世界之脊 第24章 冬假
第 24 章
冬假
“这是我们的机会 ,” 沃夫加向莫里克解释到。这两个人躲在世界之脊南方的一个保护着许多村落的石墙后。
莫里克看着他的朋友摇了摇头, 给了他一个缺少热情的表情。不只是因为沃夫加在他们从奥克尼回来后的三星期内把酒戒了,更要命的是，他拒绝做任何强盗行为。秋季很快就要结束了,而冬季的到来意味着将会有不少商队从冰风谷返回。北方的冒险这也将会离开一段时间,那些从路斯坎去十镇避暑的男人和女人们也会在季节结束前回去。
沃夫加清楚的向莫里克表示他们的盗贼生涯结束了。 因此他们现在在这里，俯看着一个很有可能要遭到兽人和地精攻击的小村子。
“他们不会从下边开始进攻的。”沃夫加说到,同时用手指着村子东方那个与村里最高建筑一样高的山坡。“从那里 ,” 沃夫加解释到。
“他们已经在最好的地方建立了防御，”莫里克回答到，好像这能解决全部问题。他们相信怪物不会很多，而且当城镇中一半以上的人都在的时候，莫里克看不到任何问题。
“更多的可能会从上方攻下来,” 沃夫加继续解释到。“ 如果同时从二边攻击，村子会承受过多的压力。”
“你在为自己找借口 ,” 莫里克说到。 沃夫加好奇地盯着他。“找借口参加战斗 ,” 盗贼结实到，这给沃夫加脸上带来了一个微笑。“除非它们攻击商人,” 莫里更加沮丧的说到。
沃夫加保持着镇静而满足的表情。“我希望通过战斗得到奖赏。”
“我认为商人们比那些农夫更乐意付报酬,” 莫里克答复到。
沃夫加摇了摇头, 没有心情也没有时间坐下来思考这个显然是正确的观点。他看见有东西在村子上面移动，沃夫加知道那些怪物来了，作为人类，野蛮人会毫不忧郁砍下那些怪物的头。一队充满激情的兽人饶过了山坡,迅速穿过了村民们弓箭的覆盖区域。
“走！” 莫里克说到,并开始向上爬。
沃夫加,作为一个老练的战士, 把他拉了下来指着斜坡那里，一块大石头砸向了防御, 把建筑的一边彻底砸碎了。
“上面有个巨人,” 沃夫加小声说道,开始绕着山行动。“也许不止一个。”
“那我们去哪,” 莫里克无可奈何表示了顺从，虽然他显然在怀疑这样做是否明智。
又有一块石头被扔了下来, 然后是第三块。当沃夫加和莫里克从岩石群中绕到巨人身后的两块大石头间时，大家伙正准备砸出第四块石头。
沃夫加的手斧击中了巨人的手臂，使它手上的石头砸在了自己的头上。巨人咆哮着转过身来面对莫里克，后者耸了耸肩，拔出了腰间的细剑。咆哮着，巨人向前跨了一大步，直接面对莫里克，盗贼挑衅着然后转过身向岩石中逃去。巨人迅速的追了上去, 但是当它穿过沃夫加岩石下的空间时，沃夫加跳到了巨人的肩上，用手中的普通战锤猛击大家伙脑袋的一边,把它打的失去了平衡。当巨人重新找回平衡后，发现沃夫加已经不见了。 在它的身后，野蛮人冲到巨人的侧面，打碎了巨人的膝盖骨，然后再次躲进了岩石中。
巨人开始快速的逃跑,同时检查着它被打伤的头, 然后它的膝盖,还有被斧头重伤的前臂。已经开始讨厌这种战斗的巨人突然改变了方向, 改为向山上跑, 返回世界之脊的荒野中。
莫里克从岩石群中走了出来向沃夫加伸出了手。“工作的很好”,他祝贺到。
沃夫加没有理会盗贼的手。“仅仅刚开始”,他纠正到,奋力跑下山冲向村庄的东部的战场。
“你确实热爱战斗”, " 莫里克在他的朋友之后平静的发表了他的观点。叹了口气，盗贼跟了上去。山下面，双方在防御附近的战斗还没有真正开始, 兽人们既没有突破防御也没有遭到实质性打击。局面在沃夫加咆哮着从山上冲到战场上后被打破。野蛮人跳到了四个兽人之间，伸出手臂，武器挥了一周，将这四个怪物全部打到在地。一阵狂暴的锤击，前刺，接着拳打脚踢。更多的兽人加入过来但是最后,在一片血液和骨头被敲碎的声音中, 沃夫加是能看到的生物中唯一一个活着的。
受到他的惊人的攻击和刚刚杀死了一个挡路的兽人出现在战场上的莫里克的鼓舞，村民们也从防御后面冲了出来加入战斗。溃败的怪物中的那些还能跑的动的，杂乱的逃跑了。
当莫里克找到沃夫加的时候，野蛮人被村民们围着,轻着拍他的肩膀向他表示祝贺，并承诺他在这里永远是受欢迎的，当然，这个冬天他们可以住在这里了。
“你瞧，” 沃夫加高兴的笑着对莫里克说。“这比山路上的工作容易的多。”
