“I have always found those who take the easier road, when they know they should be walking the more difficult one, to be cowards,” Robillard remarked. “Haven't you?”
“It is not as easy as you make it sound,” Wulfgar replied quietly.
“It is likely far more difficult than ever I could imagine,” the wizard said. For the first time, Wulfgar detected a bit of sympathy in his voice. “I know nothing of that which you have endured, nothing of the pains that have so weakened your heart. But I know who you were, and know who you now are, and I can say with more than a little confidence that you are better off walking into darkness and dying than trying to hide behind the embers of a smithy's hearth.
“Those are your choices,” the wizard finished. “Farewell, wherever you fare!” With that Robillard began waving his arms again, casting another spell.
Wulfgar, distracted and looking to the north, didn't notice until it was too late. He turned to see the multicolored bubbles already filling the air around the vanishing wizard. A sack appeared where the wizard had been standing, along with a large axelike bardiche. It was a rather unwieldy weapon, but one that resembled the great warhammer in design and style of fighting, at least, and one that could deal tremendous damage. He knew without even looking that the sack likely contained supplies for the road.
Wulfgar was alone, as much so as he had ever been, standing in the exact center of Luskan, and he remembered then that he was not supposed to be in this place. He was an outlaw in Luskan, or had been. He could only hope that the magistrates and the guards did not have so long a memory.
But which way to go, the barbarian wondered. He turned several circles. It was all too confusing, all too frightening, and Robillard's dire words haunted him with every turn.
Wulfgar of Icewind Dale exited Luskan's northern gate soon after, trudging off alone into the cold wilderness.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was under the glare of one surprised and horrified expression after another that the friends made their way through the small village of Auckney and into the castle of Lord Feringal and Lady Meralda. Donbago, well enough to walk easily by that time, guided them in and warded away any who grabbed at weapons at the sight of the half-ogre, to say nothing of the dark elf.
Donbago talked them through a mob of soldiers led by a growling gnome guard at the door. The gnome put the others into efficient motion, helping Donbago scurry poor delirious Jeddith off to the healer and dragging the half-ogre down into the dungeons, beating the brute with every step.
The fierce gnome, Liam Woodgate, then led the five to an inner room and introduced them to an old, hawkish-looking man named Temigast.
“Drizzt Do'Urden,” Temigast echoed, nodding with recognition as he spoke the name. “The ranger of Ten-Towns, I have heard. And you, good dwarf, are you not the King of Mithral Hall?”
“Was once and will be again, if me friends here don't get me killed to death,” Bruenor replied.
“Might we meet with yer lord and lady?” Catti-brie asked. While Regis and Bruenor looked at her curiously, Drizzt, who also wanted to get a glimpse of this woman who had mothered the child Wulfgar was now raising as his own, smiled.
“Liam will show you to a place where you can properly clean and dress for your audience,” Steward Temigast explained. “When you are ready, the audience with the Lord and Lady of Auckney will be arranged.”
While Bruenor barely splashed some of the water over him, grumbling that he looked good enough for anyone, Drizzt and Regis thoroughly washed. In another room, Catti-brie not only took a most welcomed soapy bath, but then spent a long while trying on many of the gorgeous gowns that Lady Meralda had sent down to her.
Soon after, the four were in the grand audience hall of Castle Auck, standing before Lord Feringal, a man in his thirties with curly black hair and a thick, dark goatee, and Lady Meralda, younger and an undeniably beautiful woman, with raven hair and creamy skin and a smile that brightened the whole of the huge room.
And while the Lord of Auckney was scowling almost continually, Meralda's smile didn't dissipate for a moment.
“I suppose that you now desire a reward,” asked the third in attendance, a shrewish, heavyset woman seated to Feringal's left and just a bit behind, which, in the tradition of the region, marked her as Feringal's sister.
Behind the four road-weary companions, Steward Temigast cleared his throat.
“Ye thinking ye got enough gold for us to even notice?” Bruenor growled back at her.
“We have no need of coin,” Drizzt interjected, trying to keep things calm. Bruenor had just suffered a bath, after all, and that always put the already surly dwarf into an even more foul mood. “We came here merely to return Donbago and two wounded men to their homes, as well as to deliver the prisoner. We would ask, though, that if you garner any information from the brute that might concern a certain notorious pirate by the name of Sheila Kree, you would pass it along. It is Kree we are hunting.”
“Of course we will share with ye whatever we might learn,” the Lady Meralda replied, cutting short her husband, whatever he meant to say. “And more. Whatever ye're needing, we're owing.”
Drizzt didn't miss the scowl from the woman at the side, and he knew it to be both her general surliness and the somewhat common manner in which the Lady of Auckney spoke.
“Ye can stay the winter through, if ye so choose,” Meralda went on.
Feringal looked at her, at first with surprise, but then in agreement.
“We might find an empty house about the town for—” the woman behind started to say.
“We will put them up right here in the castle, Priscilla,” the Lady of Auckney declared.
“I hardly think—” Priscilla started to argue.
“In yer own room if I hear another word from ye,” Meralda said, and she threw a wink at the four friends.
“Feri!” Priscilla roared.
“Shut up, dear sister,” said Feringal, in an exasperated tone that showed the friends clearly that he often had to extend such sentiments his troublesome sister's way. “Do not embarrass us before our most distinguished guests—guests who rescued three of my loyal soldiers and avenged our losses at the hands of the beastly ogres.”
“Guests who've got tales to tell of faraway lands and dragon's hoards,” Meralda added with a gleam in her green eyes.
“Only the night, I fear,” said Drizzt. “Our road will be winding and long, no doubt. We are determined to find and punish the pirate Kree before the spring thaw—before she can put her ship back out into the safety of the open seas and bring more mischief to the waters off Luskan.”
Meralda's disappointment was obvious, but Feringal nodded, seeming to hardly care whether they stayed or left.
The Lord and Lady of Auckney put on a splendid feast that night in honor of the heroes, and Donbago was able to attend as well, bringing with him the welcomed news that both his brother and the other man were faring better and seemed as if they would recover.
They ate (Bruenor and Regis more than all the others combined!) and they laughed. The companions, with so many miles beneath their weathered and well-worn boots, told tales of faraway lands as Lady Meralda had desired.
Much later, Catti-brie managed to toss a wink and nod to Drizzt, guiding him into a small side room where they could be alone. They fell onto a couch, side by side, beneath a bright tapestry cheaply sketched but with rich colors.
“Ye think we should tell her about the babe?” Catti-brie asked, her hand settling on Drizzt's slender, strong forearm.
“That would only bring her pain, after the initial relief, I fear,” the drow replied. “One day, perhaps, but not now.”
“Oh, ye must join us!” Meralda interrupted, coming through the door to stand beside the pair. “King Bruenor is telling the best o' tales, one of a dark dragon that stole his kingdom.”