Sojourn: The Legend of Drizzt (50 page)

“Kill me!” Roddy shouted over and over, taking lewd pleasure in the drow’s growing disgust.

“No!” Drizzt screamed in Roddy’s face with enough force to silence the bounty hunter. Enraged to a point where he could not contain his trembling, Drizzt did not wait to see if Roddy would resume his insane cry. He drove a knee into Roddy’s chin, pulled his wrists free of Roddy’s grasp, then slammed his weapon hilts simultaneously into the bounty hunter’s temples.

Roddy’s eyes crossed, but he did not swoon, stubbornly shaking the blow away. Drizzt slammed him again and again, finally beating him down, horrified at his own actions and at the bounty hunter’s continuing defiance.

When the rage had played itself out, Drizzt stood over the burly man, trembling and with tears rimming his lavender eyes. “Drive that dog far away!” he yelled to Guenhwyvar. Then he dropped his bloodied blades in horror and bent down to make sure that Roddy was not dead.

Roddy awoke to find his yellow dog standing over him. Night was fast falling and the wind had picked up again. His head and arm ached, but he dismissed the pain, wanting only to resume his
hunt, confident now that Drizzt would never find the strength to kill him. His dog caught the scent at once, leading back to the south, and they set off. Roddy’s nerve dissipated only a little when they came around a rocky outcropping and found a red-bearded dwarf and a girl waiting for him.

“Ye don’t be touchin’ me girl, McGristle,” Bruenor said evenly. “Ye just shouldn’t be touchin’ me girl.”

“She’s in league with the drow!” Roddy protested. “She told the murdering devil of my comin’!”

“Drizzt’s not a murderer!” Catti-brie yelled back. “He never did kill the farmers! He says ye’re saying that just so others’ll help ye to catch him!” Catti-brie realized suddenly that she had just admitted to her father that she had met with the drow. When Catti-brie had found Bruenor, she had told him only of McGristle’s rough handling.

“Ye went to him,” Bruenor said, obviously wounded. “Ye lied to me, an’ ye went to the drow! I telled ye not to. Ye said ye wouldn’t …”

Bruenor’s lament stung Catti-brie profoundly, but she held fast to her beliefs. Bruenor had raised her to be honest, but that included being honest to what she knew was right. “Once ye said to me that everyone gets his due,” Catti-brie retorted. “Ye telled me that each is different and each should be seen for what he is. I’ve seen Drizzt, and seen him true, I tell ye. He’s no killer! And he’s—” She pointed accusingly at McGristle—“a liar! I take no pride in me own lie, but never could I let Drizzt get caught by this one!”

Bruenor considered her words for a moment, then wrapped one arm about her waist and hugged her tightly. His daughter’s deception still stung, but the dwarf was proud that his girl had stood up for what she believed. In truth, Bruenor had come out here, not looking for Catti-brie, whom he believed was sulking in the mines, but to find the drow. The more he recounted his fight with
the remorhaz, the more Bruenor became convinced that Drizzt had come down to help him, not to fight him. Now, in light of recent events, few doubts remained.

“Drizzt came and pulled me free of that one,” Catti-brie went on. “He saved me.”

“Drow’s got her mixed,” Roddy said, sensing Bruenor’s growing attitude and wanting no fight with the dangerous dwarf. “He’s a murderin’ dog, I say, and so would Bartholemew Thistledown if a dead man could!”

“Bah!” Bruenor snorted. “Ye don’t know me girl or ye’d be thinking the better than to call her a liar. And I telled ye before, McGristle, that I don’t like me daughter shook! Me thinkin’s that ye should be gettin’ outa me valley. Me thinkin’s that ye should be goin’ now.”

Roddy growled and so did his dog, which sprung between the mountain man and the dwarf and bared its teeth at Bruenor. Bruenor shrugged, unconcerned, and growled back at the beast, provoking it further.

The dog lurched at the dwarf’s ankle, and Bruenor promptly put a heavy boot in its mouth and pinned its bottom jaw to the ground. “And take yer stinkin’ dog with ye!”

Bruenor roared, though in admiring the dog’s meaty flank, he was thinking again that he might have better use for the surly beast.

“I go where I choose, dwarf!” Roddy retorted. “I’m gonna get me a drow, and if the drow’s in yer valley, then so am l!”

Bruenor recognized the clear frustration in the man’s voice, and he took closer note then of the bruises on Roddy’s face and the gash on his arm. “The drow got away from ye,” the dwarf said, and his chuckle stung Roddy acutely.

“Not for long,” Roddy promised. “And no dwarf’ll stand in my way!”

“Get along back to the mines,” Bruenor said to Catti-brie. “Tell
the others I mighten be a bit late for dinner.” The axe came down from Bruenor’s shoulder.

“Get him good,” Catti-brie mumbled under her breath, not doubting her father’s prowess in the least. She kissed Bruenor atop his helmet, then rushed off happily. Her father had trusted her; nothing in all the world could be wrong.

Roddy McGristle and his three-legged dog left the valley a short while later. Roddy had seen a weakness in Drizzt and thought he could win against the drow, but he saw no such signs in Bruenor Battlehammer. When Bruenor had Roddy down, a feat that hadn’t taken very long, Roddy did not doubt for a second that if he had asked the dwarf to kill him, Bruenor gladly would have complied.

