Drizzt - 12 - The Spine of the World

by R. A. Salvatore

  "Well thrown," Morik commented.

  "I have had practice," explained Wulfgar, thundering past the dazed guard to leap into the room.

  Meralda sat up on the bed, sobbing, while Lord Feringal and his sister stood by the open window, the babe in Feringal's arms. He was leaning toward the opening as if he meant to throw the child out. Both siblings and Meralda turned stunned expressions Wulfgar's way, and their eyes widened even more when Morik crashed in behind the barbarian.

  "Lord Brandeburg!" Feringal cried.

  Lady Priscilla shouted at her brother, "Do it now, before they ruin every-"

  "The child is mine!" Wulfgar declared. Priscilla bit off the end of her sentence in surprise. Feringal froze as if turned to stone.

  "What?" the young lord gasped.

  "What?" Lady Priscilla gasped.

  "What?" gasped Morik, at the same time.

  "What?" gasped Meralda, quietly, and she coughed quickly to cover her surprise.

  "The child is mine," Wulfgar repeated firmly, "and if you throw her out the window, then you shall follow so quickly that you'll pass her by and your broken body will pad her fall."

  "You are so eloquent in emergencies," Morik remarked. To Lord Feringal, he added, "The window is small, yes, but I'll wager that my big friend can squeeze you through it. And your plump sister, as well."

  "You can't be the father," Lord Feringal declared, trembling so violently that it seemed as if his legs would just buckle beneath him. He looked to Priscilla for an answer, to his sister who was always hovering above him with all of the answers. "What trick is this?"

  "Give it to me!" Priscilla demanded. Taking advantage of her brother's paralyzing confusion, she moved quickly and tore the child from Feringal's grasp. Meralda cried out, the baby cried, and Wulfgar started forward, knowing that he could never get there in time, knowing that the innocent was surely doomed.

  Even as Priscilla turned for the window, her brother leaped before her and slugged her in the face. Stunned, she staggered back a step. Feringal snatched the child from her arms and shoved her again, sending his sister stumbling to the floor.

  Wulfgar eyed the man for a long and telling moment, understanding then beyond any doubt that despite his obvious anger and revulsion, Feringal would not hurt the child. The barbarian strode across the room, secure in his observations, confident that the young man would take no action against the babe.

  "The child is mine," the barbarian said with a growl, reaching over to gently pull the wailing baby from Feringal's weakening grasp. "I meant to wait another month before returning," he explained, turning to face Meralda. "But it's good you delivered early. A child of mine come to full term would likely have killed you in birthing."

  "Wulfgar!" Morik cried suddenly.

  Lord Feringal, apparently recovering some of his nerve and most of his rage, produced a dagger from his belt and came in hard at the barbarian. Morik needn't have worried, though, for Wulfgar heard the movement. Lifting the babe high with one arm to keep her from harm's way, he spun and slapped the dagger aside with his free hand. As Feringal came in close, Wulfgar brought his knee up hard into the man's groin. Down Lord Feringal went, curling into a mewling heap on the floor.

  "I think my large friend can make it so that you never have children of your own," Morik remarked with a wink to Meralda.

  Meralda didn't even hear the words, staring dumbfounded at Wulfgar, at the child he had proclaimed as his own.

  "For my actions on the road, I truly apologize, Lady Meralda," the barbarian said, and he was playing to a full audience now, as Liam Woodgate, Steward Temigast and the remaining half dozen castle guards appeared at the door, staring in wide-eyed disbelief. On the floor before Wulfgar, Lady Priscilla looked up at him, confusion and unbridled anger simmering in her eyes.

  "It was the bottle and your beauty that took me," Wulfgar explained. He turned his attention to the child, his smile wide as he lifted the infant girl into the air for his sparkling blue eyes to behold. "But I'll not apologize for the result of that crime," he said. "Never that."

  "I will kill you," Lord Feringal growled, struggling to his knees. Wulfgar reached down with one hand and grabbed him by the collar. Helping him up with a powerful jerk, he spun the lord around into a choke hold. "You will forget me, and the child," Wulfgar whispered into his ear. "Else the combined tribes of Icewind Dale will sack you and your wretched little village."

