Robert Salvatore - The Spine of the World

But Wulfgar had the angle and was possessed of a strength beyond that of nearly any human. He saw the other giant climbing back to its feet, but reminded himself to take the fight one at a time. Wulfgar felt the tip of his axe shaft sink into the giant's eye. It went into a frenzy, even climbing back to its feet, but Wulfgar held on. Driving, driving.

The giant ran blindly for the wall and turned around, going in hard, trying to crush the man. Wulfgar growled away the pain and pressed on with all his strength until the spear slipped in deeper to the behemoth's brain.

The other giant came in then. Wulfgar fell away, scrambling across the chamber, using the spasms of the dying giant to cover his retreat. The butt end of Wulfgar's impromptu spear remained visible within the folds of the dying brute's closed eyelid. Wulfgar scarcely had time to notice as he dived headlong across the way to retrieve the hammer and one of the bloody hand axes.

The giant threw its dead companion aside and strode forward, then staggered back with a hand axe embedded deep into its forehead.

Wulfgar continued to press in with a mighty overhead chop that slammed the hammer hard into the behemoth's chest. He hit it again, and a third time, then went down under the flailing fists and struck a brutal blow against the giant's knee. Wulfgar skittered past and ran behind the brute to the wall, leaping upward two full strides, then springing off with yet another wicked, downward smash as the turning giant came around.

The hammer's head cracked through the giant's skull. The behemoth dropped straight down and lay very still on the floor.

Morik entered the chamber at that moment and gaped at the battered Wulfgar. The barbarian's shoulder was soaked with blood, his leg bruised from ankle to thigh, and his knees and hands were skinned raw.

"You see?" Wulfgar said with a triumphant grin. "No trouble at all. Now we have a home."

Morik looked past his friend to the gruesome remains of the half-eaten dwarves and the two dead giants oozing blood throughout the chamber. "Such as it is," he answered dryly.

*****

They spent the better part of the next three days cleaning out their cave, burying the dwarves, chopping up and disposing of the giants, and retrieving their supplies. They even managed to get the horses and the wagon up to the place along a roundabout route, though they simply let the horses run free after the great effort, figuring that they would never be very useful as a pulling team.

A full pack on his back, Morik took Wulfgar out along the trails. The pair finally came to a spot overlooking a wide pass, the one true trail through this region of the Spine of the World. It was the same trail that Wulfgar and his former friends had used whenever they'd ventured out of Icewind Dale. There was another pass to the west that ran through Hundelstone, but this was the most direct route, though more dangerous by far.

"Many caravans will roll through this place before winter," Morik explained. "They'll be heading north with varied goods and south with scrimshaw knucklehead carvings."

More familiar with the routine than Morik would ever understand, Wulfgar merely nodded.

"We should hit them both ways," the rogue suggested. "Secure our provisions from those coming from the south and our future monies from those coming from the north."

Wulfgar sat down on a slab and stared north along the pass, beyond it to Icewind Dale. He was reminded again of the sharp contrast between his past and his present. How ironic it would be if his former friends were the ones to track down the highwaymen.

He pictured Bruenor, roaring as he charged up the rocky slope, agile Drizzt skipping past him, scimitars in hand. Guenhwyvar would already be above them, Wulfgar knew, cutting off any retreat. Morik would likely flee, and Catti-brie would cut him down with a single, blazing arrow.

"You look a thousand miles away. What's on your mind?" Morik inquired. As usual, he was holding an open bottle he'd already begun sampling.

"I'm thinking I need a drink," Wulfgar replied, taking the bottle and lifting it to his lips. Burning all the way down, the huge swallow helped calm him somewhat, but he still couldn't reconcile himself to his present position. Perhaps his friends would come after him, as he, Drizzt and Guenhwyvar, and the others following, had gone after the giant band they suspected to be highwaymen in Icewind Dale.

Wulfgar took another long drink. He didn't like the prospects if they came after him.

"I cannot wait until the spring, I fear," Meralda said coyly to Feringal after dinner one night at Auckney Castle. At Meralda's request the pair was walking the seashore this evening, instead of their customary stroll in the garden.

The young lord stopped in his tracks, eyes wider than Meralda had ever seen them. "The waves," he said, drawing closer to Meralda. "I fear I did not hear you correctly."

"I said that I cannot wait for the spring," Meralda repeated. "For the wedding, I mean."

A grin spread from ear to ear across Feringal's face, and he seemed as if he were about to dance a jig. He took her hand gently, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it. "I would wait until the end of time, if you so commanded," he said solemnly. To her great surprise-and wasn't this man always full of surprises? — Meralda found that she believed him. He had never betrayed her.

As thrilled as Meralda was, however, she had pressing problems. "No, my lord, you'll not be waiting long," she replied, pulling her hand from his and stroking his cheek. "Suren I'm glad that you'd wait for me, but I can no longer wait for the spring for my own desires." She moved in close and kissed him, and felt him melting against her.

Feringal pulled away from her for the first time. "You know we cannot," he said, though it obviously pained him. "I have given my word to Temigast. Propriety, my love. Propriety."

"Then make it proper, and soon," Meralda replied, stroking the man's cheek gently. She thought that Feringal might collapse under her tender touch, so she moved in close again and added breathlessly, "I simply can't wait."

Feringal lost his thin resolve and wrapped her in his arms, burying her in a kiss.

Meralda didn't want this, but she knew what she had to do. She feared too much time had passed already. The young woman started to pull the man down to the sand with her, setting her mind firmly that she would seduce him and be done with it, but there came a call from the castle wall: Priscilla's shrill voice.

"Feri!"

"I detest it when she calls me that!" With great effort, the young lord jumped back from Meralda and cursed his sister under his breath. "Can I never escape her?"

"Feri, is that you?" Priscilla called again.

"Yes, Priscilla," the man replied with barely concealed irritation.

"Do come back to the castle," the woman beckoned. "It grows dark, and Temigast says there are reports of thieves about. He wants you within the walls."

Brokenhearted Feringal looked to Meralda and shook his head. "We must go," he said.

"I can't wait for spring," the woman said determinedly.

"And you shan't," Lord Feringal replied, "but we shall do it properly, in accordance with etiquette. I will move the wedding day forward to the winter solstice."

"Too long," Meralda replied.

"The autumn equinox then."

Meralda considered the timeline. The autumn equinox was six weeks away, and she was already more than a month pregnant. Her expression revealed her dismay.

"I cannot possibly move it up more than that," Lord Feringal explained. "As you know, Priscilla is doing the planning, and she will already howl with anger when she hears that I wish to move it up at all. Temigast desires that we wait until the turn of the year, at least, but I will convince him otherwise."