盗贼把剑插入鞘中的同时怀疑的看着他的朋友。战斗确实很容易,甚至比沃夫加预测的更容易，而他的预测往往过于乐观。 莫里克也很快被乐观的村民包围了, 包括几个年轻而又吸引人的女人。那么在炉火前度过一个安逸的冬季并不是什么坏事。也许，他会推迟回路斯坎的计划。
*****
马萝达结婚后的最初三个月奇妙而愉快的。不是充满喜悦, 但至少还不错, 几年来，他第一次被看她的母亲开始变得强壮、健康。 甚至城堡里的生活也没她想的那么坏。当然，除了普里西拉, 从没想她表现过片刻的友谊，而且经常对她怒目而视, 但是她并没有什么对马萝达不利的行为。她怎么对付一个显然已经迷住了自己兄弟的弟媳呢？
她也开始爱上了她的丈夫。再加上她母亲健康的恢复，这确实是一个奇妙，愉快，舒服而有充满希望的秋季。
但是当奥克尼的冬天逐渐来临后, 阴云再一次布满了城堡。
贾克的孩子开始时不时的乱动提醒着马萝达她糟糕的谎言随时可能被拆穿。 她发现她自己最近总是在想贾克·斯库里，想她和他在一起时的很多那些蠢事，想他生命的最后时刻，当他喊着她的名字为她献出他的全部生命时。 在那时, 有的马萝达确信他对弗林戈领主的嫉妒要超过对自己的爱。现在，在贾克的孩子不断在自己肚子里乱踢的同时，马萝达的疑虑也在不断的增长，她开始不那么确信了。也许贾克一直到最后还爱她。也许经过很长时间才能发现他们那夜的激情已经不仅是在她的身体上，同时也在她的心理上让这个现实的农民永远存在。
像她一样，冬季的阴沉也影响了她的新丈夫的情绪。随着马萝达肚子的增大，他们的调情也逐渐减少。在一个风雪交加的早晨。他吻她的时候，他突然停了下来，问了她一个她怎么也想不到的问题。
她和野蛮人那次怎么样?
可以想象，这比直接向她的头踢一脚的伤害还要大, 但是马萝达并没有对他的丈夫生气,她可以理解，正是他的怀疑和恐惧使他产生了疏远她的情绪，何况她也真的有过其他男人。
等孩子出生并被带走后, 她和弗林戈的关系就会正常下来。在那以后，当他的那些压力不见的时候，他们会深深地爱上彼此。现在，她只能希望他们的关系在孩子出生并被带走前的数个月内不至于彻底分裂。
当然，在弗林戈和马萝达之间的关系变得紧张的同时,普里西拉的怒视也时常马萝达的难受。正是因为弗林戈领主对她的着迷才使她有和普里西拉之间暗中对抗的力量，但是随着她肚子里另外的一个男人的孩子的长大, 她发现她的这种力量严重减弱了。
虽然仔细考虑过普里西拉知道她被强奸后的最初反应，但她并没有理解。普里西拉甚至提到过把孩子当成她自己的来养, 而不是像通常的做法，把孩子带走，远离城堡。
“这不寻常啊，我是指仅仅这么短的时间你的肚子就变得这么大，”普里西拉就在弗林戈问她关于沃夫加的问题的同一天像她发难到。这使马萝达想到这个泼辣的女人显然地已经感觉到了这对夫妇之间渐增的紧张。普里西拉带着不寻常的毒辣和恨意的声音告诉马萝达随着时间的经过，她的嫂嫂越来越接近真相。会有麻烦产生,的确,当马萝达的肚子在仅仅只经过七个月后就变得这么大时，普里西拉肯定会产生疑问。
马萝达用她对野蛮人孩子的体积可能带来分娩时疼痛的恐惧转移了话题。这使普里西拉短时间内安静了下来，但是马萝达知道这种安静不会持续很久，她还会发难的。
的确，随着冬季的逐渐经过和马萝达肚子的增大，人们对于她孩子分娩日期的猜测开始在奥克尼四处传播。还有对贾克·斯库里悲惨死亡的议论，马萝达也不傻，虽然没有人直接问过她这个问题，但她看见了人们对她的指指点点和她母亲的脸上紧张的表情。
预想中的普里西拉的非难终于来了。
“你将会在三月分娩。”当她和马萝达以及管家泰米格斯特一起吃饭时，普拉西里尖锐的说。春分很快就到了，但是寒冷的天气却没有很快结束，一场暴风雪使城堡附近积了很厚的雪。
马萝达怀疑地看着普拉西里。
“在三月中旬,”普里西拉继续说到。“或者是在月下旬, 也许再晚一点，在暴风雨之月的上旬。”
“你感觉怀孕的问题吗?”管家泰米格斯特也加入了对话。
再一次，马萝达感觉出这个男人是她的盟友。他也知道她说了谎, 或至少他和普里西拉一样对她的谎言产生了怀疑, 然而他没有向马萝达显示出敌意。她开始把泰米格斯特视为父亲一样，但是当她想到多尼·甘得蕾在她和贾卡的那一夜后的早晨对她谎言的怀疑时，这种关系似乎还要更近一些。
