INFLUENTIAL FRIENDS

YOU KNOW THIS INFORMANT WELL ENOUGH, THEN?? SINNAFEIN ASKED her elf companion as they

carefully concealed their small sled under an overhang in the riverbank. The river was frozen over, but one could never take such things for granted, and so the pair had half walked, half ridden the sled to the western bank.

?For many years, decades even,? answered the other, a beautiful and lithe elf maiden with blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dark of night, so intense was their inner sparkle. Her thick, reddish-blonde hair was tucked under a furred hood that framed her delicate face. Without the hood, her hair would hang to her lower back.

?A drow??

?A friend, I said,? the elf maiden replied. ?One who understands the ways of the Underdark.?

?But if a drow ??

?You press me, Lady. I told you that I have eyes upon our enemies. That is all you need to know.?

?So your informant is not connected with this invasion, you assure me??

?I would do no such thing,? answered the other. ?He is connected with everything, in one way or another. That is his way. And since these drow that have accompanied the minions of Many-Arrows are from Menzoberranzan, my friend surely has spies among them.?

?Perhaps even helping them,? Sinnafein said bluntly, and she stopped in her work, letting the other hold the boat, and put her hands on hips.

?You waited until we were out here to make your accusation, Lady Sinnafein? That does not seem so wise to me.?

?There are a dozen bows trained on you as we speak,? Sinnafein warned.

?Seventeen, by my last count,? the other answered, casually going about tying off the sled so that the howling wind did not send it skidding away across the ice. ?But still, why come all the way out here when you could have gotten these inquiries out of the way back in your encampment when the dwarf Ambergris first introduced us??

Sinnafein stared at her hard, but did not otherwise answer.

?Good lady, we would have needed no convoluted plan to catch you, were we working with the drow and the orcs,? the light-haired elf said. ?We found your clan easily enough, and walked into your encampment without notice. We could have brought an army of drow and orcs and giants beside us, were we working with your enemies, were my informant at all loyal to the matron mothers of the city of Menzoberranzan.?

?And to whom is he loyal??

?To himself, first, foremost, and always,? came the answer, accompanied by a laugh. ?And to some ranger named Drizzt Do?Urden for some reason I cannot fathom. Whatever his ultimate goal, which is no doubt convoluted and will surely involve him finding some way to turn this war into personal gain, I promise you that this mission of ours is as it seems.?

?You promise me,? Sinnafein replied. ?You? One I do not even know. From a clan I do not

know. With a name, Mickey, that I have never heard.?

?A nickname,? Mickey replied. ?And your real name??

The other laughed and shrugged. ?I go by Mickey.? ?You are hardly inspiring confidence,? Sinnafein said.

?Because I am weary of the game. Have your archers let fly if that is your wish, though we both know that you?ll do no such thing. Turn back now and skate back across the Surbrin again, though we both know that you?ll do no such thing. Your options are limited?indeed, they are none. You wish to help the dwarves, but you cannot. You wish to repel the orcs, but you cannot. So sit back in your forest and wait for grim tidings as the cities fall and the citadels become armories for the minions of Many-Arrows. They will take your trees one by one until there are no more trees to take, and no more places for you and your people to hide.

?But then, you know all of this, Lady of the Glimmerwood,? Mickey went on. ?My old friend led me and my sister, along with that silly dwarf and her monk companion, to you to be of help, and this help we have offered openly and honestly. Take it or do not, but please, bore me no longer with your suspicions and fears.?

Sinnafein?s expression did little to hide the fact that she was taken off-guard by the straightforwardness of Mickey?s response.

?Do you even understand the level of trust we have shown to you by simply revealing ourselves to you?? Mickey asked quietly.

Sinnafein looked at her carefully. The dwarf and monk had come to them first, and had then introduced a select few to the three curious elves, these two sisters and another, who had appeared at first as if he could have been of Sinnafein?s own clan, though Sinnafein suspected a disguising magic about him since he would not approach and spoke to them only from the shadows. Later, alone, this old friend of Mickey?s, whom Sinnafein suspected to be a drow, had revealed some startling details to Sinnafein. He knew of her, and had known her husband once upon a time. And he had hinted, too, that Tos?un had returned to Menzoberranzan, though he had said nothing directly and had promised Sinnafein that they would discuss the matter further once plans for the elves? entry to the war had been set in place.

?I am going on to Mithral Hall, as we discussed,? Mickey declared, and she stepped away from the river toward the southwest, where Fourthpeak towered. ?If you do not trust me, then the sled is yours. If you fear that one of your personal rank and title should not be a part of such a dangerous journey, then pray tell one of your archers to replace you on the journey. I care not either way.?

Sinnafein stepped right in front of her and looked long and hard into Mickey?s eyes, trying to read this strange elf.

Mickey?s responding smile proved truly disarming. If Sinnafein had been anything other than an elf, surely the charm would have fully ensnared her. Still, even without that magical enhancement, the lack of any real choice reverberated within Sinnafein, compounded by her continuing guilt.

She and her husband, Tos?un, had started this war, after all. Tos?un had betrayed Sinnafein, wounding her legs and leaving her helpless to die at the blades of the pursuing orcs. But leading that hunting orc band was Lorgru, son of Obould. Lorgru?s unexpected mercy in

returning Sinnafein to her people had given rise and momentum to the hateful words of this terrible warlord, Hartusk.

With that truth hanging above her, Sinnafein found that she could not refuse this opportunity.

She motioned to the distant archers to stand down and started off with Mickey to the southwest.

They passed many signs of orcs, and saw great encampments on distant ridges. Sinnafein shook her head repeatedly.

?We cannot get there,? she told Mickey as the wind began to pick up around them. Mickey laughed at her. ?They are only orcs,? she replied.

Her carefree attitude struck the elf curiously, as did Mickey?s unwillingness to move from shadow to shadow. She was walking to the north door of Mithral Hall, a straight-line course with nothing but the blowing snow to obscure her, and it seemed to Sinnafein as if her companion would not have veered even if their path took them through the heart of a vast enemy encampment.

Somehow no enemies spotted them or walked up in front of them in the blowing snow, and the pair came to a ridgeline, looking down at a small dell, framed on the north by a rising wall of stone, and on the south by the foothills of Fourthpeak. Also to the south stood some worked columns, and Sinnafein knew them to mark the entry corridor to Mithral Hall?s northern door. A grouping of tents sat in front of those columns, half-buried in the drifting snow.

