one side then the other, striking where he could find an opening, but fighting defensively, just trying to keep the shadow hulk engaged and distracted.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Bruenor again, running to the top of the boulder and beyond, descending from on high with a great leap, his many-notched axe up high over his head and held in both hands. The dwarf’s whole body seemed to bend and snap forward, like the jaws of a giant wolf, his muscles only adding to his momentum as he drove the axe home.
A weird grunt came forth from the shadow hulk, sounding far more surprised, even curious, than pained. The creature took a step toward Drizzt, its expression somewhat pensive, as if it were only then grasping the reality of its sudden end.
Drizzt stared at that curious expression for many heartbeats—so many that he had to dive aside to avoid being buried by the falling monster.
Despite the many undead still left to be dealt with, Drizzt couldn’t suppress a smile as he watched Bruenor ride the shadow hulk the last couple of feet to the ground. His shield hand still gripping his axe, his free hand up behind him, it looked as though the dwarf was breaking a wild horse.
“Elf, I’m thinking of a yeti on the tundra,” the dwarf said, tearing his axe free. “Always seems as if ye’re needin’ saving!”
“So, as you did with the yeti, will you try to cook this one’s brains?” Drizzt asked, spinning away and heading for the nearest monster.
“Bah!” the dwarf snorted. “Tastin’ like dust or I’m a bearded gnome!”
For all the years and all the battles, for all the loss and all the strange roads, there was nothing Bruenor might have said to better comfort Drizzt just then, and to better launch him into the next fight, and the one after that.
With Andahar and Guenhwyvar, and some small assistance from the caravanners, the attack was beaten back in short order, leaving only minor wounds for a few of the merchants and guards, and no real damage to any of the wagons or horse teams. They were on their way in short order, with Drizzt riding flank.
By dawn, the road had turned directly west and they broke out of the woodland and onto an open plain. The sea flanked them on the left, and with so much open ground to their right, most of the crew settled in for some sleep.
Drizzt dismissed his magical mount and climbed aboard the jockey seat of the last wagon, Bruenor beside him. They would make Neverwinter by noon, so the boss informed them, and even though so many were weary, they wouldn’t stop the caravan.
“A fine, well-paying journey,” Drizzt remarked to Bruenor, speaking as much to keep himself alert as for any desire for conversation.
“Not that ye’re caring,” a sleepy Bruenor replied.
Drizzt cocked an eyebrow the dwarf’s way.
“Bah, but ye only did this for the fightin’!” Bruenor accused.
“We need the coin,” Drizzt replied.
“Ye’d do it for free. Anything to sing yer blades.”
“Our funds are not inexhaustible, my friend. You paid good gold for that last map you acquired.”
“An investment, I tell ye! Think o’ the treasures Gauntlgrym’ll give us!” Bruenor insisted.
“And that map will lead us there?”
“Not for knowing,” Bruenor admitted. “But one o’ them will.”
“That map, scrawled by a Calishite sailor, a pirate no less, will lead us to our destination, which a thousand-thousand dwarves have not found in a thousand years of searching?”
“Ah, shut yer mouth.”
Drizzt grinned at him.
“Ye hide in yer blades,” Bruenor said more seriously.
Drizzt didn’t answer, just looked straight ahead at the road and the wagons in front of them.
“Ye always did. I know,” the dwarf continued, “I seen it in Icewind Dale when first we met. I remember me boy shaking his head and callin’ ye crazy when ye took him into the lair o’ that giant, Biggrin. But never like this, elf. I’m thinking that if ye had a choice o’ two roads, one safe and one thick with monsters, ye’d take the thick one.”
“I didn’t pick this road, you did,” Drizzt replied.
“Nah, yerself signed us on as guards, ready for the fight.”
“We need the coin, O Great Cave Crawler.”
“Bah,” Bruenor grumbled, shaking his head.
They were indeed short of funds, but not destitute by any means, having taken a rather tidy sum along with them from Mithral Hall those many years ago, and really, other than Bruenor’s quest for maps and trinkets, they had little on