Morik skittered past him, going from door to door, ear cocked, then he stopped abruptly at one. "They're in here," he announced. He grabbed the handle only to find it locked.
"The key?" Wulfgar demanded, giving the guard a shake.
The man grabbed the barbarian's iron arm. "No key," he gasped breathlessly. Wulfgar looked about to strangle him, but the thief intervened.
"Don't bother, I'll pick the lock," he said, going fast to his belt pouch.
"Don't bother, I have a key," Wulfgar cried. Morik looked up to see the barbarian bearing down on him, the guard still dangling at the end of one arm. Seeing his intent, Morik skittered out of the way as Wulfgar hurled the hapless man through the wooden door. "A key," the barbarian explained.
"Well thrown," Morik commented.
"I have had practice," explained Wulfgar, thundering past the dazed guard to leap into the room.
Meralda sat up on the bed, sobbing, while Lord Feringal and his sister stood by the open window, the babe in Feringal's arms. He was leaning toward the opening as if he meant to throw the child out. Both siblings and Meralda turned stunned expressions Wulfgar's way, and their eyes widened even more when Morik crashed in behind the barbarian.
"Lord Brandeburg!" Feringal cried.
Lady Priscilla shouted at her brother, "Do it now, before they ruin every-"
"The child is mine!" Wulfgar declared. Priscilla bit off the end of her sentence in surprise. Feringal froze as if turned to stone.
"What?" the young lord gasped.
"What?" Lady Priscilla gasped.
"What?" gasped Morik, at the same time.
"What?" gasped Meralda, quietly, and she coughed quickly to cover her surprise.
"The child is mine," Wulfgar repeated firmly, "and if you throw her out the window, then you shall follow so quickly that you'll pass her by and your broken body will pad her fall."
"You are so eloquent in emergencies," Morik remarked. To Lord Feringal, he added, "The window is small, yes, but I'll wager that my big friend can squeeze you through it. And your plump sister, as well."
"You can't be the father," Lord Feringal declared, trembling so violently that it seemed as if his legs would just buckle beneath him. He looked to Priscilla for an answer, to his sister who was always hovering above him with all of the answers. "What trick is this?"
"Give it to me!" Priscilla demanded. Taking advantage of her brother's paralyzing confusion, she moved quickly and tore the child from Feringal's grasp. Meralda cried out, the baby cried, and Wulfgar started forward, knowing that he could never get there in time, knowing that the innocent was surely doomed.
Even as Priscilla turned for the window, her brother leaped before her and slugged her in the face. Stunned, she staggered back a step. Feringal snatched the child from her arms and shoved her again, sending his sister stumbling to the floor.
Wulfgar eyed the man for a long and telling moment, understanding then beyond any doubt that despite his obvious anger and revulsion, Feringal would not hurt the child. The barbarian strode across the room, secure in his observations, confident that the young man would take no action against the babe.
"The child is mine," the barbarian said with a growl, reaching over to gently pull the wailing baby from Feringal's weakening grasp. "I meant to wait another month before returning," he explained, turning to face Meralda. "But it's good you delivered early. A child of mine come to full term would likely have killed you in birthing."
"Wulfgar!" Morik cried suddenly.
Lord Feringal, apparently recovering some of his nerve and most of his rage, produced a dagger from his belt and came in hard at the barbarian. Morik needn't have worried, though, for Wulfgar heard the movement. Lifting the babe high with one arm to keep her from harm's way, he spun and slapped the dagger aside with his free hand. As Feringal came in close, Wulfgar brought his knee up hard into the man's groin. Down Lord Feringal went, curling into a mewling heap on the floor.
"I think my large friend can make it so that you never have children of your own," Morik remarked with a wink to Meralda.
Meralda didn't even hear the words, staring dumbfounded at Wulfgar, at the child he had proclaimed as his own.
"For my actions on the road, I truly apologize, Lady Meralda," the barbarian said, and he was playing to a full audience now, as Liam Woodgate, Steward Temigast and the remaining half dozen castle guards appeared at the door, staring in wide-eyed disbelief. On the floor before Wulfgar, Lady Priscilla looked up at him, confusion and unbridled anger simmering in her eyes.
"It was the bottle and your beauty that took me," Wulfgar explained. He turned his attention to the child, his smile wide as he lifted the infant girl into the air for his sparkling blue eyes to behold. "But I'll not apologize for the result of that crime," he said. "Never that."
"I will kill you," Lord Feringal growled, struggling to his knees.
Wulfgar reached down with one hand and grabbed him by the collar. Helping him up with a powerful jerk, he spun the lord around into a choke hold. "You will forget me, and the child," Wulfgar whispered into his ear. "Else the combined tribes of Icewind Dale will sack you and your wretched little village."
Wulfgar pushed the young lord, spinning him into Morik's waiting grasp. Staring at Liam and the other dangerous guards, the rogue wasted no time in putting a sharp dagger to the man's throat.
"Secure us supplies for the road," Wulfgar instructed. "We need wrappings and food for the babe." Everyone in the room, save Wulfgar and the baby, wore incredulous expressions. "Do it!" the barbarian roared. Frowning, Morik pushed toward the door with Lord Feringal, waving a scrambling Priscilla out ahead of him.
"Fetch!" the rogue instructed Liam and Priscilla. He glanced back and saw Wulfgar moving toward Meralda then, so he pushed out even further, backing them all away.
"What made you do such a thing?" Meralda asked when she was alone with Wulfgar and the child.
"Your problem was not hard to discern," Wulfgar explained.
"I falsely accused you."
"Understandably so," Wulfgar replied. "You were trapped and scared, but in the end you risked everything to free me from prison. I could not let that deed go unpaid."
Meralda shook her head, too overwhelmed to even begin to sort this out. So many thoughts and emotions whirled in her mind. She had seen the look of despair on Feringal's face, had thought he would, indeed, drop the baby to the rocks. Yet, in the end he hadn't been able to do it, hadn't let his sister do it. She did love this man-how could she not? And yet, she could hardly deny her unexpected feelings for her child, though she knew that never, ever, could she keep her.
"I am taking the babe far from here," Wulfgar said determinedly, as if he had read her mind. "You are welcome to come with us."
Meralda laughed softly, without humor, because she knew she would be crying soon enough. "I can't," she explained, her voice a whisper. "I've a duty to my husband, if he'll still have me, and to my family. My folks would be branded if I went with you."
"Duty? Is that the only reason you're staying?" Wulfgar asked her, apparently sensing something more.
"I love him, you know," Meralda replied, tears streaming down her beautiful face. "I know what you must think of me, but truly, the babe was made before I ever-"
Wulfgar held up his hand. "You owe me no explanation," he said, "for I am hardly in a position to judge you or anyone else. I came to understand your. . problem, and so I returned to repay your generosity, that is all." He looked to the door through which Morik held Lord Feringal. "He does love you," he said. "His eyes and the depth of his pain showed that clearly."