The Crystal Shard(The Icewind Dale Trilogy 1)(40)

Drizzt said little during that first week, though he would occasionally compliment the barbarian about a good parry or counter, or more generally on the improvement Wulfgar was showing in such a short time. Wulfgar found himself eagerly anticipating the drow's remarks whenever he executed an especially difficult maneuver, and dreading the inevitable slap whenever he foolishly left himself vulnerable.

The young barbarian's respect for Drizzt continued to grow. Something about the drow, living without complaint in stoic solitude, touched Wulfgar's sense of honor. He couldn't yet guess why Drizzt had chosen such an existence, but he was certain from what he had already seen of the drow that it had something to do with principles.

By the middle of the second week, Wulfgar was in complete control of Aegis-fang, twisting its handle and head deftly to block against the two whirring scimitars, and responding with cautiously measured thrusts of his own.

Drizzt could see the subtle change taking place as the barbarian stopped reacting after the fact to the scimitars' deft cuts and thrusts and began recognizing his own vulnerable areas and anticipating the next attack.

When he became convinced that Wulfgar's defenses were sufficiently strengthened, Drizzt began the lessons of attack. The drow knew that his style of offense would not be the most effective mode for Wulfgar. The barbarian could use his unrivaled strength more effectively than deceptive feints and twists. Wulfgar's people were naturally aggressive fighters, and striking came more easily to them than parrying. The mighty barbarian could fell a giant with a single, well-placed blow.

All that he had left to learn was patience.

* * *

Early one dark, moonless night, as he prepared himself for the evening's lesson, Wulfgar noticed the flare of a campfire far out on the plain. He watched, mesmerized, as several others sprang suddenly into sight, wondering if it might even be the fires of his own tribe.

Drizzt silently approached, unnoticed by the engrossed barbarian. The drow's keen eyes had noted the stirrings of the distant camp long before the firelight had grown strong enough for Wulfgar to see. "Your people have survived," he said to comfort the young man.

Wulfgar started at the sudden appearance of his teacher. "You know of them?" he asked.

Drizzt moved beside him and stared out over the tundra. "Their losses were great at the Battle of Bryn Shander," he said. "And the winter that followed bit hard at the many women and children who had no men to hunt for them. They fled west to find the reindeer, banding together with other tribes for strength. The peoples still hold to the names of the original tribes, but in truth there are only two remaining: the Tribe of the Elk and the Tribe of the Bear.

"You were of the Tribe of the Elk, I believe," Drizzt continued, drawing a nod from Wulfgar. "Your people have done well. They dominate the plain now, and though more years will have to pass before the people of the tundra regain the strength they held before the battle, the younger warriors are already coming into manhood."

Relief flooded through Wulfgar. He had feared that the Battle of Bryn Shander had decimated his people to a point from which they could never recover. The tundra was doubly harsh in the frozen winter, and Wulfgar often considered the possibility that the sudden loss of so many warriors - some of the tribes had lost every one of their menfolk - would doom the remaining people to slow death.

"You know much about my people," Wulfgar remarked.

"I have spent many days watching them," Drizzt explained, wondering what line of thought the barbarian was drawing, "learning their ways and tricks for prospering in such an unwelcoming land."

Wulfgar chuckled softly and shook his head, further impressed by the sincere reverence the drow showed whenever he spoke of the natives of Icewind Dale. He had known the drow less than two weeks, but already he understood the character of Drizzt Do'Urden well enough to know that his next observation about the drow was true to the mark.

"I'll wager you even felled deer silently in the darkness, to be found in the morning light by people too hungry to question their good fortune."

Drizzt neither answered the remark nor changed the set of his gaze, but Wulfgar was confident in his guess.

"Do you know of Heafstaag?" the barbarian asked after a few moments of silence. "He was king of my tribe, a man of many scars and great renown."

Drizzt remembered the one-eyed barbarian well. The mere mention of his name sent a dull ache into the drow's shoulder, where he had been wounded by the huge man's heavy axe. "He lives," Drizzt replied, somewhat shielding his contempt. "Heafstaag speaks for the whole of the north now. None of true enough blood remain to oppose him in combat or speak out against him to hold him in check."

"He is a mighty king," Wulfgar said, oblivious to the venom in the drow's voice.

"He is a savage fighter," Drizzt corrected. His lavender eyes bore into Wulfgar, catching the barbarian completely by surprise with their sudden flash of anger. Wulfgar saw the incredible character in those violet pools, an inner strength within the drow whose pure quality would make the most noble of kings envious.

"You have grown into a man in the shadow of a dwarf of indisputable character," Drizzt scolded. "Have you gained nothing for the experience?"

Wulfgar was dumbfounded and couldn't find the words to reply.

Drizzt decided that the time had come for him to lay bare the barbarian's principles and judge the wisdom and worth of teaching the young man. "A king is a man strong of character and conviction who leads by example and truly cares for the sufferings of his people," he lectured. "Not a brute who rules simply because he is the strongest. I should think you would have learned to understand the distinction."