“我感觉会有问题的” 普拉西里回答到,同时暗示着马萝达以前所提到的生理上的生育问题不是什么问题。普拉西里怒视着马萝达, 甩下了她的餐巾匆忙的起身向楼上走去。
“她是什么意思？”马萝达问泰米格斯特，眼神里流露出害怕。他回答之前，她便知道了答案---楼上传来了大吵大闹的声音。虽然听不清楚,但显然刚离去的普拉西里和她的兄弟说了什么。
“怎么办？”马萝达又问到，泰米格斯特示意她保持安静。
“继续吃饭，我的女士。“他平静地说。”你一定要保持健康,为了迎接即将到来的分娩。“马萝达在这些话中找到了答案。“我敢肯定，只要你保持机智，这些都会过去的。”老管家同时安慰的向她眨了眨眼。“当这些全部过去之后，你将会找你想要的生活。”
马萝达特别想依偎在这个老人的肩膀上, 或者离开城堡，回到弗林戈送给她家的温暖宽敞的房子里，依偎在她父亲的肩膀上。她深吸了一口气使自己保持，像泰米格斯特说的，继续吃饭。
*****
雪下的早了些，并且很快就积了很深。莫里克也许会偏爱路斯坎，但是他也理解沃夫加选择在这里度过冬天的做法。这里有许多工作要做, 特别地在暴雪之后，地上和防御上的积雪必须被清除。但是莫里克装做在他们来时的战斗中受了伤，避开了大部分工作。
即使是这样沃夫加仍然不停的工作，好让他的身体不断的被占用着，而没有时间去思考或者做梦。厄图仍然跟着他，就像在任何一个他去过或者将去的地方一样跟着他。但是现在，野蛮人不在被这些记忆所禁锢，他能够直面它们,重新回忆那些事,虽然很可怕, 但他能够强迫自己承认这些确实发生过，所有的这些，包括那些他自己的软弱与恐惧。 许多次，沃夫加独自坐在自己房间黑暗的角落里发着抖,一身冷汗与泪水混合在一起，他可以不再抑制自己的感情。 许多次，他想要跑去向莫里克要酒，但是他最终都没有。
他咆哮着努力抓住自己战胜并超越过去的决心。沃夫加不知道他的这些勇气与决心来自何处，但他感觉，这些是隐藏在他内心深处的，当他看到马萝达释放他时显示出来的勇气后被召唤出来的内在品格。她失去的比他要多,想起这些，他重新对这个世界充满信心。他现在知道他和厄图的战斗仍将继续直到他完全获胜,在这之前，他在很长时间内还会被回忆禁锢,但不是永远。
他们在那一年结束前又和一个兽人的小队进行过一场小规模冲突。村民们预见到了攻击的来临并提前准备了战场，向战场上撒了一层融雪，这样，当兽人攻过来后发现他们只能在冰上打滑，成为弓箭手的活靶子。战斗很快结束，并没有打扰到沃夫加和莫里克的在这里的生活。
而一群在巡逻中迷路后到这里的路斯坎的士兵却使他们感到了不安，打破了他们的平静。沃夫加敢肯定，至少有好几个士兵认出了他们这对囚犯嘉年华上的犯人,但是要不是士兵们什么都没说，要不是村民没根本不在意。在士兵们离开后，他们并没有发现什么异常。
说到底，这是沃夫加和莫里克度过的最平静的冬季,一个及时的假期。虽然雪还很厚，但春天即将来临，这对组合已经开始了未来的打算
“不再是强盗。”沃夫加在当月中旬的一个安静夜晚提醒莫里克。
“好吧，”盗贼同意到。“我也不怀念那段生活。”
“那么现在莫里克要成为什么人？”
“恐怕我要回路斯坎,” 盗贼继续说。“我的家，而且永远是我的家。”
“你的伪装足以保证你的安全?”沃夫加关心的问到。
莫里克微笑着：“人们只会有短时间的记忆,我的朋友,”他解释到,同时他也暗暗希望卓尔也只有短时间的记忆——回路斯坎意味着放弃观察沃夫加的任务。“因为我们是囚犯嘉年华会历史上几百个犯人中唯一没有流血就离开的。我的伪装会保护我避开当局的处罚, 而我的真实身份将会使我在街道上得到更多的尊敬。”
沃夫加点了点头,不再像开始时那样怀疑莫里克。在城市之外，盗贼不像在街道上那么另人印象深刻, 这里几乎没有地方让他施展他的诡计。
“那么沃夫加想成为什么人？”莫里克问到,同时对自己声音中流露出来的担心感到吃惊。“冰风谷？”莫里克猜测。“和老朋友们一起?”
野蛮人摇了摇头,因为他也不知道他面前的道路通向哪里。他几乎不用想就会排除这种可能性，但他还是认真的考虑了一遍。他真的准备好了回到曾经的队伍中去了吗？回到作为他自己，和崔斯特，布鲁诺，凯蒂布莉儿，关海法，还有瑞吉斯一起的“厅堂战友”中去了吗？他已经逃脱了恶魔和他带给他的禁锢了吗?他已经走完独自摆脱厄图的路了吗?
