
They approached the guard post on the Rauvin eagerly, despite their
weariness, the same post that Entreri's party had passed four days before,
with the same guards who had allowed the evil group to enter the city.
"Greetings," Bruenor offered in a tone that could be considered jovial
for the dour dwarf. "And know ye that the sight of yer fair city has
bringed new life into me weary heart!"
The guards hardly heard him, intent upon the drow, who had pulled back
his cowl. They seemed curious, for they had never actually seen a black
elf, but, they didn't appear too surprised by Drizzt's arrival.
"May we be escorted to the Moonbridge now?" Regis asked after a period
of silence that grew increasingly uncomfortable. "You cannot guess how
anxious we are to view Silverymoon. So much we have heard!"
Drizzt suspected what was forthcoming. An angry lump welled in his
throat.
"Go away," the guard said quietly. "You may not pass."
Bruenor's face reddened in rage, but Regis cut off his explosion.
"Surely we have done nothing to cause such a harsh judgement," the halfling
protested calmly. "We are simple travelers, seeking no trouble." His hand
went to his jacket, and to the hypnotic ruby, but a scowl from Drizzt
halted his plan.
"Your reputation seems to outweigh your actions," Wulfgar remarked to
the guards.
"I am sorry," replied one, "but I have my duties, and I see them
through."
"Us, or the drow?" Bruenor demanded.
"The drow," answered the guard. "The rest of you may go to the city,
but the drow may not pass."
Drizzt felt the walls of hope crumbling around him. His hands trembled
at his sides. Never before had he experienced such pain, for never before
had he come to a place without the expectation of rejection. Still, he
managed to sublimate his immediate anger and remind himself that this was
Bruenor's quest, not his own, for good or for ill.
"Ye dogs!" Bruenor cried. "Th' elf's worth a dozen of ye, and more! I
owe him me life a hundred times, and ye think to say that he's not good
enough for yer stinking city! How many trolls be layin' dead for the work
of yer sword?"
"Be calm, my friend," Drizzt interrupted, fully in control of himself.
"I expect as much. They cannot know Drizzt Do'Urden. Just the reputation of
my people. And they cannot be blamed. You go in, then. I will await your
return."
"No!" Bruenor declared in a tone that brooked no debate. "If ye can't
go in, then none of us will!"
"Think of our goal, stubborn dwarf," Drizzt scolded. "The Vault of
Sages is in the city. Perhaps our only hope."
"Bah!" Bruenor snorted. "To the Abyss with this cursed city and all who
live here! Sundabar sits less than a week's walking. Helm, the
dwarf-friend, will be more inviting, or I'm a bearded gnome!"
"You should enter," Wulfgar said. "Let not our anger defeat our
purpose. But I remain with Drizzt. Where he cannot go, Wulfgar, son of
Beornegar, refuses to go!"
But the determined stomps of Bruenor's stocky legs were already
carrying him down the road back out from the city. Regis shrugged at the
other two and started after, as loyal to the drow as any of them.
"Choose your camp as you wish, and without fear," the guard offered,
almost apologetically. "The Knights of Silver will not disturb you, nor
will they let any monsters near the borders of Silverymoon."
Drizzt nodded, for though the sting of the rejection had not
diminished, he understood that the guard had been helpless to change the
unfortunate situation. He started slowly away, the disturbing questions
that he had avoided for so many years already beginning to press in upon
him.
Wulfgar was not so forgiving. "You have wronged him," he said to the
guard when Drizzt moved away. "Never has he raised sword against any who
did not deserve it, and this world, yours and mine, is better off for
having Drizzt Do'Urden about!"
The guard looked away, unable to answer the justifiable scolding.
"And I question the honor of one who heeds to unjust commands," Wulfgar
declared.
The guard snapped an angry glare on the barbarian. "The Lady's reasons
are not asked," he answered, hand on sword hilt. He sympathized with the
anger of the travelers, but would accept no criticism of the Lady
Alustriel, his beloved leader. "Her commands follow a righteous course, and
are beyond the wisdom of me, or you!" he growled.
Wulfgar did not justify the threat with any show of concern. He turned
away and started down the road after his friends.
Bruenor purposely positioned their camp just a few hundred yards down
the Rauvin, in clear sight of the guard post. He had sensed the guard's
discomfort at turning them away and he wanted to play upon that guilt as
strongly as he could.
"Sundabar'll show us the way," he kept saying after they had supped,
trying to convince himself as much as the others that their failure at
Silverymoon would not hurt the quest. "And beyond that lies Citadel Adbar.
If any in all the Realms know of Mithril Hall, it be Harbromm and the
dwarves of Adbar!"
"A long way," Regis commented. "Summer may run out before we ever reach
the fortress of King Harbromm."
"Sundabar," Bruenor reiterated stubbornly. "And Adbar if we must!"
