WHERE ARE THE DAMNED DRAGONS?

THE GOBLIN SHAMAN WISELY DUCKED AWAY INTO THE COMPANY OF

the great Tiago.

The drow was in a foul mood this day, storming around the camp of the Many-Arrows minions besieging the city of Silverymoon. He had drawn the orc leaders together around a large fire and made no secret of his displeasure as he dressed them down.

The goblin wasn?t well versed in the orc language, but his skills had improved enough? and it really wasn?t that much different from the goblin tongue anyway?so that he could make out the gist of the dark elf?s rant.

They hadn?t pressured Silverymoon enough, apparently. The city was too intact. The defenders should be reeling, short on food and without morale.

It sounded rather silly to the goblin shaman, who knew well that the wizards and priests within the magical city had easily enough fed the citizenry with conjured food and drink.

This drow was flailing in anger, nothing more.

After the tirade died down, however, Tiago selected a few of the orc leaders and herded them into a tent, setting many guards, giants mostly, to keep the perimeter wide.

The goblin shaman milled around with the horde, easing his way to a cubby behind some stacked crates. He took a deep breath, trying to still his nerves. He didn?t like dealing with drow in this manner. He could fool the orcs and goblins and surely the ogres easily enough, and evoke no more than a curious glance from a giant, but a dark elf might see right through him.

But so be it, he silently told himself, and he fished the small potion vial from his belt and imbibed it.

He waited a moment for the effects to take place, then moved out as silently as he could, cutting as direct a course for the command tent as possible. He might be heard, but he wouldn?t be seen. The potion was one of invisibility.

He veered from the tent flap and the two wary giant guards, and instead made his way to the side. He pressed his ear against the skin, hoping he might catch the conversation within, but to no avail. He had to go in, and so he did, easing himself under the tent flap. Good luck was with him, and he slipped in near some casks and crates at the side of the wide tent. He quickly eased behind them, all the while fearing that a drow noble might detect his presence, invisible or not.

He quieted his breathing and listened. And learned.

Tiago?s entourage left the encampment soon after, and, his invisibility long worn away, so did the goblin shaman, abandoning his watch post to run off in the dark of night to a particular copse of trees?and a particular stump of a felled tree within.

He glanced around, making sure he wasn?t seen, then reached carefully into a crack in the trunk, releasing a cleverly hidden lever. The flat top of the trunk popped free on one side and the goblin lifted the secret trapdoor back on its hinges and quickly scrambled onto the ladder

within, closing and sealing the trunk behind him.

Down he went to a small anteroom, where he stood with his arms extended unthreateningly, well aware that several crossbows and a side-slinger catapult or two were aimed his way. He tapped his beret and was Regis once more.

?Well met, little rat,? said Gunner Grapeshot, the artillery dwarf commander in charge of this secret tunnel and trapdoor the industrious folk of Silverymoon had dug. ?What d?ye know??

?Lots,? Regis replied, hustling by. ?Lots for Lord Hornblade and the knight-commanders!? Gunner Grapeshot clapped him on the shoulder as he sped past.

?Where are the damned dragons?? Tiago roared at Ravel. They were back in Hartusk Keep ?the ruins of Sundabar?and the drow warrior was not in a good mood.

?Arauthator said he would return in the Melting,? the Xorlarrin wizard replied. ?That time is upon us. Patience, my friend ??

?Patience?? Tiago interrupted with incredulity and animosity. ?The Baenre and Barrison Del?Armgo soldiers are gone. You tell me to have patience while the matron mother has none, clearly.?

?Beware your words, Husband,? said Saribel, entering the room. ?We were winning,? Tiago replied in low and even tones.

?We still are,? Ravel replied. ?The dwarves are in their holes, Silverymoon is locked, Sundabar and Nesmé have fallen, and Warlord Hartusk?s army only swells with new monsters eager to drink in the blood of our enemies.?

?The dwarves ?? Tiago spat. ?Do you think we?ll keep them in their holes when they realize that few drow support the orcs in the tunnels??

?What does it matter?? Saribel asked sharply, drawing Tiago?s narroweyed glance. Most would wilt in the face of that dangerous look, but Saribel stood taller. ?Fifteen tendays and the hourglass sand is already falling fast. We will strike again, beautifully and powerfully, and leave the mark of House Do?Urden burned forever upon the memories of those survivors in the Silver Marches. And then we will be gone, back home, to House Do?Urden in Menzoberranzan, to revel in the glory of victory.?

Ravel nodded with her every word, but Tiago seemed less than convinced.

?So hungry for glory,? Saribel berated him with her wicked grin unrelenting, ?and too foolish to know that greater glory awaits us in our homeland. We are the instruments of the matron mother, idiot husband. We will carry House Do?Urden forward, step by step, until we and great Baenre surround Matron Mother Del?Armgo on the Ruling Council.?

?Third House?? Tiago asked, his voice full of doubt, for indeed, those Houses between Barrison Del?Armgo and Do?Urden were quite capable and powerful. Tiago ran the list silently in his thoughts, trying to sort out which House might be a likely target for House Do?Urden?s attempted climb. Despite trying to keep his thoughts private, he found himself shaking his head. Every House above Do?Urden was formidable, and none were without powerful allies. For all her bravado, for all she had already done to assert her dominance, Tiago couldn?t see Matron Mother Quenthel taking so great a risk as to go to war beside Do?Urden against any of

the other noble Houses.

Perhaps the matron mother would allow the Houses Melarn and Vandree to finally destroy House Fey-Branche, now that the matron mother had extracted Minolin Fey to serve in House Baenre.

Perhaps soon after, Baenre and her allies would turn upon the Melarni and their Vandree allies, eliminating those two Houses, too, from the Ruling Council. By the time the blood dried, the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Houses of Menzoberranzan might well be no more, allowing the fast ascent of Matron Mother Quenthel?s pet House of Do?Urden.

?Soon after,? Tiago whispered with a derisive snort. He had experienced enough of Menzoberranzan?s politics to know that such maneuvers would take years, decades even, and all of that with Matron Mother Mez?Barris Armgo wearing her dangerous scowl.

