The cave was dark and dank. Lit from the flickering light of torches, shadows rippled and flowed like water on the stone walls.
She moved along through the cave, stepping carefully over rock washed smooth by water. It was huge, wide and deep. Stalagmites hung from the ceiling, some as thick as a ship's mast.
She sensed movement around behind her. Drawing her sword, she spun, ready to confront whatever manner of creature it was.
She nearly dropped her sword. It was he, the man who was haunting her dreams. He stood before her, clad in pale browns and tans, wearing a beautiful forest-green cloak clasped at his throat. He was gazing at her, as if confused by something.
"You remind me of my daughter," he said. "Do you know her?"
"No," she replied. "I'm...sorry."
"Pity."
"Who are you?"
"I am he who guards that which you seek, though you know not that you seek it."
"That's not an answer."
"It is answer enough for now."
"I don't agree," she snapped, irritated.
"I don't agree with your disagreement. Let me ask you: what is it you seek?"
She stared at him.
"I...I don't know," she answered finally.
"Therein lies your problem. You cannot see past your uncertainty, your insecurities, your grief. They consume you, and if you do not stop them, you will be destroyed by them. Look past them, understand them, and then master them."
"How do I do that?"
The figure was silent for a long moment. When he began again, it was as if he has not heard their conversation.
"Find my daughter. She has forgotten me, though she seeks me. She has the answers to that which you seek. She can help you."
"How do I find her then?"
"You will know when you have found her."
She was drawn away from him then. She found that she was floating in the air as she drifted down a stone corridor. It began like a lazy walk which increased faster and faster until she was rocketing down the corridor it breakneck speed.
A woman's voice cut through the stone.
"Come back to us...."
She rounded a corner and at the end of the corridor was a great, blinding lavender light. It engulfed her in its radiance.
Catti-brie awoke with a start to a beautiful room. Everything was blurry. A shadowy figure leaned over her, and the soft, ethereal voice reached her ears again.
"Welcome back, Catti-brie."
Bruenor threw open the doors to Mithril Hall's great hall and rushed in, clutching a parchment in his fist.
Wulfgar sat at the end of the great table, a few steps from Bruenor's throne, bandages wrapped around his wounds. Regis and Pwent were with him. A large, browning parchment was resting on the table between them and they were peering at it, apparently in intense conversation.
They all looked up as Bruenor entered.
He skidded to a stop next to Wulfgar and sat down, triumphantly throwing the parchment to the table.
"Yer report was just confirmed," Bruenor said to Wulfgar. "Tha's the first scouting report. Only thing is ye overestimated their numbers. They've only got about thirty-three thousand."
"Oh, is that all," Regis said, rolling his eyes. "Well, that will be so much easier then."
Bruenor glared at him.
"Me king," Pwent said, "we've been preparin' our defenses," waving his hand at the parchment they had been staring at. It was a schematic of Mithril Hall.
"Good," Bruenor said.
"We're not for knowin' how much about Mithril Hall these orcs be knowin' so we figure stationin' patrols in all the lower tunnels, in case their for tryin' to invade tha' way. We've stationed companies at every major entrance te the Hall, and it migh' be a good plan te rig the entrances and lower entry tunnels for collapse, in case it comes te that," Pwent explained.
Bruenor nodded.
"Good. Ye have me authority to begin workin' on riggin' te tunnels."
Bruenor glanced at the map. He pointed outside of Mithril Hall.
"Any thoughts of outside defenses? The orcs won't be arrivin' for another five days at least at their present pace."
"If t'were me, me King, I'd not bother with outer defenses. We're not for needing them; we have better chances if we dug in here, within the Hall," Pwent said.
Bruenor shook his head.
"I'm not for agreein'. If we establish perimeters defenses, it will slow the orcs down and perhaps make them think twice about continuin' this fight."
Pwent was silent.
Bruenor pulled the map closer and stared at it for a long moment.