  Wulfgar pushed the young lord, spinning him into Morik's waiting grasp. Staring at Liam and the other dangerous guards, the rogue wasted no time in putting a sharp dagger to the man's throat.

  "Secure us supplies for the road," Wulfgar instructed. "We need wrappings and food for the babe." Everyone in the room, save Wulfgar and the baby, wore incredulous expressions. "Do it!" the barbarian roared. Frowning, Morik pushed toward the door with Lord Feringal, waving a scrambling Priscilla out ahead of him.

  "Fetch!" the rogue instructed Liam and Priscilla. He glanced back and saw Wulfgar moving toward Meralda then, so he pushed out even further, backing them all away.

  "What made you do such a thing?" Meralda asked when she was alone with Wulfgar and the child.

  "Your problem was not hard to discern," Wulfgar explained.

  "I falsely accused you."

  "Understandably so," Wulfgar replied. "You were trapped and scared, but in the end you risked everything to free me from prison. I could not let that deed go unpaid." Meralda shook her head, too overwhelmed to even begin to sort this out. So many thoughts and emotions whirled in her mind. She had seen the look of despair on Feringal's face, had thought he would, indeed, drop the baby to the rocks. Yet, in the end he hadn't been able to do it, hadn't let his sister do it. She did love this man-how could she not? And yet, she could hardly deny her unexpected feelings for her child, though she knew that never, ever, could she keep her.

  "I am taking the babe far from here," Wulfgar said determinedly, as if he had read her mind.

  "You are welcome to come with us."

  Meralda laughed softly, without humor, because she knew she would be crying soon enough.

  "I can't," she explained, her voice a whisper. "I've a duty to my husband, if he'll still have me, and to my family. My folks would be branded if I went with you."

  "Duty? Is that the only reason you're staying?" Wulfgar asked her, apparently sensing something more.

  "I love him, you know," Meralda replied, tears streaming down her beautiful face. "I know what you must think of me, but truly, the babe was made before I ever-" Wulfgar held up his hand. "You owe me no explanation," he said, "for I am hardly in a position to judge you or anyone else. I came to understand your . . . problem, and so I returned to repay your generosity, that is all." He looked to the door through which Morik held Lord Feringal. "He does love you," he said. "His eyes and the depth of his pain showed that clearly."

  "You think I'm right in staying?"

  Wulfgar shrugged, again refusing to offer any judgments.

  "I can't leave him," Meralda said, and she reached up and tenderly stroked the child's face,

  "but I cannot keep her, either. Feringal would never accept her," she admitted, her tone empty and hollow, for she realized her time with her daughter was nearing its end. "But perhaps he'd give her over to another family in Auckney now that he's thinking I didn't betray him," she suggested faintly.

  "A reminder to him of his pain, and to you of your lie," Wulfgar said softly, not accusing the woman, but surely reminding her of the truth. "And within the reach of his shrewish sister." Meralda lowered her gaze and accepted the bitter truth. The baby was not safe in Auckney.

  "Who better to raise her than me?" Wulfgar asked suddenly, resolve in his voice. He looked down at the little girl, and his mouth turned up into a warm smile.

  "You'd do that?"

  Wulfgar nodded. "Happily."

  "You'd keep her safe?" Meralda pressed. "Tell her of her ma?" Wulfgar nodded. "I don't know where my road now leads," he explained, "bu
t I suspect I'll not venture too far from here. Perhaps someday I will return, or at least she will, to glimpse her ma."

  Meralda was shaking with sobs, her face gleaming with tears. Wulfgar glanced to the doorway to make sure that he was not being watched, then bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "I think it best," he said quietly. "Do you agree?" After she studied the man for a moment, this man who had risked everything to save her and her child though they had done nothing to deserve his heroism, Meralda nodded. The tears continued to flow freely. Wulfgar could appreciate the pain she was feeling, the depth of her sacrifice. He leaned in, allowing Meralda to stroke and kiss her baby girl one last time, but when she moved to take her away, Wulfgar pulled back. Meralda's smile of understanding was bittersweet.

