The Last Threshold

Chapter 25

"Ere ye go, elf,” Athrogate said to Drizzt as they walked the streets of Luskan. He handed over a folded cloak, which Drizzt immediately identified as a drow piwafwi, a most useful garment for concealment and protection. “Jarlaxle telled me to give it to ye, and to tell ye to use it.”

“Use it?”

“Aye,” Athrogate said. “Ye got some powerful enemies huntin’ ye, I’m hearin’. So use it, and get yerself long gone from Luskan in short order.”

Drizzt stopped and turned to regard the dwarf directly. By his side, Effron, too, paused at that news.

“Where?” Effron asked.

Athrogate shrugged. “Back to Mithral Hall, mayhaps?”

Effron looked to Drizzt.

“Jarlaxle thinks I … we, should be gone from Luskan?” Drizzt asked the dwarf.

“Good advice,” Athrogate replied. “Ye met some drow in Gauntlgrym, and them drow’ve figured out who ye be.”

Drizzt sucked in his breath. “House Baenre,” he muttered.

“What does it mean?” Effron asked.

“It means that you and I should part ways here, for your own sake,” said Drizzt.

“Nah,” Athrogate interjected. “They’re knowin’ yer friends, and they’ll be findin’ yer friends if not yerself. Jarlaxle tells me to tell ye to stick together, all of ye.” As he finished, he nodded his hairy chin beyond Drizzt, who turned around to see Ambergris bounding toward him, her whole face smiling. She rushed up and threw a great hug over Drizzt, then gave one to Effron as well.

Then she embraced Athrogate, and it was apparent to the other two that these two had come to know each other quite well, and quite intimately. They broke the hug and shared a tremendous kiss, all sloppy and loud, full of fun and full of lust, as only dwarves could do.

“Ye got the caravan schedules?” Athrogate asked when they broke the embrace.

“Aye, north, south, and east, and a boat or two putting out soon enough,” Ambergris replied, looking to her two returned friends as she spoke.

“A boat might be a fine choice,” Athrogate offered with a shrug.

But Drizzt shook his head. “Caravans north?” he asked Ambergris, then added, “Icewind Dale?”

“Aye,” Ambergris said, “that’d be the place north the drivers been speakin’ of.”

Drizzt looked to Athrogate. “Jarlaxle is sure of this pursuit?”

“Get ye gone, elf,” the dwarf warned.

Drizzt nodded and tried to make sense of these sudden changes that had found him so unexpectedly. He had resigned himself to a life as Draygo Quick’s prisoner, and likely to die there in the Shadowfell, in the room that had become his own world. And now he was free, and Guenhwyvar was returned to him.

But was he really free? House Baenre might soon make him wish that he was back in Draygo Quick’s custody!

“Icewind Dale,” he decided, for somehow it seemed the right choice to him, the place where he belonged. Few knew the ways of that tundra land better than Drizzt Do’Urden, though he hadn’t been there for any length of time in a century and more. But yes, Icewind Dale. He felt a twinge of nostalgia at the thought, and felt at that moment as if he were going home.

Though Drizzt knew in his heart that no place without Catti-brie, Bruenor, Regis, and Wulfgar could ever truly be his home.

“Good ’nough, then,” said Ambergris. “Wagons for Icewind Dale rolling with the dawn, and I’m thinkin’ they’ll be glad to take along the four o’ us for guarding.”

“The three of ye,” Athrogate corrected. “I got me duties here in Luskan. But aye, they’ll take ye, and they’ll be glad of it.” He reached into a side pocket of his vest and produced several parchments, then riffled through them and handed the appropriate writ to Drizzt. “Ship Kurth’s recommending ye,” he explained with a wink. “Whether ye take a boat or a wagon, we got yer imprimatur. Now put on yer durned cloak and get ye gone!”

There really was little more to say, Drizzt realized. “Extend my gratitude to Jarlaxle,” he told the dwarf. “I had surrendered hope and he gave it back to me, and that is no small thing. Tell him that I hope our paths cross again, and not too many tendays from now. I would hear the tale of how you both survived the fall in Gauntlgrym, and I am confident that Jarlaxle has a hundred more tales to tell me of your exploits since that long-ago day.”

“A hunnerd?” Athrogate said incredulously. “Nah, elf, a thousand! A thousand thousand, I tell ye! Bwahahaha!”

For some reason, given what Drizzt knew of Jarlaxle, that didn’t sound like much of an exaggeration.

Ambergris, Drizzt, and Effron sat together that night in the back of an open wagon, one of a score that would begin the dangerous journey to Icewind Dale the next morning. As Athrogate had promised, the caravanners were more than thrilled to have the three along as added guards, for the road to Ten-Towns was fraught with peril and the reputation of Drizzt Do’Urden not so easily dismissed.