Mickey did pause then, and crouched, staring off toward the camp. Several huddled forms milled about, including one considerably larger than any orc.

?We will move down straight for the nearest column,? Mickey explained. ?Once we get there, if the way beyond is clear, you run for the doors. Do not wait for me. They?ll not let you in, but when I join in, I have a spell that will walk us through.?

?We?ll be seen before we reach that column,? Sinnafein said, and Mickey nodded.

?There are likely dozens of orcs in that encampment,? Sinnafein warned, and Mickey nodded.

?And giants, perhaps?? ?Likely,? said Mickey.

Sinnafein drew out her sword, but Mickey shook her head. ?When we reach the column, you go to the doors.?

?I am not some unskilled and coddled noblewoman,? Sinnafein protested. ?I never said you were. When we reach the column, you go to the doors.? ?Leaving you alone to face the swarm of enemies??

Mickey started walking off toward the column, and a frustrated Sinnafein shook her head and sighed. It occurred to her then that the strange elf didn?t even have a weapon about her, with no sword belt over her furred coat, and none under it as far as Sinnafein could recall.

The Lady of the Glimmerwood sighed again and rushed out, hurrying to catch up with Mickey, who was walking easily, straight for the column, a course that would take her near to the tents. And she was making no effort at all to conceal herself.

Sinnafein drew her sword as she came up beside Mickey. ?Oh, put that silly thing away,? the other elf told her.

They neared the column. They heard the whoop of an orc sentry behind them.

?To the doors with you, and quickly,? Mickey said, and she grabbed Sinnafein by the arm and with supernatural strength sent the Lady of the Glimmerwood stumbling and skidding toward the doors. ?And pray do knock!? By the time she collected herself and halted the momentum, Sinnafein was nearer the door than the column. She looked back at the clicking and clapping sound and noted some spears flying out of the haze of the blowing snow. She winced and fell back, for just by the missiles that had flown past Mickey?s position, Sinnafein realized that the elf had been beset by a barrage of deadly rain indeed.

She wanted to call out, but she stumbled to the great stone doors instead. She drew out her own weapon, but only to use the metal pommel to pound on the doors?and how meager did the sound seem against the unrelenting howl of the winter wind.

Behind her, Sinnafein heard a scream, then another, then a cacophony, a communal howling of, apparently, agony and terror. She noted some tumult but couldn?t make it out, and the screaming continued.

And Sinnafein continued pounding on the door, and now she, too, was screaming, calling for the dwarves to let her in.

She kept looking back, though, and she started and nearly jumped from the ground when a distinct form came into sight, that of Mickey casually walking toward her.

And a larger form?indeed, a gigantic humanoid form?rushed up behind Mickey.

?Giant!? Sinnafein cried, and started for the behemoth, and winced and screamed when she saw the frost giant?s huge hammer come swinging down for the top of Mickey?s head.

Up shot Mickey?s hand to intercept the hammer, and Sinnafein winced. The giant put all of its tremendous weight behind the blow, slamming the weapon down as if trying to drive the elf maiden into the ground like a tent stake. Sinnafein sucked in her breath, certain she was about to see Mickey crushed in front of her.

But the hammer stopped, caught by the lithe elf?s hand and held right there, hovering inches above her head. Faster than Sinnafein could follow, Mickey pivoted and rushed forward to snap off punches, one, two, straight into the giant?s knees. Each blow sounded like a huge tree limb breaking, and Sinnafein gasped again when one kneecap shattered and the other leg bent backward under the tremendous weight of the blow.

The frost giant pitched forward, tumbling onto Mickey, burying her where she resolutely stood.

But no, like the hammer in front of the behemoth, Mickey caught the brute, and Sinnafein could only stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed as this elf named Mickey, who was not even Sinnafein?s size, twirled the behemoth above her head and launched it back the way it had come, spinning through the air to crash into one of the columns at the entryway.

Still holding the giant?s huge warhammer, Mickey approached. ?Have they not answered your call?? she asked.

Sinnafein just stared at her, and backed off a step.

?No matter,? Mickey assured her, and began to cast a spell. A moment later, with a swirl of commotion beginning again behind them as the larger encampment of orcs and giants learned of the battle, Mickey opened a dimensional door and bade Sinnafein to lead the way in.

?Don?t ask,? Mickey added when Sinnafein just stood there gaping at her. She took Sinnafein by the shoulder and guided her into the dwarven complex. When the pair stepped

through, they were assaulted again, this time by surprised dwarven sentries.

Fortunately, those bearded warriors recognized the two as elves and not orcs before any serious blows could fall.

?Pray tell your King Connerad that emissaries of the Glimmerwood have come to help you escape your??Mickey paused and sniffed??smelly hole, good dwarves.?

Noting the wide-eyed dwarves looking past her and her companion, Mickey turned and glanced back to see a horde of orcs charging for her dimensional door. At the moment, a barrage of spears led the way.

Mickey dismissed the magical portal with a snap of her fingers, and she and the others heard the rain of missiles tapping against the unyielding northern gates of Mithral Hall.

?They are stubborn beasts, aren?t they?? Mickey asked. She turned back to find a brigade of dwarven warriors, weapons bared, staring at her and her elf companion with expressions a long way short of confident.

?And Drizzt Do?Urden,? Mickey said to them. ?He is here, of course. Tell him that friends of his have arrived to help him in his cause.?

?Ye think we?re walking the two o? ye to the court of our king?? one dwarf asked.

?Just relay my messages,? Mickey instructed him. ?Let your king and the others decide if we are to be admitted or not.?

?Aye, but for now ye drop yer weapons!? the dwarf demanded.

?I have no weapons,? Mickey answered as Sinnafein willingly surrendered her sword and a long dagger she kept holstered inside her boot.

The dwarves all looked at Mickey incredulously, which confused her until Sinnafein explained, ?The warhammer.?

Mickey seemed, and indeed was, genuinely shocked to realize that yes, she was still holding a giant?s warhammer, one taller than she, and heavier, though she was holding it aloft with one delicate hand.

?Oh, but be sure that ye?ll tell us all we?re wantin? to know,? Winko Battleblade said in a cruel warning, and the tough dwarf shoved his prisoner facedown to the stone floor, then kicked the ugly orc for good measure.