“不，”他肯定的告诉自己,并把这个答案说了出来,他还无法正常的迎接老朋友们的目光。
莫里克点了点头，虽然对他自己的理由有一点吃惊。他没有想到沃夫加会和他一起回路斯坎。伪装这个大个子男人会有些困难，但更多的，他担心他的朋友会被黑暗精灵们抓住。
*****
“她正在像玩弄一个傻瓜一样玩弄你，而整个奥克尼都知道，弗林！”普拉西里对她的兄弟喊到。
“别和我说这些!”他咬着牙说到，从她身边挤过去，并试图找点别的分散注意力“你知道我讨厌这些流言。”
普拉西里没有停止。“你能否认她的怀孕的时间吗吗?”她继续施压。“她会在两个星期内分娩。”
“野蛮人个子很大,”弗林戈怒吼到。“孩子也会很大,这使你对分娩的时间做出了错误的判断。”
“孩子会和一般的孩子一样的,”普拉西里反驳，“当它在本月出生后你将知道。”她的兄弟开始走开。“我打赌，那会是一个漂亮的小家伙，有着和他父亲一样的弯曲的褐色头发。”这使弗林戈停了下来看着她“他死去的父亲”，女人说完了她的话, 一点也没拉下。
弗林戈领主突然走了过去，打了他姐姐一嘴巴。他对自己的行为感到镇静，他后退了两步,发愣的看着他的手。
“我的可怜的兄弟，”普拉西里回答到,用手抚摩着自己肿起来的脸。“你会知道的。”扔下这句话，她向自己的房间走去。
弗林戈领主愣在了那里，很长时间内,他都在试图使自己的呼吸平稳下来。
就在他们这场讨论的三天后，天气变暖开始融雪,莫里克和沃夫加离开了村庄。村民不愿意看到他们离开, 因为融雪往往是怪物攻击的前兆。但他们两个，尤其是迫不及待离开的莫里克, 根本没有听他们的恳求。
“也许我还会回来的。”沃夫加说到, 而且他也确实是这么想的，一旦他和莫里克再次不得不在路斯坎以外的地方生活。毕竟，野蛮人还能去哪呢?
山路泥泞而曲折，他们很多时候只能小心的扦着马步行。 一直到直接通向路斯坎北面的平原地区，路才开始好走些。
“你离开洞时还是把马车和补给留在了那里。”莫里克说到。
沃夫加觉得盗贼可能对于他被抓后差点丢下他有些感到内疚。“我打赌山洞在在冬天后不会还那么空。”野蛮人说到。“不会只是我们离开时的那么多，我猜。”
“然后也拿走那些多出来的。”莫里克说着眨了眨眼。“也许是巨人,不会有沃夫加害怕的生物的。”这句话使他们脸上都浮现出了微笑，但并没有持续多久。
“你应该留在村子里。”莫里克评论到。“而不是和我回路斯坎 , 你在那里和任何地方一样，都是个能静下来思考未来行程的好地方。”
他们走到了一个岔路口。 一条通往南方的路斯坎,另一条通往西方。莫里克注意到沃夫加时，他发现男人正盯着第二条路, 通往那块他被关押过的，也就是莫里克曾经准备救他出来的(莫里克是这样说的)那块小领地。
“你想要报仇？”盗贼问到。
沃夫加好奇地看着他“几乎想要。” 他回答。“我只是想知道那位女士现在怎么样了。”
“诬告你强奸的那个?”莫里克问。
沃夫加耸了耸肩,好像不想要承认一样。“她怀孕了,”他解释到,“而且很害怕。”
“你相信她给他丈夫戴了绿帽子?”莫里克问。
沃夫加抿紧了嘴唇点了点头。
“所以她想要用你的命保住自己的名誉, ”莫里克嘲笑到。“典型的贵妇人的做法。”
沃夫加没有回答，但他不这么想。野蛮人知道她从来没有希望他被抓住,现在他很想知道她是怎么解决她的个人问题的。如果她没能保住名誉，这是可以理解的。
“她现在一定已经生了。”他嘟囔到。“我想知道当他们孩子发现它显然不是我的后会怎么办。”
莫里克开始明白沃夫加想要干什么。“我不会高兴知道你的命运，如果你回去的话。”莫里克冷淡地说。“你根本不可能在不被认出来的前提下进入那个城镇。”
沃夫加点了点头，并没有否认，但是他仍然保持着微笑，看着莫里克“但是你能。”他说到。
莫里克花了很长时间来理解他朋友的话。“如果我不去路斯坎的话，”他回答到。
“道路由自己决定，况且我们有时间。”沃夫加说。
“你是说我们要在冬天还没有完全结束的现在翻到山的另一边？任何一场暴风雪都能把我们埋起来。”莫里克继续反对到，但是沃夫加可以从盗贼的语气中听出他开始考虑他的提议
“在这么靠南的地方根本不存在‘暴风雪’。”
莫里克嘴唇动了动。
“最后再帮我一次？”沃夫加问。
“你为什么这么关心她？”莫里克争论到。“她几乎杀了你,而且是以几乎会让囚犯嘉年华会的群众欢呼的残酷的方式。”
沃夫加耸了耸肩,不知道自己该说什么, 但是他不打算放弃。“只为我们最后的友谊。”他尖锐的反击到,“我们以后可能再也不会见面了。”
莫里克再次动了动嘴角，“对于我来说，在你身边的最后战斗总会是下一场。”他幽默的说到。“你必须承认，离开我你根本算不上一个战士!”沃夫加几乎必须要嘲笑莫里克的话, 但他只是以一个无奈的表情接受了它。
“那么，走吧。”莫里克抱怨到, 承认沃夫加早就知道他最终会同意的。“我会在扮演布兰德博格公爵。我只希望弗林戈会把布兰德博格的出现和你的逃跑当作巧合。”
“如果我被抓住，我会告诉弗林戈公爵你并不是我的同伙, ”沃夫加说到，一个狡颉的微笑出现在他厚实的胡须后面。
“你不会知道怎么安慰我的。”当莫里克跟在他的朋友后面走向西方时小声说到，奥克尼会有麻烦的。
Chapter 24
WINTER'S PAUSE
"This is our chance," Wulfgar explained to Morik. The pair were crouched behind a shielding wall of stone on a mountainside above one of the many small villages on the southern side of the Spine of the World.
