The walls of Mithral Hall seemed to press in on him as never before. Ivan and Pikel had returned that morning with the news of Delly and of Drizzt, bringing a conflicted spin of emotions to the big man. Wulfgar sat in the candlelight, his back against the stone wall, his eyes unblinking but unseeing as his mind forced him through the memories of the previous months.
He replayed his last conversations with Delly, and saw them in the light of the woman's desperation. How had he missed the clues, the overt cry for help?
He couldn't help but grimace as he considered his responses to Deity's plea that they go to Silverymoon or one of the other great cities. He had so diminished her feelings, brushing them away with a promise of a holiday.
"You cannot blame yourself for this," Catti-brie said from across the room, drawing Wulfgar out of his contemplation.
"She did not wish to stay here," he answered.
Catti-brie walked over and sat on the bed beside him. "Nor did she want to run off into the wild orc lands. It was the sword, and I think myself the fool for leaving it out in the open, where it could catch anyone walking by."
"Delly was leaving," Wulfgar insisted. "She could not tolerate the dark tunnels of dwarves. She came here full of hope for a better life, and found …" His voice trailed off in a great sigh.
"So she decided to cross the river with the other folk. And she took your child with her."
"Colson was as much Delly's as my own. Her claim was no less. She took Colson because she thought it would be best for the girl—of that, I have no doubt."
Catti-brie put her hand on Wulfgar's forearm. He appreciated the touch.
"And Drizzt is alive," he said, looking into her eyes and managing a smile. "There is good news, too, this day."
Catti-brie squeezed his forearm and matched his smile.
She didn't know how to respond, Wulfgar realized. She didn't know what to say or what to do. He had lost Delly and she had found Drizzt in a dwarf's single sentence! Sorrow, sympathy, hope, and relief so obviously swirled inside her as they swirled inside him, and she feared that if the balance tilted too positively, she would be minimizing his loss and showing disrespect.
Her concern about his feelings reminded Wulfgar of how great a friend she truly was to him. He put his other hand atop hers and squeezed back, then smiled more sincerely and nodded.
"Drizzt will find Obould and kill him," he said, strength returning to his voice. "Then he will return to us, where he belongs."
"And we're going to find Colson," Catti-brie replied.
Wulfgar took a deep breath, needing it to settle himself before he just melted down hopelessly.
All of Mithral Hall was searching for the toddler in the hopes that Delly had not taken her out. Dwarves had gone down to the Surbrin, despite the freezing rain that was falling in torrents, trying to get a message across the way to the ferry pilots to see if any of them had noted the child.
"The weather will break soon," Catti-brie said. "Then we will go and find your daughter."
"And Drizzt," Wulfgar replied.
Catti-brie grinned and gave a little shrug. "He'll find us long before that, if I'm knowing Drizzt."
"With Obould's head in hand," Wulfgar added.
It was a little bit of hope, at least, on as dark a day as Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, had ever known.
* * * * *
"… orc-brained, goblin-sniffing son of an ogre and a rock!" Bruenor fumed. He stalked about his audience hall, kicking anything within reach.
"Hee hee hee," said Pikel.
Ivan shot his brother a look and motioned for him to be silent.
"Someone get me armor!" Bruenor roared. "And me axe! Got me a few hunnerd smelly orcs to kill!"
"Hee hee hee."
Ivan cleared his throat to cover his brother's impertinence. They had just informed King Bruenor of Drizzt's intentions, how the drow had taken the magical sword and Ivan's hand crossbow and had gone off after Obould.
Bruenor hadn't taken the news well.
Thrilled as he was that his dear friend was alive, Bruenor couldn't stand his current state of inaction. A storm was whipping up outside, with driving and freezing rain, and heavy snow at the higher elevations, and there was simply no way for Bruenor or anyone else to get out of Mithral Hall. Even if the weather had been clear, Bruenor realized that there would be little he could do to help Drizzt. The drow was astride a flying horse—how could he possibly hope to catch him?
"Durned stupid elf," he muttered and he kicked the edge of his stone dais, then grumbled some more as he limped away.
"Hee hee hee," Pikel snickered.
"You'll only break your foot, and you won't be able to even go out to the walls," said Regis, rushing into the hall to see what was the matter. For word was passing through the complex that Drizzt had been found alive and well, and that King Bruenor was out of sorts.
"Ye heared?"
Regis nodded. "I knew he was alive. It will take more than orcs and frost giants to kill Drizzt."
"He's going after Obould. All by himself," Bruenor growled.
"I would not want to be Obould, then," the halfling said with a grin.
"Bah!" snorted the dwarf. "Durned stupid elf's taking all the fun again!"
"Hee hee hee," said Pikel, and Ivan elbowed him.
Pikel turned fiercely on his brother, his eyes going wild, and he began to waggle his fingers menacingly, all the while uttering birdlike sounds.
Ivan just shook his head.
"Boo," said Pikel, then "hee hee hee," again.
"Will ye just shut up?" Ivan said and he shook his head and turned away, crossing his burly arms over his chest.
He found Regis staring at him and chuckling.
"What?"
King Bruenor stopped, then, and similarly regarded Ivan, and he, too, began to chuckle.
Ivan stared at them both curiously, for unlike the pair, he couldn't see that his brother had just turned his beard as green as Pikel's own.
"They're thinking yerself to be amusing," Ivan said to Pikel.
"Hee hee hee."
* * * * *
Head down, cowl pulled low, Drizzt Do'Urden did not remain under shelter against the storm. North of Mithral Hall, it was all snow, blowing and deepening all around him, but with Sunrise in tow, the drow made his way across the uneven, rocky terrain, moving in the general direction of where he had last seen Obould. As the daylight waned, the drow ranger found a sheltered overhang and settled in, lying right along Sunrise's back to share some of the steed's body heat.
The storm finally broke after sunset, but the wind kicked up even more furiously. Drizzt went out and watched the clouds whip across the sky, stars blinking in and out with their passing. He climbed up over the jag of stone he had used for shelter and scanned the area. Several clusters of campfires were visible from up there, for the region was thick with the remnants of Obould's army. He marked the direction of the largest such cluster, then went back down and forced himself to get some much-needed rest.
He was up and out before the dawn, though, riding Sunrise, and even putting the pegasus up into a series of short, low flights.
A smile spread on the drow's face as he neared the region of the previous night's campfires, for the pennant of Obould soon came into view—the same flag he had seen flying with the orc king's personal caravan. He found a good vantage point and settled in, and soon enough, that same caravan was on the move once more.
Drizzt studied them closely. He spotted Obould among the ranks, growling orders.
The drow nodded and took a wide scan of the region, picking his path so that he could shadow the caravan.
He'd bide his time and await the opportunity.
We will kill them all, the vicious Khazid'hea whispered in his mind.