"Yes, if we were te place defenses on the ridgeline and secondary defensive fallback lines closer to Mithril Hall, we may even be able to turn back this enemy before they even have a chance to attack the Hall itself."
Wulfgar looked at Bruenor.
"Why?" he asked simply.
"I want te minimumize risk to the civilians. The longer we keep the fighting from the Hall, the safer fer everyone."
They stared at him.
"What? I'm bein' a King now, ye know!" Bruenor bellowed. "I've gotta be lookin' out for me people."
"Me King, we—"
"—will set outer defenses?" asked Bruenor with a dangerous look?
"Yes, me king," Pwent responded finally.
Bruenor sat back in his seat.
"Good. Then it's settled."
Minutes later, dwarves were marching out of the great doors of Mithril Hall, heading for the ridges to prepare the defenses.
Gragh the orc commander marched at the front of the great column of orcs. He listened with pleasure at the rhymic thundering of seventeen heavily armored boots striking the ground at the same time.
He glanced back and grinned in sinister satisfaction as he saw the militant and eager looks of determination in the eyes of his army.
As his gaze returned to the road ahead, he started in surprise. A rider mounted upon a great black steed was riding forward towards the army.
"Ready arms!" bellowed Gragh.
The rider galloped closer as the orcs waited for signs of hostility. The rider came within ten paces of the front of the line, and halted turning the horse sideways. The rider, now clearly seen as a man wearing a billowing cloak of the pitchest black.
The line of orcs halted.
"Lower your weapons!" bellowed the man, and there was an undeniable authority to the voice, as if infused with a greater power than normal mortals. "I am sent by the General."
Gragh stepped forward, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Do you have the sign?" the orc asked.
The man reached to his neck and pulled a medallion from beneath his tunic. The medallion was gold, with many ancient runes engraved in it. A sizable jewel was set in the center of the medallion.
"I bear the mark of the Brotherhood," the rider said, "and come with the full authority of the Jewel."
The orc nodded. The rider replaced the medallion within his tunic.
The rider then dismounted, holding the reins of his horse in his hand. He moved closer to Gragh.
"I am Brother Manthur. Make camp here. We have much to discuss."
Raregar bent over the prone body of Drizzt Do'Urden. He pressed his fingers to Drizzt's neck, feeling the pulse. The barbarian nodded. The pulse was growing stronger.
He had not continued to travel towards Mithril Hall since discovering Drizzt was alive. That was two days ago and Drizzt had not notably improved.
A fire crackled next to him as it slowly died. He got up and collected some more wood from the pile sitting next to the fire and tossed them on the dying flames.
He turned again and sat down. Now he waited.
Catti-brie took in the scene around her. Several elvish clerics surrounded her. One of them smiled as she stared about, then lifted a small vial of something, uncorked it, and handed it to Catti-brie. She looked at it cautiously.
"Don't worry, it is not poisoned," said a voice from the doorway. Alustriel entered. "For what reason would I have to poison you?"
The room itself was furnished with beautifully and intricately carved furniture. Designs flowed into each other.
Alustriel sat down in a chair next to the bed in which Catti-brie rested. She smiled at Catti-brie.
"You know," the ethereal human began, "when I sent for you, there was a hidden implication that you would arrive alive."
Catti-brie grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"Your wounds were not fully healed. You took a foolish risk doing what you did."
Alustriel's voice was now sharp. Catti-brie frowned at her. Alustriel sighed, and her features softened.
"Well, the important thing is that you're safe now." She looked at the vial in Catti-brie's hand. "Drink," she urged.
"How did I get here?" Catti-brie asked.
Alustriel smiled again.
"I have my ways."
Catti-brie sighed.
"Well, recover your strength," Alustriel said, starting to rise from her seat. "We have much to talk about, you and I."
Catti-brie's hand lashed out and grabbed Alustriel's wrist, holding her in place.
"I haven't come this far to wait any longer. I want some answers."
