Sea of Swords pod-4

by Robert Salvatore

  “I know of one girl who grew quite strong and true up there,” the indomitable Delly Curtie pressed.

  Wulfgar glanced all around, seeming angry and tense, and Delly knew that she had put him into a box here. Given his increasingly surly expression, she had to wonder if that was a good thing, and was about to suggest that they stay in Waterdeep for the foreseeable future just to let him out of the trap.

  But then Wulfgar admitted the truth, bluntly. “I will not return to Icewind Dale. That is who I was, not who I am, and I have no desire to ever see the place again. Let the tribes of my people find their way without me.”

  “Let yer friends find their way without ye, even when they're trying to find their way to help ye?”

  Wulfgar stared at her for a long moment, grinding his teeth at her accusatory words. He turned and pulled off his shirt, as if the matter was settled, but Delly Curtie could not be put in her place so easily.

  “And ye speak of honest work,” she said after him, and though he didn't turn back, he did stop walking away. “Honest work like hunting pirates with Captain Deudermont? He'd give ye a fine pay, no doubt, and get ye yer hammer in the meantime.”

  Wulfgar turned slowly, ominously. “Aegis-fang is not mine,” he announced, and Delly had to chew on her bottom lip so she didn't scream out at him. “It belonged to a man who is dead, to a warrior who is no more.”

  “Ye canno' be meaning that!” Delly exclaimed, moving right up to grab him in a hug.

  But Wulfgar pushed her back to arms' length and answered her denial with an uncompromising glare.

  “Do ye not even wish to find Drizzt and Catti-brie to offer yer' thanks for their saving me and yer baby girl?” the woman, obviously wounded, asked. “Or is that no big matter to ye?”

  Wulfgar's expression softened, and he brought Delly in and hugged her tightly. “It is everything to me,” he whispered into her ear. “Everything. And if I ever cross paths with Drizzt and Catti-brie again, I will offer my thanks. But I'll not go to find them—there is no need. They know how I feel.”

  Delly Curtie just let herself enjoy the hug and let the conversation end there. She knew that Wulfgar was kidding himself, though. There was no way Drizzt and Catti-brie could know how he truly felt.

  How could they, when Wulfgar didn't even know?

  Delly didn't know her place here, to push the warrior back to his roots or to allow him this new identity he was apparently trying on. Would the return to who he once was break him in the process, or would he forever be haunted by that intimidating and heroic past if he settled into a more mundane life as a blacksmith?

  Delly Curtie had no answers.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  A foul mood followed Wulfgar throughout the next few days. He took his comfort with Delly and Colson, using them as armor against the emotional turmoil that now roiled within him, but he could plainly see that even Delly was growing frustrated with him. More than once, the woman suggested that perhaps he should convince Deudermont to take him with Sea Sprite when they put out for the south, an imminent event.

  Wulfgar understood those suggestions for what they were: frustration on the part of poor Delly, who had to listen to his constant grumbling, who had to sit by and watch him get torn apart by emotions he could not control.

  He went out of the house often those few days and even managed to find some work with one of the many blacksmiths operating in Waterdeep.

  He was at that job on the day Sea Sprite sailed.

  He was at that job the day after that when a very unexpected visitor walked in to see him.

  “Putting those enormous muscles of yours to work, I see,” said Robillard the wizard.

  Wulfgar looked at the man incredulously, his expression shifting from surprise to suspicion. He gripped the large hammer he had been using tightly as he stood and considered the visitor, ready to throw the tool right through this one's face if he began any sort of spellcasting. For Wulfgar knew that Sea Sprite was long out of dock, and he knew, too, that Robillard was well enough known among the rabble of the pirate culture for other wizards to use magic to impersonate him. Given the previous attack on Deudermont's house, the barbarian wasn't about to take any chances.

  “It is me, Wulfgar,” Robillard said with a chuckle, obviously recognizing every doubt on the barbarian's face. “I will rejoin the captain and crew in a couple of days—a minor spell, really, to teleport me to a place I have set up on the ship for just such occasions.”

  “You have never done that before, to my knowledge,” Wulfgar remarked, his suspicions holding strong, his grip as tight as ever on the hammer.