?Aye, and wouldn?t ye be better just spittin? it out now and saving us the trouble o? hearin? yer screams?? asked Winko?s cousin Rollo, a young warrior barely into his twenties and barely finished his training. ?For if ye do, might be that I?ll kill ye quick!?

The orc, which had been captured in the tunnels just outside of Mithral Hall, squirmed and covered its face.

?Take its fingernails, then its fingers,? said Rollo.

?Take me time, most of all,? Winko agreed with a wicked laugh, and all those around knew that the tough dwarf could surely back up his ferocious demeanor with action. Some of the dwarves shifted uncomfortably, but none spoke out.

There came a commotion then, however, and a dwarf up in front of the patrol band gave a yelp and fell to the side.

A huge black panther padded past the startled and frightened dwarf. Guenhwyvar came

right up to the main group of dwarves and sniffed carefully at the orc, who cringed and curled even tighter in terror.

?Bah,? Winko Battleblade grumbled, fully expecting what was coming next as Drizzt Do?Urden appeared from around the bend in the corridor.

?Ye?re just in time for the fun,? Winko said, his tone less than inviting. ?But the fun?s me own, don?t ye doubt.?

?Fun?? Drizzt asked, moving into the group and noting the captured orc.

?Aye, we?re taking its fingers ? slowly,? young Rollo said with a grin?a grin that disappeared quickly under the weight of the ranger?s responding scowl.

?Do tell,? Drizzt prompted, his voice even, yet thick with warning.

?We caught the rat out in the tunnels,? explained another, a grizzled old veteran that Drizzt recognized from many years before, though he could not remember the fellow?s name.

?Aye, and now he?s goin? to tell us what other rats are out in the tunnels,? said Winko. ?One finger at a time.?

He reached down for the whimpering orc, but Drizzt interrupted him, grabbing Winko by the forearm. The dwarf roughly pulled away and fell back a step, staring threateningly at Drizzt.

?Here now, ye keep yer drow hands to yerself, Mister Drizzt Do?Urden,? he said with open contempt.

?And you keep your own off of this prisoner,? Drizzt replied. As the dwarf started to argue, Guenhwyvar interjected a timely growl.

?Hey now, we caught the dog,? Rollo complained.

?Ain?t much changed, ?ave ye?? asked the grizzled old veteran. ?Aye, but I remember yerself, Drizzt Do?Urden, when ye come here them forty years ago and hunted down Battlehammer dwarfs and elfs alike what would fight back against them Many-Arrows orcs. And now yer House?s come a?callin?, don?t ye know, and here ye are, protecting orc scum yet again. Ye been thinkin? on this war a long time, ain?t ye??

?Here, but what?re ye sayin??? an incredulous Winko asked the older dwarf. He nodded as he asked, though, clearly sorting out the veteran dwarf?s nefarious implications?that this war had been part of Drizzt?s plan all along.

Many sets of eyes, narrow and scrutinizing and threatening, fell over Drizzt then. ?Battlehammers don?t torture,? the drow said resolutely. ?Clan Battlehammer is above

that.?

?It?s an orc!? Winko said, and he kicked the sniveling prisoner.

?I care not!? Drizzt yelled at him. ?And not again!? he warned, pointing down at Winko?s boot.

?Or what, drow?? Rollo demanded, coming forward?until Guenhwyvar?s roar sent him skipping backward.

?I speak for King Bruenor on this,? Drizzt stated. ?Bruenor ain?t king!?

?Bruenor was king, for many years, or have you forgotten?? Drizzt demanded.

?Aye, and take care yer words, Winko Battleblade,? said the old veteran. ?I got no hackles for this one, be sure, but I?ll be defendin? me king Bruenor from yer mouth, don?t ye doubt!?

?You cannot torture a prisoner,? Drizzt said. ?This is not who you are, or who we are. Cage

him in the dungeon, but treat him well?for your own sake!? ?Are ye threatening me then??

?For your own sake, from the judgments of your own heart,? Drizzt calmly explained. ?You do not want to carry the echoes of a prisoner?s screams for the rest of your days. I beg you, good dwarf, do not throw away that which elevates Clan Battlehammer. Do not throw away the righteousness that gives strength to our weapon arms.?

Winko stared at him for a long while, clearly at a loss.

?More o? them dog orcs out there threatening the hall!? Rollo yelled for him. ?Ye?re thinkin? we?re to sit back and let ?em come? Do ye care at all, ye damned drow??

?I?ve two friends out there in the tunnels beyond Mithral Hall, perhaps captured, likely dead,? Drizzt retorted, and he moved very near the upstart young Rollo, towering over him. ?Two dear friends.?

?So take yer cuts on the orc and get it to squeal!? Rollo argued.

?No!? Drizzt shouted back in his face. ?No!? He stepped back then, and calmed, his shoulders slumping a bit. ?No. That is not the way. That cannot ever be the way.?

?Yerself ain?t no Battlehammer,? Winko said.

?Might not be, but I am,? came a voice behind, and Drizzt turned and the others looked past him to see Bruenor striding down the corridor. ?Not a king no more, eh, Winko? But still a Battlehammer by blood and by deed. Any here thinkin? to argue that??

The dwarves respectfully bowed their heads at Bruenor?s approach, and Winko even greeted him as King Bruenor.

?They mean to ?? Drizzt started to say. ?I heared ye, elf,? Bruenor interrupted. ?I cannot allow it,? said Drizzt.

?Nor can I,? said Bruenor. ?Go, boys,? he told the dwarves. ?Bring yer prisoner to a sturdy cage, but don?t ye beat him. We?re Battlehammers, and Battlehammers don?t be doing that! And feed him.?

?We ain?t got enough food for ourselfs!? Winko argued, and others groaned and nodded their agreement.

?Then don?t be bringing back anymore o? them alive!? Bruenor shouted in his face.

There followed some staring and a bit of grumbling, but Winko and the others gathered up the orc as ordered, and moved off down the tunnel.

?It is unlikely that the orc can tell us anything we don?t already know about the forces arrayed against us,? Drizzt told Bruenor when they were alone.

?The beast might have some word on me boy and Rumblebelly.?

?I?ve likely gained a bit of the orc?s trust already,? said Drizzt. ?I will talk with him, repeatedly.?

?We can?t be takin? prisoners, elf,? Bruenor said. ?Winko weren?t lyin?.?

?I know, but we cannot be torturing prisoners either, Bruenor, even if they are orcs or goblins. Are we to cast aside all that makes us confident in our own righteousness? Are we to lose our very hearts??

