He stared at Le'lorinel, bearing her no ill will, despite the fact that her misguided actions and blind vengeance had cost them both their very lives.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chogurugga was doing well against the mighty Bruenor Battlehammer, her potion-enhanced muscles, potion-enhanced speed, and potion-enhanced defenses more than holding their own against the dwarf.
Bruenor just growled and cursed, swatting powerfully, taking hits that would fell most opponents and shrugging them off with dwarven toughness then boring on, his axe slashing in.
He was losing, though, and he knew it, but then Catti-brie's arrow sizzled in above him, driving into the ogress's chest and sending her staggering backward.
“Oh, good girl!” the dwarf roared, taking the advantage to charge forward and press the offensive.
But even as he got there the ogress had yet another vial in hand and up to her lips, swallowing its contents in one great gulp.
Even as Bruenor closed, starting the battle once more, the ogress's wounds began to bind.
The dwarf growled in protest. “Damn healing potion!” he howled, and he got a hit in against Chogurugga's thigh, opening a gash.
Immediately, Chogurugga had another vial, one similar to the last, off of her belt and moving up to her lips. Bruenor cursed anew.
A black form sailed above the dwarf, slamming into the ogress and latching on.
Chogurugga flailed as Guenhwyvar tore at her face, front claws holding fast, fangs biting and tearing, back claws raking wildly.
The ogress dropped the vial, which hit the floor but did not break, and dropped her weapon as well. The ogress grabbed at the cat with both hands, trying to pull Guenhwyvar away.
The panther's hooked claws held tight, which meant that throwing Guenhwyvar aside would mean tearing her face right off. And of course Bruenor was right there, smashing the ogress's legs and midsection with mighty, vicious chops.
Bruenor heard a crash to the side, and Catti-brie was beside him, her powerful sword slicing easily through Chogurugga's flesh and bone.
The ogress toppled to the floor.
The two companions and Guenhwyvar turned about just as Wulfgar's hammer caved in the last ogre's skull, the brute falling right over its dead partner.
“This way!” Morik called from an exit across the wide room, with a corridor beyond heading farther up into the complex.
Bruenor paused to wait for his girl as Catti-brie stooped to retrieve Chogurugga's fallen vial.
“When I find out who's selling this stuff to damn ogres, I'll chop him up!” the frustrated dwarf declared.
Across the room, Morik bit his lower lip. He knew who it was, for he had seen Bellany's alchemical room.
Up went the companions, to the level corridor with five doors that marked Sheila Kree's complex. A groan from the side brought them immediately to one door, which Bruenor barreled through with dwarven subtlety.
There lay Drizzt, and there lay the elf, both mortally wounded.
Catti-brie came in right behind, moving immediately for Drizzt, but the drow stopped her with an upheld hand.
“Save her,” he demanded, his voice very weak. “You must.”
And he slumped.
Wulfgar stood at the door, horrified, but Morik didn't even slow at that particular room, but rather ran across the hall to Bellany's chambers. He burst through, and even as he was entering he prayed that the wizard hadn't trapped the portal.
The rogue skidded to a stop just inside the threshold, hearing a shriek. He turned to see a halfling extracting himself from a magical web.
“Who are you?” Regis asked, then quickly added, “See what I have?” He pulled open his shirt, lifting out a ruby pendant for Morik to see.
“Where is the sorceress?” Morik demanded, not even noticing the tantalizing gemstone.
Regis pointed to the open outer door and the balcony beyond and Morik sprinted out. The halfling glanced down, then, at his enchanted ruby pendant and scratched his head, wondering why it hadn't had its usual charming effect. Regis was glad that this small man was too busy to be bothered with him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Catti-brie paused, taken aback by the sincerity and demand in Drizzt's voice as he had given her the surprising instructions. The woman turned toward the fallen elf, whose breathing was as shallow as Drizzt's, who seemed, as did Drizzt, as if each breath might be her last.
“The Nine Hells ye will!” Bruenor roared, rushing to her and tearing the vial away.
