Wulfgar gave him another shake, rattling the teeth in his mouth. "She has it because you gave it to her," he reminded Josi.
"But he tried to retrieve it," Arumn said. "He's done all he can. Now, are ye meanin' to bust him up for that? Is that to make ye feel better, Wulfgar the brute? For suren it won't help to get yer hammer back."
Wulfgar glared at Arumn, then let the look fall over poor Josi. "It would, indeed, make me feel better," he admitted, and Josi seemed to shrink down, trembling visibly.
"Then ye'll have to beat me, as well," Arumn said. "Josi's me friend, as I thought yerself to be, and I'll be fighting for him."
Wulfgar scoffed at the notion. With a mere flick of his powerful arm, he sent Josi sprawling at Arumn's feet.
"He telled ye where to find yer hammer," Arumn said.
Wulfgar took the cue and started away, but he glanced back to see Arumn helping Josi from the ground, then putting his arm around the trembling man's shoulders, leading him into the Cutlass.
That last image, a scene of true friendship, bothered the barbarian profoundly. He had known friendship like that, had once been blessed with friends who would come to his aid even when the odds seemed impossible. Images of Drizzt and Bruenor, of Regis and Guenhwyvar, and mostly of Catti-brie flitted across his thoughts.
But it was all a lie, a darker part of Wulfgar's deepest thoughts reminded him. The barbarian closed his eyes and swayed, near to falling over. There were places where no friends could follow, horrors that no amount of friendship could alleviate. It was all a lie, friendship, all a facade concocted by that so very human and ultimately childish need for security, to wrap oneself in false hopes. He knew it, because he had seen the futility, had seen the truth, and it was a dark truth indeed.
Hardly conscious of the action, Wulfgar ran to the door of the Cutlass and shoved it open so forcefully that the slam drew the attention of every one in the place. A single stride brought the barbarian up to Arumn and Josi, where he casually swatted aside Arumn's club, then slapped Josi across the face, launching him several feet to land sprawling on the floor.
Arumn came right back at him, swinging the club, but Wulfgar caught it in one hand, yanked it away from the tavernkeeper, then pushed Arumn back. He brought the club out in front of him, one hand on either end, and with a growl and a great flex of his huge neck and shoulders, he snapped the hard wood in half.
"Why're ye doin' this?" Arumn asked him.
Wulfgar had no answers, didn't even bother to look for them. In his swirling thoughts he had scored a victory here, a minor one, over Errtu and the demons. Here he had denied the lie of friendship, and by doing so, had denied Errtu one weapon, that most poignant weapon, to use against him. He tossed the splintered wood to the floor and stalked out of the Cutlass, knowing that none of his tormentors would dare follow.
He was still growling, still muttering curses, at Errtu, at Arumn, at Josi Puddles, when he arrived at the docks. He stalked up and down the long pier, his heavy boots clunking against the wood.
"Ere, what're you about?" one old woman asked him.
"The Leaping Lady?" Wulfgar asked. "Where is it?"
"That Kree's boat?" the woman asked, more to herself than to Wulfgar. "Oh, she's out. Out and running, not to doubt, fearing that one." As she finished, she pointed to the dark silhouette of a sleek vessel tied on the other side of the long wharf.
Wulfgar, curious, moved closer, noting the three sails, the last one triangular, a design he had never seen before. When he crossed the boardwalk, he remembered the tales Drizzt and Catti-brie had told to him, and he understood. Sea Sprite.
Wulfgar stood up very straight, the name sobering him from his jumbled thoughts. His eyes trailed up the planking, from the name to the deck rail, and there stood a sailor, staring back at him.
"Wulfgar," Waillan Micanty hailed. "Well met!"
The barbarian turned on his heel and stomped away.
*****
"Perhaps he was reaching out to us," Captain Deudermont reasoned.
"It seems more likely that he was merely lost," a skeptical Robillard replied. "By Micanty's description, the barbarian's reaction upon seeing Sea Sprite seemed more one of surprise."
"We can't be certain." Deudermont insisted, starting for the cabin door.
"We don't have to be certain," Robillard retorted, and he grabbed the captain by the arm to stop him. Deudermont did stop and turned to glare at the wizard's hand, then into the man's unyielding eyes.
"He is not your child," Robillard reminded the captain. "He's barely an acquaintance, and you bear him no responsibility."
"Drizzt and Catti-brie are my friends," Deudermont replied. "They're our friends, and Wulfgar is their friend. Are we to ignore that fact simply for convenience?"
The frustrated wizard let go of the captain's arm. "For safety, Captain," he corrected, "not convenience."
"I will go to him."
"You already tried and were summarily rejected," the wizard bluntly reminded him.
"Yet he came to us last night, perhaps rethinking that rejection."
"Or lost on the docks."
Deudermont nodded, conceding the possibility. "We'll never know if I don't return to Wulfgar and ask," he reasoned, and started for the door.
"Send another," Robillard said suddenly, the thought just popping into his mind. "Send Mister Micanty, perhaps. Or I shall go."
"Wulfgar knows neither you nor Micanty."
"Certainly there are crewmen aboard who were with Wulfgar on that voyage long ago," the stubborn wizard persisted. "Men who know him."
Deudermont shook his head, his jaw set determinedly. "There is but one man aboard Sea Sprite who can reach out to Wulfgar," he said. "I'll go back to him, then again, if necessary, before we put out to sea."
Robillard started to respond but finally recognized the futility of it all and threw up his hands in defeat. "The streets of Luskan's dockside are no haven for your friends, Captain," he reminded. "Beware that every shadow might hold danger."
"I always am and always have been," Deudermont said with a grin, a grin that widened as Robillard walked up to him and put several enchantments upon him, spells to stop blows or defeat missiles, and even one to diffuse certain magical attacks.
"Take care of the duration," the wizard warned.
Deudermont nodded, thankful for his friend's precautions, then turned back to the door.
Robillard slumped into a chair as soon as the man had gone. He considered his crystal ball and the energy it would take for him to operate it. "Unnecessary work," he said with an exasperated sigh. "For the captain and for me. A useless effort for an undeserving gutter rat."
It was going to be a long night.
*****
"And do you need it so badly?" Morik dared to ask. Given Wulfgar's foul mood, he knew that he was indeed taking a great risk in even posing the question.
Wulfgar didn't bother to answer the absurd question, but the look he gave Morik told the little thief well enough. "It must be a wondrous weapon, then," Morik said, abruptly shifting the subject to excuse his obviously sacrilegious thinking. Of course Morik had known all along how magnificent a weapon Aegis-fang truly was, how perfect the craftsmanship and how well it fit Wulfgar's strong hands. In the pragmatic thief's mind, even that didn't justify an excursion onto the open sea in pursuit of Sheela Kree's cutthroat band.
Perhaps the emotions went deeper, Morik wondered. Perhaps Wulfgar held a sentimental attachment to the warhammer. His adoptive father had crafted it for him, after all. Perhaps Aegis-fang was the one remaining piece of his former life, the one reminder of who he had been. It was a question Morik didn't dare ask aloud, for even if Wulfgar agreed with him the proud barbarian would never admit it, though he might launch Morik through the air for even asking.