His scimitars flashed repeatedly, cutting loose the harness, saving the team.
Catti-brie ran past the drow, heading for the drivers, and Wulfgar leaped from Bruenor's wagon to join her.
The wagon fell backward into the hole, taking the two struggling dwarves and the woman who had rushed to rescue them into the darkness.
Without even hesitating, Wulfgar dived down to his chest at the lip of the hole and reached out, catching the remains of the horse harness in his powerful hands. The wagon wasn't falling free. If it had been, Wulfgar would have disappeared along with it. Rather, it was slipping down along a rocky shaft, and enough of its weight was supported from below so that Wulfgar somehow managed to tentatively secure it.
The growling barbarian nearly let go in shock when a diminutive figure ran past him and leaped headlong into the hole, and behind him, Drizzt did cry out for Regis. Then both noticed that the halfling was tethered, and with Bruenor standing secure on his wagon, holding the other end of the line.
"Got them!" came a cry from below.
Dagnabbit and several other dwarves joined Bruenor, taking up the line and locking it in place.
Catti-brie was the first to climb out along the lifeline, followed in short order by the two shaken and bruised but not badly hurt drivers.
"Rumblebelly?" Bruenor called when the other three were out with no sign of the halfling.
"Lots of tunnels down here!" came Regis cry, cut short by a shriek.
That was all the dwarf team had to hear, and they began pumping their powerful arms, hoisting a very shaken Regis from the hole. Wulfgar could hold the wagon no longer. It went crashing down, disappearing from view, until the clatter of its descent became a distant thing.
"What'd ye see?" Bruenor and many others yelled at Regis, who was as white as an autumn cloud.
Regis shook his head, his eyes wide and unblinking. "I thought it was you," he said to one of the drivers. "I... I went to hand you the rope. It went right through ... I mean, it didn't touch ... I mean."
"Easy, Rumblebelly," Bruenor said, patting the halfling on the shoulder. "Ye're safe enough here and now."
Regis nodded but didn't seem convinced.
Off to the side, Delly gave Wulfgar a huge hug and kiss.
"Ye done good," she whispered to him. "If ye hadn't caught the wagon, then all three would've crashed down to their deaths."
Wulfgar looked past her to Catti-brie, who was standing comfortably in Drizzt's embrace but was looking Wulfgar's way and nodding appreciatively.
Surveying the scene, recognizing that many were thoroughly shaken, Bruenor Battlehammer walked over to the edge of the hole, put his hands on his hips, and yelled down, "Hey, ye damned ghosties! Ye got nothing more about ye than a wisp of smoke?"
A chorus of moans rolled out of the hole, and dwarves scrambled away.
Not Bruenor, though. "Oo, ye got me shaking in me boots now!" he taunted. "Well, if ye got something to say, then get up here and say it. Otherwise, shut yer traps!"
The moans stopped, and for a short, uncomfortable moment, not a dwarf moved or made the slightest sound, all of them wondering if Bruenor's challenge was about to be met by a wave of attacking ghosts.
As the seconds slipped by and nothing ominous crawled out of the hole, the troupe settled back.
"Ye get Pwent and his boys tethered together on long lines and out in front, stomping the ground as they go," Bruenor instructed Dagnabbit. "Don't want to be losin' any more wagons."
The team went back into action, and Drizzt moved near his dwarf friend.
"Challenging the dead?" he asked.
"Bah, they don't mean nothing with their booing and floating about. Probably don't even know they're dead."
"True enough."
"Mark well this spot, elf," Bruenor instructed. "I'm thinking that it might be a good place to start our hunt for Gauntlgrym.''
With that, the unshakable Bruenor moved back to his wagon, patted Regis on the shoulder one more time, then led the clan forward as if nothing had happened.
"Roll on. Bruenor Battlehammer," Drizzt whispered.
"Don't he always?" Catti-brie asked, moving beside the drow and wrapping her arm comfortably around his waist.
It took them three days to cross the broken ground of the Fell Pass. The ghosts hovered around them every step of the way and the wind did not cease its mournful song. Some areas were relatively clear, but others were thick with remnants of that long-ago battle. The signs weren't always physical, often just a general feeling of loss