Morik looked at his friend and shook his head, giving a less-than-enthusiastic sigh. Not only had Wulfgar refrained from the bottle in the three weeks since their return from Auckney, but had forbidden either of them to engage in any more highwayman activities. The season was getting late, turning toward winter, which meant a nearly constant stream of caravans as the last merchants returned from Icewind Dale. The seasonal occupants of the northern stretches left then as well, the men and women who went to Ten-Towns to fish for the summers then rolled their wagons back to Luskan when the season ended.
Wulfgar had made it clear to Morik that their thieving days were over. So here they were, overlooking a small, incredibly boring village they'd learned was expecting some sort of orc or goblin attack.
"They will not attack from below," Wulfgar remarked, pointing to a wide field east of the village on the same height as the higher buildings. "From there," Wulfgar explained.
"That's where they've constructed their wall and best defenses," Morik replied, as if that should settle it all. They believed that the coming band of monsters numbered less than a score, and while there weren't more than half that number in the town, Morik didn't see any real problems here.
"More may come down from above," Wulfgar reasoned. "The villagers might be sorely pressed if attacked from two sides."
"You're looking for an excuse," Morik accused. Wulfgar stared at him curiously. "An excuse to get into the fight," the rogue clarified, which brought a smile to Wulfgar's face. "Unless it's against merchants," Morik glumly added.
Wulfgar held his calm and contented expression. "I wish to battle deserving opponents," he said.
"I know many peasants who would argue that merchants are more deserving than goblinkind," Morik replied.
Wulfgar shook his head, in no mood and with no time to sit and ponder the philosophical points. They saw the movement beyond the village, the approach of monsters Wulfgar knew, of creatures the barbarian could cut down without remorse or regard. A score of orcs charged wildly across the field, rushing past the ineffective arrow volleys from the villagers.
"Go and be done with it," Morik said, starting to rise.
Wulfgar, a student of such attacks, held him down and turned his gaze up the slopes to where a huge boulder soared down, smashing the side of one building.
"There's a giant above," Wulfgar whispered, already starting his circle up the mountain. "Perhaps more."
"So that is where we shall go," Morik grumbled with resignation, though he obviously doubted the wisdom of such a course.
Another rock soared down, then a third.The giant was lifting a fourth when Wulfgar and Morik turned a bend in the trail and slipped between a pair of boulders, spotting the behemoth from behind.
Wulfgar's hand axe bit into the giant's arm, and it dropped the boulder onto its own head. The giant bellowed and spun about to where Morik stood shrugging, slender sword in hand. Bellowing, the giant came at him in one long stride. Morik yelped and turned to flee back through the boulders. The giant came on in swift pursuit, but as it reached the narrow pass Wulfgar leaped atop one of the boulders and brought his ordinary hammer in hard against the side of the behemoth's head, sending it staggering. By the time the dazed giant managed to look to the boulder Wulfgar was already gone. Back on the ground, the barbarian rushed at the giant's side to smash its kneecap hard, then dashed back into the boulders.
The giant ran in pursuit, clutching its bruised head, then its aching knee, then looking at the axe deep into its forearm. It changed direction suddenly, having had enough of this fight, and ran up the mountainside instead, back into the wilds of the Spine of the World.
Morik stepped from the boulders and offered his hand to Wulfgar. "A job well done," he congratulated him.
Wulfgar ignored the hand. "A job just begun," he corrected, sprinting down the mountainside toward the village and the battle being waged at the eastern barricade.
"You do love the fighting," Morik commented dryly after his friend. Sighing, he loped behind.
Below, the battle at the barricade was practically at a standoff, with no orcs yet breaching the shielding wall, but few had taken any solid hits, either. That changed abruptly when Wulfgar came down from on high, running full out across the field, howling at the top of his lungs. Leaping, soaring, arms outstretched, he crashed into four of the creatures, bearing them all to the ground. A frenzy of clubbing and stabbing, punching and kicking ensued. More orcs moved to join the fight but in the end, bloody, battered, but smiling widely, Wulfgar was the only one to emerge alive.