Drizzt put a hand on Effron’s shoulder, trying to comfort the young tiefling as Ambergris related the last moments of Dahlia’s life.

“All three saw the beast,” she finished. “All three turned to stone. I got me out o’ there, but only by the hair in me ears. He was waitin’ for us, I tell ye.”

“We certainly didn’t catch Lord Draygo by surprise,” Drizzt agreed, and he sighed deeply at the sad story, though he had already come to understand that Dahlia and the others were lost to him.

“It’s my fault,” Effron said, his voice thick with sadness. “I should never have led you there.”

“Had I learned of your information at a later time, and that you knew of Lord Draygo’s secret prisoner, I would never have forgiven you,” Drizzt told him. “Guenhwyvar is a friend. I had to try.”

“Aye, and all who went with ye, meself included, did so of our own accord,” said Ambergris. “Ye did right,” she told Effron. “That’s the price of companionship and loyalty, and one not willin’ to pay it ain’t one worth walkin’ beside.”

“I deserted Draygo Quick’s side and abandoned all that I knew, all of my friends and indeed my home, to find my mother’s side,” Effron replied.

“Thought ye did that to kill her to death,” Ambergris reminded.

“I did it to learn the truth!” Effron retorted, a vein of anger entering his tone. “I had to know.”

“And once ye did?”

“I found my mother’s side, and now she is gone and I am alone.”

Ambergris and Drizzt exchanged looks at that, and both asked together, “Are you?”

“Icewind Dale,” Drizzt said. “When I was alone, so long ago, it was there that I found my heart and my home. And there I go again, and this time I am not alone, nor are you.”

He patted Effron on the back, and the young tiefling gave him an appreciative nod.

A movement off the back of the wagon caught their attention, and a form, a female elf form-Dahlia’s form! — leaped up onto the bed and skidded across to kneel before the seated Effron, whom she immediately wrapped in a huge hug.

“By the gods!’ Ambergris cried.

“By Jarlaxle, I expect,” Drizzt corrected.

“Indeed,” replied Artemis Entreri, coming up to the back of the wagon beside Afafrenfere, who appeared quite glum, surprisingly.

Drizzt hugged Dahlia and nodded at the man. Ambergris scrambled back to greet her old Cavus Dun mate.

“Eh, but what’s yer glower?” she asked the monk, who merely shook his head.

“How?” Drizzt asked. “You had been turned to stone, so says Ambergris.”

Entreri shrugged.

“I remember little,” Dahlia admitted. “I saw the horrid creature, and then I was in the catacombs, Jarlaxle at my side and wearing his smug grin.”

“Athrogate told us where to find you,” Entreri added. “We are bound for Icewind Dale?”

“We are indeed,” said Drizzt, and he felt light at that moment, so glad to see all three of his lost companions. Dahlia crushed him tighter in a hug, and he returned the embrace. She backed off just enough to try to passionately kiss him.

He kissed her, briefly, but he turned his lips away. “Effron, food for our friends!” he said exuberantly, injecting energy to cover up his revealing slip.

When he looked at Dahlia, though, he saw the pain there, and knew that his dodge had been unsuccessful. He hugged her tight again, but this time she broke the embrace and moved to take a seat in the wagon, pointedly on the other side of Effron and not beside Drizzt.

They were going to speak, and soon, Drizzt knew, and he wondered if his coming honesty with Dahlia would split the group apart. Perhaps it would, he realized, and so he knew that he owed it to her, to all of them, to have the conversation before they made the difficult journey to Icewind Dale.

The six moved off the wagon and to the campfire to share a hot meal then, but the talk about that fire was quite light, and often nonexistent, for in truth, they had little to talk about. Time had stopped for half the group, after all, and Drizzt and Effron’s tales of their imprisonment by Draygo Quick offered very little content.

Ambergris took the lead in the conversation after dinner, recounting the last moments of the battle and explaining how she came to find Jarlaxle.

That part of the dwarf’s story had Drizzt and Entreri perking up.

“Tiago Baenre,” Drizzt whispered when the dwarf described Jarlaxle’s rescue of her off the streets of Luskan. Given what he had been told by Athrogate, it made sense, and given that Tiago and his cohorts obviously knew the identities of Drizzt’s companions, the news made him change his mind about his present plans.

He would not speak honestly with Dahlia until they were all safely away, for her own sake.

Not far away from the group, another listened as best he could to their light chatter. Madigan Pruett served Ship Rethnor, and knew that his high captain would be anxious to hear any news of Dahlia.

But Madigan wasn’t sure that he’d relay this news to his Ship, for he had heard of another who had put out word on the street that he was looking for, and paying well for, any information that could be found regarding Drizzt Do’Urden.