Alustriel hesitated, as if debating whether to walk out or not. She looked into Catti-brie's eyes, into the deep wells of confusion and pain, and something in her made her sit down again.
"Very well."
Catti-brie smiled.
"What did you wish to know?" Alustriel asked.
This question, so simple, so direct, startled Catti-brie. Suddenly, in the face of the answers she sought, she realized that she had no idea what to say.
"Suddenly, I'm not sure..." Catti-brie said.
Alustriel nodded sympathetically and simply waited, knowing Catti-brie would eventually seek to fill the silence. Better to let her talk.
"Why did Drizzt have to die?" Catti-brie whispered.
"Alas," said Alustriel. "The first question you ask cannot be answered. Things will become clear before the end. Fate can be cruel, but always remember that all things happen with a purpose."
Catti-brie looked less than happy with that answer, but was silent. She sighed and asked her next question.
"Did I die? When I was injured?"
Alustriel smiled.
"Are you dead or living now?"
"I don't know anymore."
"That's a terribly depressing thing to say. In answer, yes, you did."
"Then how was it that I went to Drizzt in spirit? If I had died?"
Alustriel leaned forward.
"When two people twain under the stars, two people truly in love, there is a merging that occurs, an intermingling of soul and spirit and the two become one."
Catti-brie blushed. Alustriel smiled.
"When this happens, the two people are connected together forever, a connection that transcends space, time, and even death.When you were at the very verge of death, you sensed that Drizzt needed you, and so your spirit was drawn to him through this bond, and you led him to safety in a time of his greatest need."
"But he died anyway."
"We all die, Catti-brie, eventually, for we are all mortal. I'm sure you do not think that because we all are going to die eventually we should not help others who need aid."
Catti-brie shook her head. Of course not. She sighed.
"It just all seems so pointless to me."
Alustriel lays her hand on Catti-brie's shoulder.
"That," she said, "is because you cannot see all ends."
Catti-brie tried to sit up, but Alustriel pressed her back down gently with her hand.
"Do not try to move just yet. You are not fully recovered," Alustriel said firmly. "You must take care of yourself."
There was a slight smile playing about Alustriel's lips as she spoke.
I guess I would look a little amusing, Catti-brie thought to herself.
"Is there anything else?" Alustriel asked.
"Actually, there is. I keep having these dreams. . ."
"Visions."
"What?" Catti-brie asked.
"You are not dreaming. At least, not exactly."
Alustriel paused, as if attempting to decide whether to speak further or wait until Catti-brie was healed.
"What is it?" Catti-brie asked. "You can tell me."
Alustriel forced a smile and made a decision.
"I know I can."
She stood, and moved away from the bed, her dress seeming to float behind her.
"You have the gift of prophesy." Alustriel said simply.
There was a pregnant silence.
"That's impossible," Catti-brie said. "I have never shown—"
"Signs of your ability before? No. You wouldn't. Your gift is different than that of most prophetesses. Where they will get glimpses of the future, you do not. At least, not exactly. You see alternate futures. You see the consequences of choice, of fate."
Alustriel began to pace.
"What have you seen thus far? Images of death, of destruction?"
"Yes," Catti-brie whispered. "I have seen all of you . . .dead. On a battlefield, covered with blood."
Alustriel nodded.
"This is the future—if, and only if, something is not done. Or rather, undone. As of now, it is only a possibility."
"Wait, wait a second. What do you mean, 'undone'?"
At this question, Alustriel seemed to become extremely agitated—perhaps nervous.
"Are you familiar with the legend of Shancar?"
Catti-brie looked thoughtful.
"Wasn't he a wizard?"
Alustriel nodded, resuming her pacing on the floor at the foot of the bed.
"Yes and no. Eons ago, according to the story, long before even the drow were cast into the Underdark, much longer before that even, Shancar lived. He knew something which very few others know. He knew of the existence of the Jewel. It is not known how long the Jewel has existed, but it was the single physical well of magic that all Magic-wielders draw from. The powers of the deities flow into the Jewel, which is a storage place for their powers, accessible only to those who can master the ability to draw from this place of power. The result is what is called magic.
