The Last Threshold (Neverwinter #4)(7)

Pale sunlight cast long shadows through the tree branches and speckled the ground before them, shining orange among the many fallen leaves. Winter had not yet arrived, but it was not far off. Some of the trees had turned to their autumn colors and now lay bare against the chill wind, while others stubbornly clung to the last leaves of the season.

“Why are we here?” Dahlia asked, and not for the first time.

The words brought Drizzt from his contemplation, and annoyed him more than a little. He thought to remind Dahlia that she had come out of her own volition, and perhaps even to add that he would have preferred it if she had remained in the city with the others.

He thought about it, but he knew better than to say it.

Still, he let her words go. This was his realm, the forest, the domain of his goddess, the place where he was most reminded of the vastness of nature. Such a humbling notion allowed Drizzt to keep perspective on those problems and issues that troubled him. In the grand scheme of the world, the cycle of life and death, the vastness of the celestial spheres, so many “problems” seemed not to matter.

But Dahlia prompted him again with the same question.

“You could have remained in Neverwinter,” Drizzt replied before he could consider his words.

“You don’t want me beside you?” Dahlia said, a rough edge coming quickly to her voice, and Drizzt could only sigh, realizing that he had fallen into her trap. He was trying to make sense of his relationship with Dahlia, perhaps most of all, and so was she, he understood. But alas, logic and reason seemed oft trumped by more basic and powerful emotions in issues of personal relationships.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Drizzt told her. “I only wish that you were glad too.”

“I never said—”

“You have asked a dozen times why we’re here. Perhaps there is no purpose, other than to enjoy the sunlight through the forest canopy.”

Dahlia stopped and stared hard at him, hands on hips, and Drizzt could not help but pause and return the look.

Dahlia shook her head. “This last few days you’ve been full of thought. You hardly hear my words. You’re here beside me and yet you aren’t. Why are we here?”

Drizzt sighed and gave a nod. “The journey to Gauntlgrym has left me with more questions than answers.”

“We went to destroy the sword. We destroyed the sword.”

“True enough,” Drizzt admitted. “But—”

“But Artemis Entreri remains,” Dahlia interrupted. “Does this trouble you so much?”

Drizzt paused and considered the myriad questions in his mind, after dismissing the question Dahlia had just asked. In the end, the matter of Entreri really was a minor thing when weighed against the true purpose of this day in the forest: to discern anything he might about Guenhwyvar.

“Is there a purpose to your life now?” he asked. She fell back a step and assumed a more defensive posture, studying him carefully.

“Since we have joined together, we have moved through several quests,” Drizzt explained. “All urgent. We put the primordial back in its magical trap. We sought revenge on Sylora, and on Herzgo Alegni, and then we went and freed Entreri from the insidious enslavement of the sword. Our roads have been a matter of small, but important needs, but what is the greater purpose binding them together?”

Dahlia looked at him as if he’d just grown a second head. “To survive,” she replied sarcastically.

“Not so!” the drow countered. “We could have left the region to the primordial forces. We could have walked far away from these enemies.”

“They would have followed.”

“In body, or simply in your dreams?”

“Both,” Dahlia decided. “Sylora would have tried to find us, and Alegni.…” She spat upon the ground.

“And so our road has been determined by immediate needs.”

Dahlia shrugged and continued to look rather unimpressed.

“But what now?” he asked.

“You’re not asking me,” Dahlia replied. “You’re merely preparing me for whatever road you deem worthy.”

Drizzt could only laugh and shrug at that for many heartbeats. “I’m asking,” he said at length. “Asking you and asking myself.”

“Let me know when you find an answer,” the elf woman replied and turned back to the north, toward Neverwinter.

“A bit farther,” Drizzt said before she had gone more than a couple of steps.

Dahlia stopped and turned. “Why?” she demanded.

“Arunika the Seer,” Drizzt admitted. “I wish to speak with her again regarding Guenhwyvar.” He stared at her for just a moment longer, then turned and shrugged and moved along to the south. Dahlia was quick to catch up.

“You might have told me that when we left,” Dahlia said.

Drizzt merely shrugged. Did it even matter? He wasn’t even sure where Arunika’s house might be. Somewhere in the south, Jelvus Grinch had told him, but no one seemed to know precisely.

On his previous meeting with her, after the defeat of the Shadovar in Neverwinter and before the journey to Gauntlgrym, the seer had claimed that she could sense no connection at all between the statuette Drizzt carried and the panther it was used to summon. Nothing had changed, as far as Drizzt could tell.