Bruenor didn?t respond, his expression showing nothing of where he stood on that particular issue.

?I?ll speak with the orc prisoner for as long as it takes,? Drizzt promised.

Bruenor nodded. ?Lot o? the boys got some doubts about ye, elf,? Bruenor admitted a moment later, and Drizzt nodded, unable to disagree. ?What Tomnoddy Two-shoes said about forty years ago ??

Drizzt sighed. ?When I returned here in the time of King Obould VI, in the last days of King Banak, I did join in the hunt for rogue dwarves and elves,? Drizzt admitted, ?at the request of King Banak. His son, King Connerad, though he wasn?t king then, did not argue the matter with his father. They were lawbreakers, crossing into Many-Arrows land and murdering orcs in the dark of night. King Banak feared an all-out war if he could not control the growing anger among the folk of Mithral Hall. Lord Hralien of the Glimmerwood elves??

?The Moonwood, we called it then,? Bruenor remarked, and Drizzt nodded.

?Hralien and his people were sterner still with those they caught. But still ?? Drizzt paused and shook his head.

?Didn?t feel much good, eh??

?There is sometimes a strange moral cleanliness to ugly battles,? Drizzt admitted. ?Have you ever known me to hesitate with the blade when the fighting has begun??

?Aye, but when ye got yerself a prisoner,? Bruenor admitted. ?Nothing?s clean about it. Ugly business. Ugly orcs.?

?But we do not torture them,? said Drizzt. ?We cannot throw away our very hearts.? Bruenor stared at him, seemingly caught somewhere in between, but had no answer.

?They?ve dragons,? King Connerad said to his elf guests, including the good Lady Sinnafein, whom Connerad knew well. ?Had one waitin? for us last time we breaked out.? He indicated Catti-brie, who sat at one end of the small table. ?Weren?t for that one there, I?m doubting that many o? me boys would?ve made it back into the halls.?

Sinnafein turned to the woman. ?The whispers coming forth from Adbar spoke of your return, my old friend,? she said. ?It is a magical world and a strange time, and so I allowed myself to believe the rumors of the meeting in Citadel Felbarr, with King Bruenor and Catti-brie returned to the Silver Marches, alive and young once more.?

?Aye, but now that ye?re seein? her ?? said Bungalow Thump, sitting to the left of King Connerad on the side of the table to Catti-brie?s right, with Sinnafein and Mickey across from them.

?It is beyond my sensibilities,? Sinnafein admitted. ?Beyond my sensibilities, and that is something one would rarely hear spoken by the Lady of the Glimmerwood. To have at this dark time two of the great heroes of old of the Silver Marches returned to us ? Surely the gods have blessed us that we might defeat this darkening.?

Beside her, the strange elf called Mickey chortled, mocking the somber and serious mood and the nods of the others seated around the table, and drawing all eyes to her.

?Heroes,? she said in explanation. ?What are humans and dwarves in the face of a dragon? Arauthator, the Old White Death, mocks your pretentious god-talk.?

?Is it customary for yer minions to mock ye so?? asked General Dagnabbet, who was seated on Connerad?s right, giving voice to the thoughts on all of their minds.

?Minion?? Mickey said with a laugh.

?My companion is not of the Glimmerwood,? Sinnafein started to explain, but Mickey cut her short.

?I am here as a favor to a friend of your drow companion, Drizzt Do?Urden,? she explained. ?Do tell.?

?In time,? Mickey replied. ?When Drizzt is here. And where is he??

?He was in the lower tunnels,? King Connerad answered. ?He?s there all the time, fightin? orcs.?

?Aye, and probably mad at bein? called away,? said Bungalow Thump. ?So here?s hopin? ye got something to say what?s worth hearin?.?

?Do you think listening to a plan to get out of your hole is worth hearing, good dwarf?? Mickey asked teasingly, and all three dwarves came forward in their seats anxiously.

Mickey grinned and chuckled, and just then the door banged open and in strode Bruenor Battlehammer, flanked by Drizzt Do?Urden and Athrogate. Drizzt went right to Sinnafein, who rose up to wrap him in a tight hug.

?My old friend, it is so good to see you in these dark times,? Sinnafein whispered. ?We?ll lift the darkness,? Drizzt promised.

Sinnafein pulled back and offered her hand to Bruenor. ?Good king,? she said. ?The Glimmerwood shares the elation of Mithral Hall at your return!?

?Aye, Lady, and know that I?m a bit gladder to be breathin? than dead!? Bruenor said with a grin, and he took her hand in a hearty shake. ?Work to do! Aye, and killin? orcs?the best work to be found.?

Drizzt took the seat next to Catti-brie, with Bruenor and Athrogate pulling up chairs on the opposite side of the table from them.

?They come to tell us how to break out o? here,? King Connerad explained.

?You need to come forth,? Sinnafein said as the newcomers turned her way. ?The other citadels are in desperate times and need your help.?

?We tried, Lady,? King Connerad said.

?This time you will have help,? Sinnafein promised. ?You come forth, through the north door.?

?Bad door for breaking out,? Bruenor remarked. ?Narrow exit, uphill run.? ?Aye, and with a big camp sittin? right there waitin?,? General Dagnabbet added. ?My people will hit that camp, and hard,? Sinnafein assured them.

?There?s a thousand orcs there, might be close to two,? said Bungalow Thump. ?And a horde o? giants beside ?em!?

?Aye, and with a dragon up on the hill, if like last time,? said Bruenor. ?Not to doubt ye, Lady, and not to turn aside yer offer, but yer folks?re too thin to cut through that band ??

?You?ll get out,? Mickey interrupted with certainty. ?And with little loss. The orcs will regroup and come back against you, but you will simply turn around and go back in. Some of you. One legion, with Bruenor, Drizzt, and you, Catti-brie, will break free with us and flee to the northeast, across the Surbrin and into the Glimmerwood.?

?You make it sound so easy,? Drizzt remarked. ?We got out last time, and routed the immediate forces, but they were waiting. We could not have run far.?

?This time will be different,? Mickey promised. ?The plan will work. Sinnafein?s people will get you across the river to safety.?

?And the dragon??

?Let me worry about the dragon,? said Mickey, and that brought nothing more than doubting stares.

?We are confident that we can get you out,? Sinnafein said.