"None know when the Jewel was forged, or who conjured it. The tale goes that one day, Shancar, in a fit of greed, decided to find the Jewel. The holder of the Jewel can bestow or restrain magical flow to the rest of the world. He searched for many years, and at last, he found it. But the gods realized his plan from the outset and confronted Shancar.
"But in a fit of rage at being denied this power, Shancar took up a club and struck the Jewel. Shattered by the wrath of the mage Shancar, it broke into ten pieces, which were scattered to the farthest corners of the Realms, laying dormant in solitude. All of magic suffered for it's breaking, and now, unable to draw from a whole source, the powers that mages and magic users wield are significantly lessened."
Catti-brie took this in.
"So what does this have to do with me?"
"Since the time of Shancar, there has been a group of Mages, led by Shancar's descendents, who have drunk deeply of the dark arts and the occult. They have been searching for millennia to recover all of the shards and re-bond the Jewel, giving them the power of the gods, the ability to give or deny all magical power. With the complete shard together, they could conceivably even try to usurp the gods themselves. They have recovered all the pieces, save two."
"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," Catti-brie said, frowning.
"Do you remember anything about your parents?"
Catti-brie looked as if Alustriel had just reached out and slapped her across the face.
"My...parents?"
"Yes, but—"
"You mean to tell me that you knew my parents and never told me about them?" Catti-brie tried to yell. It was largely a failure and came out more like an asthmatic hippo.
"Did I say I knew them?" Alustriel countered.
Catti-brie was silent.
"I only ever met your mother once, very briefly," Alustriel said, softly.
"So you did know them," Catti-brie accused angrily.
"We never talked."
There was a silence.
"What was she like?" Catti-brie whispered.
"So you don't remember them?"
"No." The answer was barely audible. "I only remember a feeling . . .a warm feeling. I'm getting it now, because I'm thinking about it."
"I was given a number of their effects, which they wanted you to have, when the time was right. I would have given them to you long ago, but you and your friends always vanish for months at a time."
Catti-brie smiled.
Alustriel moved to a small anteroom whispered a faint spell and the click of several locks releasing was heard. She pushed open the door and slipped through, then closed it behind her. She was gone for several moments, then reemerged, holding a folded piece of sealed parchment.
"How did they die?" Catti-brie asked.
Alustriel looked very uncomfortable.
"I don't think I'm the right person to tell you that. All will be revealed soon."
"You keep saying that, but I want it to be revealed now!" Catti-brie snapped.
"Unfortunately, not enough is now known for you to believe me, even if I did tell you. You must see the evidence yourself. You must retrace the steps of your parents. At the end of that path all things will be revealed and all will be changed for it."
Catti-brie was silent.
Alustriel approached the bed again.
"Your father kept a journal. He wanted for you to read it, when the time was right. I thought you should have the first part of it; as you won't be going anywhere for a while."
She handed the parchment over to Catti-brie, who took it and gazed at the seal. It was very old, but looked like two great hands reaching for a human who was floating about the earth. Behind this human were large lines radiating outward, as if the human were blocking a source of great light.
Raregar moved closer to the flames in order to tend the fire. He poked at the wood with a stick, causing sparks to float into the air.
Behind him, he heard a gasp of breath. He quickly turned to find Drizzt Do'Urden alive and his eyes open. The barbarian stared. Those eyes! They blazed with a lavender fire, even in the daylight.
He moved closer to Drizzt, to help him move. As fast as lightning, the Drow's arm lashed out and blasted into the barbarian's chest, knocking him backwards, sliding across the snow. Drizzt's arms began roaming for his weapons. Finding none, he rolled to his feet and stood looking at the winded barbarian.
Raregar was stunned. The Drow had caught him, the greatest barbarian of the tribe of the Elk, completely off guard and had struck with a strength far greater than any a race of his size could muster.
