The Thousand Orcs

Chapter 19 MORTAL WINDS BLOWING

 
"In all the days of all my life, I have never felt so mortal," Catti-brie said to the whispering wind.
Behind and below her, the dwarves, Regis, and Wulfgar went about their business preparing supper and setting up the latest camp, but the woman had been excused from her duties so that she could be alone to sort through her emotions.
And it was a tumult of emotions beyond anything Catti-brie had ever known. Her last fight had not been the first time the woman had been in mortal peril, surely, and not even the first time she had been helpless before a hated enemy. Once before, she had been captured by the assassin, Artemis Entreri, and dragged along in his pursuit of Regis, but in that instance, as helpless as she had felt, Catti-brie had never really expected to die.
Never like she had felt when caught helpless on the ground at the feet of the encircling, vicious orcs. In that horrible moment Catti-brie had seen her own death, vividly, unavoidably. In that one horrible moment, all of her life's dreams and hopes had been washed away on a wave of...
Of what?
Regret?
Truly, she had lived as fully as anyone, running across the land on wild adventures, helping to defeat dragons and demons, fighting to reclaim Mithral Hall for her adoptive father and his clan, chasing pirates on the open seas. She had known love.
She looked back over her shoulder at Wulfgar as she considered this.
She had known sorrow, and perhaps she had found love again. Or was she just kidding herself? She was surrounded by the best friends that anyone could ever hope to know, by an unlikely crew that loved her as she loved them. Companions, friends. It had been more than that with Wulfgar, so she had believed, and with Drizzt. . .
What?
She didn't know. She loved him dearly and always felt better when he was beside her, but were they meant to live as husband and wife? Was he to be the father of her children? Was that even possible?
The woman winced at the notion. One part of her rejoiced at the thought, and believed it would be something wonderful and beautiful. Another part of her, more pragmatic, recoiled at the thought, knowing that any such children would, by the mere nature of their heritage, remain as outcasts to any and all save those few who knew the truth of Drizzt Do'Urden.
Catti-brie closed her eyes and put her head down on her bent knees, curling up as she sat there, high on an exposed rock. She imagined herself as an older woman, far less mobile, and surely unable to run the mountainsides beside Drizzt Do'Urden, blessed as he was with the eternal youth of his people. She saw him on the trails every day, his smile wide as he basked in the adventure. That was his nature, after all, as it was hers. But it would only be hers for a few more years, she knew in her heart, and less than that if ever she was to become with child.
It was all too confusing, and all too painful. Those orcs circling her had shown her something about herself that she had never even realized, had shown her that her present life, as enjoyable as it was, as wild and full of adventure as it was, had to be (unless she was killed in the wilds) a prelude to something quite a bit different. Was she to be a mother? Or an emissary, perhaps, serving the court of her father, King Bruenor? Was this to be her last run through the wilds, her last great adventure?
"Doubt is expected after such a defeat," came a voice behind her, soft and familiar.
She opened her eyes and turned to see Wulfgar standing there, just a bit below her, his arms folded over the bent knee of his higher, lead leg.
Catti-brie gave him a curious look.
"I know what you are feeling," the barbarian said quietly, full of sincerity and compassion. "You faced death, and the looming specter warned you."
"Warned me?"
"Of your own mortality," Wulfgar explained.
Catti-brie's expression turned to incredulity. Wasn't Wulfgar stating the obvious?
"When I fell with the yochlol.. ." the barbarian began, and his eyes closed a bit in obvious pain at the memory. He paused and settled, then opened his eyes wide and pressed on. "In the lair of Errtu, I came to know despair. I came to know defeat beyond anything I had ever imagined, and I came to know both doubt and regret. For all that I had accomplished in my years, in bringing my people together, and into harmony with the folk of Ten-Towns, in fighting beside you, my friends, to rescue Regis, to reclaim Mithral Hall, to . . ."
"Save me from the yochlol," Catti-brie added, and Wulfgar smiled and accepted the gracious compliment with a slight nod.