He shook his head. He could see none of it, not anytime soon. Matron Mother Quenthel had already extended herself to the limits of tolerance, between usurping the Eighth House with her Do?Urden creation and granting a ninth seat on the Ruling Council to her sister Sos?Umptu. All of Menzoberranzan, and even the Q?Xorlarrin soldiers serving here in the Silver Marches, whispered at the brash moves by Matron Mother Quenthel. Only the threat of House wars and a web of powerful allies were keeping the city from exploding into an all-out civil war. The threat of war could often be a greater shackle than the war itself.

And even if Saribel?s hopes began to materialize and House Do?Urden began her ascent up the rungs of the Ruling Council, what did that matter to Tiago? He was a Baenre, by blood and birthright, and that House would ever rule supreme in Menzoberranzan, and surely over House Do?Urden, which was no more than a shadow cast by the matron mother for her own advantage.

?But of course you have other plans, do you not, Husband?? Saribel accused with a wicked grin. ?It is not about Menzoberranzan for you, is it? Or about the glory of House Baenre or House Do?Urden, or about the structure and security of Q?Xorlarrin.?

?Why would I care for Q?Xorlarrin?? he asked dismissively. ?It is my Hou??

?Was,? Tiago pointedly interrupted.

Saribel conceded the point with a nod, but that knowing, wicked grin never left her face. ?This is all,? she said, lifting her arms to take in the environment around her, ?about Tiago to you. It is personal, intensely so. It is about the glory of Tiago, and of those gains you can make here to further your personal power in Menzoberranzan.?

?Are you any different, Matron Mother Do?Urden?? Tiago asked, sarcastically throwing Saribel?s own ambitions to rule House Do?Urden back in her face.

?No,? she admitted. ?But I see the gains of this war already achieved. Few drow have fallen, though many enemies are dead, and Warlord Hartusk is entrenched enough to cause havoc and misery to Luruar for decades to come. And all in the name of Do?Urden. We have already won, Husband.?

?Almost,? said Tiago.

?Fifteen tendays,? Ravel said from the side. ?One hundred and fifty days to coax the rogue from the dwarven hole and kill him.?

?And so I shall,? Tiago vowed.

The room?s door banged open and in strode Warlord Hartusk with determined, powerful

strides.

?Where are the dragons?? the brutish orc demanded. ?A question I just asked,? said Tiago.

?The Melting has begun,? Hartusk growled, using the nickname of the fourth month. ?It is time, but we need the dragons.?

?We have thousands of soldiers,? said Ravel. ?Tens of thousands! We can press Silverymoon and assail Everlund even without ??

Hartusk?s growl, so full of anger and threat, cut him short. ?The dwarves came out,? he said.

?Which dwarves?? Tiago and Ravel asked together, both clearly surprised and intrigued. ?Mithral Hall,? Hartusk explained. ?They burst from their door, then ran back in before my

armies could swarm over them. But they stole supplies, many supplies, and so they are safe in their hole once more. I need dragons to keep them in, and to dig, aye to dig into their halls, that orc spears will find dwarven hearts.?

Tiago smiled knowingly and nodded.

?Everlund,? Warlord Hartusk demanded, and Tiago smiled all the wider, pleased that the orc leader was perceptive enough to understand that Tiago doubted their intended course. If the dwarves were breaking out behind them, prodding farther to the south would be foolhardy.

?Arauthator said he would return, and so he shall,? Saribel put in.

Warlord Hartusk stared at her for a few moments, then snapped his glare onto Tiago. With a growl and a great harrumph, the brutish orc strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

?He doesn?t even know yet,? Tiago remarked, referring to the recall of the Menzoberranyr, with fully three out of every four dark elves?perhaps more?who had come in support of the war leaving for the deeper Underdark.

?This should prove to be fun,? Ravel said dryly.

?He is an orc,? Saribel put in, ?easily distracted, easily pleased.?

?You intend to sleep with him?? Tiago asked, drawing a scowl from Saribel. She turned to her brother instead and asked, ?Well??

Tiago, too, turned to Ravel, but his expression was one of honest curiosity. ?Lorgru didn?t have the time to gather them,? Ravel answered his sister. ?So you have them??

?They are in the crypt in Dark Arrow Keep.? ?Then go and get them,? Saribel demanded.

Ravel heaved a sigh and looked over at Tiago with great lament. ?The sword and armor of the first King Obould,? he explained. ?Gifts for Warlord Hartusk.?

?Where did you get such an idea?? Tiago demanded, and Ravel held his hand out to Saribel.

Tiago?s incredulous gaze fell over her.

?While you plot and connive for the lust of the rogue Do?Urden and the sake of your own glory, I am thinking of the wider view, Husband,? she said.

?Hartusk usurped Lorgru,? Tiago reminded. ?You are likely to incite a civil war among the orcs!?

But Saribel was merely shaking her head. ?Putting that fiery greatsword in the hands of Warlord Hartusk will remind all of the time of Obould,? she said. ?And so we begin again the whispers that this was all ordained, a plot by Lolth and Gromph executed by King Obould the First and a drow spy named Drizzt Do?Urden to secure a foothold in the Silver Marches for just this day. It was Tos?un Armgo?s idea. He remembers well the days of the first King Obould.?

Tiago stared at her for some time, impressed and a bit afraid. In the end, he could only mutter once more, ?Where are the damned dragons??

?Regis heard Duke Tiago with his own ears,? Knight-Commander Aleina Brightlance reminded the sitting Lord of Silverymoon. Beside her, Regis shifted nervously from foot to foot, very aware of the withering gaze of the great Taern Hornblade, the battle-mage they called Thunderspell.

?You ask me to weaken my garrison with the hordes of orcs and giants encamped around Silverymoon on the word of a halfling I barely know?? Lord Hornblade replied. ?A halfling you hardly know??

?So once more you doubt my story?? Regis asked. ?And the tale of Wulfgar? I thought we had settled this, Lord Hornblade. Have not your priests ??

He paused when Hornblade held up his hands in defeat. ?Yes, yes,? he said. ?You are Regis of Icewind Dale, once steward of Mithral Hall. Your claim has been verified.?

?But you just said??