Rallied by his amazing assault and by the appearance of Morik, who had struck down another orc on his way down the slope, the villagers poured into the remaining raiding party. The routed creatures, the dozen who still could run, fled back the way they had come.
By the time Morik got near Wulfgar, the barbarian was surrounded by villagers, patting him, cheering him, promising eternal friendship, offering him a place to live for the coming winter.
"You see," Wulfgar said to Morik with a happy smile. "Easier than any work at the pass."
Wiping off his blade, the rogue eyed his friend skeptically. The fight had been easy, even more so than an optimistic Wulfgar had predicted. Morik, too, was quickly surrounded by appreciative villagers, including a couple of young and attractive women. A quiet winter of relaxation in front of a blazing hearth might not be so bad a thing. Perhaps he would hold off on his plans to return to Luskan after all.
*****
Meralda's first three months of married life had been wonderful. Not blissful, but wonderful, as she watched her mother grow strong and healthy for the first time in years. Even life at the castle was not as bad as she had feared. Priscilla was there, of course, never more than casually friendly and often glowering, but she'd made no move against Meralda. How could she with her brother so obviously enamored of his wife?
She, too, had grown to love her husband. That combined with the sight of her healthy mother had made it a lovely autumn for the young woman, a time of things new, a time of comfort, a time of hope.
But as winter deepened about Auckney, ghosts of the past began to creep into the castle.
Jaka's child growing large and kicking reminded Meralda in no uncertain terms of her terrible lie. She found herself thinking more and more about Jaka Sculi, of her own moments of foolishness regarding him, and there had been many. She pondered the last moments of Jaka's life when he had cried out her name, had risked his entire existence for her. At the time, Meralda had convinced herself that it was out of jealousy for Lord Feringal and not love. Now, with Jaka's child kicking in her womb and the inevitable haze brought by the passage of time, she wasn't so sure. Perhaps Jaka had loved her in the end. Perhaps the tingling they'd felt on their night of passion had also planted the seeds of deeper emotions that had only needed time to find their way through the harsh reality of a peasant's existence.
More likely her mood was just the result of winter's gloom playing on her thoughts, and on her new husband's as well. It didn't help that their lovemaking decreased dramatically as Meralda's belly increased in size. He came to her one morning when the snow was deep about the castle and the wind howled through the cracks in the stone. Even as he began kissing her, he stopped and stared hard at her, then he'd asked her an unthinkable question.
What had it been like with the barbarian?
If he had kicked her in the head, it would not have hurt so much, yet Meralda was not angry at her husband, could surely understand his doubts and fears given her distant mood and the tangible evidence that she had been with another man.
The woman told herself repeatedly that once the child was born and taken away, she and Feringal would settle into a normal existence. In that time when the obvious pressures were gone, they would come to love each other deeply. She could only hope that it all would not disintegrate in the months she had left carrying the child.
Of course, as the tension grew between Feringal and Meralda, so too did the scowls Priscilla shot Meralda's way. Power wrought of having Lord Feringal wrapped around her little finger had given Meralda the upper hand in the constant silent war Priscilla waged against her. Growing thick with another man's child, she found that power waning.
She didn't understand it, though, considering Priscilla's initial response to learning that she had been raped. Priscilla had even mentioned taking the child as her own, to raise away from the castle, as was often done in such situations.
"You are uncommonly large for so early in the pregnancy," Priscilla remarked to her on the same winter day that Feringal had asked her about Wulfgar. It occurred to Meralda that the shrewish woman had obviously sensed the palpable tension between the couple. Priscilla's voice was uncommonly thick with suspicion and venom, which told Meralda that her sister-in-law was keeping close track of the passage of time. There would be trouble, indeed, when Meralda delivered a healthy, full-term baby only seven months after the incident on the road. Yes, Priscilla would have questions.
Meralda deflected the conversation by sharing her fears about the barbarian's size, that perhaps the child would tear her apart. That had silenced Priscilla briefly, but Meralda knew the truce wouldn't last and the questions would return.
Indeed, as winter waned and Meralda's belly swelled, the whispers began throughout Auckney. Whispers about the child's due date. Whispers about the incident on the road. Whispers about the tragic death of Jaka Sculi. No fool, Meralda saw people counting on their fingers, saw the tension in her mother's face, though the woman wouldn't openly ask for the truth.
When the inevitable happened, predictably, Priscilla proved the source of it.
"You will birth the child in the month of Ches," the woman said rather sharply as she and Meralda dined with Steward Temigast one cold afternoon. The equinox was fast approaching, but winter hadn't released its grip on the land yet, a howling blizzard whipping the snow deep around the castle walls. Meralda looked at her skeptically.
"Mid-Ches," Priscilla remarked. "Or perhaps late in the month, or even early in the Month of the Storms."
"Do you sense a problem with the pregnancy?" Steward Temigast intervened.
Once again Meralda recognized that the man was her ally. He too knew, or at least he suspected as much as Priscilla, yet he'd shown no hostility toward Meralda. She'd begun to regard Temigast as a father figure, but the comparison seemed even more appropriate when she thought back to the morning after her night with Jaka, when Dohni Ganderlay had suspected the truth but had forgiven it in light of the larger sacrifice, the larger good.