"For all of that, in the lair of Errtu, I came to know an emptiness that I had not known to exist until that very moment," the barbarian explained. "As I looked upon what I believed to be the last moments of my existence, I felt strangely cold and dissatisfied with my lack of accomplishments."
"After all that you did accomplish?" the woman asked skeptically.
Wulfgar nodded "Because in so many other ways, I had failed," Wulfgar answered, looking up at her. "In my love for you, I failed. And in my own understanding of who I was, and who I wanted to be, and what I wanted and needed for a life that I might know when the windy trails were no longer my home ... I had failed."
Catti-brie could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was as if Wulfgar was looking right through her, and pulling her own words out.
"And you found Colson and Delly," she said.
"A fine start, perhaps," Wulfgar replied.
His smile seemed sincere, and Catti-brie returned that smile, and they went quiet for a bit.
"Do you love him?" Wulfgar asked suddenly, unexpectedly.
Catti-brie started to answer with a question of her own, but the answer was self-evident as soon as she truly considered his words.
"Do you?" she asked instead.
"He is my brother, as true to me as any could ever be," Wulfgar answered without the slightest hesitation. "If a spear were aimed for Drizzt's chest, I would gladly leap in front of it, even should it cost me my own life, and I would die contented. Yes, I love him, as I love Bruenor, as I love Regis, as I love . .."
He stopped there, and simply shrugged.
"As I, too, love them," Catti-brie answered.
"That is not what I mean," Wulfgar replied, not letting the dodge go past. "Do you love him? Do you see him as your partner, on the trails and in the home?"
Catti-brie looked at Wulfgar hard, trying to discern his intent. She saw no jealousy, no anger, and no signal of hopes, one way or the other. What she saw was Wulfgar, the true Wulfgar, son of Beornegar, a caring and loving companion.
"I do not know," she heard herself saying before she ever really considered the question.
The words caught her by surprise, hung in the air and in her thoughts, and she knew them to be true.
"I have felt your pain and your doubts," Wulfgar said, his voice going even softer, and he moved to her and braced her shoulders with his hands and lowered his forehead against hers. "We are all here for you, in any manner that you need. We, all of us, Drizzt included, are first your friends."
Catti-brie closed her eyes and let herself sink into that comforting moment, losing herself in the solidity of Wulfgar, in the understanding that he knew her pain, profoundly, that he had climbed from depths that she could hardly imagine. She found comfort in the knowledge that Wulfgar had returned from hell, that he had found his way, or at least, that he was walking a truer road.
She, too, would find that path, wherever it led.
"Bruenor told me," Drizzt said to Wulfgar when the drow returned from his extended scouting of the mountains to the northeast.
The drow dropped a hand onto his friend's shoulder and nodded.
"It was a rescue not unlike one of those Drizzt Do'Urden has perfected," Wulfgar replied, and he looked away.
"You have my thanks."
"I did not do it for you."
The simple statement, spoken simply, without obvious malice or anger, widened Drizzt's purple eyes.
"Of course not," he agreed.
The dark elf backed away, staring hard at Wulfgar, trying to find some clue as to where the barbarian's thoughts might be.
He saw only an impassive face, turned toward him.
"If we arc to go thanking each other every time one of us stays the weapon hand an enemy has aimed at another, then we will spend our days doing little else," Wulfgar said. "Catti-brie was in trouble, and I was fortunate enough -we were all fortunate enough -to have come upon her in time. Did I do any more or less than Drizzt Do'Urden might have done?"
The perplexed Drizzt said, "No."
"Did I do more, then, than Bruenor Battlehammer might have done, had he seen his daughter in such mortal peril?"
"No."
"Did I do more, then, than Regis would have done, or at least, would have tried to do?"
"I have taken your point," Drizzt said.
"Then hold it well," said Wulfgar, and he looked away once more.
It took Drizzt a few moments to finally catch on to what was happening. Wulfgar had seen his thanks as condescending, as if, somehow, he had done something beyond what the companions would expect of each other. That notion hadn't sat well on the big man's shoulders.
"I take back my offer of thanks," Drizzt said.
Wulfgar merely chuckled.
"Perhaps, instead, I offer you a warm welcome back," Drizzt added.
