Robert Salvatore: The Spine of the World

"Where is she?" Wulfgar demanded, and even as he spoke the foyer's other door swung open. Liam Woodgate appeared, rushing in with sword in hand.

"Now you pay, dog!" the coachman cried, coming in fast and hard, stabbing, a feint. Pulling the blade back in, he sent it into a sudden twirl, then feigned a sidelong slice, turning it over again and coming straight in with a deadly thrust.

Liam was good, the best fighter in all of Auckney, and he knew it. That's why it was difficult to understand how Wulfgar's hammer came out so fast to hook over Liam's blade and take it safely wide of the mark. How could the huge barbarian turn so nimbly on his feet to get within reach of Liam's sword? How was he able to come around perfectly, sending his thick arm spiking up under Liam's sword arm? Liam knew his own skill, and so it was even harder for him to understand how his clever attack had been turned against him so completely. Liam knew only that his face was suddenly pressed against the stone wall, his arms pulled tight behind his back, and the snarling barbarian's breath was on his neck.

"Lady Meralda and the child," Wulfgar asked. "Where are they?"

"I'd die afore I'd tell you!" Liam declared. Wulfgar pressed in. The poor old gnome thought he surely would die, but Liam held his determined tongue and growled against the pain.

Wulfgar spun him around and slammed him once, then slammed him again when he managed somehow to hold his feet, launching him over to the floor. Liam nearly tripped up Morik, who skipped right on by through the other door and into the castle proper.

Wulfgar was right behind him. They heard voices, and Morik led the way, crashing through a set of double doors and into a comfortable sitting room.

"Lord Brandeburg?" Lady Priscilla asked.

She squealed in fright and fell back in her chair as Wulfgar followed the rogue into the room. "Where is Lady Meralda and the child?" he roared.

"Haven't you caused enough harm?" Steward Temigast demanded, moving to stand boldly before the huge man.

Wulfgar looked him right in the eye. "Too much," he admitted, "but none here."

That set Temigast back on his heels.

"Where are they?" Wulfgar demanded, rushing up to Priscilla.

"Thieves! Murderers!" Priscilla cried, swooning.

Wulfgar locked stares with Temigast. To Wulfgar's surprise, the old steward nodded and motioned toward the staircase.

Even as he did, Priscilla Auck ran full-out up the staircase.

*****

"Do you have any idea what you've done to me?" Feringal asked Meralda, standing by the edge of her bed, the infant girl lying warm beside her. "To us? To Auckney?"

"I beg you to try to understand, my lord," the woman pleaded.

Feringal winced, pounding his fists into his eyes. His visage steeled, and he reached down and plucked the babe from her side. Meralda started up toward him, but she hadn't the strength and fell back on the bed. "What're you about?"

Feringal strode over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. "My sister says I should toss it to the waves upon the rocks," he said through teeth locked in a tight grimace, "to rid myself of the evidence of your betrayal."

"Please, Feringal, do not-" Meralda began.

"It's what they're all saying, you know," Feringal said as if she hadn't spoken. He blinked his eyes and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "The child of Jaka Sculi."

"My lord!" she cried, her red-rimmed eyes fearful.

"How could you?" Feringal yelled, then looked from the baby in his hands to the open window. Meralda started to cry.

"The cuckold, and now the murderer," Feringal muttered to himself as he moved closer to the window. "You have damned me, Meralda!" he cursed. Holding out his arms, he moved the crying baby to the opening, then he looked down at the innocent little girl and pulled her back close, his tears mixing with the baby's. "Damned me, I say!" he cried, and the breath came in labored, forced gasps.

Suddenly the door to the room flew open, and Lady Priscilla burst in. She slammed it shut and secured the bolt behind her. Surveying the scene quickly, she ran to her brother, her voice shrill. "Give it to me!"

Lord Feringal rolled his shoulder between the child and Priscilla's grasping hands.

"Give it to me!" the woman shrieked again, and a tussle for the baby ensued.

*****

Wulfgar went in fast pursuit, taking the curving staircase four steps at a stride. He came to a long hallway lined with rich tapestries where he ran into yet another bumbling castle guard. The barbarian slapped the prone man's sword away, caught him by the throat, and lifted him into the air.

Morik skittered past him, going from door to door, ear cocked, then he stopped abruptly at one. "They're in here," he announced. He grabbed the handle only to find it locked.

"The key?" Wulfgar demanded, giving the guard a shake.

The man grabbed the barbarian's iron arm. "No key," he gasped breathlessly. Wulfgar looked about to strangle him, but the thief intervened.

"Don't bother, I'll pick the lock," he said, going fast to his belt pouch.

"Don't bother, I have a key," Wulfgar cried. Morik looked up to see the barbarian bearing down on him, the guard still dangling at the end of one arm. Seeing his intent, Morik skittered out of the way as Wulfgar hurled the hapless man through the wooden door. "A key," the barbarian explained.

"Well thrown," Morik commented.

"I have had practice," explained Wulfgar, thundering past the dazed guard to leap into the room.

Meralda sat up on the bed, sobbing, while Lord Feringal and his sister stood by the open window, the babe in Feringal's arms. He was leaning toward the opening as if he meant to throw the child out. Both siblings and Meralda turned stunned expressions Wulfgar's way, and their eyes widened even more when Morik crashed in behind the barbarian.

"Lord Brandeburg!" Feringal cried.

Lady Priscilla shouted at her brother, "Do it now, before they ruin every-"

"The child is mine!" Wulfgar declared. Priscilla bit off the end of her sentence in surprise. Feringal froze as if turned to stone.

"What?" the young lord gasped.

"What?" Lady Priscilla gasped.

"What?" gasped Morik, at the same time.

"What?" gasped Meralda, quietly, and she coughed quickly to cover her surprise.

"The child is mine," Wulfgar repeated firmly, "and if you throw her out the window, then you shall follow so quickly that you'll pass her by and your broken body will pad her fall."

"You are so eloquent in emergencies," Morik remarked. To Lord Feringal, he added, "The window is small, yes, but I'll wager that my big friend can squeeze you through it. And your plump sister, as well."

"You can't be the father," Lord Feringal declared, trembling so violently that it seemed as if his legs would just buckle beneath him. He looked to Priscilla for an answer, to his sister who was always hovering above him with all of the answers. "What trick is this?"

"Give it to me!" Priscilla demanded. Taking advantage of her brother's paralyzing confusion, she moved quickly and tore the child from Feringal's grasp. Meralda cried out, the baby cried, and Wulfgar started forward, knowing that he could never get there in time, knowing that the innocent was surely doomed.

Even as Priscilla turned for the window, her brother leaped before her and slugged her in the face. Stunned, she staggered back a step. Feringal snatched the child from her arms and shoved her again, sending his sister stumbling to the floor.

Wulfgar eyed the man for a long and telling moment, understanding then beyond any doubt that despite his obvious anger and revulsion, Feringal would not hurt the child. The barbarian strode across the room, secure in his observations, confident that the young man would take no action against the babe.