?And friend to Drizzt Do?Urden,? Hornblade went on. ?Drizzt Do?Urden of House Do?Urden of Menzoberranzan, who have come to the surface to prod forth the legions of Many-Arrows. To bring misery to my door.?

?You cannot believe that,? Regis quietly mouthed.

?Duke Tiago Do?Urden of Nesmé has executed hundreds,? Lord Hornblade said. ?He led the fight that killed King Bromm of Citadel Adbar. He cut off the head of King Firehelm in Sundabar and flew about the city on his pet dragon with the trophy. Aleina saw it herself! Did you not, Knight-Commander??

?I saw Tiago,? Aleina carefully answered. ?Tiago Do?Urden,? said Hornblade.

?Tiago Baenre,? Regis corrected. ?Of House Baenre, First House of Menzoberranzan.? ?He calls himself Do?Urden.?

?I do not know why,? Regis admitted. ?But whatever it may be, Drizzt is not a part of it. Wulfgar and I were separated from him and King Bruenor in the upper tunnels of the Underdark, trying to get to Mithral Hall. Drizzt has nothing to do with the aggression of Many-Arrows, Lord Hornblade, unless it is to put an end to that aggression by the blade.?

?Was it a Do?Urden felled by Wulfgar?s throw of Aegis-fang when my troupe made our last run to Silverymoon?? Aleina added. ?For that drow was surely killed by the blow.?

Lord Hornblade?s expression and uplifted hands bade them both to relent.

?If you are wrong about this, Silverymoon will be in desperate straits,? Hornblade said. ?We are not asking for a large force,? Aleina said. ?And we will need only enough wizards

to keep us from the searching eyes of the orcs.?

?And the drow and the dragons,? Hornblade corrected. ?You will need powerful magic to deceive the eye of a dragon.?

Aleina bowed her head, conceding the point.

?They are rallying their forces at Sundabar, determined to sweep southeast of Silverymoon and strike at Everlund,? Hornblade said quietly, repeating the report Aleina had delivered. He rubbed his hand deliberately over his cheeks and beard, staring hard at the duo.

?It is a wise move for them,? he decided. ?Everlund will be no easy battle, surely, but the city has not the magical firepower Silverymoon can deliver, and it is that magic that keeps the dragons warily high when they pass over our walls.?

?It is a fool?s errand,? Regis argued. Aleina gasped, and Hornblade arched one eyebrow. ?They stretch their line past powerful enemies. This is our opportunity. Give us resources, I beg, Lord Hornblade. We will peck at their lines and cripple them before they can begin their march. We will choose the battles and the fields upon which they are fought, and so the orcs will lose and lose again. And should they choose to come against you, it will be with a depleted and dispirited force.?

?Well-argued, I admit,? Hornblade said. He looked to Aleina. ?And you are determined to lead this force? I had hoped to promote you to the leadership of the Knights in Silver and the defense of the city, and now you tell me that you will not even remain in Silverymoon??

The woman could not suppress her obvious intrigue at the intriguing prospect the Lord of Silverymoon had just dangled in front of her. But she shook her head.

?It is a good plan,? she decided. ?Our enemies cannot overrun Silverymoon, nor can they get into the dwarven citadels. Their thirst for blood has driven them to err. This beast, Hartusk, needs a conquest, but his lust exposes his flanks. I will be the tip of the sword that stabs relentlessly into those flanks.?

?A cavalry group,? said Lord Hornblade. ?Fifty riders, including the three illusionists you?ll need to keep you safely hidden, a pair of skilled battle-mages, and four priests specializing in the healing arts.?

?Fifty warriors plus the nine,? Aleina bargained. ?Plus the ten, I say, adding a third battle-mage. And an extra horse, a large one, and as fine a pony as can be found.?

Lord Hornblade stared at her and grinned. ?Forty-eight warriors, counting yourself, plus the horse and pony for your new friends, and??

?The ten,? Aleina said, matching his grin.

?And if I may,? Regis said after a long pause, and both looked to him with surprise. ?Credits for me at the apothecary? I am an alchemist of no small skill, and carry all the tools necessary to ply my trade.? He tapped his magical pouch.

Lord Hornblade could only chuckle. ?Perhaps I should surrender and simply ride with you,? he said, and though it started as a joke, by the time he finished the sentence, he and Aleina were looking into each other?s eyes quite seriously.

CHAPTER 13

Reflexively, he reached into his belt pouch, running his fingers over the small, smooth stone she had given him. He could feel the pulsing magic within the stone.

Look deeper, a voice inside Afafrenfere?s head implored him.

He clutched the stone more tightly, brought it from his pouch and up to his heart. He closed his eyes and let himself fall within the smoothness of the stone, deeper and deeper.

He saw the dragon eye looking back at him, felt the approval, and knew that Ilnezhara had ?watched? him kill the orcs.

Afafrenfere replaced the stone in his pouch and went on his way. Silent.

Deadly.

Bruenor shook his head. ?Should?ve been Felbarr,? he whispered. ?Ain?t likin? this, elf.? ?Hartusk is mustering his forces about Sundabar, too near to Citadel Felbarr,? Sinnafein

explained. ?Were we caught in a pitched battle there, the orcs would likely reinforce, and with greater numbers than we could possibly defeat.?

?Y?ever been to Citadel Adbar?? Bruenor asked her. ?Ah, but she?s a fortress to see! She?s got rings of defense pits, walls and bridges crisscrossin? all about. If them orcs?re using the outer rings as their own now, we?ll not get near the place.?

?But we shall,? Sinnafein replied. ?For the Haunted King is about. And now the beasts of Many-Arrows have had enough of his raids and have laid a trap at last.?

?The Haunted King?? Catti-brie asked.

?King o? Adbar,? explained Amber. ?Ain?t been right in the head since his brother got himself killed.?

?These foothills are thick with orcs,? Drizzt said, and as he did, he looked up to the northeast, where several campfires could be seen on the southern slope of a low mountain trail. He pointed it out to Bruenor and Catti-brie, who nodded.

?More than we can defeat, likely,? Sinnafein admitted. ?But with their eyes turned northward all, looking toward Adbar. My archers are in the low forests??