Sputtering a string of curses, the dwarf went right to Drizzt and poured the healing liquid down his throat.
The drow coughed and almost immediately began to breathe easier.
“Damn it all!” Catti-brie cried, and she ran across the room to the fallen elf, lifting her head gently with her hands, staring into those eyes.
Empty eyes.
Even as Drizzt opened his eyes once more, Le'lorinel's spirit fled her body.
“Come quickly!” said Regis, arriving at the door. The halfling paused, though, when he saw Drizzt lying there so badly wounded.
“What'd'ye know, Rumblebelly?” Bruenor said after a moment's pause.
“S-sorceress,” Regis stammered, still staring at Drizzt. “Um. . Morik's chasing her.” Never turning his eyes, he pointed across the way.
Wulfgar started off and Bruenor called to Catti-brie as she fell to her knees beside the drow, “Get yer bow out there! They'll be needing ye!”
The woman hesitated for a long while, staring helplessly at Drizzt, but Bruenor pushed her away.
“Go, and be quick!” he demanded. “I ain't one for killing wizards. Yer bow's better for that.”
Catti-brie rose and ran out of the room.
“But holler if ye see another ogre” the dwarf shouted behind her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Bellany cursed under her breath as she gingerly picked her way along the mountainside to come in sight of the coast, only to see Bloody Keel riding the receding tide out of the cave. Her deck bristled with pirates, including, prominently, Sheila Kree, wounded but undaunted, shouting orders from the deck.
Bellany fell into her magical powers immediately, beginning to cast a spell that would transport her to the deck. She almost finished the casting, was uttering the very last words and making the final motions, when she was grabbed from behind.
Horrified, the sorceress turned her head to see Morik the Rogue, grim-faced and holding her fast.
“Let me go!” she demanded.
“Do not,” Morik said, shaking his head. “Do not, I beg.”
“You fool, they will kill me!” Bellany howled, trying hard to pull away. “I could have slain you, but I did not! I could have killed the halfling, but. .”
Her voice trailed away over those last few words, though, for the huge form of a barbarian warrior came bounding around the mountainside.
“What have you done to me?” the defeated woman asked Morik.
“Did you not let the halfling live?” the rogue reasoned.
“More than that! I cut him out,” Bellany answered defiantly. She went silent, for Wulfgar was there, towering over her.
“Who is this?” the enraged barbarian demanded.
“An observer,” Morik answered, “and nothing more. She is innocent.”
Wulfgar narrowed his eyes, staring hard at both Bellany and Morik, and his expression showed that he hardly believed the rogue.
But Morik had saved his life this day, and so he said nothing.
Wulfgar's eyes widened and he stepped forward as he noted the ship, sails unfurling, gliding out past the rocks. He leaped out to another rock, gaining a better vantage point, and lifted Aegis-fang as if he meant to hurl it at the departing ship.
But Bloody Keel was long out of even his range.
Catti-brie joined the group next, and wasted no time in putting up Taulmaril, leveling the bow at Bloody Keel's deck.
“The red-haired one,” Morik
instructed. Bellany elbowed him hard in the ribs and scowled at him deeply.
Indeed, Catti-brie already had a bead drawn on Sheila Kree, the pirate easy to spot on the ship's deck.
But the woman paused and lifted her head from the bow for a wider view. She took note of the many waves breaking over submerged rocks, all about the escaping pirate, and understood well the skill needed to take a ship out through those dangerous waters.
Catti-brie leveled her bow again, scouring the deck.
When she found the wheel, and the crewman handling it, she let fly.
The pirate lurched forward, then slid down to the decking, taking the wheel over to the side as he went.
Bloody Keel cut a sharp turn, crewmen rushing desperately from every angle to grab the wheel.
Then came the crunch as the ship sailed over a jagged reef, and the wind in the sails kept her going, splintering the hull all the way.
Many were thrown from the ship with the impact. Others leaped into the icy waters, the ship disintegrating beneath them. Still others grabbed a rail or a mast and held on for dear life.