That turned Wulfgar to him, the barbarian throwing a puzzled expression his way.
Drizzt nodded and walked away, leaving Wulfgar with those words to consider. The drow turned his gaze to a rocky outcropping to the south of the encampment, where a solitary figure sat quietly.
"She's been up there all the day," Bruenor remarked, moving beside the drow. "Ever since he brought her back."
"Lying at the feet of outraged orcs can be an unsettling experience."
"Ye think?"
Drizzt looked over at his bearded friend.
"Ye gonna go to her, elf?" Bruenor asked.
Drizzt wasn't sure, and his confusion showed clearly on his face.
"Yeah, she might be needin' some time to herself," Bruenor remarked. He looked back at Wulfgar, drawing the drow's gaze with his own. "Not exactly the hero she'd expected, I'd be guessin'."
The words hit Drizzt hard, mostly because the implications were forcing him to emotional places to which he did not wish to venture. What was this about, after all? Was it about Wulfgar rescuing his former and Drizzt's present love? Or was it about one of the companions rescuing another, as had happened so many times on their long and trying road?
The latter, Drizzt decided. It had to be the latter, and all the rest of it was emotional baggage that had no place among them. Not out where an orc or giant seemed crouched behind every boulder, ready to kill them. Not out where such distractions could lead to incredible disaster. Drizzt nearly laughed aloud as he considered the swirl of thoughts churning within him, including those same protective feelings toward Catti-brie for which he had once scolded a younger Wulfgar.
He focused on the positive, then, on the fact that Catti-brie had survived without serious wounds, and on the fact that this stride Wulfgar had taken, this act of courage and strength and heroism, would likely move him further along his road back from the pits of Errtu's hell. Indeed, in looking at the barbarian then, moving with confidence and grace among the dwarves, a calm expression upon his face, it seemed to Drizzt as if the last edges of the smoke of the Abyss has washed clean of his features. Yes, Drizzt decided, it was a good day.
"I saw the tower of Shallows at midday," the drow told Bruenor, "but though I was close enough to see it clearly, even to make out the forms of the soldiers walking atop it, I believe we have a couple of days' march ahead of us. I was on the edge of a long ravine when I glimpsed it, one that will take days to move around."
"But the town was still standing?" the dwarf asked.
"Seemed a peaceful place, with pennants flying in the summer breeze."
"As it should be, elf. As it should be," Bruenor remarked. "We'll go in and tell 'em what's been what, and might that I'll leave a few dwarves with 'cm if they're needing the help, and-"
"And we go home," said Drizzt, studying Bruenor as he spoke, noting clearly that the dwarf wasn't hearing those words as any blessing.
"Might be other towns needin' us to check in on them," Bruenor huffed.
"I am sure that we can find a few if we look hard enough."
Bruenor either missed the sarcastic grin on Drizzt's face or simply chose to ignore it.
"Yup," the dwarf king said, and he walked away.
Drizzt watched him go, but his gaze was inevitably drawn back up to the high outcropping, to the lone figure of Catti-brie.
He wanted to go to her-desperately wanted to go and put his arms around her and tell her that everything was all right.
For some reason, though, Drizzt thought that would be ultimately unfair. He sensed that she needed some space from him and from everyone else, that she needed to sort through all the emotions that her close encounter with her own mortality had brought bubbling within her.
What kind of a friend might he be if he did not allow her that space?
Wulfgar was with the main body of dwarves that next day on the road, helping to haul the supplies, but Regis remained outside the group, moving along the higher trails with Drizzt and Catti-brie. He spent little time scouting for enemies, though, for he was too busy watching his two friends, and noting, very definitely, the change that had come over them.
Drizzt was all business, as usual, signaling back directions and weaving around with a sureness of foot and a speed that the others, save Guenhwyvar who was not even there this day, could not hope to match. The drow was pretending as if nothing had happened, Regis saw clearly, but it was just that, a pretense.
His zigzagging routes were keeping him closer to Catti-brie, the halfling noted, constantly coming to vantage points that put him in sight of the woman. Truly, the drow's movements surprised Regis, for never before had he seen Drizzt so protective.
