"And what for Wulfgar?" Morik asked, surprised by the honest concern on his own voice. "Icewind Dale?" Morik asked. "Friends of old?"
The barbarian shook his head, for he simply didn't know the road ahead of him. He would have dismissed that possibility with hardly a thought, but he considered it now. Was he ready to return to the side of the companions of the hall, as he, Drizzt, Bruenor, Catti-brie, Guenhwyvar and Regis had once been called? Had he escaped the demon and the demon bottle? Had he come to terms with Errtu and the truth of his imprisonment?
"No," he answered, and left it at that, wondering if he would ever again meet the gazes of his former friends.
Morik nodded, though a bit dismayed for his own reasons. He didn't want Wulfgar to return to Luskan with him. Disguising the huge man would be difficult enough, but it was more than that. Morik didn't want Wulfgar to be caught by the dark elves.
*****
"She is playing you for a fool, and all of Auckney knows it, Feri!" Priscilla screamed at her brother "Don't call me that!" he snapped, pushing past her, looking for distraction from the subject. "You know I hate it."
Priscilla would not let it go. "Can you deny the stage of her pregnancy?" she pressed. "She will give birth within two weeks."
"The barbarian was a large man," Feringal growled. "The child will be large, and that is what is deceiving you."
"The child will be average," Priscilla retorted, "as you shall learn within the month." Her brother started to walk away. "I'll wager he'll be a pretty thing with the curly brown hair of his father." That brought Feringal spinning about, glaring at her. "His dead father," the woman finished, not backing down an inch.
Lord Feringal crossed the few feet separating them in one stride and slapped his sister hard across the face. Horrified by his own actions, he fell back, holding his face in his hands.
"My poor cuckolded brother," Priscilla replied to that slap, glaring at him above the hand she had brought to her bruise. "You will learn." With that, she stalked from the room.
Lord Feringal stood there, motionless for a long, long time, trying hard to steady his breathing.
*****
Three days after their discussion, the weather had warmed enough to bring about a thaw, allowing Morik and Wulfgar to depart the village. The villagers were unhappy to see them go, especially because the thaw signaled the time of renewed monster attacks. The pair, particularly impatient Morik, would hear none of their pleas.
"Perhaps I will return to you," Wulfgar remarked, and he was thinking that he might indeed, once he and Morik had gone their own ways outside of Luskan. Where else might the barbarian go, after all?
The road out of the foothills was slow and so muddy and treacherous that the pair often had to walk, leading their horses carefully. Once the mountains gave way to the flatter plain just north of Luskan they found the going relatively easy.
"You still have the wagon and the supplies we left at the cave," Morik remarked.
Wulfgar realized the rogue was beginning to feel a pang of guilt about leaving him. "The cave did not remain empty throughout the winter I'm sure," the barbarian remarked. "Not so many supplies left, I would guess."
"Then take the belongings of the present occupants," Morik replied with a wink. "Giants, perhaps, nothing for Wulfgar to fear." That brought a smile to both their faces, but they didn't hold.
"You should have stayed in the village," Morik reasoned. "You can't go back to Luskan with me, so the village seems as good a place as any while you decide your course."
They'd come to a fork in the road. One path headed south to Luskan, the other to the west. When Morik turned to regard Wulfgar, he found the man staring out that second course, back toward the small fiefdom where he had been imprisoned, where Morik (to hear Morik tell it) had rescued him from a torturous death.
"Plotting revenge?" the rogue asked.
Wulfgar looked at him curiously, then caught on. "Hardly," he replied. "I am wondering the fate of the lady of the castle."
"The one who wrongly accused you of raping her?" Morik asked.
Wulfgar shrugged, as if not wanting to concede that point. "She was with child," he explained, "and very much afraid."
"You believe she cuckolded her husband?" Morik asked.
Wulfgar wrinkled his lips and nodded.
"So she offered your head to protect her reputation," Morik said derisively. "Typical noble lady."
Wulfgar didn't reply, but he wasn't seeing things quite that way. The barbarian understood that she had never intended for him to be caught, but rather, that he should remain a distant and mysterious solution to her personal problems. It was understandable, if not honorable.
"She must have had the babe by now," he mumbled to himself. "I wonder how she faired when they saw it and realized the child couldn't be mine."
Morik recognized Wulfgar's tone, and it worried him. "I'll not have to wonder your fate if you go back to determine hers," Morik dryly remarked. "You couldn't get into that town without being recognized."
Wulfgar nodded, not disagreeing, but he was smiling all the while, a look that was not lost on Morik. "But you could," he said.
Morik spent a long while studying his friend. "If my road was not Luskan," he replied.
"A road of your own making, and with no appointments needing prompt attention," said Wulfgar.
"Winter is not yet gone. We took a chance in coming down from the foothills. Another storm might descend at any time, burying us deep." Morik continued to protest, but Wulfgar could tell by the rogue's tone that he was considering it.
"The storms are not so bad south of the mountains."
Morik scoffed.
"This last favor?" Wulfgar asked.
"Why do you care?" Morik argued. "The woman nearly had you killed, and in a manner horrible enough to have satisfied the crowd at Prisoner's Carnival."
Wulfgar shrugged, not honestly sure of that answer himself, but he wasn't about to back down. "A last act of friendship between us two," he prodded, "that we might properly part in the hopes of seeing each other again."
Morik scoffed again. "One last fight with me at your side is all you're after," he said half humorously. "Admit it, you're nothing as a fighter without me!" Even Wulfgar had to laugh at Morik's irony, but he followed it up with a plaintive expression.
"Oh, lead on," Morik grumbled, conceding as Wulfgar knew he would. "I will play the part of Lord Brandeburg yet again. I only hope that Brandeburg was not connected with your escape and that our common departure times were seen by Feringal as pure coincidence."
"If captured, I will honestly tell Lord Feringal that you played no part in my escape," Wulfgar said, a crooked smile showing under his thick winter beard.
"You have no idea how the promise comforts me," Morik said wryly as he pushed his friend ahead of him toward the west, toward trouble in Auckney.
Chapter 25 EPIPHANY
Two days later, Morik's predicted snowstorm did come on, but its fury was somewhat tempered by the late season, leaving the road passable. The two riders plodded along, taking care to stay on the trail. They made good time, despite the foul weather, with Wulfgar driving them hard. Soon they came to a region of scattered farmhouses and stone cottages. Now the storm proved to be their ally, for few curious faces showed in the heavily curtained windows, and through the snow, wrapped in thick skins, the pair were hardly recognizable.
Soon after, Wulfgar waited in a sheltered overhang along the foothills, while Morik, Lord Brandeburg of Waterdeep, rode down into the village. The day turned late, the storm continued, but Morik didn't return. Wulfgar left his shelter to move to a vantage point that would afford him a view of Castle Auck. He wondered if Morik had been discovered. If so, should he rush down to find some way to aid his friend?