?As is me monk,? said Amber with a grin. ?And a bit farther, I?m guessin?.? ??blinding the sentries,? Sinnafein finished.

?Forevermore,? Amber explained.

Drizzt?s hand reflexively went to Taulmaril. He wanted to be out there hunting, but they had arrived too late for that.

Reports came filtering back to the group soon after, elves sketching topographical maps of the area and indicating the location and strength of the orc positions. The most troubling report came from Myriel when she at last returned, long after midnight, to describe a position of scores of frost giants.

Bruenor cast an uneasy look at Sinnafein at that revelation. ?Felbarr ?? he muttered. ?We should?ve gone to King Emerus.?

?They were not here just a few days ago,? the elf replied. ?We had no reports of any giants about at all. Nor should they have passed this way as they went in answer to Hartusk?s muster.?

?Might be that them orcs?re wantin? to put down the Haunted King afore they begin their march south,? Amber reasoned. ?He?s been stinging ?em, so ?tis said, and might that he?s stinged ?em too many times.?

Sinnafein looked around, clearly unsure.

?We come this far,? Bruenor put in. ?Ain?t for lettin? a few giants stop us now, are we? I bringed Bungalow Thump and his Gutbuster boys along just for the party, and the party?s all the better with giant knees needing to be crushed.?

The world made no sense to him any longer. All had been well. Even after the death of his father, who had lived a long and prosperous and battle-filled and glory-filled life. Harnoth and Bromm had been pained when putting the stones on old King Harbromm?s cairn, of course, for what loyal and loving son would not? But there was a sense of rightness about that passing, a feeling that this was the inevitability of life, and the proper passing of the torch, generation to generation.

Now, though, the world made no sense to Harnoth. Bromm had been taken from him so quickly, so unexpectedly.

They were supposed to grow old together, raising their own broods and passing the torch as they each went to join their Da in the Halls of Moradin. They were supposed to share decades together in battle and in leadership, leaning on each other, propping each other through the trials of ruling mighty Citadel Adbar, the Armory of Luruar.

It wasn?t supposed to be like this. But Bromm was gone, and Harnoth could do nothing about it. He should have been there beside his brother, he thought every night since the tragedy in the Cold Vale.

He should have been there to save Bromm, or to die beside him. But he wasn?t, and all the ?should haves? and ?might have beens? meant nothing.

Nothing.

Because Bromm was dead and gone, and he wasn?t coming back.

And the world made no sense to Harnoth, the sole king of Citadel Adbar, and made even less sense to him when the hordes had come to surround his proud fortress, and the dark elves had come to hide in the shadows of the tunnels, killing his kin.

And he could do nothing.

He could not bring back his brother. He could not make sense of the world.

So King Harnoth?the Haunted King, they now whispered?could discern only one acceptable course: he would fight.

Even through the deep of winter, he went out, oftentimes alone, but sometimes, as with this expedition, surrounded by his fiercest and most fiercely loyal fellows, hunting the vermin who had slain his brother.

Oretheo Spikes was there beside him this time, and when he looked upon his dear friend, it occurred to Harnoth that the Wilddwarf battlerager was becoming as haunted as he. Perhaps it was the lack of food. Rations were meager indeed in Citadel Adbar, and many had succumbed. Oretheo?s eyes were as hollow as Harnoth?s own.

But it might not be the short rations, too. Oretheo had been there for the Battle of the Cold Vale?indeed, he was the only dwarf to return to Adbar from that slaughter?and he had seen King Bromm?s cruel death, had seen Warlord Hartusk with Bromm?s severed head in hand.

King Harnoth glanced back at the exit channel that had led them from Citadel Adbar, and his mind?s eye went farther, back to the fortress itself.

To the pile of dwarf bodies, stacked in the mausoleum as neatly as firewood, awaiting the coffin masons.

He looked back to the exit channel and thought back to Citadel Adbar, and thought, too, that today would be a good day to die.

?Here,? Mickey said, pointing to the detailed map of the region southwest of Citadel Adbar. She indicated a long valley between two mountain spurs.

Sinnafein glanced at the other leaders, particularly at Bruenor, who shook his head doubtfully.

?They got giants,? the dwarf explained. ?Giants to put up in them hills on both sides, to rain stones upon hairy heads.?

?It will be seen to,? Mickey replied. ?This is the place.? ?I ain?t thinkin? it is,? said Bruenor.

?Then your brothers of Adbar will die there without you,? Mickey answered. Bruenor and his friends, Sinnafein too, fixed the copper-haired elf with angry stares.

?This is the place,? was all that Mickey would say to those doubting looks, ending any further arguments. ?Be quick.?

?I?ll take the lead,? Drizzt offered, but Mickey?s sister appeared then, shaking her head pointedly at the drow.

?The monk is in position?? Mickey asked.

?Awaiting King Harnoth, and Drizzt,? replied the other, who called herself Lady Z. ?Awaiting th? elf?? Bruenor asked.

?Come, drow,? Lady Z bade Drizzt. ?We have a most important task for you.?

Drizzt looked to his friends, mostly to Catti-brie, who wore her suspicions clearly on her face.

Mickey walked over and took Drizzt by the hand and pulled him off to the side. He instinctively tried to resist, but quickly realized that he might as well be trying to hold back an avalanche. It was easier to follow her.

?Go with my sister,? Mickey explained to him privately. ?She will send you to Afafrenfere?s side, and he will guide you to King Harnoth.?

Drizzt stared at her skeptically, not catching on. ?Ilnezhara?Lady Z?will explain in more detail.?

The drow?s expression did not change. ?My friends and allies are here.?

?This goes beyond them,? Mickey explained. ?It is our mutual friend?s idea, one to gauge the reputation of Drizzt Do?Urden more clearly among the folk of the Silver Marches, and one, perhaps, to begin repairing that reputation.?

She let go of Drizzt?s hand and motioned him toward Ilnezhara, but the drow still hesitated.

?Our friend is long-sighted and clever,? Mickey reminded him. ?Perhaps as much so as any of the lesser beings I have ever known.?

