"So?" the thespian replied, not seeing the appeal of this locale.
"Well, I've never been there," Volo replied. "It's off limits to all except the elves. Surely you must have heard that," he added with a trace of condescension in his voice.
"Well, I would have thought that no place was off limits to the master traveler of Faerun," the thespian replied, laying the sarcasm on good and thick.
Volo realized that his tone of condescension had been uncalled for. The chubby thespian had proven himself to be an excellent traveling companion, a brave warrior, and a good friend, and deserved better for it.
"You're right," Volo conceded with a chuckle. "Unfortunately, I blew it. I was in line for a special non-elf dispensation, and well, I, uh, got on the wrong side of the head lady of those parts."
"You mean Queen Amlaruil?" the thespian replied, glad to show off what little knowledge he did have of the elves of Evermeet."
"You guessed it," Volo replied. "Give that man a cookie. She managed to get a hold of a copy of my suppressed book on magic.
"Vote's Guide to All Things Magical?" "That's right," he confirmed, "except she got her hands on the unexpurgated text, and sort of took offense at some of the things I said. So now I'm not just barred from Evermeet for being a non-elf, I'm also barred for just being Volothamp Geddarm." "Too bad," Passepout offered in consolation. "Thanks," the master traveler replied, a trace of the effervescence of enthusiasm in his voice, "but now an opportunity presents itself to us." "How so?" the thespian asked. "We can fly in real low, and get a good look at the place as we fly over."
"I don't know," Passepout replied unsurely. "Herve said we shouldn't fly too low, moisture weighing us down and all."
"We won't go in too low," Volo responded, "just low enough to get a good look."
"I guess so," Passepout agreed warily, wishing that they were closer to the Faerun mainland.
At the appointed time, everyone leaned forward, and the raft of magic plumes sailed down into the mist that enshrouded and obscured the magical island of Evermeet. As they plowed through the mint, the air became clearer, and the fantastic locale no longer bidden.
The travelers traded Volo's spyglass back and forth, taking in the magical sites of the elven homeland. Elven communities grew out of forest clearings magic and enchantment, permeated the actual building structures and architecture. Sylvan creatures cavorted in the forests. Unicorns frolicked with pegasi. Sprites and fairies rode tamed dragons at play.
"It's beautiful!" Shurleen exclaimed.
"And how!" Curtis agreed.
"Not bad," said Passepout, purposely trying to appear underwhelmed. "Are you satisfied, O master traveler?"
"Why certainly!" Volo replied. "Just one last pass, and we'll be on our way."
That one last pass was one pass too many.
"What's that?" Passepout asked, pointing toward a mountain.
"Where?" Volo asked, straining to see without the spyglass.
"There," Passepout replied, pointing as he passed the spyglass to the helm-bound Volo.
Volo looked through the glass just in time to see the launch of magical spears from one of numerous elven sentries, camouflaged by cloaks of stars and sworn to protect Evermeet from all outsiders.
"Quickly! Lean back and up!" the master traveler ordered, sending the plumed raft soaring back through the damp, mist-filled cloud that shrouded the island, and forward eastward.
No sooner had they regained the other side of the cloud than they noticed that a spear had indeed hit its mark. A gaping hole now existed in the middle of the raft, and it was interfering with their steering.
"Everybody hold on!" Volo ordered, cursing his wanton curiosity that had resulted in this most recent of problems, and the pride that was the underlying cause of all of his problems so far. "It's going to be a bumpy ride!"
The feathers beneath them felt damp, having retained some of the moisture from the mists, as a result of the increased weight, the raft was unable to ascend in the manner that it had before.
The clear skies that had existed prior to the Evermeet side trip had now been replaced by storm clouds. Thunder and lightning struck on all sides, and the feathers, dampened from the two trips through the moistened clouds of mist and the present proximity to the raging surf below, began to lose their magic. The raft began to descend farther.
The storm followed them as if magically drawn to the flying raft of feathers by some elven enchantment in retribution for their invading the privacy of the Evermeet community.
Fog set in somewhere over Alaron, and the raft began to disintegrate.
"Hold tight!" Volo shouted over the roar of the wind. "She's coming apart! I'm going to try to bring her in for a landing."
With the fog obscuring his view, the maps safely ensconced in his pack (his not having the light to read them or free hand to hold them, rendering them useless for navigation at the present time), the master traveler tried to engineer a controlled descent.
They overshot landing in the sea of midnight blue just beyond the Moonshae Isles, and offshore from the Faerun continent the raft quickly dissolved into a slick of loose feathers as the icy waters welcomed their latent prey.
Chapter 21
"I can't swim!" Shurleen yelled as the raft came apart, dropping her into the icy cold waters of the Sea of Swords.
Curtis, having quickly recovered from his own shock at being dropped into the icy deep, frantically looked in the direction he had last heard Shurleen's scream.
Out of the corner of his eyes, resting among the water-sodden feathers of the raft, he spied a few atcly grabbed for it. Beyond the oar was a dinghy, and in the dinghy a pair of dark arms to help him aboard, and beyond them a pair of bright lavender eyes, glowing orbs in a body that seemed to melt into the darkness that surrounded it.
"Now to get your companions," the figure said. "There are four of you altogether?"
"That's right," the master traveler replied, just beginning to realize how cold he was, and how he couldn't stop shivering.
"There's a pile of blankets on your left," the figure said as if reading his mind. "It doesn't make sense to save anyone from drowning only to have them freeze to death from the chill."
The figure had rowed the boat within reach of Curtis and Shurleen, who were quickly brought aboard, and then turned around to pick up Passepout.
Volo was amazed at how seemingly easy the pilot was able to locate his friends in the storm-ridden darkness.
When all were on board, the pilot announced, "Wrap yourselves in the blankets. Well be on shipboard and dry in no time."
"How did you…?" Volo chattered.
"I saw you go down," the dinghy's pilot replied.
"You're a drow, aren't you?" the master traveler said, putting two and two together: the night vision, the dark skin. Though dark elves were uncommon in the surface world, occasionally drow had been known to travel the Sword Coast. Volo only hoped that this fellow wasn't a slaver rounding up cheap and expendable labor for some underworld toil. Volo was finally beginning to warm up within the thick layers of the blankets.
"That's right," the drow replied, "but you may call me Drizzt… and don't worry. I'm not here to capture you, just to help. I'm alone."
With a sigh of relief Volo turned his attentions back to getting warm.
In less than an hour the travelers were dressed in dry clothes and seated around a roaring fire in the main cabin of the good ship Leominster, sipping hot broth.
The captain of the vessel was a taciturn dwarf named Wolflarson, who soon joined them.
"I and my companions would like to thank you for your hospitality," Volo said. "You certainly came along at the right time."