To Drizzt's surprise the trail led neither south nor back to the northeast and Ten Towns, but straight east, toward the towering black peaks of the Spine of the World. Soon Guenhwyvar led him into the foothills, dangerous territory
indeed, for the high bluffs and rocky outcroppings provided fine ambush points for lurking monsters or highwaymen.
Perhaps, Drizzt mused, that was exactly why Wulfgar had come this way. Perhaps he was looking for trouble, for a fight, or maybe even for some giant to surprise him and end his pain.
Drizzt skidded to a stop and blew a long and profound sigh, for what seemed most unsettling to him was not the thought that Wulfgar was inviting disaster, but his own reaction to it. For at that moment, the image of hurt Catti-brie clear in his mind, the ranger almost-almost-thought that such an ending to Wulfgar's tale would not be such a terrible thing.
A call from Guenhwyvar brought him from his thoughts. He sprinted up a steep incline, leaped to another boulder, then skittered back down to another trail. He heard a growl-from Wulfgar and not the panther-then a crash as Aegis-fang slammed against some stone. The crash was near to Guenhwyvar, Drizzt realized, from the sound of the hit and the cat's ensuing protesting roars.
Drizzt leaped over a stone lip, rushed across a short expanse, and jumped down a small drop to land lightly right beside the big man just as the warhammer magically reappeared in his grasp. For a moment, considering the wild look in Wulfgar's eyes, the drow thought he would have to draw his blades and fight the man, but Wulfgar calmed quickly. He seemed merely defeated, his rage thrown out.
'I did not know,' he said, slumping back against the stone.
'I understand,' Drizzt replied, holding back his own anger and trying to sound compassionate.
'It was not Catti-brie,' Wulfgar went on. 'In my thoughts, I mean. I was not with her, but back there, in that place of darkness.'
'I know,' said Drizzt. 'And so does Catti-brie, though I fear we shall have some work ahead of us in calming Bruenor.' He ended with a wide and warm smile, but his attempt to lighten the situation was lost on Wulfgar.
'He is right to be outraged,' the barbarian admitted. 'As I am outraged, in a way you cannot begin to understand.'
'Do not underestimate the value of friendship,' Drizzt answered. 'I once made a similar error, nearly to the destruction of all that I hold dear.'
Wulfgar shook his head through every word of it, unable to find any footing for agreement. Black waves of despair washed over him, burying him. What he had done was beyond forgiveness, especially since he realized, and admitted to himself, that it would likely happen again. 'I am lost,' he said softly.
'And we will all help you to find your way,' Drizzt answered, putting a comforting hand on the big man's shoulder.
Wulfgar pushed him away. 'No,' he said firmly, and then he gave a little laugh. 'There is no way to find. The darkness of Errtu endures. Under that shadow, I cannot be who you want me to be.'
'We only want you to remember who you once were,' the
drow replied. 'In the ice cave, we rejoiced to find Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, returned to us.'
'He was not,' the big man corrected. 'I am not the man who left you in Mithral Hall. I can never be that man again.'
'Time will heal-' Drizzt started to say, but Wulfgar silenced him with a roar.
'No!' he cried. 'I do not ask for healing. I do not wish to become again the man that I was. Perhaps I have learned the truth of the world, and that truth has shown me the errors of my previous ways.'
Drizzt stared hard at the man. 'And the better way is to punch an unsuspecting Catti-brie?' he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his patience for the man fast running out.
Wulfgar locked stares with Drizzt, and again the drow's hands went to his scimitar hilts. He could hardly believe the level of anger rising within him, overwhelming his compassion for his sorely tormented friend. He understood that if Wulfgar did try to strike at him, he would fight the man without holding back.
'I look at you now and remember that you are my friend,' Wulfgar said, relaxing his tense posture enough to assure Drizzt that he did not mean to strike out. 'And yet those reminders come only with strong willpower. Easier it is for me to hate you, and hate everything around me, and on those occasions when I do not immediately summon the willpower to remember the truth, I will strike out.'
'As you did with Catti-brie,' Drizzt replied, and his tone was not accusatory, but rather showed a sincere attempt to understand and empathize.
Wulfgar nodded. 'I did not even recognize that it was her,' he said. 'It was just another of Errtu's fiends, the worst kind, the kind that tempted me and defeated my willpower, and then left me not with burns or wounds but with the weight of guilt, with the knowledge of failure. I wanted to resist….I…'
'Enough, my friend,' Drizzt said quietly. 'You shoulder blame where you should not. It was no failure of Wulfgar, but the unending cruelty of Errtu.'
'It was both,' said a defeated Wulfgar. 'And that failure compounds with every moment of weakness.'
'We will speak with Bruenor,' Drizzt assured him. 'We will use this incident as a guide and learn from it.'
'You may say to Bruenor whatever you choose,' the big man said, his tone suddenly turning ice cold once more. 'For I will not be there to hear it.'
'You will return to your own people?' Drizzt asked, though he knew in his heart that the barbarian wasn't saying any such thing.
'I will find whatever road I choose,' Wulfgar replied. 'Alone.'
'I once played this game.'
'Game?' the big man echoed incredulously. 'I have never been more serious in all my life. Now go back to them, back where you belong. When you think of me, think of the man I once was, the man who would never strike Catti-brie.'
Drizzt started to reply, but stopped himself and stood
studying his broken friend. In truth, he had nothing to say that might comfort Wulfgar. While he wanted to believe that he and the others could help coax the man back to rational behavior, he wasn't certain of it. Not at all. Would Wulfgar strike out again, at Catti-brie, or at any of them, perhaps hurting one of them severely? Would the big man's return to the group facilitate a true fight between him and Bruenor, or between him and Drizzt? Or would Catti-brie, in self-defense, drive Khazid'hea, her deadly sword, deep into the man's chest? On the surface, these fears all rang as preposterous in the drow's mind, but after watching Wulfgar carefully these past few days, he could not dismiss the troublesome possibility.
And perhaps worst of all, he had to consider his own feelings when he had seen the battered Catti-brie. He hadn't been the least bit surprised.
Wulfgar started away, and Drizzt instinctively grabbed him by the forearm.
Wulfgar spun and threw the drow's hand aside. 'Farewell, Drizzt Do'Urden,' he said sincerely, and those words conveyed many of his unspoken thoughts to Drizzt. A longing to go with the drow back to the group, a plea that things could be as they had once been, the friends, the companions of the hall, running down the road to adventure. And most of all, in that lucid tone, words spoken so clearly and deliberately and thoughtfully, they brought to Drizzt a sense of finality. He could not stop Wulfgar, short of hamstringing the man with a scimitar. And in his heart, at that terrible moment, he knew that he should not stop Wulfgar. 'Find yourself,' Drizzt said, 'and then find us.' 'Perhaps,' was all that Wulfgar could offer. Without looking back, he walked away.
For Drizzt Do'Urden, the walk back to the wagon to rejoin his friends was the longest journey of his life.
Part 2 WALKING THE ROADS OF DANGER
We each have our own path to tread. That seems such a simple and obvious thought, but in a world of