?Lesser beings?? Drizzt echoed, thinking that a rather curious, and rather telling, way of putting it. He thought of some of Jarlaxle?s previous associates and wondered if he might again be dealing with a mind flayer.

?Go, or do not,? Mickey said a bit more sharply. ?But be quick in any case because the monk cannot wait for much longer.?

Drizzt nodded before he crossed over to Catti-brie, gave her a kiss for luck, and promised that he would see her soon. ?Watch over her,? he said to Bruenor and Athrogate, ?and you watch over them,? he added to Catti-brie.

He sprinted off to catch up to Ilnezhara, who was moving off.

?What?s that about, then?? Bruenor demanded when Mickey walked back over to join them. ?It is about positioning the pieces on the sava board for a quicker kill,? she replied, and

turned to Sinnafein. ?You know the place, and the way?? The elf nodded.

?Be quick!? Mickey said sharply, and with that, the strange elf turned and leaped away, and what a leap it was, lifting her high and far to disappear into a copse of trees some thirty strides away.

?By Moradin?s hairy bum,? Bruenor muttered.

?She threw a giant,? Sinnafein dryly reminded them, and off they went.

In tight ranks, the war band followed, some three hundred Clan Moonwood elves supported by Bruenor?s two hundred shield dwarves, half of them Gutbusters. With speed and discipline they churned up the field, arrows set to bowstrings, heavy hammers, axes, and swords drawn and ready.

To their credit, the Adbar dwarves maintained a fairly tight defensive formation. But they were in full flight, running from a rain of giant boulders that had wounded several and left three dead.

Their deaths were on him, King Harnoth knew. He shouldn?t have come out this far with his twoscore loyal minions.

They had been baited, bit by bit, over the last two tendays. Harnoth had come out, sometimes with a small group, other times, like this day, with a powerful force, but the orcs had been falling back. Each day King Harnoth had to go a bit farther from Adbar?s defensive channels to find enemies to slaughter.

This day, too far, perhaps. They had rounded a mountain spur to discover a line of giants behind and above them, and the heavy rain of huge stones had driven the dwarves farther still.

?We can make Twin Pine Valley and run back to the north,? Oretheo Spikes told the young king.

?We?re not for knowin? what?s in Twin Pine,? Harnoth replied. He settled his gaze firmly on the Wilddwarf leader. Oretheo Spikes had not come out often. His duties had kept him securing the lower levels of Citadel Adbar, but since few drow had been seen about those

tunnels of late, he had joined his king.

?Well, I?m knowin? what?s behind, and it canno? be worse than what?s ahead,? Oretheo Spikes replied, and Harnoth had to shrug and nod his agreement.

On they ranged, sending scouts out to the left and right flanks, and word soon came back that they were being shadowed by large orc contingents.

They were in for a brutal fight this day, King Harnoth knew. Too brutal. He thought of his brother, and fully expected that he?d be seeing Bromm again very soon.

Likely this very day.

He had known all along that it would eventually come to this, where the orcs had seen enough of his excursions and so had set him up for the big fall.

He?d kill ten or more before he fell, he vowed to himself, and he was more than willing, and more than ready, to go to Dwarfhome and the table of Moradin.

Ah, but for the others!

That thought nagged at him and haunted him, particularly since Oretheo Spikes was along this day. Oretheo, the dwarf Harnoth would choose as his successor. The young dwarf king could accept his own fate?indeed, would welcome it?but to think that he was going to take forty others with him wounded him profoundly. Taking his chosen successor with him wounded Harnoth even more.

And for what? What had Citadel Adbar gained with these excursions, with these exercises in angry vengeance?

Or perhaps they would make Twin Pines Valley and so run back to the north and freedom. ?Double-time!? Harnoth ordered his minions. ?We can outrun a few ugly orcs!?

But no sooner had he issued the command than the line ahead of him skidded to an abrupt halt, dwarves in the front ranks locking shields, those in the second ranks leveling spears and crossbows.

?Square!? King Harnoth and Oretheo Spikes both ordered at the same time, and the dwarves hustled to a tighter defensive position.

?I am no enemy!? came a call, and Harnoth took some hope as those dwarves in the front seemed to relax just a bit, a few standing taller. The young king pushed his way through the ranks to come up between a pair of shield dwarves.

?Nor am I,? said a second voice, and Harnoth?s eyes widened when he saw the speaker: a dark elf moving up beside a human.

?I am a friend to Mithral Hall, a friend to Adbar, once a friend to King Harbromm,? the drow said. ?My name is known to you, and that name is Drizzt Do?Urden.?

Dwarves bristled, and the spears leveled once more, and more than one stubby finger squeezed a bit tighter on a crossbow trigger.

?We seek King Harnoth,? said the human beside Drizzt. ?Please be quick, for your position is tenuous indeed, with enemies all about.?

?Adbar names no drow as friend!? King Harnoth cried. ?And trusts no drow!?

?Then let me prove my fealty,? Drizzt replied. He came forward, hands empty and up high. The human followed him with a similar posture.

They walked right to the shield line.

?You are Harnoth, King of Adbar?? Drizzt asked.

?No, he ain?t!? came a rough and grumbling voice from the side, and a stocky fellow in

ridged armor shouldered Harnoth aside. ?Yer meanin? to speak to Adbar, ye speak to me, drow!?

?Well met again, Oretheo Spikes,? Drizzt said.

King Harnoth and all the other dwarves looked to the Wilddwarf for an explanation.

?We met at King Emerus?s table,? the drow explained, pointedly looking at King Harnoth. ?Introduced by King Bruenor, who has returned to aid in the war with Many-Arrows.?

?So I been told,? said Harnoth, and he shouldered past the shield dwarves to stand immediately in front of the drow.

?And so it is true,? said Drizzt. ?Now, pray be quick. I have been sent to lead you to Sourpuss Gap.? He pointed to the southeast, to a valley between two peaks not far away.

?Giants on Horngar?s Horn,? King Harnoth said, shaking his head, and indicating the mountain on the northeastern side of the indicated valley.

?That is the only way,? the man beside Drizzt told him. ?Every other trail is thick with orcs. They will slow you and catch you with forces far beyond your own.?

