Robert Salvatore - The Two Swords

"With Sunrise, I can move swiftly. He'll not catch me unless I choose to be caught. In that event, King Obould will die."

The drow's tone was perfectly even and balanced.

"I will not stay at Mithral Hall," said Innovindil. "I will see the dwarves there, and I will come right back out for you."

"And I will be waiting," Drizzt promised. "Obould's head in hand."

It seemed as if there was nothing more to say, but of course Pikel added, "Hee hee hee."

"I will grow weary of this travel soon enough," Tos'un Armgo said to his drow companion.

They had been on the move for days and days, finally catching up to Obould many miles north of where they had expected to find him, the western door of Mithral Hall. There too, the fight had not gone well, apparently, and the orc king seemed in little mood for any discussion of it. It was fast becoming apparent that the travels had just begun for the two drow if they meant to remain with Obould. The orc king would not set stakes anywhere, it seemed, even in the increasingly inclement weather.

One bright morning, Tos'un and Kaer'lic awaited his arrival on some flat stones outside of the foundation of a small keep atop a steep-sided hill, their first real chance to speak with Obould since their return. Obould would entertain guests only at the pleasure of Obould. All around the two drow, orcs were hard at work clear-cutting the few trees that grew among the gray stone and dirt of the hillsides, and clearing any boulder tumbles that could offer cover to an approaching enemy.

"He is building his kingdom," Kaer'lic remarked. "He has been hinting at this for so long now, and none of us bothered to listen."

"A few castles hardly make a kingdom," said Tos'un. "Particularly when we are speaking of orcs, who will soon turn their garrisons upon one another."

"You would enjoy that, no doubt," a gruff voice responded.

The two dark elves turned to see the approach of Obould, and that annoying shaman Tsinka. Kaer'lic noted that the female did not seem at all pleased.

"A prediction based upon past behavior," Tos'un said, and he offered a bow. "No insult meant to you, of course."

Obould scowled at him. "Behavior before the coming of Obould-who-is-Gruumsh," he replied. "You continue to lack the vision of my kingdom, drow, to your own detriment."

Kaer'lic found herself taking a slight step back from the imposing and unpredictable orc.

"I had figured that you two had followed your two kin to the side of your Spider Queen," the orc said, and it took a moment for the words to register.

"Donnia and Ad'non?" Kaer'lic asked.

"Slain by yet another drow elf," Obould replied, and if he was bothered in the least by that news, he did not show it.

Kaer'lic looked at Tos'un, and the two just accepted the loss with a shrug.

"I believe that one of the shamans collected Ad'non's head as a trophy," Obould said callously. "I can retrieve it for you, if you would like."

The insincerity of his offer stung Kaer'lic more than she would have expected, but she did well to keep her anger out of her face as she regarded the orc king.

"You kept your army together through a defeat at Mithral Hall," she said, thinking it better to let the other line of conversation fall away. "That is a good sign."

"Defeat?" Tsinka Shinriil shrieked. "What do you know of it?"

"I know that you are not inside Mithral Hall."

"The price was not worth the gain," Obould explained. "We fought them to a standstill in the outer halls. We could have pressed in, but it became apparent to us that our allies had not arrived." He narrowed his eyes, glared at Kaer'lic, and added, "As we had planned."

"The unpredictability and unreliability of trolls. . " the drow priestess said with a shrug.

Obould continued to glower, and Kaer'lic knew that he at least suspected that she and Tos'un had played a role in keeping Proffit's trolls from joining in the fight.

"We warned Proffit that his delays could pose problems in the north," Tos'un added. "But he and his wretched trolls smelled human blood, the blood of Nesmians, their hated enemies for so many years. He would not be persuaded to march north to Mithral Hall."

Obould hardly looked convinced.

"And Silverymoon marched upon them," Kaer'lic said, needing to divert attention. "You can expect nothing more from Proffit and his band. Those few who survive."

A low growl issued from between Obould's fangs.

"You knew that Lady Alustriel would come forth," Kaer'lic said. "Take heart that many of her prized warriors now lay dead on those southern bogs. She will not gladly turn her eyes to the north."

"Let her come," Obould growled. "We are preparing, on every mountain and in every pass. Let Silverymoon march forth to the Kingdom of Dark Arrows. Here, they will find only death."

"The Kingdom of Dark Arrows?" Tos'un silently mouthed.

Kaer'lic continued to scrutinize not only Obould, but Tsinka, and she noted that the shaman grimaced at the mention of the supposed kingdom.

A divisive opening, perhaps?

"Proffit is defeated, then," the orc king said. "Is he dead?"

"We know not," Kaer'lic admitted. "In the confusion of the battle, we departed, for it was obvious that the trolls would be forced back into the Trollmoors, and there, I did not wish to go."

"Wish to go?" Obould said. "Did I not instruct you to remain with Proffit?"

"There, I would not go," said Kaer'lic. "Not with Proffit, and not for Obould."

Her brazen attitude brought another fierce scowl, but the orc king made no movement toward her.

"You have accomplished much, King Obould," Kaer'lic offered. "More than I believed possible in so short a time. In honor of your great victories, I have brought you a gift." She nodded to Tos'un as she ended, and the male drow leaped away, skipping down the hillside to the one remaining boulder tumble. He disappeared from sight, then came back out a moment later, pulling along a battered dwarf.

"Our gift to you," said Kaer'lic.

Obould tried to look surprised, but Kaer'lic saw through the facade. He had spies and lookouts everywhere, and had known of the dwarf before he had ever come out to meet the dark elves.

"Flay his skin and eat him," Tsinka said, her eyes suddenly wild and hungry. "I will prepare the spit!"

"You will shut your mouth," Obould corrected. "He is of Clan Battle-hammer?"

"He is," the drow priestess answered.

Obould nodded his approval, then turned to Tsinka and said, "Secure him in the supply wagon. We will keep him close. And do not injure him, on pain of death!"

That elicited a most profound scowl from the shaman, a look Kaer'lic did not miss.

"He will prove valuable to us, perhaps," said Obould. "I expect to be in parlay with the dwarves before the turn of spring."

"Parlay?" Tsinka echoed, her voice rising to a shriek once more.

Obould turned his scowl upon her and she shrank back.

"Take him now and secure him," the orc king said to her, his voice even and threatening.

Tsinka rushed past him to the dwarf, then roughly tugged poor Fender along.

"And injure him not at all!" Obould commanded.

"I had expected you to press into Mithral Hall," Kaer'lic said to the orc king when Tsinka was gone. "In truth, when we returned to Keeper's Dale, we expected to find the orc army scattering back for the Spine of the World."

"Your confidence is inspiring."

"That confidence grows, King Obould," Kaer'lic assured him. "You have shown great restraint and wisdom, I believe."

Obould dismissed the compliment with a snort. "Is there anything else you wish?" he asked. "I have much to do this day."

"Before you move along to the next construction?"

"That is the plan, yes," said Obould.