Amidst it all stood Sheila Kree. The fiery pirate looked up at the mountainside, up at Catti-brie, in defiance.
And she, too, went into the cold water, and Bloody Keel was no more than kindling, scattering in the rushing waters.
Few would escape that icy grip, and those who did, and those who never got onto the ship in the first place—ogre, half-ogre, and human alike—had no intention of engaging the mighty friends again.
The fight for Golden Cove was won.
EPILOGUE
They buried the elf who called herself Le'lorinel in the clay, in the cave complex, as near to the exit and the outside air and the starry night sky as possible.
Drizzt didn't help with the digging, for his vicious wound was far from healed, but he watched it, every moment. And when they had put the elf, Ellifain by her true name, in the cold ground and had covered her with damp and cold clay, Drizzt Do'Urden stood there, staring helplessly.
“It should not have been like this,” the drow said quietly to Catti-brie, who was standing beside him, supporting him.
“I heard that in yer voice,” the woman replied. “When ye telled me to save her.”
“And so I wish that you had.”
“Ye durn fool!” came a rocky voice from the side. “Get yerself healed quick so I can pound yer face!”
Drizzt turned to Bruenor, matching the dwarf's scowl.
“Ye think we'd've done that?” Bruenor demanded. “Do ye really? Ye think we'd've let ye die to save the one that killed ye?”
“You do not understand. .” Drizzt tried to explain, his lavender orbs wet with tears.
“And would ye have saved the damned elf instead of me?” the fiery dwarf bellowed. “Or instead of me girl? Ye say yes, elf, and I'll be wiping yer blood from me axe!”
The truth of that statement hit home to Drizzt, and he turned helplessly to Catti-brie.
“I would not have given her the potion,” the woman said definitively. “Ye caught me by surprise, to be sure, but I'd've been back to ye with the brew in a moment.”
Drizzt sighed and accepted the inevitable truth of that, but still, this whole thing seemed so very unfair to him, so very wrong. He had encountered Ellifain before this, and not so many years ago, in the Moonwood on his way back to the Underdark. The elf had come after him then with murderous rage, but her protective clan had held her back and had ushered Drizzt on his way. And Drizzt, though he knew that her anger was misplaced, could do nothing to persuade her or calm her.
And now this. She had come after him because of what his evil kin had done to her mother, to her family, to her.
Drizzt sighed at the irony of it all, his heart surely broken by this sad turn of fate. If Ellifain had revealed herself to him truly, he never would have found the strength to lift his blades against her, even if she came at him to kill him.
“I had no choice,” Drizzt said to Catti-brie, his voice barely a whisper.
“The elf killed herself,” the woman replied. Bruenor, coming over to join his friends, agreed wholeheartedly.
“She should be alive, and healing from those wounds she felt those decades ago,” the drow said.
To the side, Bruenor gave a loud snort. “Yerself's the one who should be alive,” the dwarf bellowed. “And so ye are.”
Drizzt looked at him and shrugged.
“Ye'd have gived the potion to me,” the dwarf insisted quietly, and Drizzt nodded.
“But it saddens me,” the drow explained.
“If it didn't, ye'd be less a friend of mine,” Bruenor assured him.
Catti-brie held Drizzt close and kissed him on the cheek.
He didn't look at her, though, just stood there staring at the new grave, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the world.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The five companions, along with Morik and Bellany, left Golden Cove a tenday later, when the weather broke clear.
They knew they were fighting time in trying to get out of the mountains, but with Bellany's magical help they made the main pass through the Spine of the World, leading north to Icewind Dale and south to Luskan, soon enough.
And there they parted ways, with Morik, Bellany, and Wulfgar heading south, and the other four turning north back for Ten-Towns.
Before they split apart, though, Wulfgar promised his friends that he would be home soon.
Home. Icewind Dale.
Spring was in full bloom before Wulfgar, Delly, and Colson came through Luskan again, heading north for Icewind Dale.