  "Fairwell, little one," she said through her sobs and looked away. Wulfgar bowed to Meralda one last time, then, with the baby cradled in his big arms, he turned and left the room. He found Morik in the hallway, barking commands for plenty of food and clothing-and gold, for they'd need gold to properly situate the child in warm and comfortable inns. Barbarian, baby, and thief, made their way through the castle, and no one made a move to stop them. It seemed as if Lord Feringal had cleared their path, wanting the two thieves and the bastard child out of his castle and out of his life as swiftly as possible.

  Priscilla, however, was a different issue. They ran into her on the first floor, where she came up to Wulfgar and tried to take the baby, glaring at him defiantly all the while. The barbarian held her at bay, his expression making it clear that he would break her in half if she tried to harm the child. Priscilla huffed her disgust, threw a thick wool wrap at him, and with a final growl of protest, turned on her heel.

  "Stupid cow," Morik muttered under his breath.

  Chuckling, Wulfgar tenderly wrapped the baby in the warm blanket, finally silencing her crying. Outside, the daylight was fast on the wane, but the storm had faded, the last clouds breaking apart and rushing across the sky on swift winds. The gate was lowered. Across the bridge they saw Steward Temigast waiting for them with a pair of horses, Lord Feringal at his side.

  Feringal stood staring at Wulfgar and the baby for a long moment. "If you ever come back . .

  ." he started to say.

  "Why would I?" the barbarian interrupted. "I have my child now, and she will grow up to be a queen in Icewind Dale. Entertain no thoughts of coming after me, Lord Feringal, to the ruin of all your world."

  "Why would I?" Feringal returned in the same grim tone, facing up to Wulfgar boldly. "I have my wife, my beautiful wife. My innocent wife, who gives herself to me willingly. I do not have to force myself upon her."

  That last statement, a recapture of some measure of manly pride, told Wulfgar that Feringal had forgiven Meralda, or that he soon enough would. Wulfgar's desperate, unconsidered and purely improvised plan had somehow, miraculously, worked. He bit back any semblance of a chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, let Feringal have his needed moment. He didn't even blink as the lord of Auckney composed himself, squared his shoulders, and walked back across the bridge through the lowered gate to his home and his wife.

  Steward Temigast handed the reins to the pair. "She isn't yours," the steward said unexpectedly. Starting to pull himself and the babe up into the saddle, Wulfgar pretended not to hear him.

  "Fear not, for I'll not tell, nor will Meralda, whose life you have truly saved this day," the steward went on. "You are a fine man, Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, of the Tribe of the Elk of Icewind Dale." Wulfgar blinked in amazement, both at the compliment and at the simple fact that the man knew so much of him.

  "The wizard who caught you told him," Morik reasoned. "I hate wizards."

  "There will be no pursuit," said Temigast. "On my word." And that word held true, for Morik and Wulfgar rode without incident back to the overhang, where they retrieved their own horses, then continued down the east road and out of Auckney for good.

  "What is it?" Wulfgar asked Morik later that night, seeing the rogue's amused expression. They were huddled about a blazing fire, keeping the child warm. Morik smiled and held up a pair of bottles, one with warm goat's milk for the child, the other with their favored potent drink. Wulfgar took the one with the goat's milk.

  "I will never understand you, my friend," Morik remarked.

  Wulfgar smiled, but did not respond. Morik could never truly know of Wulfgar's past, of the good times with Drizzt and the others, and of the very worst times with Errtu and the offspring of his stolen seed.

  "There are easier ways to make gold," Morik remarked, and that brought Wulfgar's steely gaze over him. "You mean to sell the child, of course," Morik reasoned. Wulfgar scoffed.

  "A fine price," Morik argued, taking a healthy swig from the bottle.

  "Not fine enough," said Wulfgar, turning back to the babe. The little girl wriggled and cooed.

  "You cannot plan to keep her!" Morik argued. "What place has she with us? With you, wherever you plan to go? Have you lost all sensibility?"

  Scowling, Wulfgar spun on him, slapped the bottle from his hands, then shoved him back to the ground, as determined an answer as Morik the Rogue had ever heard.

  "She's not even yours!" Morik reminded him.

  The rogue could not have been more wrong.

  Epilogue

  Morik looked at Wulfgar's disguise one more time and sighed helplessly. There was only so much one could do to change the appearance of a nearly seven-foot-tall, three hundred pound, blond-haired barbarian.