?Aye, that I see, but I?ll be needin? more than yer good hopes, Lady,? said King Connerad. ?As I telled ye, we almost didn?t get back into the hall last time!?

?Dismiss that one,? Mickey said to Connerad, and she indicated General Dagnabbet. ?And that one,? she said, pointing to Bungalow Thump.

The dwarves huffed and puffed at that indignity, but Mickey casually turned to the strange dwarf who had come in with Bruenor and Drizzt. ?And you are??

?Name?s Athrogate,? he answered.

Mickey nodded and smiled knowingly. ?You may stay.?

?Yerself?s settin? the meeting, are ye?? King Connerad asked skeptically, and beside him, both Bungalow Thump and General Dagnabbet crossed their arms over their chests defiantly.

?If you would hear the next words I have to say, then they will leave,? Mickey calmly explained. ?And all of your guards as well. And I will have your word?all of you who remain ?that what I tell you will be held in the strictest confidence.?

King Connerad started to argue.

?There is no debate to be found here, good king,? Mickey interrupted. ?You do as I ask, or I have nothing more to say.?

?And ye leave us in the halls?? Connerad asked. ?No,? Sinnafein and Mickey answered together.

?What I have to offer in private is assurance,? Mickey told him. ?The plan remains intact whether you hear it or not, though I suspect that you will plan more accordingly, and come forth with more confidence, if you hear what I have to say.?

The surprised and confused onlookers all looked to Sinnafein then for an explanation, but she could only shake her head and shrug.

?Take the guards, all o? them,? King Connerad told his two dear friends.

Bungalow Thump nearly choked on that order, but General Dagnabbet rose immediately and bade him to go with her. The disciplined soldier knew her duty, and would not allow pride to interfere.

As soon as they were gone, Mickey turned to Drizzt. ?I am here on behalf of one who knows you well,? she said.

?Bwahaha!? Athrogate howled, and that surely clued Drizzt in as to whom Mickey might be referring.

?What?s she sayin?, elf?? Bruenor demanded. ?Who?s?? He stopped short when Drizzt put a hard glance over him, then guided Bruenor?s gaze to Athrogate.

?No,? Bruenor said with a groan. ?Canno? be.? ?Bwahaha!? Athrogate roared.

?Him again, and why?s meself not surprised?? Bruenor replied. ?Always is his hand in the jar.?

?None can know that,? Mickey said. ?Menzoberranzan is here in support of Many-Arrows, and our friend will not compromise his position, as you can well understand.?

Drizzt looked at her curiously when he noted the way she had said ?our friend,? pointedly

not speaking the name of the drow he suspected.

?Of course,? Drizzt replied. He looked to King Connerad. ?It is an amazing risk he takes.? ?Jar?? Bruenor started to say, but Drizzt cut him short with an upraised hand and a sharp

look.

?Pray speak yer words,? King Connerad declared. ?Nay, pray do not,? Mickey ordered.

?Bruenor?? asked Connerad.

?Bah, but ye got to be trustin? us on this one, me friend.?

?They speak of one who would be sorely compromised,? Catti-brie explained.

?A drow from Menzoberranzan,? Sinnafein put in, casting a judgmental glare at Mickey. ?Sometimes of Menzoberranzan,? Drizzt agreed.

?Aye, and all the time he?s for himself, don?t ye doubt,? said Bruenor. ?But I?d rather have that one on me side than fightin? aside me enemies.?

Drizzt nodded.

?Our friend asked me for help, along with my sister, and so we agreed,? said Mickey. ?We came to the Glimmerwood with two of your former associates, Amber and Afafrenfere. And with the help of Sinnafein and her people, we learned of all that has transpired and so laid our plans.?

?Good plans,? Sinnafein added. ?You come out hard and with all you can spare, indeed with all you have, and we will help you rout the orcs camped in front of your northern gate.? ?Another ten thousand in the east,? King Connerad reminded her. ?And half that in

Keeper?s Dale again, from what me boys?re tellin? me.?

?And so you?ll turn about with most of your forces, as we said,? Mickey replied. ?You will be safely back behind Mithral Hall?s great gates before the orc reinforcements arrive. But you,? she added, turning to Bruenor, ?will take with you Mithral Hall?s greatest legion?and your powerful friends, I hope?and come with us to waiting boats.?

?Boats?? Connerad asked. ?River?s frozen!?

?We?ll not go until the water runs free,? Sinnafein explained, ?near the end of the month of Ches, likely. If we tried now and were seen, the orcs would chase us across and dog our every step and so our gains would be short-lived.?

?We will be across the Surbrin and melted into the Glimmerwood before the orcs arrive,? Mickey added. ?And if we are clever, and if we are quick, the minions of Warlord Hartusk will not even know the truth of it?that a legion of dwarves had broken free of their hole, ready to go and free Adbar and Felbarr, who are in dire need.?

?And if we?re all comin? out and their dragon drops upon us, what then?? King Connerad asked.

?It will not,? said Mickey. ?But if it does??

?If Arauthator is about, we will deal with him, I assure you,? said Mickey.

?Yerself assures me?? Connerad echoed incredulously. ?Against a dragon? How can ye make such a claim, lass??

Mickey smiled, wickedly it seemed, and turned to Drizzt as she answered, ?Because we have our friend.?

All eyes followed her gaze to the drow ranger, who stared at Mickey for a long while, then

began to nod his agreement. They had Jarlaxle.

CHAPTER 9

BY THE GODS

SHONTIQ A?LAVALLIER LEANED AGAINST THE STONE WALL OF THE TUNNEL entrance, trying to keep his

focus on the sentry task at hand, but his mind constantly drifted back to the city of Q?Xorlarrin. So many possibilities teased the shadows in front of the drow wizard, both with the openings available to him in the fledgling city and with the opportunities that were opening up for practitioners of his craft, given the encroachments of Lolth into the Weave.

But first they had to be done with this increasingly tedious surface war, Shontiq kept reminding himself. It had started promisingly enough with some truly enjoyable battles. Shontiq had been at the side of Ravel, noble son of House Xorlarrin?though he now used the surname of Do?Urden?weaving the lightning web that had engulfed the front line of Knights in Silver when they counterattacked across the Redrun. And how deliciously effective and lethal that lightning had been on the riders in midstream.