Madigan Pruett had come out this night to deliver the last of Rethnor’s supplies for the caravan. Now with this profitable opportunity before him, he decided that he would sign on with the caravan, but only as far as the southern entrance to the pass through the Spine of the World, a couple of days of travel if the weather held.

Then he’d take his information to the man paying well, a visiting wizard named Huervo the Seeker.

A hundred miles to the southeast, and a thousand feet below the surface, Saribel Xorlarrin roused her brother, and the two went with all haste to Tiago Baenre’s private chamber.

Every night at her evening prayers, Saribel asked the handmaidens of the Spider Queen to guide her search, and on a more practical level, she had been charged with maintaining contact to the spies Tiago had set about Neverwinter, Port Llast, and other cities of the region.

“We must return to Luskan with all haste,” Ravel Xorlarrin explained to Tiago.

“The dwarf has been located?”

“Better,” said Ravel, and he looked to Saribel.

“Drizzt Do’Urden has surfaced, at long last,” she explained.

Elated but not surprised, Tiago had been expecting this news since his near capture of the dwarf known as Ambergris. He moved from his bed, took up his clothing and armor, and fabulous sword and shield.

“He is with his companions, then,” Tiago remarked.

“It would seem to be the case,” Ravel answered.

“Gather them all, then,” Tiago instructed, referring to the special force he had assembled for just this occasion, comprised of Ravel’s closest spellspinners and warriors, including Jearth, the weapons master of House Xorlarrin. “We will take no chances of missing the heretic rogue this time.”

“And House Xorlarrin will share in the credit?” Saribel dared to ask.

Tiago snapped a look at her, wearing a smile that he knew would surely unsettle the young priestess. He understood the source of her question: She would, after all, have to answer to her older and quite severe sister, Berellip, for her actions. Both Saribel and Ravel needed some assurance of gain for their House, given the risk they were putting forth.

“Share?” Tiago said with a dismissive laugh. “You will be mentioned prominently as the force I employed to carry out my great victory.”

He kept his tone condescending, but knew, of course, that these two, his lessers, would be satisfied with that.

And so they were.

The next night, a force of more than twenty-five drow and a handful of driders, led by mighty Yerrininae and his wife Flavvor, moved north along the tunnels out of Gauntlgrym.

The wagons rolled at a swift pace. The weather had been dry and the road proved clear and hard, no mud or ruts wearing on the wheels.

For the first time in many months, Drizzt rode Andahar, and he felt grand up there on the unicorn’s strong back, the wind in his long white hair. He put his hand to his belt pouch repeatedly, feeling the onyx figurine, longing for the day when he would call Guenhwyvar to his side once more.

“Patience,” he whispered, reminding himself that Guenhwyvar needed her rest. She would be there, Jarlaxle had assured him, and Jarlaxle was rarely wrong.

He urged Andahar on more powerfully, cantering up around the lead wagon, then riding off down the road at a gallop to scout the way ahead. He let the unicorn run for some time, caring not that he had moved out of sight of the lead wagon. He was free now, riding along a road to a place he had known as home.

Andahar barely broke a sweat, thundering along with a smooth, long stride. Around a bend, they came to a long straightaway, lined with thick trees, and Drizzt allowed the unicorn to move to a full sprint. Nostrils flaring, breath heaving in tremendous bursts, Andahar seemed all too pleased to comply, and now the sweat did bead on the unicorn’s muscled flanks.

Two-thirds of the way along the run, Andahar eased up, and Drizzt sat up straighter, rolling his body in perfect balance as the gallop became a canter, became a trot.

Drizzt bent forward and patted Andahar hard on the neck, grateful for the joy of the run. He had just begun to urge the unicorn around when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, something large and black moving swiftly across the treetops.

Drizzt pulled Andahar up fully, and even reached for Taulmaril, until he recognized the pursuit.

A giant crow set down on the road in front of them, and the crow quickly became Dahlia, clad in her magical cloak.

“You might have passed a horde of highwaymen without ever noticing them,” the elf scolded.

Drizzt grinned at her. “The road is clear.”

Dahlia stared at him doubtfully.

“Fly along above the treetops, then,” the drow told her. “Shadow my ride and show me the error of my judgment.”

Dahlia considered the words for a moment, then shook her head and started toward Drizzt. “No,” she explained, coming up beside him and lifting her hand for him to grasp. “I prefer to ride with you, behind you.”

Drizzt pulled her up, and she came up very tight against him.

“Or under you,” she whispered teasingly in his ear.

Drizzt tensed.

“If the road is clear, then they will not need us,” Dahlia said.

But such a concern wasn’t the source of Drizzt hesitance.

“What is it, then?” Dahlia said when he didn’t reply, and when he didn’t make any more intimate move toward her at all.

“It has been a long time,” Drizzt started. “I spent months in the captivity of Draygo Quick.”