  “Never before have I had to play nursemaid to a confused barbarian,” Robillard countered.

  “Here now,” came a gruff voice. A grizzled man walked in, all girth and hair and beard, his skin as dark as his hair from all the soot. “What're ye looking to buy or get fixed?”

  “I am looking to speak with Wulfgar, and nothing more,” Robillard said curtly.

  The blacksmith spat on the floor, then wiped a dirty cloth across his mouth. “I ain't paying him to talk,” he said. “I'm paying him to work!”

  “We shall see,” the wizard replied. He turned back to Wulfgar but the blacksmith stormed over, poking a finger the wizard's way and reiterating his point.

  Robillard turned his bored expression toward Wulfgar, and the barbarian understood that if he did not calm his often-angry boss, he might soon be self-employed. He patted the blacksmith's shoulders gently, and with strength that mocked even that of the lifelong smith, Wulfgar guided the man away.

  When Wulfgar returned to Robillard, his face was a mask of anger. “What do you want, wizard?” he asked gruffly. “Have you come here to taunt me? To inform me of how much better off Sea Sprite is with me here on land?”

  “Hmm,” said Robillard, scratching at his chin. “There is truth in that, I suppose.”

  Wulfgar's crystal-blue eyes narrowed threateningly.

  “But no, my large, foolish. . whatever you are,” Robillard remarked, and if he was the least bit nervous about Wulfgar's dangerous posture, he didn't show it one bit. “I came here, I suppose, because I am possessed of a tender heart.”

  “Well hidden.”

  “Purposely so,” the wizard replied without hesitation. “So tell me, are you planning to spend the entirety of the winter at Deudermont's house, working. . here?” He finished the question with a derisive snort.

  “Would you be pleased if I left the captain's house?” Wulfgar asked in reply. “Do you have plans for the house? Because if you do, then I will gladly leave, and at once.”

  “Calm down, angry giant,” Robillard said in purely condescending tones. “I have no plans for the house, for as I already told you I will be rejoining Sea Sprite very soon, and I have no family to speak of left on shore. You should pay better attention.”

  “Then you simply want me out,” Wulfgar concluded. “Out of the house and out of Deudermont's life.”

  “That is a completely different point,” Robillard dryly responded. “Have I said that I want you out, or have I asked if you plan to stay?”

  Tired of the word games, and tired of Robillard all together, Wulfgar gave a little growl and went back to his work, banging away on the metal with his heavy hammer. “The captain told me that I could stay,” he said. “And so I plan to stay until I have earned enough coin to purchase living quarters of my own. I would leave now—I plan to hold no debts to any man—except that I have Delly and Colson to look after.”

  “Got that backward,” Robillard muttered under his breath, but loud enough—and Wulfgar knew, intentionally so—so that Wulfgar could hear.

  “Wonderful plan,” the wizard said more loudly. “And you will execute it while your former friends run off, and perhaps get themselves killed, trying to retrieve the magical warhammer that you were too stupid to hold onto. Brilliant, young Wulfgar!”

  Wulfgar stood up straight from his work, the hammer falling from his hand, his
jaw dropping open in astonishment.

  “It is the truth, is it not?” the unshakable wizard calmly asked.

  Wulfgar started to respond, but had no practical words to use as armor against the brutal and straightforward attack. However he might parse his response, however he might speak the words to make himself feel better, the simple fact was that Robillard's observations were correct.

  “I can not change that which has happened,” the defeated barbarian said as he bent to retrieve his hammer.

  “But you can work to right the wrongs you have committed,” Robillard pointed out. “Who are you, Wulfgar of Icewind Dale? And more importantly, who do you wish to be?”

  There was nothing friendly in Robillard's sharp tone or in his stiff and hawkish posture, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest, his expression one of absolute superiority. But still, the mere fact that the wizard was showing any interest in Wulfgar's plight at all came as a surprise to the barbarian. He had thought, and not without reason, that Robillard's only concern regarding him was to keep him off Sea Sprite.