? ?Ere now, ye watch how ye?re speaking to me king,? said Oretheo Spikes, but Harnoth held his hand up to keep the Wilddwarf back and silent.

?All the region is thick with orcs, and even now their noose tightens about you,? Drizzt explained. ?I am Drizzt, friend of Bruenor, as your shield dwarf Oretheo Spikes can confirm. I beg that you trust in me now, and quickly, for we are running out of time.?

?I knowed what ye said ye was,? was all Oretheo Spikes would offer.

?We?re runnin? our own way,? King Harnoth started to say, but Drizzt cut him short.

?If you stay, you will perish. They are too many, and they were waiting for you. You?ll not make the valley in the north, if that is your plan, for surely that?s the way the orcs expected your retreat.?

?Retreat?? Oretheo Spikes roared. ?Bah, tactical flank!?

?They were waiting for you, King Harnoth,? Drizzt said. ?Surely you knew this would happen soon enough.?

?Waiting because a drow elf telled ?em we was coming?? asked a suspicious Oretheo Spikes. ?Possibly,? Drizzt replied, deflecting the accusation. ?Though my friend and I have seen no

other drow about.? ?Was speakin???

?Enough, good Oretheo!? Drizzt snapped at him. ?I?ve no time, nor do you. Sourpuss Gap, with all speed, or know that none of you will return to Citadel Adbar this day.? He looked to the human, and they shared a nod, and both ran off to the southeast.

?We will clear the trail!? the human called back.

The forty dwarves bristled around Harnoth?he could feel their eyes upon him, seeking guidance.

?That was the one at Emerus?s table?? he asked Oretheo Spikes. ?Aye, him with the one claimin? to be King Bruenor.?

?And was it??

?I be thinkin? aye.?

?Sourpuss Gap, then,? King Harnoth decided, and he sent his dwarves on a run. He looked to the east, though, as they rounded the mountain. They would be coming dangerously close once more to the ridgeline full of giant stone-throwers.

But still they ran, and with all speed, down the trails through stands of pine and boulder tumbles. They made the entrance to Sourpuss Gap easily enough, and there found Drizzt and the human waiting for them, and there found, too, a legion of orcs coming the other way.

?Ah, but ye traitorous dog!? Oretheo Spikes started to say to Drizzt?started, but didn?t finish, for in the middle of his rant, the drow put up a bow and let fly a lightning arrow down into the gap, blowing down a pair of orcs with that single shot.

?Form here!? the human ordered. ?Tight square!?

King Harnoth wasn?t sure of what he should do. He noted a peculiar smoke beside the drow, and fell back yelping in surprise as that smoke became a corporeal form, a giant black panther who leaped away immediately toward the advancing orc line.

?More behind!? came a cry from the rear of the dwarven formation.

?Those are yours,? Drizzt told King Harnoth. ?Strengthen the back of the square!?

A giant boulder crashed down through some nearby trees, snapping branches. A second followed, this time missing the copse and bouncing down nearer to the dwarven position.

?Ah, ye dog, what?d?ye do to me and me boys?? King Harnoth yelled at Drizzt.

On came the orcs, a huge force, roaring up the pass. On came those from behind, who had pursued the dwarves all this way. Over on the ridgeline of Horngar?s Horn, several boulders went flying into the dark sky.

?We?re fully catched, me king!? Oretheo Spikes cried.

Boulders crashed all around, only good fortune keeping any from flattening a dwarf or two. With a growl, King Harnoth pushed out through his shield dwarves, moving for Drizzt with

his weapon in hand.

The drow just kept up a stream of arrows at the charging orc force, though, and just before Harnoth reached him, a cry rose up from several dwarves, indicating the giants? position. Harnoth glanced that way and understood their confusion, for up on the ridge of Horngar?s Horn, something was going on.

Something powerful.

Trees shuddered and shook as if in a hurricane. No boulders came forth, though many giant roars and shrieks?of pain and terror, they seemed?surely did.

?Just kill the damned orcs!? King Harnoth cried, shaking his head. He had no idea what might be happening, and had no time to sit and figure it out.

?The orcs from the rear!? Drizzt ordered him. ?Focus on those behind.? He turned to the human and said, ?Afafrenfere, go!?

The man leaped away, rushing around the dwarven defensive square to help greet the pursuing orc force.

?More in front!? King Harnoth yelled to Drizzt, and indeed, that seemed quite true. The charging horde looked like it would overrun Harnoth?s position.

But orcs in the front ranks began to falter and stumble suddenly, tumbling down to the ground and slowing the charge. It took Harnoth a few blinking moments to realize that those front ranks were under a barrage of arrows, unrelenting and deadly. And then came cries from unseen orcs far back in the ranks, and Harnoth realized that battle had been joined in full with this group coming out of Sourpuss Gap, that the ambushers had, in turn, been ambushed.

A massive fireball erupted in the midst of the orc line, and from it stepped a giant made of

fire, swatting and burning all the monsters nearby.

?King Bruenor has arrived,? Drizzt whispered to him. ?With friends. Pray hold the line, King Harnoth.?

Breathless, King Harnoth scrambled back through his square and urged his dwarves on, and they did indeed hold the line, focusing all their power on the pursuing orc force. No more boulders came at them from the ridge on Horngar?s Horn, nor did any of the orcs coming out of Sourpuss Gap even reach their position.

Through it all, Drizzt calmly stood there, guarding the back of Harnoth?s turned square, Taulmaril the Heartseeker in hand, a line of devastating arrows reaching out to destroy any who ventured too near.

And the elven rain continued as well, with Sinnafein?s hundreds of archers showering the orcs with death. Somewhere out among that group, Guenhwyvar roared, and Drizzt nodded, confident that another foul orc had met its death. He heard a sour note from a cracked silver horn, and knew that the spirit of Thibbledorf Pwent, too, had joined the fray.

?Elven rain and dwarven mud,? Oretheo Spikes said, coming up to Drizzt as the battle neared its end.

Drizzt looked at the Wilddwarf and couldn?t help but smile, grimly, for Oretheo Spikes was covered in mud and blood, some of the latter likely his own.