The two went back and forth with the conversation for a while. Wulfgar
didn't join in, too intent on the drow, who had moved a short distance away
from the camp right after the meal - which Drizzt had hardly touched and
stood silently staring at the city up the Rauvin.
Presently, Bruenor and Regis settled themselves off to sleep, angry
still, but secure enough in the safety of the camp to succumb to their
weariness. Wulfgar moved to join the drow.
"We shall find Mithril Hall," he offered in comfort, though he knew
that Drizzt's lament did not concern their current objective.
Drizzt nodded, but did not reply.
"Their rejection hurt you," Wulfgar observed. "I thought that you had
accepted your fate willingly. Why is this time so different?"
Again the drow made no move to answer.
Wulfgar respected his privacy. "Take heart, Drizzt Do'Urden, noble
ranger and trusted friend. Have faith that those who know you would die
willingly for you or beside you." He put a hand on Drizzt's shoulder as he
turned to leave.
Drizzt said nothing, though he truly appreciated Wulfgar's concern.
Their friendship had gone far beyond the need for spoken thanks, though,
and Wulfgar only hoped that he had given his friend some comfort as he
returned to the camp, leaving Drizzt to his thoughts.
The stars came out and, found the drow still standing alone beside the
Rauvin. Drizzt had made himself vulnerable for the first time since his
initial days on the surface, and the disappointment he now felt triggered
the same doubts that he had believed resolved years ago, before he had ever
left Menzoberranzan, the city of the black elves. How could he ever hope to
find any normalcy in the daylight world of the fair-skinned elves? In
Ten-Towns, where murderers and thieves often rose to positions of respect
and leadership, he was barely tolerated. In Longsaddle, where prejudice was
secondary to the fanatical curiosity of the unsinkable Harpells, he had
been placed on display like some mutated farm animal, mentally poked and
prodded. And though the wizards meant him no harm, they lacked any
compassion or respect for him as anything other than an oddity to be
observed.
Now Silverymoon, a city founded and structured on tenets of
individuality and fairness, where peoples of all races found welcome if
they came in goodwill, had shunned him. All races, it seemed, except for
the dark elves.
The inevitability of Drizzt's life as an outcast had never before been
so clearly laid out before him. No other city, not even a remote village,
in all the Realms could offer him a home, or an existence anywhere but on
the fringes of its civilization. The severe limitations of his options, and
even moreso, of his future hopes for change, appalled him.
He stood now under the stars, looking up at them with the same profound
level of love and awe as any of his surface cousins had ever felt, but
sincerely reconsidering his decision to leave the underworld.
Had he gone against a divine plan, crossed the boundaries of some
natural order? Perhaps he should have accepted his lot in life and remained
in the dark city, among his own kind.
A twinkle in the night sky brought him out of his introspection. A star
above him pulsed and grew, already beyond normal proportions. Its light
bathed the area around Drizzt in a soft glow, and still the star pulsed.
Then the enchanting light was gone, and standing before Drizzt was a
woman, her hair shining silver and her sparkling eyes holding years of
experience and wisdom within the luster of eternal youth. She was tall,
taller than Drizzt, and straight, wearing a gown of the finest silk and a
high crown of gold and gems.
She looked upon him with sincere sympathy, as if she could read his
every thought and understood completely the jumble of emotions that he
himself had yet to sort through.
"Peace, Drizzt Do'Urden," she said in a voice that chimed like sweet
music. "I am Alustriel, High Lady of Silverymoon."
Drizzt studied her more closely, though her manner and beauty left him
no doubts as to her claim. "You know of me?" he asked.
"Many by now have heard of the Companions of the Hall, for that is the
name Harkle Harpell has put upon your troupe. A dwarf in search of his
ancient home is not so rare in the Realms, but a drow elf walking beside
him certainly catches the notice of all those he passes."
She swallowed hard and looked deeply into his lavender eyes. "It was I
who denied you passage into the city," she admitted.
"Then why come to me now?" Drizzt asked, more in curiosity than in
anger, unable to reconcile that act of rejection with the person who now
stood before him. Alustriel's fairness and tolerance were well known
throughout the northland, though Drizzt had begun to wonder how exaggerated
the stories must be after his encounter at the guard post. But now that he
saw the high lady, wearing her honest compassion openly, he could not
disbelieve the tales.
"I felt I must explain," she replied.
"You need not justify your decision."
"But I must," said Alustriel. "For myself and my home as much as for
you. The rejection has hurt you more than you admit." She moved closer to
him.
"It pained me as well," she said softly.
"Then why?" Drizzt demanded, his anger slipping through his calm
facade. "If you know of me, then you know as well that I carry no threat to
your people."
She ran her cool hand across his cheek. "Perceptions," she explained.
"There are elements at work in the north that make perceptions vital at
this time, sometimes even overruling what is just. A sacrifice has been
