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Wulfgar and Catti-brie scanned the rubble, searching for something that could be salvaged and not so
ready to agree with Bruenor's demands that they press on without any supplies. They quickly came to the
same conclusion as the dwarf, though, and with a final salute to the ruins of the alcove, they followed
Bruenor back into the corridor.
"I'm meaning to make Garumn's Gorge afore the next rest," Bruenor exclaimed. "So ready yerselves
for a long walk."
"And then where?" Wulfgar asked, guessing, but not liking, the answer.
"Out!" Bruenor roared. "Quick as we can!" He glared at the barbarian, daring him to argue.
"To return with the rest of your kin beside us?" Wulfgar pressed.
"Not to return," said Bruenor. "Never to return!"
"Then Drizzt has died in vain!" Wulfgar stated bluntly. "He sacrificed his life for a vision that will
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never be fulfilled."
Bruenor paused to steady himself in the face of Wulfgar's sharp perception. He hadn't looked at the
tragedy in that cynical light, and he didn't like the implications. "Not for nothing!" he growled at the
barbarian. "A warning it is to us all to be gone from the place. Evil's here, thick as orcs on mutton! Don't
ye smell it, boy? Don't yer eyes and nose tell ye to be gone from here?"
"My eyes tell me of the danger," Wulfgar replied evenly. "As often they have before. But I am a
warrior and pay little heed to such warnings!"
"Then ye're sure to be a dead warrior," Catti-brie put in.
Wulfgar glared at her. "Drizzt came to help take back Mithril Hall, and I shall see the deed done!"
"Ye'll die trying," muttered Bruenor, the anger off his voice now. "We came to find me home, boy, but
this is not the place. Me people once lived here, 'tis true, but the darkness that creeped into Mithril Hall
has put an end to me claim on it. I've no wish to return once I'm clear of the stench of the place, know
that in yer stubborn head. It's for the shadows now, and the gray ones, and may the whole stinkin' place
fall in on their stinkin' heads!"
Bruenor had said enough. He turned abruptly on his heel and stamped off down the corridor, his heavy
boots pounding into the stone with uncompromising determination.
Regis and Catti-brie followed closely, and Wulfgar, after a moment to consider the dwarf's resolve,
trotted to catch up with them.
Sydney and Bok returned to the oval chamber as soon as the mage was certain the companions had
left. Like the friends before her, she made her way to the ruined alcove and stood for a moment reflecting
on the effect this sudden turn of events would have on her mission. She was amazed at the depth of her
sorrow for the loss of Entreri, for though she didn't fully trust the assassin and suspected that he might
actually be searching for the same powerful artifact she and Dendybar sought, she had come to respect
him. Could there have been a better ally when the fighting started?
Sydney didn't have a lot of time to mourn for Entreri, for the loss of Drizzt Do'Urden conjured more
immediate concerns for her own safety. Dendybar wasn't likely to take the news lightly, and the mottled
wizard's talent at punishment was widely acknowledged in the Hosttower of the Arcane.
Bok waited for a moment, expecting some command from the mage, but when none was forthcoming,
the golem stepped into the alcove and began removing the mound of rubble.
"Stop," Sydney ordered.
Bok kept on with its chore, driven by its directive to continue its pursuit of the drow.
"Stop!" Sydney said again, this time with more conviction. "The drow is dead, you stupid thing!" The
blunt statement forced her own acceptance of the fact and set her thoughts into motion. Bok did stop and
turn to her, and she waited a moment to sort out the best course of action.
"We will go after the others," she said offhandedly, as much trying to enlighten her own thoughts with
the statement as to redirect the golem. "Yes, perhaps, if we deliver the dwarf and the other companions to
Dendybar he will forgive our stupidity in allowing the drow to die."
She looked to the golem, but of course its expression had not changed to offer any encouragement.
"It should have been you in the alcove," Sydney muttered, her sarcasm wasted on the thing. "Entreri
could at least offer some suggestions. But no matter, I have decided. We shall follow the others and find
the time when we might take them. They will tell us what we need to know about the Crystal Shard!"
Bok remained motionless, awaiting her signal. Even with its most basic of thought patterns, the golem
understood that Sydney best knew how they could complete their mission.
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The companions moved through huge caverns, more natural formations than dwarf-carved stone. High
ceilings and walls stretched out into the blackness, beyond the glow of the torches, leaving the friends
dreadfully aware of their vulnerability. They kept close together as they marched, imagining a host of
gray dwarves watching them from the unlit reaches of the caverns, or expecting some horrid creature to
swoop down upon them from the darkness above.
The ever-present sound of dripping water paced them with its rhythm, its "plip, plop" echoing through
every hall, accentuating the emptiness of the place.
Bruenor remembered this section of the complex well, and found himself once again deluged by long-
forgotten images of his past. These were the Halls of Gathering, where all of Clan Battlehammer would
come together to hear the words of King Garumn, or to meet with important visitors. Battle plans were
laid here, and strategies set for commerce with the outside world. Even the youngest dwarves were
present at the meetings, and Bruenor recalled fondly the many times he had sat beside his father, Bangor,
behind his grandfather, King Garumn, with Bangor pointing out the king's techniques for capturing the
audience, and instructing the young Bruenor in the arts of leadership that he would one day need.
The day he became King of Mithril Hall.
The solitude of the caverns weighed heavily on the dwarf, who had heard them ring out in the common
cheering and chanting of ten-thousand dwarves. Even if he were to return with all of the remaining
members of the clan, they would fill only a tiny corner of one chamber.
"Too many gone," Bruenor said into the emptiness, his soft whisper louder than he had intended in the
echoing stillness. Catti-brie and Wulfgar, concerned for the dwarf and scrutinizing his every action, noted
the remark and could easily enough guess the memories and emotions that had prompted it. They looked
to each other and Catti-brie could see that the edge of Wulfgar's anger at the dwarf had dissipated in a
rush of sympathy.
Hall after great hall loomed up with only short corridors connecting them. Turns and side exits broke
off every few feet, but Bruenor felt confident that he knew the way to the gorge. He knew, too, that
anyone below would have heard the crashing of the stonework trap and would be coming to investigate. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]