“I would have traded places with you,” the elf who had been turned to stone sarcastically replied.

“Would you?” Drizzt asked sincerely, and he glanced over his shoulder to look Dahlia in the face. “You were perfectly oblivious. In your mind and senses, there was no passage of time-tell me, when you were rescued, when you became flesh once more, did you think that months had passed? You said earlier that it seemed to you that you had gone in a blink from the entry hall to the catacombs, and instead of the medusa, you found Jarlaxle before you.”

“It is no less unsettling,” Dahlia said and looked away.

“Perhaps,” Drizzt admitted. “Nor is it a competition between us.”

“Then why start one?” Her voice grew sharp.

He nodded an apology. “The world has moved fast, and yet seems not to move at all,” he said. “I fear that I lost much of myself in those months with Lord Draygo. I have to find that first before I can even entertain-”

“What?” Dahlia interrupted. “Before you can entertain making love to me?”

“To anyone,” Drizzt tried to explain, but he realized that to be the wrong answer the moment the words escaped his lips, a point brought home only a heartbeat later as Dahlia slapped him across the face.

She rolled down off the unicorn and stood in the dirt road, staring up at him, hands on hips, looking very much like she wanted to kill him, or wanted to fall to the ground crying, for what seemed an eternity to poor Drizzt.

He didn’t know how to react, or what he might do, and finally it dawned on him to get down from Andahar and go to the woman. But as he lifted his leg to dismount, Dahlia held up a hand to ward him away. She turned and ran off a few steps, throwing her cloak up over her head as she went, and then she was a giant bird once more, flying back to the caravan.

Drizzt closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping, his thoughts spinning, his heart pained. He couldn’t lead her on. He did not love her-not the way he had loved Catti-brie, and despite the words of Innovindil, that love remained the standard for him, haunting him and warming him at the same time.

Perhaps he would never find such love again, and so be it, he decided.

He turned Andahar around and started off slowly back the way he had come, reminding himself that he had to handle Dahlia properly, for her own sake. He could not give her what she desired, but the Baenres were hunting, and he could not let her run off alone.

“I can hardly hear a word said to me,” Afafrenfere said to Drizzt a few days later, when the caravan at last broke free of the high-walled mountain pass, to come out into the tundra of Icewind Dale.

“You will become accustomed to the wind,” Drizzt shouted back at him, and truly the drow was smiling. Hearing the eternal wind of Icewind Dale in his ears again proved to be great medicine to Drizzt Do’Urden, healing him of the doubts and malaise that had infected him in the months of his captivity. He pictured the lone rocky pinnacle of Kelvin’s Cairn, which was not quite visible yet above the flat plain, but soon would be, he knew. And that imagined view, the stars seeming as if they were all around him and not high above, brought to him an image of a smiling Bruenor, standing at his side in the dark night and the chill breeze. He thought of Regis, fishing string tied around his toe as he slept on the banks of Maer Dualdon.

Aye, this was home to Drizzt, a place of physical cold and emotional warmth, a place where he had learned to trust and to love, and he couldn’t help but feel alive with the sound of the wind of Icewind Dale in his ears. He could hardly imagine the person he had become in the jails of Draygo Quick, so apathetic and hopeless.

He looked back to the caravan, to Dahlia in particular, who rode on a wagon with Artemis Entreri pacing his nightmare nearby, speaking with her. Drizzt imagined them in each other’s arms, and hoped that it would become true. Because he could never truly return her love, he knew.

Drizzt turned Andahar around and paced back to the lead wagon. “Bryn Shander?” he asked.

“Aye, that’s where we’re bound.”

“The roads will grow worse, for the melt is on, and the tundra mud is inevitable,” Drizzt explained. “Another tenday before us, likely, if the weather holds.”

The driver nodded. “Been this way many times,” he explained.

“My friends and I will escort you to Bryn Shander’s gates, but then I, at least, will turn away for Kelvin’s Cairn.”

“You will get your pay.”

Drizzt smiled. He hardly cared, and had only wanted to inform the caravan of his plans.

“The Battlehammer dwarves for you, then?” the driver added, and Drizzt nodded. “I heard you were friends o’ them.”

“Proud to be called such.”

“We’ve a wagon of goods bound for Stokely Silverstream’s boys,” the driver explained, and Drizzt was glad to hear that name again. “Might be two. I’ll begin splitting up the goods when we camp tonight, sorting them that’s for the dwarves, and you can guard those wagons to the mountain.”

Drizzt nodded again and moved up front with Afafrenfere. He paced Andahar a bit faster after that, his conversation making him anxious to walk the ways of Kelvin’s Cairn once more.

The next morning, soon after they were on the road again, the tip of that small mountain came into view, and Drizzt’s heart leaped.