"Where am I?" Drizzt demanded, looking about. "And who are you?"
The barbarian gasped for air, raising a hand weakly.
"I . . . am . . ." was all he could force out. The Drow had palm-heeled him directly in the solar plexus. Forcing himself to recover, the barbarian wrestled the feelings from his body, sent a mental command to his brain to breathe.
"I am Raregar," he panted. "I mean you no harm . . ."
"Where am I?" the Drow commanded, his voice a bit softer now. A bit less powerful.
Raregar sucked in a breath, the effects of the strike wearing off finally.
"Where am I?" Drizzt repeated. When there was yet again no response, he stepped forward, as to grab the barbarian and force him to answer, but Raregar was on his feet before Drizzt had even taken a step. A step was all Drizzt had in him anyway. He staggered to the snow, too weak to continue. Raregar caught him before he hit the ground.
Entry 1,
I do not know when I shall see my beloved wife Again. PRegnant with our first child, she was too wEak to continue the journey south down the Sword CoAst and so I reluctantly parted company with her, leaving her in the care of friends in Waterdeep. I do hope she fAres weLL. It will have been abouT a fortnight ago we parted ways. That would put Her in the sIxth month of her prEgnancy.
After securing her accommodations with friends, my guide and I went to meet with our contact, who delivered to us a Valuable piEce of information vital to Solving this puzzle plaGuing Us ever sInce It became known to us.
Based on our information, myseLf and Aernes, our guiDe, headed immediately for the dock, seeking ships setting sail soon. We searched for many hours for any ship willing to carry us to our destination, but in vain. We shall try again tomorrow.
Catti-brie looked up at the closed door, then back down at the page. There was some odd capitalization in the entry, which made it very difficult to read. Catti-brie wondered if it was just the way her father wrote, a sort of strange character trait, something that made him unique. She flipped the parchment over and scanned the entries on the other side for similar traits. Some of the entries had such strange capitalization, and others did not.
Catti-brie was suddenly struck by an idea. Turning the parchment back over to the original side, Catti-brie took a quill from the bedside table and quickly jotted down all of the capital letters in sequence. She looked at them, trying to discern a visible pattern.
E1IIPRESCAIWIALLTTHIEAIVESGUILADWW
She immediately started a new line, recopying the letters, only this time ignoring letters which were used at the beginning of sentences or referring to the person "I".
1AREAALLTHIEVESGUILD
Realizing what it said, she quickly added spaces between the newly forming words.
1 AREA WALL THIEVES GUILD
She sat there, pondering the message for a long moment, the only sound being her own soft breathing. Was it a complete message or was there more elsewhere? Eagerly, she continued reading the next relevant entry.
Entry 3,
Drash fo racnash.
A week has passed. We remain in Waterdeep trying to find a vessel and captain willing to take us to our destination.We have had no luck as of yet; all those we have approached become tight-lipped and nervous when we mention the name of the island of Carcathen and quickly decline to deal with us any longer.
On our way back to our inn, Aernes and I were ambushed by three men dressed in billowing black cloaks and of their faces we could see nothing. They fought with the speed and agility of the finest of rangers and yet possessed the power of a mage. They slew Aernes and I was forced to flee for my life lest I swiftly follow.
I lost them down an alleyway, where I waited the fall of night. Under the cover of the darkness, I returned to the dock to continue my search. This time the gods were with me, for I found a captain hanging about in a local drinking establishment and found him friendly to my cause once we had discussed it.
We resolved to depart that very night. We parted ways, him to return to his ship to prepare to make sail, and I to my room at the inn to collect my belongings and the object for which we were going on this quest to be rid of. For risk of interception, I cannot speak of it openly.
I returned to the dock within the hour and boarded the Sea Sprite.
Drizzt opened his eyes. Raregar was standing over him. The barbarian smiled and nodded, leaning back to look with respect at the drow ranger.
"You have returned again to the land of the living, I see," the barbarian commented wryly.