Was it protectiveness, the halfling had to wonder, or was it something else?
The change in Catti-brie was even more obvious. There was a coolness about her, particularly toward Drizzt. It wasn't anything overtly rude, it was just that she was speaking much less that day than normally, answering his directions with a simple nod or shrug. The incident with the orcs was weighing heavily on her mind, Regis supposed.
He glanced back at the dwarven caravan then looked all around, ensuring that they were secure for the time being-no sign of any orc or giant had shown that day-then he scrambled forward along the trail, catching up to Catti-brie.
"A chill in the wind this morning," he said to her.
She nodded and kept looking straight ahead. Her thoughts were inward and not on the trail before her.
"Seems that the cold has affected your shoulder," Regis dared to remark.
Catti-brie nodded again, but then she stopped and turned deliberately to regard him. Her stern expression did not hold against the cherubic half-ling face, one full of innocence, even though it was obvious that Regis had just made a remark at her expense.
"I'm sorry," the woman said. "A lot on me mind is all."
"When we were on the river, on our way to Cadderly, and the goblin spear found my shoulder, I felt the same way." Regis replied, "helpless, and as if the end of my road was upon me."
"And more than a few have noted the change that has come over Regis since that day."
It was Regis's turn to shrug.
"Often in those moments when we think all is lost," he said, "many things... priorities ... become clear to us. Sometimes, it just takes a while after the incident to sort things out."
Catti-brie's smile told him that he had hit the mark.
"It's a strange thing, this life we've chosen," Regis mused. "We know that the odds tell us without doubt that we'll one day be killed in the wilds, but we keep telling ourselves that it won't be this day at least, and so we walk farther along that same road.
"Why does Regis, no friend of any road, take that walk, then?" Catti-brie asked.
"Because I've chosen to walk with my friends," the halfling explained. "Because we are as one, and I would rather die out here beside you than learn of your death while sitting in a comfortable chair-especially when such news would come with my feelings that perhaps if I had been with you, you would not have been killed."
"It is guilt, then?"
"That, and a desire not to miss the excitement," Regis answered with a laugh. "How much grander the tales are than the experiences. I know that from listening to Bruenor and his kin exaggerating every thrown punch into a battering ram of a fist that could level a castle's walls, yet even knowing it, hearing those tales about incidents that did not include me, fill me with wonder and regret."
"So ye've come to admit yer adventurous side?"
"Perhaps."
"And ye're not thinking that ye might be needing more?"
Regis looked at her with an expression that conveyed that he was not sure what "more" might mean.
"Ye're not thinking that ye might want a life with others of yer own ilk? That ye might want a wife and some . . ."
"Children?" the halfling finished when Catti-brie paused, as if she could not force the word from her lips.
"Aye."
"It has been so many years since I've even lived among other half-lings," Regis said, "and . .. well, it did not end amicably."
"It's a tale ye've not told."
"And too long a tale for this road," Regis replied. "I don't know how to answer you. Honestly. For now, I've got my friends, and that has just seemed to be enough."
"For now?"
Regis shrugged and asked, "Is that what's troubling you? Did you find more regrets than you expected when the orcs had encircled you and you thought your life to be at its end?"
Catti-brie looked away, giving the halfling all the answer he needed. The perceptive Regis saw much more than the direct answer to his question. He understood the source of many of those regrets. He had been watching Catti-brie's relationship with Drizzt grow over the last months, and while the sight of them surely did his romantic heart good, he knew that such a union, if it ever came to pass, would not be without its troubles. He knew what Catti-brie had been thinking when the orcs hovered over her. She had been wondering about children, her children, and it was obvious to Regis that children were nothing Drizzt Do'Urden could ever give to her. Could a drow and human even bear offspring?
Perhaps, since elves and humans could, and had, but what fate might such a child find? Was it one that Catti-brie could accept?
"What will you do?" the halfling asked her, drawing a curious look.
Regis nodded ahead on the trail, to the figure of Drizzt walking toward them. Catti-brie looked at him and took a deep breath.