And then Sundabar, and truly there had been no previous experience in Shontiq?s eventful life to match the thrill of watching the fall of Sundabar. He had been among the lead wizards in the last assault that had toppled the city, crawling through the tunnels to the substructure of the guard tower. Shontiq couldn?t suppress a grin as he recalled again the image of the lightning net climbing up the stones of that tower, the foolish humans leaping from the tower?s top.

Glorious.

But now the siege had stalled, and this thing called ?winter? seemed quite boring to the impatient drow. There were no seasons in the Underdark, but up here, all was buried under a blanket of uncomfortable snow. This season was almost over, the orcs had assured Shontiq and the others, and the slaughter could soon resume.

But it had been a long few months, and longer still because Shontiq had been assigned to this region, the tunnels north of the city called Silverymoon. By all accounts, this city would likely serve as the next conquest, but for these months, the region had offered nothing but boredom, unlike the Upperdark regions around the three dwarven citadels, where skirmishes were common as the desperate bearded folk tried to break free.

Here, though, there was nothing. The folk of Silverymoon seemed content to remain within their walls, and given the reputed number of wizards among their ranks, including their leader whose nickname was Thunderspell, they were no doubt weathering the winter, indeed all of the siege, with little discomfort. Shontiq believed that they should be applying more pressure to the city, with magical and war-machine bombardment day and night. He had said as much to Ravel, and it seemed to him from the Xorlarrin?s response that Ravel did not disagree.

But Ravel had warned him to stand down. Tiago had turned his sights to the dwarves again ?to Mithral Hall, for some reason Ravel would not disclose.

Shontiq could not let the matter drop, however. Not in his mind, at least. Not with the incessant boredom closing in all around him. He was now in the second rank of advance scouts, with only one fellow drow, a lovely maiden named Sahvin Sel?rue, between him and

the open tunnels of the Underdark.

Many times did Shontiq fantasize about running out among those dark ways to find the encampments near to one of the dwarven citadels, to again use his magical repertoire to summon forth ice storms, to freeze the blood of his enemies and hear their dying screams, instead of the mundane tasks he was assigned in this eventless region.

The drow heaved another resigned sigh. He knew that he should be fanning out to the east of Sahvin Sel?Rue?s quadrant, but really, what was the point of such an exercise? Silverymoon was behind them, with the only notable route blocked by a large encampment of orcs and ogres. If the folk of the city came forth into the tunnels, they?d be tied up long enough with the monstrous fodder for Shontiq and the other dark elves to be long on their way to link up with Ravel?s band in the northwest.

He felt his magical wards dissipating and thought that he should renew them.

But to what end? Every day he came down to this area, protected from fire, protected from ice, protected from arrows, and with his array of magical wands at the ready on his belt. Every day, for hours and hours. Occasionally he might talk Sahvin into some playful recreation, at least, but the witch was in a most foul mood this day and had gone off to her haunts without even responding to his advances.

Strangely, Shontiq hadn?t even protested, because in truth, he hadn?t even cared. Perhaps the many tendays down here had turned even that former pleasure into tedium.

So he stood there alone and he thought of Q?Xorlarrin. He?d be a good soldier here in this glorious campaign, and then he?d return home to make the most of his opportunities?and there would be some, he was certain, because some of the other drow wizards would surely fall in the fighting in this campaign, and particularly since Ravel would be going to serve in this ridiculous House Do?Urden in Menzoberranzan.

There would be room for ascension.

The wizard waggled his fingers and produced a ball of fire, hovering above his open palm. He stared at the dancing flames, marveling at their interplay. Perhaps he could bring forth a sprite from the elemental plane of fire, a pet of sorts to dance around and amuse him.

He wondered what such a fiend might sound like when he dropped an ice storm upon it. ?Yes,? he muttered quietly, staring into the flames as if looking for such a creature there in

the palm of his hand.

His attention was diverted then by movement down the corridor. He turned his head to look at it, thinking to dismiss the ball of fire, but before he even began that dispelling, he recognized that it was Sahvin approaching up the long corridor.

Shontiq nodded in greeting, thinking the female was waving at him. But then he realized she was warning him, telling him to flee.

Shontiq started to throw his ball of flame to the side, but again his attention was grabbed by the movement down the hall, as Sahvin Sel?rue sprinted toward him. And behind her there were lights?torches! Sahvin shook her hands at him, shook her head at him, and then the woman dived down suddenly into a forward roll, just as a spinning missile swept over her tumbling form.

It went through Shontiq?s mind that he should have renewed his magical wards.

Then the warhammer went through Shontiq?s mind, quite literally, and his every thought blew away in an instant.

The conjured magical flame tumbled as the wizard dropped, landing right beside him, licking at his arm and robe, but he didn?t feel it.

Sahvin Sel?rue ran past him then, and had no time to pause and see if he was still alive, or to pat out the flames now growing on the sleeve of Shontiq?s fine robes. Glancing at the thick head of the warhammer embedded in the brains of her companion, she saw little point in going to Shontiq anyway, except perhaps to retrieve the weapon.

Her eyes did flash as she considered that possibility, for surely it seemed a wondrous weapon, despite the gore splattered about it.

She just kept going. She had no choice. A powerful force of humans and elves licked at her heels, led by a Knight in Silver, a raging barbarian who seemed as big and formidable as a frost giant, and a clever little halfling who had already put one hand crossbow dart into Sahvin?s backside.

She could feel the poisoned tip burning there, but she didn?t dare slow to remove it. Around a corner and up a natural chimney, and she?d be back among the orcs, and she

could warn them and organize them, and filter through their ranks ? and run away if they were overrun.

The main orc encampment, in a large cavern, had been designed perfectly to fit the information presented to the forty dark elves advising this group.

They knew, for example, that the people of Silverymoon had no underground route to get around their location to the tunnels north of them. The drow had scouted this region of the Upperdark extensively.

They knew, as well, that the folk of Silverymoon could not come forth from their walled city aboveground without being spied by the many eyes they had upon the place.

And they knew, of course, that the other underground citadels of the region, the three dwarven fortresses, could not come forth to the aid of Silverymoon, aboveground or in the Underdark, without them knowing it long in advance.

They did know, as well, that a small force from Sundabar had escaped into the Underdark through the subterranean granaries and the Everfire Caverns below those. But this was a fleeing mob, after all, full of old women and children, of peasants and farmers and nothing more, and within a tenday or so after the fall of Sundabar, this mob had been put out of mind. Perhaps the refugees had found their way to Everlund, or had escaped out to the east. More likely, most were dead in the Underdark, killed by falls or starvation or displacer beasts or umber hulks or any of the hundreds of deadly pitfalls and monstrous enemies to be found there.

