to the depths of the world was the loss of the ability to ponder the
spirituality of existence simply for the sake of thought.
The crystalline sheen of the Mirar gradually dulled as the lightening
dawn dimmed the stars. It came as an unspoken disappointment to the friends
as they set their camp in a sheltered spot near the banks of the river.
"Be knowin' that nights like that are few," Bruenor observed as the
first ray of light crept over the eastern horizon. A glimmer edged his eye,
a hint of the wondrous fantasizing that the normally practical dwarf rarely
enjoyed.
Drizzt noted the dwarf's dreamy glow and thought of the nights that he
and Bruenor had spent on Bruenor's Climb, their special meeting place, back
in the dwarf's valley in Ten-Towns. "Too few," he agreed.
With a resigned sigh, they set to work, Drizzt and Wulfgar starting
breakfast while Bruenor and Regis examined the map they had obtained in
Luskan.
For all of his grumbling and teasing about the halfling, Bruenor had
pressured him to come along for a very definite reason, aside from their
friendship, and though the dwarf had masked his emotions well, he was truly
overjoyed when Regis had come up huffing and puffing on the road out of
Ten-Towns in a last-minute plea to join the quest.
Regis knew the land south of the Spine of the World better than any of
them. Bruenor himself hadn't been out of Icewind Dale in nearly two
centuries, and then he had been just an unbearded dwarf-child. Wulfgar had
never left the dale, and Drizzt's only trek across the world's surface had
been a nighttime adventure, skipping from shadow to shadow and avoiding
many of the places the companions would need to search out, if they were
ever to find Mithril Hall.
Regis ran his fingers across the map, excitedly recalling to Bruenor
his experiences in each of the places listed, particularly Mirabar, the
mining city of great wealth to the north, and Waterdeep, true to its name
as the City of Splendors, down the coast to the south.
Bruenor slipped his finger across the map, studying the physical
features of the terrain. "Mirabar'd be more to me liking," he said at
length, tapping the mark of the city tucked within the southern slopes of
the Spine of the World. "Mithril Hall's in mountains, that much I know, and
not aside the sea."
Regis considered the dwarf's observations for just a moment, then
plunked his finger down on yet another spot, by the scale of the map a
hundred miles and more inland from Luskan. "Longsaddle," he said. "Halfway
to Silverymoon, and halfway between Mirabar and Waterdeep. A good place to
search out our course."
"A city?" Bruenor asked, for the mark on the map was no more than a
small black dot.
"A village," Regis corrected. "There are not many people there, but a
family of wizards, the Harpells, have lived there for many years and know
the northland as well as any. They would be happy to help us."
Bruenor scratched his chin and nodded. "A fair hike. What might we be
seeing along the way?"
"The crags," Regis admitted, a bit disheartened as he remembered the
place. "Wild and orc-filled. I wish we had another road, but Longsaddle
still seems the best choice."
"All roads in the north hold danger," Bruenor reminded him.
They continued their scrutiny of the map, Regis recalling more and more
as they went. A series of unusual and unidentified markings - three in
particular, running in an almost straight line due east of Luskan to the
river network south of Lurkwood - caught Bruenor's eye.
"Ancestral mounds," Regis explained. "Holy places of the Uthgardt."
"Uthgardt?"
"Barbarians," answered Regis grimly. "Like those in the dale. More wise
to the ways of civilization, perhaps, but no less fierce. Their separate
tribes are all about the northland, wandering the wilds.
Bruenor groaned in understanding of the halfling's dismay, all too
familiar himself with the savage ways and fighting prowess of barbarians.
Orcs would prove much less formidable foes.
By the time the two had finished their discussion, Drizzt was
stretching out in the cool shade of a tree overhanging the river and
Wulfgar was halfway through his third helping of breakfast.
"Yer jaw still dances for food, I see!" Bruenor called as he noted the
meager portions left on the skillet.
"A night filled with adventure," Wulfgar replied gaily, and his friends
were glad to observe that the brawl had apparently left no scars upon his
attitude. "A fine meal and a fine sleep, and I shall be ready for the road
once more!"
"Well don't ye get too comfortable yet!" Bruenor ordered. "Ye've a
third of a watch to keep this day!"
Regis looked about, perplexed, always quick to recognize an increase in
his workload. "A third?" he asked. "Why not a fourth?"
"The elf's eyes are for the night," Bruenor explained. "Let him be
ready to find our way when the day's flown."
"And where is our way?" Drizzt asked from his mossy bed. "Have you come
to a decision for our next destination?"
"Longsaddle," Regis replied. "Two hundred miles east and south, around
Neverwinter Wood and across the crags."
"The name is unknown to me," Drizzt replied.
"Home of the Harpells," Regis explained. "A family of wizards reknowned
for their good-natured hospitality. I spent some time there on my way to
Ten-Towns."
Wulfgar balked at the idea. The barbarians of Icewind Dale despised
wizards, considering the black arts a power employed only by cowards. "I
have no desire to view this place," he stated flatly.
"Who asked ye?" growled Bruenor, and Wulfgar found himself backing down
from his resolve, like a son refusing to hold a stubborn argument in the
face of a scolding by his father.
"You will enjoy Longsaddle," Regis assured him. "The Harpells have
truly earned their hospitable reputation, and the wonders of Longsaddle
will show you a side of magic you never expected. They will even accept...
" He found his hand involuntarily pointing to Drizzt, and he cut short the
statement in embarrassment.
But the stoic drow just smiled. "Fear not, my friend," he consoled
Regis. "Your words ring of truth, and I have come to accept my station in
your world." He paused and looked individually into each uncomfortable
stare that was upon him. "I know my friends, and I dismiss my enemies," he
stated with a finality that dismissed their worries.