"Am I alive?" Drizzt asked, sitting up and glancing around at the camp.
"Surprisingly so," the barbarian admitted. "When I found you, you were stone cold and lying broken at the bottom of a mountain."
Drizzt winced, the images flashing before his eyes. Entreri. The duel. The orc, and the arrow. . . He clutched at his chest, quickly probing for a wound, though he found none. He lifted his tunic to run his hands over his chest, stunned. There was no evidence that he had even been shot with an arrow. He dropped his tunic and looked up at the barbarian in wonder.
"How am I alive? How is that possible?" the drow asked.
"That is a question that I would also like answered."
Drizzt felt a warm throb from his pocket. He reached in and extracted a fist-sized lavender jewel, which was humming with energy. It was the jewel he had found in the lair of BurningIce, the great dragon of renowned legend. It had healed his wounds from his battle with Artemis Entreri on the mountain.
"Is it possible. . . ?" Drizzt whispered, eyes locked on the jewel.
The barbarian stared at the jewel.
"What is that?"
"I found this in the lair of the dragon BurningIce. It appeared to heal the wounds I obtained in a battle with an. . ."
Drizzt paused midsentence, realizing what he had been about to say. Entreri was no longer an enemy, but what was he then? A friend? Drizzt wasn't quite sure about that, wasn't sure exactly where his and Entreri's relationship was now.
". . .an ex-rival." It wasn't what Drizzt wanted in terms of an answer, but it would have to do.
"It is a magnificent jewel."
"Yes," said Drizzt softly, gazing at the lavander stone. "And magical. It has healed me several times."
He paused and leaned forward.
"Is it possible that a healing gem can restore life? I have never heard of a stone of that power before," the ranger said.
The barbarian wore a curious look.
"You were dead," Raregar said.
"It would appear so."
"Do you remember anything?"
Drizzt was silent. Then he took a deep breath.
"Yes."
Drizzt said no more, and the fire in his lavender eyes told the barbarian that Drizzt's answer was all he was going to get for a while.
An awkward silence fell over the camp for a while. Drizzt stared into the flames of the fire, losing himself in their flickering dance.
Finally, Drizzt dared to break the silence.
"Where are my weapons?"
Stirred from his reverie, the barbarian turned to look at Drizzt, and for a second appeared as though he hadn't heard Drizzt speak. Then, realizing the question, he straightened.
"I don't know. When I found you, I saw no weapons nearby."
Drizzt nodded stoically. Inside, though, his emotions were active. His heart had sunk at the news of the loss of his beloved twin scimitars Icingdeath and Twinkle, and he felt a profound sense of emptiness, as if he had lost a part of himself.
Artemis Entreri adjusted his precarious handhold as he clung to the vertical mountain wall. The icewind of the dale howled around him and through the valleys and craggs of the mountains of the Spine of the World.
He was haunted by his memories, by the images of an orc arrow plunging into the chest of Drizzt Do'Urden, Drizzt staggering backwards and vanishing from sight over the edge of a thousand-foot cliff from the mountain top. Catti-brie's face when Entreri had appeared to deliver Alustriel's message, that haunted look of internal torment. He hated himself for not being able to do anything, to even reach out his hand and catch the falling Drizzt.
So he had determined to search for and find Drizzt's scimitars and return them to Catti-brie. Entreri knew that the dwarves had taken Icingdeath, which Drizzt had dropped on the mountain top, back to Mithril Hall and given it a place of honor among the weapons in the dwarven armory from the past kings and nobility.
He cautiously used his feet to pick out small ledges and outcrops for his slow descent. It was painstakingly slow going. But then, as his foot searched for a hold, he lost his grip as the rock crumbled away. His stomach lurched as he tipped backwards and fell away.
Calissious was the leader of Bryn Shandar, the largest of the communities of Ten-Towns.
He lay, fast asleep in the night, peacefully dreaming.