From the top of the southern climb, where he had gone for his last look at Ten-Towns, Drizzt watched the wagon roll out of the vale, suspecting that it was the bounty hunter’s. Not knowing what it all meant, but hardly believing that Roddy had undergone a change of heart, Drizzt looked down at his packed belongings and wondered where he should turn next.

The lights of the towns were coming on now, and Drizzt watched them with mixed emotions. He had been on this climb several times, enchanted by his surroundings and thinking he had found his home. How different now was this view! McGristle’s appearance had given Drizzt pause and reminded him that he was still an outcast, and ever to be one.

“Drizzit,” he mumbled to himself, a damning word indeed. At that moment, Drizzt did not believe he would ever find a home, did not believe that a drow who was not in heart a drow had a place in all the realms, surface or Underdark. The hope, ever fleeting in Drizzt’s weary heart, had flown altogether.

“Bruenor’s Climb, this place is called,” said a gruff voice behind Drizzt. He spun about, thinking to flee, but the red-bearded dwarf was too close for him to slip by. Guenhwyvar rushed to the drow’s side, teeth bared.

“Put yer pet away, elf,” Bruenor said. “If cat tastes as bad as dog, I’ll want none of it!

“My place, this is,” the dwarf went on, “me bein’ Bruenor and this bein’ Bruenor’s Climb!”

“I saw no sign of ownership,” Drizzt replied indignantly, his patience exhausted from the long road that now seemed to grow longer. “I know your claim now, and so I will leave. Take heart, dwarf. I shall not return.”

Bruenor put a hand up, both to silence the drow and to stop him from leaving. “Just a pile o’ rocks,” he said, as close to an apology as Bruenor had ever given. “I named it as me own, but does that make it so? Just a damned piled o’ rocks!”

Drizzt cocked his head at the dwarf’s unexpected rambling.

“Nothin’s what it seems, drow!” Bruenor declared. “Nothin’! Ye try to follow what ye know, ye know? But then ye find that ye know not what ye thought ye knowed! Thought a dog’d be tastin’ good—looked good enough—but now me belly’s cursing me every move!”

The second mention of the dog sparked a sudden revelation concerning Roddy McGristle’s departure. “You sent him away,” Drizzt said, pointing down to the route out of the vale. “You drove McGristle off my trail.”

Bruenor hardly heard him, and certainly wouldn’t have admitted the kind-hearted deed, in any case. “Never trusted humans,” he said evenly. “Never know what one’s about, and when ye find out, too many’s the time it’s too late for fixin’! But always had me thoughts straight about other folks. An elf’s an elf, after all, and so’s a gnome. And orcs are straight-out stupid and ugly. Never knew one to be otherways, an’ I known a few!”
Bruenor patted his axe, and Drizzt did not miss his meaning.

“So was me thoughts about the drow,” Bruenor continued. “Never met one—never wanted to. Who would, I ask? Drow’re bad, mean-hearted, so I been telled by me dad an’ by me dad’s dad, an’ by any who’s ever telled me.” He looked out to the lights of Termalaine on Maer Dualdon in the west, shook his head, and kicked a stone. “Now I heared a drow’s prowlin’ about me valley, and what’s a king to do? Then me daughter goes to him!” A sudden fire came into Bruenor’s eyes, but it mellowed quickly, almost as if in embarrassment, as soon as he looked at Drizzt. “She lies in me face—never has she done that afore, and never again if she’s a smart one!”

“It was not her fault,” Drizzt began, but Bruenor waved his hands about wildly to dismiss the whole thing.

“Thought I knowed what I knowed,” Bruenor continued after a short pause, his voice almost a lament. “Had the world figured, sure enough. Easy to do when ye stay in yer own hole.”

He looked back to Drizzt, straight into the dim shine of the drow’s lavender eyes. “Bruenor’s Climb?” the dwarf asked with a resigned shrug. “What’s it mean, drow, to put a name on a pile o’ rocks? Thought I knowed, I did, an’ thought a dog’d taste good.” Bruenor rubbed a hand over his belly and frowned. “Call it a pile o’ rocks then, an’ I’ve no claim on it more’n yerself! Call it Drizzt’s Climb then, an’ ye’d be kicking me out!”

“I would not,” Drizzt replied quietly. “I do not know that I could if I wished to!”

“Call it what ye will!” Bruenor cried, suddenly distressed. “And call a dog a cow—that don’t change the way the thing’ll taste!” Bruenor threw up his hands, flustered, and turned away, stomping down the rock path, grumbling with every step.

“And ye be keepin’ yer eyes on me girl,” Drizzt heard Bruenor snarl above his general grumbles, “if she’s so orc-headed as to keep goin’ to the stinkin’ yeti an’ worm-filled mountain! Be knowin’
that I hold yerself …” The rest faded away as Bruenor disappeared around a bend.

Drizzt couldn’t begin to dig his way through that rambling dialogue, but he didn’t need to put Bruenor’s speech in perfect order. He dropped a hand on Guenhwyvar, hoping that the panther shared the suddenly wondrous panoramic view. Drizzt knew then that he would sit up on the climb, Bruenor’s Climb, many times and watch the lights flicker to life, for, adding up all that the dwarf had said, Drizzt surmised one phrase clearly, words he had waited so many years to hear:

Welcome home.

f all the races in the known realms, none is more confusing, or more confused, than humans. Mooshie convinced me that gods, rather than being outside entities, are personifications of what lies in our hearts. If this is true, then the many, varied gods of the human sects—deities of vastly different demeanors—reveal much about the race.