it was to Berkthgar. The barbarian came storming out of the tent then, leaving a horde of sputtering comrades leering out of the open flap.
'Taking him won't be half the trouble as figuring out how to let him keep his honor,' Catti-brie whispered.
Drizzt nodded and patted her shoulder again, then walked away, going in a wide circuit about Berkthgar and back toward the tent. Catti-brie had taken things into hand, he decided, and he owed her the respect to let her see this through.
The barbarians fell back as the drow came into the tent and pointedly closed the flap, taking one last look at Catti-brie as he
did, to see her walking side by side with Berkthgar (and he so resembled huge Wulfgar from the back!) down the windswept lane.
For Drizzt Do'Urden, the image was not a pleasant one.
*****
'Ye're not surprised?' Catti-brie asked as she removed the practice padding from her backpack and began sliding it over the fine edge of her sword. She felt a twinge of emotion as she did so, a sudden feeling of disappointment, even anger, which she did not understand.
'I did not believe for a moment that you had brought me out here for the reason you hinted at,' Berkthgar replied casually. 'Though if you had—'
'Shut yer mouth,' Catti-brie sharply interrupted.
Berkthgar's jaw went firm. He was not accustomed to being talked to in that manner, particularly not from a woman. 'We of Settlestone do not cover our blades when we fight,' he said boastfully.
Catti-brie returned the barbarian leader's determined look, and as she did, she slid the sword back out from its protective sheath. A sudden rush of elation washed over her. As with the earlier feeling, she did not understand it, and so she thought that perhaps her anger toward Berkthgar was more profound than she had dared to admit to herself.
Berkthgar walked away then, to his house, and soon returned wearing a smug smile and a sheath strapped across his back. Above his right shoulder Catti-brie could see the hilt and cross-piece of his sword—a crosspiece nearly as long as her entire blade! — and the bottom portion of the sheath poked out below Berkthgar's left hip, extending almost to the ground.
Catti-brie watched, awestruck, wondering what she had gotten herself into, as Berkthgar solemnly drew the sword to the extent of his arm. The sheath had been cut along its upper side after a foot of leather so that the barbarian could then extract the gigantic blade.
And gigantic indeed was Berkthgar's flamberge! Its wavy blade extended over four feet, and after that came an eight-inch
ricasso between the formal crosspiece and a second, smaller one of edged steel.
With one arm, muscles standing taut in ironlike cords, Berkthgar began spinning the blade, creating a great «whooshing» sound in the air above his head. Then he brought its tip to the ground before him and rested his arm on the crosspiece, which was about shoulder height to his six-and-a-half-foot frame.
'Ye meaning to fight with that, or kill fatted cows?' Catti-brie asked, trying hard to steal some of the man's mounting pride.
'I would still allow you to choose the other contest,' Berkthgar replied calmly.
Catti-brie's sword snapped out in front of her, at the ready, and she went down in a low, defensive crouch.
The barbarian hooted and went into a similar pose, but then straightened, looking perplexed. 'I cannot,' Berkthgar began. 'If I were to strike you even a glancing blow, King Battlehammer's heart would break as surely as would your skull.»
Catti-brie came forward suddenly, jabbing at Berkthgar's shoulder and tearing a line in his furred jerkin.
He looked down at the cut, then his eyes came slowly back to regard Catti-brie, but other than that, he made no move.
'Ye're just afraid because ye're knowing that ye can't move that cow-killer fast enough,' the young woman taunted.
Berkthgar blinked very slowly, exaggerated the movement as if to show how boring he thought this whole affair was. 'I will show you the mantle where Bankenfuere is kept,' he said. 'And I will show you the bedding before the mantle.»
'The thing's better for a mantle than a swordsman's hands!' Catti-brie growled, tired of this one's juvenile sexual references. She sprang ahead again and slapped the flat of her blade hard against Berkthgar's cheek, then jumped back, still snarling. 'If ye're afraid, then admit it!'
Berkthgar's hand went immediately to his wound, and when it came away, the barbarian saw that his fingers were red with blood. Catti-brie winced at that, for she hadn't meant to hit him quite so hard.
Subtle were the intrusions of Khazid'hea.
'I am out of patience with you, foolish woman,' snarled the barbarian, and up came the tip of tremendous Bankenfuere, the
Northern Fury.
Berkthgar growled and leaped ahead, both hands on the hilt this time as he swung the huge blade across in front of him. He attacked with the flat of his blade, as had Catti-brie, but the young woman realized that would hardly matter. Getting hit by the flat of that tremendous flamberge would still reduce her bones to mush!
Catti-brie wasn't anywhere near Berkthgar at that point, the woman in fast retreat (and wondering again if she was in over her head) as soon as the sword went up. The flamberge curled in an arc back over, left to right, then came across a second time, this cut angling down. Faster than Catti-brie expected, Berkthgar reversed the flow, the blade swishing horizontally again, this time left to right, then settled back at the ready beside the barbarian's muscular shoulder.
An impressive display indeed, but Catti-brie had watched the routine carefully, no longer through awestruck eyes, and she noticed more than a few holes in the barbarian's defenses.
Of course, she had to be perfect in her timing. One slip, and Bankenfuere would turn her into worm food.
On came Berkthgar, with another horizontal cut, a predictable attack, for there were only so many ways one could maneuver such a weapon! Catti-brie fell back a step, then an extra step just to make sure, and darted in behind the lumbering sweep of the blade, looking to score a hit on the barbarian's arm. Berkthgar was quicker than that, though, and he had the blade coming around and over so fast that Catti-brie had to abort the attack and scramble hard just to get out of the way.
Still, she had won that pass, she figured, for now she had a better measure of Berkthgar's reach. And by her thinking, every passing moment favored her, for she saw the sweat beading on the drunken barbarian's forehead, his great chest heaving just a bit more than before.
'If ye do other things as poorly as ye fight, then suren I'm glad I chose this contest,' Catti-brie said, a taunt that sent proud Berkthgar into another wild-swinging tirade.
Catti-brie dodged and scrambled as Bankenfuere came across in several titanic, and ultimately futile, swipes. Across it came again, the barbarian's fury far from played out, and Catti-brie
leaped back. Around and over went the blade, Berkthgar charging ahead, and Catti-brie went far out to the side, just ahead as the great sword came whipping down and across.
'I shall catch up to you soon enough!' Berkthgar promised, turning square to the young woman and whipping his mighty blade left to right once more, bringing it to the ready beside his right shoulder.
Catti-brie started in behind the cut, taking a long stride with her right foot, extending her sword arm toward Berkthgar's exposed hip. She dug her left foot in solidly, though, and had no intention of continuing the move. As soon as Bankenfuere came across to intercept, Catti-brie leaped back, pivoted on her anchor leg, and rushed in behind the blade, going for Berkthgar's right hip instead, and scored a nasty, stinging hit.
The barbarian growled and spun so forcefully that he nearly overbalanced.
Catti-brie stood a few feet away, crouched low, ready. There was no doubt that swinging the heavy weapon was beginning to take a toll on the man, especially after his generous swallows of mead.
'A few more passes,' Catti-brie whispered, forcing herself to be patient.
