to explain.
'You plan to take one or both of the merchant's horses to go to the mountains?' an incredulous Regis asked.
'No, no,' Drizzt replied. 'Montolio had been quite a rider in his youth, before he lost his vision, of course. And the horses he chose to ride were the strongest and least broken by saddles. But he had a technique-he called it 'running the horse'-to calm the steeds enough so that they would behave. He would bring them out in an open field on a long lead and snap a whip behind them repeatedly to get them running in wide and hard circles, even to get them bucking.'
'Would that not only make them less behaved?' the halfling asked, for he knew little about horses.
Drizzt shook his head. 'The strongest of horses possesses too much energy, Montolio explained to me. Thus, he would
take them out and let them release that extra layer, and when he would then climb on their backs they would ride strong but in control.'
Regis shrugged and nodded, accepting the story. 'What has that to do with Wulfgar?' he asked, but his expression changed to one of understanding even as the question came out of his mouth. 'You plan to run Wulfgar as Montolio ran the horses,' he reasoned.
'Perhaps he needs a good fight,' Drizzt replied. 'And truly I wish to rid the region of any trouble with giants.'
'It will take you hours to get to the mountains,' Regis estimated, looking to the south. 'Perhaps longer if the giants' trail is not clear to follow.'
'But we will move much quicker than you three if you stay, as we promised, with Camlaine,' the drow replied. 'Wulfgar and I will be back beside you within two or three days, long before you've turned the corner around the Spine of the World.'
'Bruenor will not like being left out,' Regis remarked.
'Then do not tell him,' the drow instructed. Then, before Regis could offer the expected reply, he added, 'Nor should you tell Catti-brie. Explain to them only that Wulfgar and I set out in the night, and that I promised to return the day after tomorrow.'
Regis gave a frustrated sigh-once before Drizzt had run off, promising Regis to secrecy, and a frantic Catti-brie had nearly beat the information out of the halfling. 'Why am I always the one to hold your secrets?' he asked.
'Why are you always sniffing where your nose does not belong?' Drizzt answered with a laugh.
The drow caught up to Wulfgar on the far side of the encampment. The big man was sitting alone, absently tossing stones down to the ground. He did not look up, nor did he offer any apologetic expressions, burying them beneath a wall of anger.
Drizzt sympathized completely and recognized the torment simmering just below the surface. Anger was his friend's only defense against those horrible memories. Drizzt crouched low and looked into Wulfgar's pale blue eyes, even if the huge man did not match the gaze.
'Do you remember our first fight?' the drow asked slyly.
Now Wulfgar did turn his stare up at the drow. 'Do you mean to teach me another lesson?' he asked, his tone showing that he was more than ready to accept that challenge.
The words stung Drizzt profoundly. He recalled his last angry encounter with Wulfgar, over the barbarian's treatment of Catti-brie those seven years before in Mithral Hall. They had fought viciously with Drizzt emerging as victor. And he recalled his first fight against Wulfgar, when Bruenor had captured the lad and brought him into the dwarven clan in Icewind Dale after the barbarians had tried to raid Ten Towns. Bruenor had charged Drizzt with training Wulfgar as a fighter, and those first lessons between the two had proven especially painful for the young and overly proud barbarian. But that was not the encounter to which Drizzt was now referring.
'I mean the first time that we fought together side by
side against a real enemy,' he explained.
Wulfgar's eyes narrowed as he considered the memory, a glimpse at his friendship with Drizzt from many years ago.
'Biggrin and the verbeeg,' Drizzt reminded. 'You and I and Guenhwyvar charging headlong into a lair full of giants.'
The anger melted from Wulfgar's face. He managed a rare smile and nodded.
'A tough one was Biggrin,' Drizzt went on. 'How many times did we hit the behemoth? It took a final throw from you to drive the dagger-'
'That was a long time ago,' Wulfgar interrupted. He couldn't manage to maintain the smile, but at least he did not sink right back into the explosive anger. Wulfgar again found a more even keel, much like his detached, almost ambivalent attitude when they had first started out on this journey.
'But you do remember?' Drizzt pressed, his grin growing across his black face, that telltale twinkle in his lavender eyes.
'Why …' Wulfgar started to ask, but stopped short and sat studying his friend. He hadn't seen Drizzt in such a mood in a long, long time, even well before his fateful fight with the handmaiden of the demon queen Lolth back in Mithral Hall. This was a flash of Drizzt from the days before the quest to reclaim the dwarven kingdom, an image of the drow in those times when Wulfgar honestly feared that Drizzt's recklessness would soon put him and the drow in a situation from which they could not escape.
Wulfgar liked the image.
'We have some giants readying to waylay travelers on the road,' the drow said. 'Our pace will be slower out of the dale, now that we have agreed to accompany
Master Camlaine. It seems to me that a side journey to deal with these dangerous marauders might be in order.'
It was the first hint of an eager sparkle in Wulfgar's eye that Drizzt had seen since they had been reunited in the ice cave after the defeat of Errtu.
'Have you spoken with the others?' the barbarian asked.
'Just me and you,' Drizzt explained. 'And Guenhwyvar, of course. She would not appreciate being left out of this fun.'
The pair left camp long after sunset, waiting for Catti-brie, Regis, and Bruenor to fall asleep. With the drow leading, having no difficulty in seeing under the starry tundra sky, they went straight back to the point where the giant and the wagon tracks intersected. There, Drizzt reached into a pouch and produced the onyx panther figurine, placing it reverently on the ground. 'Come to me, Guenhwyvar,' he called softly.
A mist came up, swirling about the figurine, growing thicker and thicker, flowing and swirling and taking the shape of the great panther. Thicker and thicker, and then it was no mist circling the onyx likeness, but the panther herself. Guenhwyvar looked up at Drizzt with eyes showing an intelligence far beyond that indicated by her feline form.
Drizzt pointed down to the giant track, and Guenhwyvar, understanding, led them away.
She knew as soon as she opened her eyes that something was amiss. The camp was quiet, the two merchant guards sitting on the bench of the wagon, talking softly.
Catti-brie shifted up to her elbows to better survey the scene. The fire had burned low but was still bright enough to cast shadows from the bedrolls. Closest lay Regis, curled in a ball so near to the fire that Catti-brie was amazed the little fellow hadn't gone up in flames. The mound that was Bruenor lay just a bit further back, right where Catti-brie had said good night to her adoptive father. The woman sat up, then got to one knee, craning her neck, but she could not locate two particular forms among the sleeping.
She started for Bruenor, but changed her mind and went to Regis instead. The halfling always seemed to know….
A gentle shake only made him groan and roll tighter into a ball. A rougher shake and a call of his name only had him spitting curses and tightening even more.
Catti-brie kicked him in the rump.
'Hey!' he protested loudly, coming up suddenly.
'Where'd they go to?' the woman asked.
'What're ye about, girl?' came Bruenor's sleepy voice, the dwarf awakened by Regis's call.