And so when the siege of Silverymoon had been solidified for the winter pause, this cavern had been perfectly designed, with defensive walls and high watch points, with ballistae even, aiming to the tunnels entering the southern rim of the cavern, the tunnels coming from Silverymoon.

Everything was aiming to the south, every barricade, every weapon nest, every scout position.

A general sense of confusion and dread emanated from the words of the returning drow

scout, therefore, when Sahvin crawled into the northern rim of the cavern encampment warning of a powerful enemy force close behind.

More than a score of dark elves were in that camp, along with two hundred battle-hardened, well-armed, and well-armored orcs; scores of ogres; and a brigade of giants. Had they reformed their lines and turned their weapons around, the approaching force of refugees would have had no chance of breaking through them, let alone of defeating them.

But there were thousands coming, Sahvin had assured them. From her perspective, judging by the sheer number of torches and the discipline, speed, and confidence of the march, the leading band of powerful warriors?including a commander of the Knights in Silver?there could be little doubt that this was a coordinated squeeze. Silverymoon or one of her allies? perhaps a new force from outside the Silver Marches?was cutting off the main retreat lines and falling upon this encampment with all of her weight.

The dark elves barely broached the possibility of standing their ground and fighting, and instead, in full, fled through the lower tunnels into the deeper Underdark.

Giants jostled ogres, ogres thumped orcs, and orcs shoved and punched one another in the confusion that ensued. Where to go? Where to turn?

?Formations!? one orc leader cried, but no one knew what that even meant in this oddly-shaped cavern with tunnels coming in from all sides, from above, and from below.

One band of orcs moved to a wide northeastern tunnel, though to scout or to flee the others did not know. Nor did it matter, for such a barrage of arrows met them as they exited the room that those few surviving the surprising onslaught staggered right back in.

Toward that tunnel ran a powerful square of ogres and giants, shoving a wall of orcs in front of them, and with scores of orcs trailing in their wake.

But from a side tunnel in the east came the first enemies, led by Sundabar warriors and a Knight in Silver, and by a giant of a man and a halfling beside him.

And they were led by a devastating volley of spears and by a warhammer thrown so powerfully that it dropped an ogre dead where it stood.

Orcs charged at the enemy, but more orcs broke the other way, running for the western exits.

The square of ogres and giants took a different route. Hearing the commotion of thousands, it seemed, they charged down the tunnel from which the arrows had come. If an unfortunate orc being pushed in front of the defensive shield array tripped and fell, it was crushed to death in short order by ogre feet and giant boots. Down they went, thinking to burrow into the back ranks of this approaching army.

They crossed an area of broken stones and found many spikes among those rocks, cleverly set as caltrops. Monsters roared and the square?s integrity shuddered. Ogres stumbled aside, grabbing at broken feet.

Another barrage of arrows reached forth from the darkness, raining and stinging. But the monsters rolled on eagerly, ready for the kill.

Rolled on and on, and found a room where a hundred small candles burned?small candles they had thought the torches of an army far back along the straight corridor!

They were chasing ghosts, they came to realize finally, when they were far from the encampment, far from the orcs and few ogres they had left behind ?

Far from the actual fighting.

The rapier whirled round and round about the orc spear, over and over, then reversing suddenly and shoving the spear wide. In sudden and brilliant balance, his upper torso barely shifting, the halfling quick-stepped forward and thrust once and again, and the orc fell away with blood spurting from two holes in its chest.

Regis used the momentary pause to quickly cock and load his hand crossbow, and he sent a dart into the ear of an orc across the way, one charging into battle farther down the line. The beast stutter-stepped and grabbed at its ear, howling in pain rather than bloodlust now.

Then it staggered and pitched forward, and the sword of a Sundabar swordsman cut it down.

?Well fought and well shot, little one!? came a voice from the other way, and Regis turned to salute Aleina Brightlance, rapier coming up to his forehead, then diving out in front of him to turn aside the swipe of an orc?s sword.

That orc pressed on, thinking its momentum would carry it to the kill, and indeed, it disengaged the weapon and pressed it forward at the apparently vulnerable target.

But up came a three-bladed dagger, intercepting the sword in a deft hooking motion, followed by a twist that nearly broke the blade and turned the orc?s arm out wide.

That gave Aleina the perfect opening. She drove her opponent back with a slash and thrust, but turned the thrust to the side in time to slide her sword through the chest of Regis?s enemy.

That orc tumbled between them and Regis rushed behind it, intercepting the orc coming back in at Aleina, his rapier taking it in the shoulder, then the neck.

The creature staggered, Regis retreated, and Aleina lopped off its head. ?Aha!? she cried. ?Four kills! What will your giant friend think of that??

Her boast was cut short as a heavy missile soared in at the pair from the side beyond Aleina. They both yelped and fell away, stumbling back into formation. Before their brains could unscramble from the surprise?was it a giant-thrown boulder??the duo recognized the missile as an orc, and one quite dead, from the weird way it lay there, all twisted and broken. Glancing back from where it had come, they quickly discerned the source.

?I doubt he?d be impressed,? Regis replied dryly. The source of the recently living missile was Wulfgar, standing amidst a pile of broken orc and ogre bodies, his hammer chopping out in front of him with heavy, brutal strikes.

?By the gods,? Aleina Brightlance muttered.

?Tempus, I believe,? Regis answered, and they both shuddered as Aegis-fang came down hard on the ogre?s head, exploding the misshapen noggin into a shower of blood and gore.

?That marks ten at least,? Regis remarked, following Aleina forward to find more foes. ?And four of them ogres, by my count.?

?I can count,? Aleina grumbled.

Regis grinned and couldn?t resist. ?And that does not include the ones he killed before we ever reached this chamber.?

Aleina cast a sidelong glare at him, but it was one filled with the heat of a good-natured rivalry and no true scorn.

?Your friend will claim a higher total than I,? she admitted when the horns blew behind them, indicating that the force out in the tunnel, leading the giants on a wild and fruitless

chase, was coming in fast.

?To the south!? Aleina called to her charges. ?Sweep clear the tunnels to Silverymoon!? Aleina moved past Regis to lead the pivot. They had never entertained any idea of a

pitched battle in this cavern. Their force was more mirage than reality. They had hit fast and hard, and indeed, it could be called nothing short of a rout, with scores of monsters dead, and the survivors running. But this was the delicate part, Aleina and the others knew. If those enemies still remaining in the cavern realized the ploy and the intent to flee, they might come on again, and that battle might well give enough time for the giants and ogres to return.