"I sense a problem, all right," Priscilla replied brittly, somehow managing to convey through her tone that she meant no problem with the physical aspects of the pregnancy. Priscilla looked at Meralda and huffed, then threw down her napkin and rushed away, heading right up the stairs.
"What's she about?" Meralda asked Temigast, her eyes fearful. Before he could respond, she had her answer, when shouts rang out from upstairs. Neither of them could make out any distinct words, but it was obvious Priscilla had gone to speak with her brother.
"What should I do-" Meralda started to say, but Temigast hushed her.
"Eat, my lady," he said calmly. "You must remain strong, for you've trials ahead." Meralda understood the double meaning in those words. "I'm certain you'll come through them as long as you keep your wits about you," the old steward added with a comforting wink. "When it is all past, you will find the life you desire."
Meralda wanted to run over and bury her head on the man's shoulder, or to run out of the castle altogether, down the road to the warm and comfortable house Lord Feringal had given to her family and bury her face on her father's shoulder. Instead, she took a deep breath to steady herself, then did as Temigast suggested and ate her meal.
*****
The snow came early and deep that year. Morik would have preferred Luskan, but he'd come to see Wulfgar's point in bringing them to this village refuge. There was plenty of work to do, particularly after snowfalls when the grounds had to be cleared and defensible berms built, but Morik managed to avoid most of it by feigning an injury from the battle that had brought them here.
Wulfgar, though, went at the work with relish, using it to keep his body so occupied he hadn't time to think or dream. Still, Errtu found him in that village as he had in every place Wulfgar went, every place he would ever go. Now, instead of hiding in a bottle from the demon, the barbarian met those memories head-on, replayed the events, however horrible, and forced himself to admit that it had happened, all of it, and that he had faced moments of weakness and failure. Many times Wulfgar sat alone in the dark corner of the room he had been given, trembling, wet with cold sweat, and with tears he could hold back no longer. Many times he wanted to run to Morik's inexhaustible supply of potent liquor, but he did not.
He growled and he cried out, and yet he held fast his resolve to accept the past for what it was and to somehow move beyond it. Wulfgar didn't know where he had found the strength and determination, but he suspected it had laid dormant within him, summoned when he'd witnessed the courage Meralda had displayed to free him. She'd had so much more to lose than he, and yet she had rejuvenated his faith in the world. He knew now that his fight with Errtu would continue until he had honestly won, that he could hide in a bottle, but not forever.
They fought another battle around the turn of the year, a minor skirmish with another band of orcs. The villagers had seen the attack coming and had prepared the battlefield, pouring melted snow over the field of approach. When the orcs arrived they came skidding in on sheets of ice that left them floundering in the open while archers picked them off.
The unexpected appearance of a group of Luskan soldiers who had lost their way on patrol did more to distress Wulfgar and Morik and shatter their idyllic existence than that battle. Wulfgar was certain at least one of the soldiers recognized the pair from Prisoner's Carnival, but either the soldiers said nothing to the villagers or the villagers simply didn't care. The pair heard no tremors of unrest after the soldiers departed.
In the end, it was the quietest winter Wulfgar and Morik had ever known, a needed respite. The season turned to spring, though the snow remained thick, and the pair began to lay their future plans.
"No more highwaymen," Wulfgar reminded Morik one quiet night halfway through the month of Ches.
"No," the rogue agreed. "I don't miss the life."
"What, then, for Morik?"
"Back to Luskan, I'm afraid," the rogue said. "My home. Ever my home."
"And your disguise will keep you safe?" Wulfgar asked with genuine concern.
Morik smiled. "The folk have short memories, my friend," he explained, silently adding that he hoped that drow had short memories, as well, for returning to Luskan meant abandoning his mission to watch over Wulfgar. "Since we were . . . exported they have no doubt sated their bloodthirst on a hundred unfortunates at Prisoner's Carnival. My disguise will protect me from the authorities, and my true identity will again grant me the respect needed on the streets."
Wulfgar nodded, not doubting Morik in the least. Out here in the wilds the rogue was not nearly as impressive as on the streets of Luskan, where few could match his wiles.
"And what for Wulfgar?" Morik asked, surprised by the honest concern on his own voice. "Icewind Dale?" Morik asked. "Friends of old?"
The barbarian shook his head, for he simply didn't know the road ahead of him. He would have dismissed that possibility with hardly a thought, but he considered it now. Was he ready to return to the side of the companions of the hall, as he, Drizzt, Bruenor, Catti-brie, Guenhwyvar and Regis had once been called? Had he escaped the demon and the demon bottle? Had he come to terms with Errtu and the truth of his imprisonment?
"No," he answered, and left it at that, wondering if he would ever again meet the gazes of his former friends.
Morik nodded, though a bit dismayed for his own reasons. He didn't want Wulfgar to return to Luskan with him. Disguising the huge man would be difficult enough, but it was more than that. Morik didn't want Wulfgar to be caught by the dark elves.