"With a blade, ye do," Bruenor added with a soft chuckle, though
Drizzt's keen ears caught the whisper.
"If I must," the drow agreed, smiling. Then he rolled over to get some
sleep, fully trusting in his friends' abilities to keep him safe.
They passed a lazy day in the shade beside the river. Late in the
afternoon, Drizzt and Bruenor ate a meal and discussed their course,
leaving Wulfgar and Regis soundly asleep, at least until they had eaten
their own fill.
"We'll stay with the river for a night more," Brueror said. "Then
southeast across the open ground. That'd clear us of the wood and lay open
a straight path 'fore us."
"Perhaps it would be better if we traveled only by night for a few
days," Drizzt suggested. "We know not what eyes follow us out of the City
of Sails."
"Agreed," replied Bruenor. "Let's be off, then. A long road before us,
and a longer one after that!"
"Too long," murmured Regis, opening a lazy eye.
Bruenor shot him a dangerous glare. He was nervous about this trek and
about bringing his friends on a dangerous road, and in an emotional
defense, he took all complaints about the adventure personally.
"To walk, I mean," Regis quickly explained. "There are farmhouses in
this area, so there must be some horses about."
"Horses'd bring too a high price in these parts," replied Bruenor.
"Maybe . . . " said the halfling slyly, and his friends could easily
guess what he was thinking. Their frowns reflected a general disapproval.
"The crags stand before us!" Regis argued. "Horses might outrun orcs,
but without them, we shall surely fight for every mile of our hike!
Besides, it would only be a loan. We could return the beasts when we were
through with them."
Drizzt and Bruenor did not approve of the halfling's proposed trickery,
but could not refute his logic. Horses would certainly aid them at this
point of the journey.
"Wake the boy," Bruenor growled.
"And about my plan?" asked Regis.
"We'll make the choice when we find the opportunity!"
Regis was contented, confident that his friends would opt for the
horses. He ate his fill, then scraped together the supper's meager remnants
and went to wake Wulfgar.
They were on the trail again soon after, and a short time after that,
they saw the lights of a small settlement in the distance.
"Take us there," Bruenor told Drizzt. "Mighten be that Rumblebelly's
plan's worth a try."
Wulfgar, having missed the conversation at the camp, didn't understand,
but offered no argument, or even questioned the dwarf. After the disaster
at the Cutlass, he had resigned himself to a more passive role on the trip,
letting the other three decide which trails they were to take. He would
follow without complaint, keeping his hammer ready for when it became
needed.
They moved inland away from the river for a few miles, then came upon
several farms clustered together inside a stout wooden fence.
"There are dogs about," Drizzt noted, sensing them with his exceptional
hearing.
"Then Rumblebelly goes in alone," said Bruenor.
Wulfgar's face twisted in confusion, especially since the halfling's
look indicated that he wasn't thrilled with the idea. "That I cannot
allow," the barbarian spouted. "If any among us needs protection, it is the
little one. I'll not hide here in the dark while he walks alone into
danger!"
"He goes in alone," Bruenor said again. "We're here for no fight, boy.
Rumblebelly's to get us some horses."
Regis smiled helplessly, caught fully in, the trap that Bruenor had
clearly set for him. Bruenor would allow him to appropriate the horses, as
Regis had insisted, but with the grudging permission came a measure of
responsibility and bravery on his part. It was the dwarf's way, of
absolving himself of involvement in the trickery.
Wulfgar remained steadfast in his determination to stand by the
halfling, but Regis knew that the young warrior might inadvertently cause
him problems in such delicate negotiations. "You stay with the others," he
explained to the barbarian. "I can handle this deal alone."
Mustering up his nerve, he pulled his belt over the hang of his belly
and strode off toward the small settlement.
The threatening snarls of several dogs greeted him as he approached the
fence's gate. He considered turning back - the ruby pendant probably
wouldn't do him much good against vicious dogs - but then he saw the
silhouette of a man leave one of the farmhouses and start his way.
"What do you want?" the farmer demanded, standing defiantly on the
other side of the gate and clutching an antique pole arm, probably passed
down through his family's generations.
"I am but a weary traveler," Regis started to explain, trying to appear
as pitiful as he could. It was a tale the farmer had heard far too often.
"Go away!" he ordered.
"But - "
"Get you gone!"
Over a ridge some distance away, the three companions watched the
confrontation, though only Drizzt viewed the scene in the dim light well
enough to understand what was happening. The drow could see the tenseness
in the farmer by the way he gripped the halberd, and could judge the deep
resolve in the man's demands by the unbending scowl upon his face.
But then Regis pulled something out from under his jacket, and the
farmer relaxed his grip upon the weapon almost immediately. A moment later,
the gate swung open and Regis walked in.
The friends waited anxiously for several grueling hours with no further
sign of Regis. They considered confronting the farmers themselves, worried
that some foul treachery had befallen the halfling. Then finally, with the
moon well past its peak, Regis emerged from the gate, leading two horses
and two ponies. The farmers and their families waved good-bye to him as he
left, making him promise to stop and visit if he ever passed their way
again.
"Amazing," laughed Drizzt. Bruenor and Wulfgar just shook their heads
in disbelief.
For the first time since he had entered the settlement, Regis pondered
that his delay might have caused his friends some distress. The farmer had
insisted that he join in for supper before they sat down to discuss
whatever business he had come about, and since Regis had to be polite (and
since he had only eaten one supper that day) he agreed, though he kept the
meal as short as possible and politely declined, when offered his fourth
helping. Getting the horses proved easy enough after that. All he had to do
was promise to leave them with the wizards in Longsaddle when he and his
friends moved on from there.
Regis felt certain that his friends could not stay mad at him for very
long. He had kept them waiting and worrying for half the night, but his