Indeed, soon after she had started to the south, drawing the forward line around, Aleina noted a distant orc up on a natural pedestal of stone, calling for its charges to turn and fight.

But that orc was hit, suddenly and brutally, and went flying away. Aleina turned her gaze back to the north to see Wulfgar?s wicked grin. ?By the gods,? she muttered once more, under her breath.

Regis awakened propped in a chair in a small room. The chamber was bare save for a single chair and a heavy, ironbound door just a couple of feet in front of the seated halfling. Not sure how he?d gotten to this place, the halfling instinctively leaned forward and reached for the door, only to find his right wrist shackled, chained to a peg set in the floor behind the chair.

Regis studied the tight metal bracelet, seeking a locking mechanism. But there was none to be found, just a smooth metallic ring?it looked like mithral?too tight for him to even think about slipping his hand out.

A magical shackle, but how?

His thoughts immediately went to the dark elves, and he found it hard to breathe. He shook his head, trying not to get ahead of himself, telling himself to recount the events. He remembered the planning for the assault?he had led the way on that. The initial charge was clear to him, as was entering the cavern beside Aleina Brightlance.

They had routed the orc force, and pressed through into the tunnels Aleina had assured them would take them to Silverymoon. Indeed, Regis had some recollection of the calls of the advance runners, indicating that the defenders of Silverymoon were in sight.

He looked at the shackle again, at the material and the simple, elegant design, and ran the fingers of his other hand over it gently, searching for a lock, though he was certain of a magical seal. He hoped again that this wasn?t a drow shackle, and held that thought and his breath as the door to his room opened.

Regis breathed an audible sigh of relief when a man, a human, entered the room. Tall and broad-shouldered, and certainly an imposing figure, Regis found it hard to place the man?s age. He had a thick head of hair with a bit of yellow in it, though it was mostly gray. His white beard was long and neatly tapered, and his dark eyes, ringed by fine lines, bespoke the wisdom of age.

?I trust you are not harmed,? he said in a deep and resonant voice and an accent that, like his fine clothing, spoke of culture and sophistication.

That realization gave Regis pause. He looked at the man more carefully and thought

perhaps he recognized him.

?Confused, perhaps, but not harmed,? he answered.

?Good, then perhaps I can help clear up your confusion,? the man said. He waggled his fingers and cast a quick spell. A chair appeared directly in front of Regis. The tall man spun it around and sat straddling it, leaning his elbow on its straight back. With his free hand, he reached into a pocket and pulled forth Regis?s hat of disguise, which he hung on the corner of the chair?s back.

?Let us begin with your lying,? he said.

?M-my what?? Regis stammered, staring at the hat. ?Where am I? Is this Silverymoon?? ?Yes, and you were invited in,? came the reply.

?To be shackled?? ?After you lied.?

?I ? I ?? Regis fought for an answer, but really had no idea what was going on. He remembered more now, but it was still hazy.

?I came in with Knight-Commander Ale??

?Aleina Brightlance, yes,? the man interrupted. ?And with the refugees of Sundabar, though you were not one of those.?

?No, but we found ??

?I know your tale, little one. I am well acquainted with Aleina and have spoken with her at length.?

?Then you know I am no enemy of Silverymoon.?

?I know that you lied to me,? the man answered. ?We had priests watching with spells enacted when you and your large companion were questioned. Your friend, Wulfgar, spoke truly, but as for you, Mister Parrafin ??

?My name ?? Regis breathed.

?Spider Parrafin, so you said, but that was not the truth.? ?It is a half-truth.?

?Do tell.?

?Spider Parrafin is the name of my ? of my second life. I was reborn?it is a crazy tale, I fear. My name really is Parrafin, and the name I gave myself when my father would not ?? He paused and huffed. There was so much to tell.

?Spider,? he said. ?They called me Spider because I could climb walls so well. So I kept the name, and so, yes, my name is Spider Parrafin.?

?The priests claimed that to be a lie, and I am inclined to believe them.?

?Because in my heart, I do not hold to that identity,? Regis admitted. ?And so to the perceptions of the priests with their spells, it would seem as if I was lying.?

?Pray continue,? the tall man said when Regis paused.

?My true name is Regi?? the halfling started to explain, but he stopped and stared harder at the man, recognition clicking into place. ?I know you,? he said.

?Regih?? the man echoed.

?You were an advisor to Lady Alustriel,? Regis said. ?But that was a century and more ago. Nay, wait, you were the High Mage of Silverymoon!?

?That is no secret.?

?Do you not know me?? the halfling asked, but then caught himself. ?No, of course you do

not. My real name is Regis, and it is a name that you know, or knew.? The wizard held his hands out, clearly at a loss.

?I was friend to Bruenor Battlehammer, once Steward of Mithral Hall,? Regis said. ?Friend to Drizzt Do?Urden.?

?A fanciful tale,? the man replied in a tone that sounded less than convinced. ?And your friend ?? He stopped there, his face twisting with confusion, and he mouthed, ?Wulfgar?? He stared back at the halfling, then shook his head, a perplexed look upon his face.

Regis grinned. ?It is true,? he said. ?Fetch your priests and cast the spells, I pray. And you are Taern Hornblade, yes? The wizard they call Thunderspell??

The man was hardly listening, as he was clearly trying to wrap his thoughts around this startling information?though surely not as startling to one of Taern?s wizardly skills, or one of his age, for even with the time spent in the magical forest of Iruladoon and even with the years after his rebirth, Regis wasn?t nearly as old as this human.

?What does it mean?? asked a woman?s voice, and Aleina entered the room.

?If it is true, then it would mean that these two you found in the Underdark are older than anyone in Silverymoon who is not an elf and is not ? me,? the high mage replied.

?It means more than that,? Regis added.

?Go and fetch the one called Wulfgar,? Taern bade Aleina. ?They have a tale to tell, and it is one we should hear.?

?I am so glad that you have returned to us,? Belinda Heavensbow said to Aleina, wrapping her returned friend in a great hug. ?We had heard that you survived the Redrun to get to Sundabar, but feared you dead in that catastrophe.?

?I surely would have been,

Date: 2016-06-13; view: 124