  Wulfgar was clean shaven again for the first time since his return from the Abyss. Morik had taught him to walk in a way that would somewhat lessen his height, with shoulders drooped but arms crooked so that they did not hang to his knees. Also, Morik had procured a large brown robe such as a priest might wear, with a bunched collar that allowed Wulfgar to scrunch down his neck without being obvious about it.

  Still, the rogue was not entirely happy with the disguise, not when so much was riding on it.

  "You should wait out here," he offered, for perhaps the tenth time since Wulfgar had told him his wishes.

  "No," Wulfgar said evenly. "They would not come at your word alone. This is something I must do."

  "Get us both killed?" the rogue asked sarcastically.

  "Lead on," Wulfgar said, ignoring him. When Morik tried to argue, the barbarian slapped a hand over the smaller man's mouth and turned him around to face the distant city gate. With one last sigh and a shake of his head, Morik led the way back into Luskan. To the great relief of both of them, for Wulfgar surely did not wish to be discovered while carrying the baby, they were not recognized, were not detained at all, but merely strode into the city where the spring festival was on in full.

  They had come in late in the day by design. Wulfgar went straight to Half-Moon Street, arriving at the Cutlass as one of the evening's first patrons. He moved to the bar, right beside Josi Puddles.

  "What're ye drinking?" Arumn Gardpeck asked, but the question caught in his throat and his eyes went wide as he looked more carefully at the big man. "Wulfgar," he gasped. Behind the barbarian a tray dropped, and Wulfgar turned to see Delly Curtie standing there, stunned. Josi Puddles gave a squeal and leaned away.

  "Well met, Arumn," Wulfgar said to the tavernkeeper. "I drink only water."

  "What're ye doing here?" the tavernkeeper gasped, suspicious and more than a little fearful. Josi hopped off his stool and started for the door, but Wulfgar caught him by the arm and held him in place. "I came to apologize," the barbarian offered. "To you, and to you," he added, turning to Josi.

  "Ye tried to kill me," Josi sputtered.

  "I was blind with anger, and likely drink," Wulfgar replied.

  "He took yer hammer," Arumn reminded.

  "Out of rightful fear that I would use it against you," the barbarian answered. "He acted as a friend, which is much more than I can say for Wulfgar."

  Arumn shook his head, hardly believing any of this. Wulfgar released Josi, but the man made no
move to continue for the door, just stood there, dumbfounded.

  "You took me in, gave me food, a paying job, and friendship when I needed it most," Wulfgar continued to Arumn alone. "I wronged you, terribly so, and can only hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

  "Are ye looking to live here again?" Arumn asked.

  Wulfgar smiled sadly and shook his head. "I risk my life by even entering the city," he replied. "I'll be gone within the hour, but I had to come, to apologize to you two, and mostly," he turned about, facing Delly, "to you."

  Delly Curtie blanched as Wulfgar approached, as if she didn't know how to react to the man's words, to the mere sight of him again.

  "I am most humbly sorry for any pain that I ever caused you, Delly," he said. "You were as true a friend as any man could ever have desired.

  "More than a friend," Wulfgar quickly added, seeing her frown. Delly eyed the bundle in his arms. "Ye've a little one," the woman said, her voice thick with emotion.

  "Mine by chance and not by heritage," Wulfgar replied. He handed the little girl over to her. Delly took her, smiling tenderly, playing with the child's fingers and bringing a smile to that innocent little face.

  "I wish ye might be stayin' again," Arumn offered, and he sounded sincere, though Josi's eyes widened in doubt at the mere mention.

  "I cannot," Wulfgar replied. Smiling at Delly, he leaned over and took the babe back, then kissed Delly on the forehead. "I pray you find all the happiness you deserve, Delly Curtie," he said, and with a look and a nod at Arumn and Josi, he started for the door. Delly, too, looked hard at Arumn, so much her father. The man understood and nodded once again. She caught up to Wulfgar before he reached the exit.

  "Take me with ye," she said, her eyes sparkling with hope-something few had seen from the woman in a long, long time.

  Wulfgar looked puzzled. "I did not return to rescue you," he explained.