*****
"She is playing you for a fool, and all of Auckney knows it, Feri!" Priscilla screamed at her brother "Don't call me that!" he snapped, pushing past her, looking for distraction from the subject. "You know I hate it."
Priscilla would not let it go. "Can you deny the stage of her pregnancy?" she pressed. "She will give birth within two weeks."
"The barbarian was a large man," Feringal growled. "The child will be large, and that is what is deceiving you."
"The child will be average," Priscilla retorted, "as you shall learn within the month." Her brother started to walk away. "I'll wager he'll be a pretty thing with the curly brown hair of his father." That brought Feringal spinning about, glaring at her. "His dead father," the woman finished, not backing down an inch.
Lord Feringal crossed the few feet separating them in one stride and slapped his sister hard across the face. Horrified by his own actions, he fell back, holding his face in his hands.
"My poor cuckolded brother," Priscilla replied to that slap, glaring at him above the hand she had brought to her bruise. "You will learn." With that, she stalked from the room.
Lord Feringal stood there, motionless for a long, long time, trying hard to steady his breathing.
*****
Three days after their discussion, the weather had warmed enough to bring about a thaw, allowing Morik and Wulfgar to depart the village. The villagers were unhappy to see them go, especially because the thaw signaled the time of renewed monster attacks. The pair, particularly impatient Morik, would hear none of their pleas.
"Perhaps I will return to you," Wulfgar remarked, and he was thinking that he might indeed, once he and Morik had gone their own ways outside of Luskan. Where else might the barbarian go, after all?
The road out of the foothills was slow and so muddy and treacherous that the pair often had to walk, leading their horses carefully. Once the mountains gave way to the flatter plain just north of Luskan they found the going relatively easy.
"You still have the wagon and the supplies we left at the cave," Morik remarked.
Wulfgar realized the rogue was beginning to feel a pang of guilt about leaving him. "The cave did not remain empty throughout the winter I'm sure," the barbarian remarked. "Not so many supplies left, I would guess."
"Then take the belongings of the present occupants," Morik replied with a wink. "Giants, perhaps, nothing for Wulfgar to fear." That brought a smile to both their faces, but they didn't hold.
"You should have stayed in the village," Morik reasoned. "You can't go back to Luskan with me, so the village seems as good a place as any while you decide your course."
They'd come to a fork in the road. One path headed south to Luskan, the other to the west. When Morik turned to regard Wulfgar, he found the man staring out that second course, back toward the small fiefdom where he had been imprisoned, where Morik (to hear Morik tell it) had rescued him from a torturous death.
"Plotting revenge?" the rogue asked.
Wulfgar looked at him curiously, then caught on. "Hardly," he replied. "I am wondering the fate of the lady of the castle."
"The one who wrongly accused you of raping her?" Morik asked.
Wulfgar shrugged, as if not wanting to concede that point. "She was with child," he explained, "and very much afraid."
"You believe she cuckolded her husband?" Morik asked.
Wulfgar wrinkled his lips and nodded.
"So she offered your head to protect her reputation," Morik said derisively. "Typical noble lady."
Wulfgar didn't reply, but he wasn't seeing things quite that way. The barbarian understood that she had never intended for him to be caught, but rather, that he should remain a distant and mysterious solution to her personal problems. It was understandable, if not honorable.
"She must have had the babe by now," he mumbled to himself. "I wonder how she faired when they saw it and realized the child couldn't be mine."
Morik recognized Wulfgar's tone, and it worried him. "I'll not have to wonder your fate if you go back to determine hers," Morik dryly remarked. "You couldn't get into that town without being recognized."
Wulfgar nodded, not disagreeing, but he was smiling all the while, a look that was not lost on Morik. "But you could," he said.
Morik spent a long while studying his friend. "If my road was not Luskan," he replied.
"A road of your own making, and with no appointments needing prompt attention," said Wulfgar.
"Winter is not yet gone. We took a chance in coming down from the foothills. Another storm might descend at any time, burying us deep." Morik continued to protest, but Wulfgar could tell by the rogue's tone that he was considering it.
"The storms are not so bad south of the mountains."
Morik scoffed.
"This last favor?" Wulfgar asked.
"Why do you care?" Morik argued. "The woman nearly had you killed, and in a manner horrible enough to have satisfied the crowd at Prisoner's Carnival."
Wulfgar shrugged, not honestly sure of that answer himself, but he wasn't about to back down. "A last act of friendship between us two," he prodded, "that we might properly part in the hopes of seeing each other again."
Morik scoffed again. "One last fight with me at your side is all you're after," he said half humorously. "Admit it, you're nothing as a fighter without me!" Even Wulfgar had to laugh at Morik's irony, but he followed it up with a plaintive expression.
"Oh, lead on," Morik grumbled, conceding as Wulfgar knew he would. "I will play the part of Lord Brandeburg yet again. I only hope that Brandeburg was not connected with your escape and that our common departure times were seen by Feringal as pure coincidence."
"If captured, I will honestly tell Lord Feringal that you played no part in my escape," Wulfgar said, a crooked smile showing under his thick winter beard.
"You have no idea how the promise comforts me," Morik said wryly as he pushed his friend ahead of him toward the west, toward trouble in Auckney.