  Wulfgar's angry stare at Robillard gradually eased into a self-deprecating chuckle. “I am who you see before you,” he said, and he presented himself with his arms wide, his leather smithy apron prominently displayed. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “A man who lives a lie will soon enough be consumed by it,” Robillard remarked.

  Wulfgar's smile became a sudden scowl.

  “Wulfgar the smith?” Robillard asked skeptically, and he gave a snort. “You are no laborer, and you fool yourself if you think that this newest pursuit will allow you to hide from the truth. You were born a warrior, bred and trained a warrior, and have ever relished that calling. How many times has Wulfgar charged into battle, the song of Tempus on his lips?”

  “Tempus,” Wulfgar said with disdain. “Tempus deserted me.”

  “Tempus was with you, and your faith in the code of the warrior sustained you through your trials,” Robillard strongly countered. “All of your trials.”

  “You can not know what I endured.”

  “I do not care what you endured,” Robillard replied. His claim, and the sheer power in his voice, surely had Wulfgar back on his heels. “I care only for that which I see before me now, a man living a lie and bringing pain to all around him and to himself because he hasn't the courage to face the truth of his own identity.”

  “A warrior?” Wulfgar asked doubtfully. “And yet it is Robillard who keeps me from that very pursuit. It is Robillard who bids Captain Deudermont to put me off Sea Sprite,”

  “You do not belong on Sea Sprite, of that I am certain,” the wizard calmly replied. “Not at this time, at least. Sea Sprite is no place for one who would charge ahead in pursuit of personal demons. We succeed because we each know our place against the pirates. But I know, too, that you do not belong here, working as a smith in a Waterdhavian shop. Take heed of my words here and now, Wulfgar of Icewind Dale. Your friends are walking into grave danger, and whether you admit it or not, they are doing so for your benefit. If you do not join with them now, or at least go and speak with them to alter their course, there will be consequences. If Drizzt Do'Urden and Catti-brie walk into peril in search of Aegis-fang, whatever the outcome, you will punish yourself for the rest of your life. Not for your stupidity in losing the hammer so much as your cowardice in refusing to join in with them.”

  The wizard ended abruptly and just stood staring at the barbarian, whose expression was blank as he digested the truth of the words.

  “They have been gone nearly a month,” Wulfgar said, his voice carrying far less conviction. “They could be anywhere.”

  “They passed through Luskan, to be sure,” Robillard replied. “I can have you there this very day, and from there, I have contacts to guide our pursuit.”

  “You will join in the hunt?”

  “For your former friends, yes,” Robillard answered. “For Aegis-fang? We shall see, but it hardly seems my affair.”

  Wulfgar looked as if a gentle breeze could blow him right over. He rocked back and forth, from foot to foot, staring blankly.

  “Do not refuse this opportunity,” Robillard warned. “It is your one chance to answer the questions that so haunt you and your one chance to belay the guilt that will forever stoop your shoulders. I offer you this, but life's road is too wound with unexpected turns for you to dare hope that the opportunity will ever again be before you.”

  “Why?” Wulfgar asked quietly.

  “I have explained my reasoning of your current state clearly enough, as well as my beliefs that you should now take the strides to correct your errant course,” Robillard answered, but Wulfgar was shaking his head before the wizard finished the thought.

  “No,” the barbarian clarified. “Why you?” When Robillard didn't immediately answer, Wulfgar went on, “You offer to help me, though you have shown me little friendship and I have made no attempt to befriend you. Yet here you are, offering advice and assistance. Why? Is it out of your previous friendship with Drizzt and Catti-brie? Or is it out of your desire to be rid of me, to have me far from your precious Sea Sprite?”

  Robillard looked at him slyly. “Yes,” he answered.

  Chapter 17 MORIK'S VIEW

  He's a bit forthcoming for a prisoner, I'd say,” Sheila Kree remarked to Bellany after an exhausting three hours of interrogation during which Morik the Rogue had volunteered all he knew of Wulfgar, Drizzt, and Catti-brie. Sheila had listened carefully to every word about the dark elf in particular.