The family paid a visit to the Cutlass, to Arumn and Josi, and to Bellany and Morik, who had taken up together in Morik's apartment—one made more comfortable by far by the workings of the sorceress.
Wulfgar didn't stay long in Luskan, though, his wagon rolling out the front gate within two days. For the warrior, knowing again who he was, was indeed anxious to be home with his truest friends.
Delly, too, was anxious to see this new home, to raise Colson in the clear, crisp air of fabled Icewind Dale.
As night was settling over the land, the couple noted a blazing campfire in the distance, just off the road, and since there were farmhouses all around in this civilized region, they rolled up without fear.
They smelled the encampment's occupants before they could make out the individual forms, and though Delly whispered, “goblins,” Wulfgar knew better.
“Dwarves,” he corrected.
Since this particular group apparently hadn't bothered to set any sort of a sentry, Wulfgar and Delly moved right into their midst, near to the campfire, before any of the dwarves cried out in surprise or protest. After a moment's hesitation, with many vicious-looking, many-bladed, many-hooked weapons rising up in the air, the most unpleasant, smelly, and animated dwarf either of the humans had ever seen bounded up before them. He still wore his armor, though it was obvious that the camp had been set hours before, and what armor that was! Razor-sharp edges showed everywhere, along with many small spikes.
“Wulfie!” bellowed Thibbledorf Pwent, raucous leader of the famed Gutbuster Brigade of Mithral Hall. “I heared ye wasn't dead!” He gave a huge, gap-toothed grin as he finished and slugged Wulfgar hard. “Tougher than the stone, ain't ye?”
“Why are you here?” the surprised barbarian asked, not thrilled to see this particular old friend.
Wulfgar had lived beside Thibbledorf in Mithral Hall those years ago and had watched the amazing training of the famed Gutbusters, a group of wild and vicious thugs. One of Thibbledorf's infamous battle tactics was to leap onto a foe and begin shaking wildly, his nasty armor cutting the enemy to pieces.
“Going to Icewind Dale,” Thibbledorf explained. “Got to get to King Bruenor.”
Wulfgar started to ask for the dwarf to expand on that, but he held the words as the title Thibbledorf had just laid upon Bruenor's powerful shoulders hit him clearly.
“King?”
Thibbledorf lowered his eyes, a movement that had all the other Gutbusters, a dozen or so, leaping up and falling to one knee. All of them save the leader gave a deep, monotone intonation, a long and low hum.
“Praise Moradin in taking Gandalug Battlehammer,” Thibbledorf said solemnly. “The King of Mithral Hall is no more. The king before him is king again—Bruenor Battlehammer of the clan that bears his name. Long life and good beer to King Bruenor!”
He ended with a shout, and all the Gutbusters leaped up into the air. They resembled a field of bouncing rocks, punching their fists, most covered with spiked gauntlets, into the air.
“King Bruenor!” they all roared.
“What's it mean?” Delly whispered to Wulfgar.
“It means we should not get too comfortable in Ten-Towns,” the barbarian answered. “For we'll be on the road again, do not doubt. A long road to the east, to Mithral Hall.”
Delly looked around at the Gutbusters, who were dancing in couples, chanting “King Bruenor!” and ending each call with a shallow hop and a short run that brought each couple crashing together.
“Well, at least our own road north'll be safer now,” the woman remarked. “If a bit more fragrant.”
Wulfgar started to nod, but then saw Thibbledorf crash together forehead to forehead with one poor Gutbuster, laying the dwarf out cold. Thibbledorf shook his head to clear the dizziness, his lips flapping wildly. When he saw what he'd done, he howled all the louder and charged at another—who took up the challenge and roared and charged.
And went flying away into the peaceful land of sleeping Gutbusters.
Thibbledorf howled all the louder and hopped about, looking for a third victim.
“Safer? We shall see,” was all that Wulfgar could say to Delly.
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Document ID: 0b04de42-e72e-4e2a-bc15-419fff3aa648
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Document creation date: 18.11.2010
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Sea of Swords pod-4 Page 35