The Crystal Shard(The Icewind Dale Trilogy 1)(58)

Bruenor busied himself preparing a new recipe - giant-brain stew - boiling the wretched, foul-smelling ingredients right in a hollowed-out verbeeg skull. "Use yer heads!" he had argued in response to Drizzt and Wulfgar's expressions of horror and disgust. "A barnyard goose tastes better 'an a wild one cause it don't use its muscles. The same oughta hold true for a giant's brains!"

Drizzt and Wulfgar hadn't seen things quite the same way. They didn't want to leave the area and miss anything that Regis might have to say, though, so they huddled in the farthest corner of the room, carrying on a private conversation.

Bruenor strained to hear them, for they were talking of something that he had more than a passing interest in.

"Half for the last one in the kitchen," Wulfgar insisted, "and half for the cat."

"And you only get half for the one at the chasm," Drizzt retorted.

"Agreed," said Wulfgar. "And we split the one in the hall and Biggrin down the middle?"

Drizzt nodded. "Then with all halves and shared kills added up, it's ten and one-half for me and ten and one-half for you."

"And four for the cat," added Wulfgar.

"Four for the cat," Drizzt echoed. "Well fought, friend. You've held your own up to now, but I've a feeling that we have a lot more fighting before us, and my greater experience will win out in the end!"

"You grow old, good elf," Wulfgar teased, leaning back against the wall, the whiteness of a confident grin showing through his blond beard. "We shall see. We shall see."

Bruenor, too, was smiling, both at the good-natured competition between his friends and at his continued pride in the young barbarian. Wulfgar was doing well to keep pace with a skilled veteran like Drizzt Do'Urden.

Regis emerged from the room, and the gray pall upon his usually jovial face deadened the lighthearted atmosphere. "We are in trouble," the halfling said grimly.

"Where's the orc?" Bruenor demanded as he pulled his axe from his belt, misunderstanding the halfling's meaning.

"In there. He's all right," Regis replied. The orc had been happy to tell its new-found friend everything about Akar Kessell's plans to invade Ten-Towns and the size of the gathering forces. Regis visibly trembled as he told his friends the news.

"All of the orc and goblin tribes and verbeeg clans of this region of the Spine of the World are banding together under a sorcerer named Akar Kessell," the halfling began. Drizzt and Wulfgar looked at each other, recognizing Kessell's name. The barbarian had thought Akar Kessell to be a huge frost giant when the verbeeg had spoken of him, but Drizzt had suspected differently, especially after the incident at the mirror.

"They plan to attack Ten-Towns," Regis continued. "And even the barbarians, led by some mighty, one-eyed leader, have joined their ranks!"

Wulfgar's face reddened in anger and embarrassment. His people fighting beside orcs! He knew the leader that Regis spoke of, for Wulfgar was of the Tribe of the Elk and had even once carried the tribe's standard as Heafstaag's herald. Drizzt painfully recalled the one-eyed king, too. He put a comforting hand on Wulfgar's shoulder.

"Go to Bryn Shander," the drow told Bruenor and Regis. "The people must prepare."

Regis winced at the futility. If the orc's estimation of the assembling army had been correct, all of Ten-Towns joined together could not withstand the assault. The halfling dropped his head and mouthed silently, not wanting to alarm his friends any more than was necessary, "We have to leave!"

* * *

Though Bruenor and Regis were able to convince Cassius of the urgency and importance of their news, it took several days to round up the other spokesmen for council. It was the height of knucklehead season, late summer, and the last push was on to land a big catch for the final trading caravan to Luskan. The spokesmen of the nine fishing villages understood their responsibilities to their community, but they were reluctant to leave the lakes even for a single day.

And so, with the exceptions of Cassius of Bryn Shander, Muldoon, the new spokesman from Lonelywood, who looked up to Regis as the hero of his town, Glensather of Easthaven, the community ever-willing to join in for the good of Ten-Towns, and Agorwal of Termalaine who held fierce loyalty to Bruenor, the mood of the council was not very receptive.

Kemp, still bearing a grudge against Bruenor for the incident over Drizzt after the Battle of Bryn Shander, was especially disruptive. Before Cassius even had the opportunity to present the Formalities of Order, the gruff spokesman from Targos leaped up from his seat and slammed his fists down on the table. "Damn the formal readings and be on with it!" Kemp growled. "By what right do you order us in from the lakes, Cassius? Even as we sit around this table, the merchants in Luskan are preparing for their journey!"

"We have news of an invasion, Spokesman Kemp," Cassius answered calmly, understanding the fisherman's anger. "I would not have summoned you, any of you, at this time of the season if it were not urgent."

"Then the rumors are true," Kemp sneered. "An invasion, you say? Bah! I see beyond this sham of a council!"

He turned on Agorwal. The fighting between Targos and Termalaine had escalated in the past few weeks, despite Cassius's efforts to diffuse it and bring the principles of the warring towns to the bargaining table. Agorwal had agreed to a meeting, but Kemp was steadfastly against it. And so, with suspicions running high, the timing of this urgent council could not have been worse.