?Sorry for doubtin? ye, elf,? the Wilddwarf said. ?But suren it?s been a long and tough winter, eh??

?Indeed,? said Drizzt. ?But the spring will be brighter.?

Oretheo Spikes clapped him on the shoulder and turned back, but remained as King Harnoth came up to join them.

Tears streaked the young dwarf?s face, and he looked to Drizzt, unable to speak, but clearly nodding his approval. Few orcs remained, and the force approaching from Sourpuss Gap was one of allies, led by a red-bearded dwarf with a one-horned helm, banging a many-notched axe upon a shield set with the foaming mug standard of Clan Battlehammer.

?We thinked ye might be needin? a bit o? help,? Bruenor said to Harnoth, and the two shared a great hug.

?Aye, and more?s to come,? said a black-bearded dwarf standing behind the former King of Mithral Hall. He spun a pair of glassteel morningstars. ?And more to murder. To put things a?right and back in their order!?

Before Athrogate could offer his signature belly laugh to punctuate his bad rhyme, Amber Gristle O?Maul of the Adbar O?Mauls gave one for him.

Bruenor looked Harnoth in the eye. ?We?ll break yer siege, then on to Felbarr,? he explained. ?Our friend Emerus is sure to be waitin?!?

?I?m owin? yer friend an apology,? Harnoth replied, and he glanced over at Drizzt, who stood with a young, auburnhaired woman in a most remarkable blouse and with blue tendrils of some magic Harnoth did not understand curling around her bare forearms. ?For suren was I doubtin? him.?

?He knows,? Bruenor assured the young king. ?Ye need not say it. That one, he knows better?n any.?

CHAPTER 14

STINGING GNATS

DRIZZT WALKED INTO A CLEARING ON A HIGH BLUFF OUTSIDE OF CITADEL Adbar two days later. Below

him, some battles continued, but the victory was essentially complete. After the rout of the giants on Horngar?s Horn and the orc legions they were supporting, the three armies? Sinnafein?s elves, Bruenor?s dwarves, and the might of Citadel Adbar itself?had wasted no time putting the other pockets of orc enemies to the sword.

And always there remained this fourth force, all but unseen, whispered about in hushed tones by the elves and dwarves, and often revealed by the screams of terror of their enemies.

Now, it was clear, Citadel Adbar was free, and while Drizzt had come to the call of a secret ally?one whose identity he strongly suspected?Bruenor, Sinnafein, Catti-brie, and Oretheo Spikes were plotting the road to Citadel Felbarr.

?So at last you will reveal the truth to me,? Drizzt said when he walked into the clearing to join Mickey and Lady Z, beautiful elves both, who waited for him there.

?Which truth?? Mickey asked. ?There are many truths. Some concern you, and some do not.?

?Start with those that concern me.?

?End with them as well,? said Lady Z, who Drizzt thought the more haughty and less friendly of the two.

?Start with Jarlaxle then,? said Drizzt.

?The less you speak that name aloud, my old friend, the happier I will be,? said another voice, and out of the trees?not across the way, but those right behind Drizzt, those Drizzt had just passed?came the drow mercenary. He walked up beside Drizzt and bowed gracefully, brushing his huge hat on the ground. ?Well met, again.?

?And it would seem that I am in your debt once more,? said Drizzt, offering a respectful bow of his own.

?I do what I do for my own sake as much as yours, so the only debt I hold over you is one of friendship,? Jarlaxle graciously replied. Lady Z rolled her eyes?and those eyes seemed strange to Drizzt at that moment, as if she had let down a bit of her disguise, enough for him to see a hint of a draconic undertone.

His thoughts of mind flayers vanished, and Drizzt felt his knees go weak as he realized the truth of these rather remarkable sisters. He thought of the giants on Horngar?s Horn, and of the frenzied flight of the main encampment of enemies north of Mithral Hall. He knew what beasts could invoke such terror?and knew, too, that his enemies were employing just such beasts in their war.

?Have you figured it ? them, out yet?? Jarlaxle asked, and like Drizzt, he turned his gaze to the strange sisters.

Drizzt continued to stare at Lady Z, and the ?elf? responded with a wicked smile, and flared her now clearly reptilian eyes. Drizzt swallowed hard, uncomfortable and unsure. He heard Bruenor?s warnings about Jarlaxle?s possible motives ringing in his thoughts once more, and it took him a long time indeed to tear his gaze from the elf who was not an elf and look back at

the mercenary.

?I have hints, nothing more,? he said.

?He knows what we are,? Lady Z told Jarlaxle.

?Ah, but does he know why we are here?? her sister asked.

?I?ll not deny that,? Drizzt said to Jarlaxle, though he was staring once more at Lady Z, unable to tear his gaze from her. She knew it, too, he could tell, and was enjoying it immensely.

?Which?? the ever-cryptic mercenary asked. ?Dragons,? Drizzt answered.

?Well played!? Jarlaxle congratulated. ?I give you Tazmikella and Ilnezhara, sisters as they claim, but hardly contained within the pretty elf trappings they have chosen.?

?What is your game, Jarlaxle?? Drizzt asked. ?I have come to support friends.?

?You have gone to war with Menzoberranzan? With Matron Mother Quenthel, or whomever it is that now rules that wretched place??

?I would not go that far.?

?Are these the same dragons Tiago calls his own, then?? Drizzt asked, and he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Both of the women scowled fiercely at him, and nearly overwhelmed him with projected thoughts of them melting him where he stood and eating him after.

?The orc warlord Hartusk has gained the assistance of a couple of whites,? Jarlaxle explained. ?Our allies here are not white dragons, not chromatic dragons at all, and I think you owe them an apology for even insinuating as much.?

Drizzt stared at them hard, but didn?t offer anything in the way of an apology. ?Am I to believe that the orcs commandeered the help of dragons all by themselves??

?I believe that Matron Mother Quenthel, and Gromph, likely played a role.?

?I am not well-versed in dragonkind,? Drizzt admitted. ?These two before me are not chromatic, you say??

?We are metallic,? Tazmikella answered, coming forward. She stopped short of Drizzt, smiled rather wickedly, then took his breath away as she reverted to her natural form, a gigantic copper dragon nearly filling the lea in front of him.