Then, a rough and urgent pounding of knuckle to wood instantly broke the hold sleep had over him, waking him from his slumber.
Rising from his bed angrily, he shrugged on a robe and opened the door.
A guard, covered in blood and looking terrified stood without.
"What is it?" Calissious bellowed angrily.
"Sir, I have just come from the wall. Ten-Towns is under attack."
"What? Barbarians?"
"No sir. Orcs. Thousands upon thousands of them. From the refugees streaming in, it looks as is we're the only town left."
"What do you mean, the only town left? Surely—"
"They rolled over the other towns sir, and now they're marching here."
Calissious nervously tugged his robe tighter around himself and stepped out into the hall. The guard turned and began to walk away. Calissious followed.
"How many refugees?" Calissious asked.
"Not meny. Probably less than a third of the population of Ten-Towns."
"Good gods."
"They did say that many were trying to escape to the lake, but we won't know anything for sure until tomorrow."
If there is a tomorrow, Calissious thought darkly.
They emerged from the house and headed for the wall.
As they reached the top of the wall, Calissious heard the artificial thunder of wardrums from outside the walls.
He glanced around at the many soldiers manning the walls, weapons clutched nervously in hand. He turned his gaze to beyond the wall, where a vast host of orcs were just coming into the light of the sentry fires.
"Barricade the gates!" bellowed Calissious.
A single horn sounded from without, and was answered by a thousand more, echoing the timbre of Ten-Towns' doom. Then the orc force surged ahead like a tidal wave of black water with a throaty shout of fifty thousand blood thirsty orcs.
Calissious was stunned.
"They offered no terms. . ."
Within the hour, Bryn Shander had fallen.
So it began.
The War of the Jewel had begun.
Entreri fell all of five feet to a narrow ledge. He rolled to his feet, using the momentum of his fall to right himself. Standing, he moved quickly along the ledge, searching for another way to continue his descent, when his foot struck something metallic. Hunkering down, Entreri found that he had stumbled upon his dagger, which he had lost along with Drizzt's blade.
It should be close by.
Pocketing the dagger, he continued his search.
Catti-brie looked up as Alustriel returned, closing the door to the room gently behind her.
"Have you—" the ruler of Silverymoon began. Catti-brie cut her off.
"I have to go to Waterdeep," Catti-brie said. "I have to find the answers."
She had to find the Sea Sprite.
Drizzt and Raregar discussed many things as they traveled and the sun sank lower in the sky and darkness settled over the landscape. They finally made camp at the edge of the Moonwood.
Tired from a long day of traveling, and with Drizzt still not at full strength, they collapsed to the ground and were soon blissfully asleep. The night was quite around them. Strangely silent. Not even the sound of animals or insects in the backround could be heard. It was truly silent. The two sleeping warriors never even heard them creeping up on the encampment.
They were surrounded by orcs. It was an orc patrol which had seen the campfire in the distance.
Raregar rolled to his feet, drawing his broadsword and warhammer in two fluid motions. He tossed the sword to Drizzt, despite the fact that it was nearly as big as the drow. Drizzt nimbly ducked aside and rolled away from the orcs, trying to escape, only to find a dozen spear points pressed against his skin. He stopped moving.
Raregar, with a roar of rage, struck an orc that ventured too close, crushing its head with his warhammer, black blood spattering the snow as the enemy fell away. It was only then that he realized that there was no way he could win. There were at least a hundred of the orcs, and all of them had their spears angled towards him and Drizzt. Breathing hard and looking angrily at the orcs, he dropped the hammer with a weighty thud. The orc ranks moved in tighter, until the spear tips were nearly touching Raregar and Drizzt's skin as they stood back-to-back, weaponless and surrounded. They were well and truly captured.
The orc commander stepped forward, eyeing the barbarian and drow. Drizzt saw a swelling pride in the orc as it realized that it had found significant prisoners.
"Prizes," it sneered. "Prizes for the war. Take them to the General."
End of chapter.