"That is our purpose then?" Innovindil asked. "To avenge Tarathiel?"
"Is it not?"
"It is not!" the elf growled at him, and she seemed to grow tall and terrible, seemed to rise up and tower over Drizzt. "Our purpose—my purpose—is not a journey of hatred and vengeance."
Drizzt shrank back from her.
"Not while Sunrise is held captive by such unmerciful and brutal masters, Innovindil explained. She settled back then and seemed herself once more. "1 will not let my anger get in the way of my purpose, Drizzt Do'Urden. I will not let anger cloud my vision or turn me one step to the side of the path I must take. Sunrise is my charge—I will not fail him to satiate my anger."
She looked at Drizzt for a moment longer, then turned and walked back to the cave.
Leaving Drizzt alone on the rock in the slanting rays of early morning.
* * *
"He cut the elf in half," the giant, one of two who had come in to see their dame, told Gerti. "He wields that sword with the strength of Tierlaan Gau," he added, using the giants' name for members of their race.
Gerti Orelsdottr tightened her jaw. Obould had won again, an impressive show in front of creatures who already thought him a god.
"What of the drow and the other elf?"
"Of Drizzt Do'Urden, we have heard nothing … perhaps," the giant replied, and he turned and looked to his partner, also recently returned from the incidents up north.
"Perhaps?"
"A body was found," the giant explained.
"That of a drow," said the other.
"Drizzt?"
"Donnia Soldou," the first giant replied, and Gerti's eyes widened.
"Dead among the rocks," the other giant added. "Murdered by fine blades."
Gerti mulled over the words for a bit. Had Donnia met up with Drizzt? Or perhaps with the surface elves? Gerti couldn't help but chuckle as she considered that perhaps Donnia had angered her own three companions. That was the thing about drow, was it not? They were so often busy killing each other that they could never manage any real conquests.
"I will miss her," Gerti admitted. "She was … amusing."
The other two relaxed, obviously relieved that Gerti wasn't taking the death of Donnia very hard.
"Obould slew one of the elves that has been terrorizing the region," the giantess stated.
"And captured his winged horse," the scout reported.
Again Gerti's eyes went wide.
"A pegasus? Obould is in possession of a pegasus?"
"We would have preferred to kill it," the scout explained. "That elf and his beast made up half the pair who assaulted us in the fight at Shallows."
"A bit of horseflesh would taste good," said the other.
Gerti thought it over for a moment, then said, "You should have slaughtered the creature. While Obould was battling the elf, you should have walked over and crushed its head!"
The two looked startled, but Gerti pressed on, "They are creatures of beauty, yes, and I would favor one for myself. But I do not wish to see King Obould Many-Arrows flying about above the battlefields, calling out orders to his charges. I do not wish to see him up on high, riding about, godlike."
"W-we did not know," the scout stammered.
"We could not have killed the winged beast, in any case," said the other. "We would have been battling scores of orcs had we tried."
Gerti dismissed them both with a wave and turned away, her mind whirling from the surprising news. Obould was the hero once more, which would be beneficial in bringing forth more of the orc and goblin tribes. His glory had bound them together.
But where did that glory leave her? Beneath him on the field while he soared around on his winged steed?
A horn brought the giantess from her contemplations, and she turned north to see the returning host of orcs, King Obould walking at their head.
"Walking," she whispered, thinking that a good thing.
She caught sight of the pegasus, moving along to the side, bound and hobbled by short ropes tied leg to leg. Indeed it was a beautiful creature, majestic and with a brilliant white coat and mane. Too wondrous for the likes of an orc, to Gerti's thinking. She decided right then that she would demand the pegasus in time—true, she could never ride it, but what a wonderful addition to Shining White such a magnificent beast would prove!
As the column neared, Obould motioned for his charges to continue, then he veered toward Gerti, the miserable Arganth trotting along at his heels.
"We found just one," he told her. "But that one will be enough to bring the orcs from the tunnels."
"How can you know?" Gerti asked, and she wasn't looking at the orc king but rather at the pegasus as it was pulled past on her distant right.
"Yes, a mount for a king," Obould remarked. "We have begun the breaking. I will fly the beast when that bitch Alustriel of Silverymoon comes pleading that we do not continue our march."
Gerti glanced back as the pegasus moved past, and she could clearly see the signs of the brutal orc breaking. Whip marks marred the pegasus's white coat. Every time the steed tried to lift its head proudly, the orc tugging it along yanked down on the lead, and the horse bowed. Gerti could only imagine the bite of the nasty bit the orc must be using to so bend the powerful pegasus.
"I have been informed of Donnia's demise," Gerti said, turning back to the orc king.
"Dead and rotting on the mountainside," said Obould.
"Then Drizzt Do'Urden is still around, and other elves, no doubt."
Obould nodded and shrugged as if it didn't really matter.
"We will stay in the region for a while," he explained, "to better coax out any tribes who choose to join us. Arganth will lead some back into the northern tunnels to better spread the word of my victory and to give hope to the orcs. Perhaps we will find Drizzt Do'Urden and the other elf or elves, and they too will fall to my blade. If they are wise, they will flee across the Surbrin and back into the Moonwood, though perhaps they will not be safe there, either."
Behind Obould, Arganth snickered.
Gerti studied the orc king carefully. Was his dimwit resurfacing? Would he begin to believe the accolades others were putting on his shoulders and change his mind about securing the borders of his planned kingdom? Gerti knew that crossing the Surbrin would prove a huge, and likely fatal, error.
Despite herself, she hoped Obould would do it.
"My king," Arganth Snarrl said from behind. "Methinks you should go south to your son and be done with the dwarves."
"You question me?"
"No, my king, no!" Arganth said, bowing repeatedly. "I fear. . Drizzt Do'Urden and the elf's companion are still about… there is …"
Obould glanced back at Gerti, then turned back to Arganth, looking somewhat confused. He gave a sudden, great belly laugh.
"You fear for my safety?"
"Obould is Gruumsh!" Arganth said, and he fell flat to the ground. "Obould is Gruumsh!"
"Get up!"
Arganth jumped to his feet but continued to genuflect.
"Were you afraid when I battled the elf?" Obould asked.
"No, my king! He was nothing against you!"
"But Drizzt Do'Urden…"
"Is nothing to you, my king!" Arganth screeched. "Not in fair battle. But he is drow. He will cheat. He will come in when you are asleep, methinks. I fear—"
"Silence!" growled Obould.
Arganth gave a whine and seemed as if he would faint away.
Obould turned back to Gerti, his face a mask of anger.
Gerti couldn't hide her amusement, and didn't even try to.
"Forgive me, my king," Arganth whispered, moving up behind Obould.
A backhand slap sent the fool flying away.
"I do not fear this rogue drow, nor a host of the elf's companions," the orc told Gerti. "If all the Moonwood came forth to avenge their dead, I would rush to that battle eagerly."