"I will walk the trails as scout for our group," the woman answered coolly. "I will draw Taumaril often and fire true, and when battle is joined I'll leap in with Cutter's gleaming edge slashing down our foes."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I do not," Catti-brie answered.
Regis started to argue, but Drizzt was upon them then, and so he bit back his retort.
"The trails are clear of orc-sign," the drow remarked, speaking haltingly and looking from Regis to Catti-brie, as if suspicious of the conversation he was so obviously interrupting.
"Then we will make the ravine before nightfall,'' Catti-brie replied.
"Long before, and make our turn to the north."
The woman nodded, and Regis gave a frustrated, "Hrmmph!" and walked away.
"What troubles our little friend?" Drizzt asked.
"The road ahead," the woman answered.
"Ah, perhaps there is a bit of the old Regis within him yet," Drizzt said with a smile, missing the true meaning of her words.
Catti-brie just smiled and kept walking.
They made the ravine soon after and saw the gleaming white tower that marked the town of Shallows - the tower of Withegroo Seian'Doo, a wizard of minor repute. Hardly pausing, the group moved along its western edge until long after the sun had set. They heard the howls of wolves that night, but they were far off, and if they were connected in any way to any orcs, the companions could not tell.
They rounded the ravine the next day, turning to the east and back toward the south and took heart, for still there was no sign of the orcs. It seemed as if the group that had hit Clicking Heels might be an isolated one, and those who had not fallen to the vengeful dwarves had likely retreated to dark mountain holes.
Again they marched long after sunset, and when they camped, they did so with the watch fires of Shallows's wall in sight, knowing full well that their own fires could be seen clearly from the town.
Drizzt was not surprised to find a pair of scouts moving their way under the cover of darkness. The drow was out for a final survey of the area when he heard the footfalls, soon coming in sight of the creeping men. They were trying to be quiet, obviously, and having little fortune, almost constantly tripping over roots and stones.
The drow moved to a position to the side of the pair behind a tree and called out, "Halt and be counted!"
It was a customary demand in these wild parts. The two humans stumbled again and fell to low crouches, glancing about nervously.
"Who is it who approaches the camp of King Bruenor Battlehammer without proper announcement?" Drizzt called.
"King Bruenor!" the pair yelled together, and at each other.
"Aye, the lord of Mithral Hall, returned home upon news of the death of Gandalug, who was king."
"He's a bit far to the north, I'm thinking," one man dared reply.
The pair kept hopping about, trying to discern the speaker.
"We're on the trail of orcs and giants who sacked a town to the south and west," Drizzt explained. "Journeying to Shallows, fair Shallows, to ensure that the folk arc well, and well protected, should any monsters move
against them."
One man snorted, and the other yelled back, "Bah! No orc'll e'er climb the wall of Shallows, and no giant'll ever knock it down!"
"Well spoken," Drizzt said, and the man assumed a defiant posture. standing straight and tall and crossing his arms over his chest. "I take it that you are scouts of Shallows, then?"
"We're wanting to know who it is setting camp in sight of our walls," the man called back
"Well, it is as I told you, but please, continue on your way. You will be announced to King Bruenor. I am certain that he will gladly share his table this night."
The man eased from his defiant posture and looked to his friend, the two seeming unsure.
"Run along!" Drizzt called.
And he was gone, melting into the night, running easily along the rough ground and quickly outdistancing the men so that by the time they at last reached the encampment, Bruenor and the others were waiting for them, with two extra heaping plates set out.
"Me friend here telled me ye'd be in," Bruenor said to the pair.
He looked to the side, and so did the scouts, to where Drizzt was dropping the cowl of his cloak, revealing his dark heritage.
Both men widened their eyes at the sight, but then one unexpectedly cried out, "Drizzt Do'Urden! By the gods, but I wondered if I'd ever meet the likes of yerself!"
Drizzt smiled-he couldn't help it, so unused was he to hearing such warm greetings from surface dwellers. He glanced at Bruenor, and noted Catti-brie standing beside the dwarf and looking his way, her expression curious, a bit confused, and a bit charmed.
Drizzt could only guess at the swirl of emotions behind that look.