which they needed to spend the coin.
The dwarf let it go at that, and drifted off to sleep, where he found comfortable dreams of yesteryear, of Kelvin’s Cairn in Icewind Dale, and the high perch upon it known as Bruenor’s Climb. Of running with the Companions of the Hall, him and the elf, and his boy and his girl and the halfling he so often found fishing on the banks of Maer Dualdon.
It had been a good life, Bruenor decided. Good and long, and full of fine friends and fine adventures.
They came in sight of Neverwinter soon after, and no one spoke a word of protest when the boss stopped the lead wagon on a high ridge overlooking the place, so that all could take in the sight. Once it had been a sprawling city, a great port, then, with the eruption of Mount Hotenow, it had been no more than a desolate, barren ruin of black stone and deep gray ash.
But the wounds in the land were healing, plants growing thick in the rich volcanic soil, and while many of the ruins of old Neverwinter were still visible, new structures had been built. Few in number, none approaching the grandeur of old Neverwinter as of yet, the small settlement seemed truly discordant. The most impressive structure to be seen, by far, was the old Winged Wyvern Bridge, which had briefly been called something else no one remembered. It had escaped the devastation nearly unscathed, with only one abutment taking any noticeable damage, and it had come to serve as the centerpiece, the promise, of what Neverwinter might become anew.
So entranced were Bruenor and Drizzt at the sight of the distant town, neither noticed the approach of the caravan boss.
“She’ll be rebuilt to all her glory,” the man said, drawing them from their personal contemplations. “Not to doubt the resilience of the folk of the Sword Coast. They’ll … we’ll make Neverwinter what she once was, and more.
“What do you say, lads and lasses?” he called, turning so all could hear. “Do you think we might convince the leaders of Neverwinter to name a bridge or some other new structure in honor of Drizzt Do’Urden or Bonnego Battle-axe?”
“O’ the Adbar Battle-axes, and don’t ye never forget it,” Bruenor shouted as cheers rose up.
“This caravan isn’t leaving Neverwinter until the spring, at least,” the boss informed the duo. “I’d be glad to have you along for that journey to Waterdeep.”
“If we’re about—” Drizzt started to reply.
“But we won’t be,” Bruenor cut in. “We got roads o’ our own to walk.”
“I understand,” the boss said. “The offer stands—at twice the pay.”
“It’s possible,” Drizzt said with a wry grin aimed at Bruenor. “My friend here has a fondness for maps … one that oft empties our purses.”
Bruenor’s responding look was not in jest, the dwarf upset with Drizzt for giving away so much information.
“Maps?” the boss asked. “We’ll be re-drawing the map of Neverwinter soon, to be sure, with such fine craftsmen and brave warriors who have come to rebuild and defend her. We’ll be battling the darkness, do not doubt, and in a way that will make all of Faerûn look to Neverwinter with hope.”
Cheers again erupted all around them.
“The city is always recruiting new guards and scouts,” the boss said, another offer.
Drizzt smiled, but wisely deferred to Bruenor, who repeated, “We got roads o’ our own to walk.”
“As you will,” the boss replied with a bow. “Though every road in these parts seems filled with danger now.” He shook his head and looked back in the general direction of their last fight. “What were those things?”
“What did they look like?” Drizzt replied.
“Like children buried under the ash of the rolling mountain.”
“Not children,” Bruenor explained. “Burned and shriveled by the hot ash, we’re fighting them that once lived in Neverwinter, and ye might be wise to take care to keep yer new buildings off any old spots that would’ve been filled with folk, if ye catch me meaning.”
“And they rise again from their natural tombs?” the boss said with a shake of his head. “Did the catastrophe carry such magic in its hot flow?”
Drizzt and Bruenor just shrugged, for no one had an answer yet about the recent turn of events, where undead monsters walked forth in such large numbers.
“Just zombies,” said Bruenor against the dispirited look on the face of the boss.
“Quicker, more agile, more fierce,” the drow added.
“They been seen all about Neverwinter Wood,” a driver on the next wagon