  “Morik's credo is self-preservation,” Bellany explained. “Nothing more than that. He would put a dagger into Wulfgar's heart himself, if his own life demanded it. Morik will not be glad if Drizzt and Wulfgar come against us. He may even find ways to stay out of the fight and not aid us as we destroy his former companion, but he'll not risk his own life going against us. Nor will he jeopardize the promise of a better future he knows we can offer to him. That's just not his way.”

  Sheila could accept the idea of personal gain over communal loyalty readily enough. It was certainly the source of any loyalty her cutthroat band held for her. They were a crew she kept together only by threat and promise—only because they all knew their best personal gains could be found under the command of Sheila Kree. They likewise knew that if they tried to leave, they would face the wrath of the deadly pirate leader and her elite group of commanders.

  Sitting at the side of the room, Jule Pepper was even more convinced of Morik's authenticity, mostly because of his actions since he'd arrived with Bellany in Golden Cove. Everything Morik had said had been in complete agreement with all she'd learned of Drizzt during her short stay in Ten-Towns.

  “If the drow and Catti-brie intend to come after the warhammer, then we can expect the dwarf, Bruenor, and the halfling, Regis, to join with them,” she said. “And do not dismiss that panther companion Drizzt carries along.”

  “Won't forget any of it,” Sheila Kree assured her. “Makes me glad Le'lorinel came to us.”

  “Le'lorinel's appearance here might prove to be the most fortunate thing of all,” Bellany agreed.

  “Morik's going to fight the elf now?” the pirate leader asked, for Le'lorinel, so obsessed with Drizzt, had requested some private time with this newest addition to the hide-out, one who had just suffered firsthand experience against the hated dark elf.

  Jule Pepper laughed aloud at the question. Soon after Jule had arrived at Golden Cove, Le'lorinel had spent hour after hour with her, making her mimic every movement she'd seen Drizzt make, even those unrelated to battle. Le'lorinel wanted to know the length of his stride, the tilt of his head when he spoke, anything at all about the hated drow. Jule knew Morik would likely show the elf nothing of any value, but knew, too, that Le'lorinel would make him repeat his actions and words again and again. Never had Jule seen anyone so perfectly obsessed.

  “Morik is likely beside Le'lorinel even now, no doubt reenacting the sequence that got him caught by Drizzt and
Catti-brie,” Bellany answered with a glance at the amused Jule.

  “Ye be watchin' them with yer magic,” Sheila instructed the sorceress. “Ye pay attention to every word Le'lorinel utters, to every movement made toward Morik.”

  “You still fear that our enemies might have sent the elf as a diversion?” Bellany asked.

  “Le’lorinel's arrival was a bit too convenient,” Jule remarked.

  “What I'm fearin' even more is that the fool elf'll go finding Drizzt and his friends afore they're finding us,” Sheila explained. “That group might be spendin' tendays wandering the mountains without any sign o' Minster Gorge or Golden Cove, and I'm preferring that to having enemies that powerful walkin' right in.”

  “I'd like to raise a beacon to guide them in,” Jule said quietly. “I owe that group and intend to see them paid back in full.”

  “To say nothing of the many magical treasures they carry,” Bellany agreed. “I believe I could get used to such a companion as Guenhwyvar, and wouldn't you look fine, Sheila, wearing the dark elf's reportedly fabulous scimitars strapped about your waist?”

  Sheila Kree nodded and smiled wickedly. “But we got to get that group on our own terms and not theirs,” she explained. “We'll bring 'em in when we're ready for 'em, after the winter's softened them up a bit. We'll get Le'lorinel the fight that's been doggin' the stubborn fool elf for all these years and hope that Drizzt falls hard then and there. And if not, there'll be fewer of us left to split the treasure.”

  “Speaking of that,” Jule put in, “I note that many of our ogre friends have gone out and about, hunting the countryside. We would do well, I think, to keep them close until this business with Drizzt Do'Urden is finished.”

  “Only a few out at a time,” Sheila Kree replied. “I telled as much to Chogurugga already.”

  Bellany left the room soon after, and she couldn't help but smile at the way things were playing out. Normally, the winters had been dreadfully uneventful, but now this one promised a good fight, better treasure, and more companionship in the person of Morik the Rogue than the young sorceress had known since her days as an apprentice back in Luskan.