?Copper,? Jarlaxle said dryly, and he chuckled a bit, clearly enjoying the discomfort that marked Drizzt?s unavoidable backstepping. ?Exciting ladies, trust me.?

?Why would they ??? Drizzt started to ask.

?We have our own reasons, and they remain one of those secrets that do not concern you, Drizzt Do?Urden,? Ilnezhara answered for Jarlaxle.

?They have come with you, and they ? they wage war on the orcs and giants who are allied with Menzoberranzan,? Drizzt managed to stammer, trying very hard to get his legs back under him. He had met a couple of dragons before, and never had it been a pleasant experience.

?Which is why I must insist on your ability to keep a secret,? said Jarlaxle. Drizzt turned on him sternly. ?Why do you wish Menzoberranzan to lose??

?Lose?? Jarlaxle replied with feigned incredulity. ?Menzoberranzan has no real stake in any of this, of course. They?re just causing trouble. From my perspective, the Silver Marches are

much more profitable to me if they?re held by the kingdoms of Luruar, not if Many-Arrows darkens the area and ruins the trade.?

Drizzt listened to every word and believed none of it. There was something more at play here, but he also knew enough about Jarlaxle to realize that the truth of his involvement surely went much deeper than his offered reasoning, and into convoluted twists and turns that would make the most ferocious of Lolth?s chaotic disciples shake her head in disbelief.

?I want the orcs to lose,? Jarlaxle added, his voice full of certainty and sincerity. ?Menzoberranzan has all but abandoned them now, their games complete in this region. This is not a difficult choice for me, though again, your secrecy is much appreciated.?

Drizzt looked at him, looked him straight in the eye, silently conveying that he would expect an answer to his question at some other time.

?Now, there is much afoot with the Melting on in full,? Jarlaxle said. ?My friends here have agreed to show us, if you are willing.? He pointed to the side of the lea, where now sat a pair of leather contraptions and the straps that made up saddles for dragons.

?Are you ready for a rare thrill, my friend?? Jarlaxle asked, when Drizzt did not respond. ?To ride a dragon?? Drizzt replied, his voice barely a whisper.

?There are several ways to ride a dragon,? Jarlaxle said, and Ilnezhara giggled?rather lewdly, Drizzt thought, and he let the thought go at that.

?And they are all thrilling,? Jarlaxle finished. ?Come, let us go and see the lay of the land, that we might better plot the destruction of our common enemies.?

Catti-brie sat alone that night in front of the bonfire burning in the dwarven encampment along one of Citadel Adbar?s defensive channels. There was no need for secrecy now. The entire garrison of Adbar had come forth, save those few brigades securing the lower tunnels. And Adbar was the largest of the dwarven enclaves in the North, housing nearly twenty thousand dwarves, and with a garrison that included among its ranks nearly half that number of battle veterans. The force of five hundred that had rescued King Harnoth?s battle group and opened the way for Citadel Adbar to shatter the siege now numbered almost nine thousand.

The elves were out and about?any approaching enemy force large enough to threaten the power assembled here would be spotted long before they neared the camp.

Catti-brie, too, turned her eyes outward. She cast a divination spell, eager to explore this new power she had come to understand in the long months trapped in Mithral Hall.

She peered into the flames?too intently at first, she realized when nothing came to her. She sat back and forced herself to calm down, to suppress her eagerness, and so allow herself to be more passive and more receptive. She even reached forth and put her hand into the flames, feeling their tickling dance, her ruby ring glowing with power and energy as it protected her flesh. And that magical band, in the dance of the flames, brought Catti-brie?s thoughts more fully into the living fire, and through the flames to the Elemental Plane of Fire.

She saw through the flames and into another fire.

She saw orcs. Thousands of orcs. Tens of thousands of orcs. They danced along ruined walls, and drummed on the stretched skins of some unfortunate victims. They punched each other as they passed in their wild dancing. Males threw females to the ground and leaped

atop them, and the same was true in reverse. And the song played in her head, a discordant cacophony of whoops and hollers and snarls and hisses punctuated by the occasional scream, usually caught somewhere between ecstasy and agony.

Catti-brie felt as if she were playing voyeur to a strange orgy of unbridled bloodlust, manifesting itself in an orgy of unbridled lust.

But she couldn?t turn away. It was simply too overwhelming, too powerful, too ? vile. They ripped each other?s skin. They bit each other savagely, drawing blood. And they drank that blood, even licked it from one another. And they rubbed it all over their half-naked, and often fully naked, bodies.

It took Catti-brie a long while to get past the immediacy of the powerful images to recognize that this was Sundabar she was viewing.

Broken, despoiled, violated Sundabar.

And she saw thousands of campfires around the place, and through her ruby ring sensed thousands more. The woman lost her breath at the realization of the sheer size of Many-Arrows? forces.

?Hundreds of thousands,? she whispered. But what was she seeing? Was it the past, the fall of the proud city? The present, where the orcs were known to be mustering?

Or was this the future of Luruar?

It was all too confusing, but again, the woman did not concentrate on it too deeply, and rather, let the fires guide her.

She found herself gazing through the hearth of a quiet room, where three dwarves slumped in chairs, their expressions full of misery and despair. Citadel Felbarr, she realized, though she did not recognize these particular dwarves.

But she knew it was Felbarr, and she could feel the desperation.

And so she went, from fire to fire, around the lands, to orc camps and ogre clusters, to destroyed Nesmé and crouched Silverymoon.

She fell back, startled, at the sudden sight of a magical fireball or some other explosion, with roiling flames lifting up into the air and curling under to form a cap and stalk like some tall mushroom.

Orc forms silhouetted by the brilliance of the blast rushed around frantically, and a line of riders?human riders!?crested the hilltop the orcs had taken as a camp, weapons shining in the firelight.

And then in the magical light as the area lit up Catti-brie recognized the uniform of the Knights in Silver, the famed Silverymoon garrison. She soon found the leader of the band, turning her mount and yelling orders, and though Catti-brie couldn?t see much of the fighting from the angle afforded her by the flames, she knew that the orcs

Date: 2016-06-13; view: 147