The white bean. The Ice Folk. he day that started out disastrously for Kitiara proved better for her rival. Laurana had asked the griffons to take them to Icereach and the griffons did so, though they refused to go near Ice Wall castle, telling her it was inhabited by a white dragon. The griffons made it clear they did not fear the dragon, but said they would have difficulty fighting a dragon while carrying riders.
The griffons told Laurana she and her companions would need help if they were going to remain in this region, stating they would not survive long without shelter, food, and heavier clothing. The land was inhabited by nomadic humans, known as the Ice Folk, who might be able to assist them, if they could convince the people they had no hostile intent.
Once they crossed the sea and were over the glacier, several griffons left the group to scout, keeping an eye out for the dragon and searching for the Ice Folk. The scouts soon returned to say they had found the nomad encampment. The griffons deposited their riders at some distance from the camp, for they feared if the Ice Folk saw the great winged beasts they would turn against the strangers immediately.
The Ice Folk have no love for Feal-Thas, the griffon told Laurana, as they made ready to depart, telling her the wizard and his thanoi had been waging war on the nomads for the past few months. The griffon left her with a final warning: make friends with the Ice Folk. They were fierce warriors who would be valuable allies, deadly foes.
After the griffons departed, the group sought shelter in the ruins of a large sailboat that appeared to have crashed and overturned on the ice. The boat was like nothing any of them had ever seen, for it was made to sail on ice, not water. Large runners carved of wood were attached to the hull. When the sail was hoisted, the boat would apparently skim over the surface of the ice.
The boat’s hull offered some protection from the frigid wind, though not from the bone-chilling, flesh-numbing cold. The group discussed how best to approach the Ice Folk. According to the griffons, most of the nomads spoke Common, for during the summer months, when the fishing was good, they would sell their fish in the markets of Rigitt. Elistan proposed sending Laurana to speak to them, due to her diplomatic skills. Derek objected, saying that they had no way of knowing how the Ice Folk felt about elves or if they had ever even seen an elf.
They were huddled together in the wreckage of the boat, arguing or trying to argue-their mouths were stiff from cold and it was difficult to talk-when the argument was interrupted by a hoarse cry, a roaring and bellowing sound, as of some creature in pain. Ordering the rest to stay in the boat, Derek and his knights left to see what was wrong. Tasslehoff immediately chased after the knights. Sturm chased after Tas, and Flint went with him. Gilthanas said he did not trust Derek, and he followed, accompanied by Elistan, who thought he might be of some use. Laurana had no intention of remaining behind alone, and thus the entire group trailed after Derek, much to his ire.
They came upon an enormous white bear being attacked by two kapak draconians, who were jabbing at the bear with spears. The bear was on her hind legs, roaring and batting at the spears with enormous paws. Red blood marred the bear’s white fur. Laurana wondered why the bear did not simply run off, and then she saw the reason. The bear was trying to protect two white cubs who crouched together behind her.
“So the foul lizards are here, too,” Flint stated dourly.
He fumbled at his axe, trying to draw it from its harness on his back. His gloved hands were clumsy from the cold, and he dropped it. The axe fell to the ice with a clang.
At the sound, the draconians halted their attack and looked over their shoulders. Seeing themselves vastly outnumbered, they turned and started to run.
“They’ve seen us!” said Derek. “Don’t let them get back to report. Aran, your bow!”
Aran removed his bow from his shoulder. Like Flint, the knight’s hands were chilled to the bone, and he could not force his stiffened fingers to grasp the arrow. Derek drew his sword and started to run for the draconians, shouting for Brian to come with him. The knights slipped and slithered over the ice. The draconians, getting far better traction with their clawed feet, soon outdistanced them, disappearing into the white wilderness. Derek came back, cursing beneath his breath.
The white bear had collapsed and lay bleeding on the ice. Her cubs pawed her wounded body, trying to urge her to get up. Heedless of Derek’s shouts that the wounded bear would attack him, Elistan walked over to kneel at the bear’s side. The bear growled weakly at him, bared her teeth, and tried to raise her head, but she was too weak. Murmuring to her comfortingly, Elistan placed his hands on the bear, who seemed soothed by his touch. She gave a great, groaning sigh and relaxed.
“The draconians will be back,” Derek stated impatiently. “The creature is dying. There is nothing we can do. We should leave before they return in greater numbers. I’m going to put a stop to this.”
“Do not disturb Elistan at his prayers, sir,” said Sturm and when it seemed Derek was going to ignore him, Sturm placed a restraining hand on Derek’s arm.
Derek glared at him and Sturm removed his hand, but he remained standing between the knight and Elistan. Derek muttered something and walked off. Aran went with him, while Brian remained to watch.
As Elistan prayed, the gaping wounds and bloody gashes in the bear’s chest and flanks closed over. Brian gasped and said softly to Sturm, “How did he do that?”
“Elistan would say that he did nothing; it is the god who brings about this miracle,” Sturm replied with a smile.
“You believe in… this?” said Brian, gesturing toward Elistan.
“It is difficult not to,” Sturm replied, “when the proof is before your eyes.”
Brian wanted to ask more. He wanted to ask Sturm if he prayed to Paladine, but asking such a personal question would be ill-mannered, and therefore Brian kept silent. He had another reason. If Derek found out Sturm Brightblade believed in these gods and actually prayed to them, it would be yet another black mark against him.
The bear was starting to try to regain her feet. She was still a wild beast with young to protect, and Elistan prudently and hastily backed away, dragging Tasslehoff, who had been making friends with the bear cubs. The group returned to the boat. Glancing back, they saw the bear on all fours starting to lumber off, her cubs crowding near her.
Derek and Aran were talking over the fact that draconians were this far south.
“The draconians must be in the service of Feal-Thas,” Derek was saying. “They will report back to him that three Solamnic knights are now in Icereach.”
“I’m sure that this news will have the Highlord shaking in his fur-lined boots,” said Aran dryly.
“He will guess we are here after the dragon orb,” said Derek, “and he will send his troops to attack us.”
“Why should he immediately jump to the conclusion that we’re after the orb?” Aran demanded. “Just because you are obsessed with this artifact, Derek, doesn’t mean everyone is-”
“Did you two see that?” Brian cried excitedly, joining them. “Look! The bear is walking around. Elistan healed her wounds-”
“You are such an innocent, Brian,” said Derek caustically. “You never fail to fall for some charlatan’s tricks. The bear’s wounds were only superficial. Anyone could see that.”
“No, Derek, you’re wrong,” Brian began, but he was interrupted by Aran, who took hold of each man’s arm and gripped it tightly, warningly.
“Look around. Slowly.”
The knights turned to see a group of warriors clad in skins and furs heading their way. The warriors were armed with spears and some of them held strange-looking axes that glistened in the chill sunshine as though they were made of crystal.
“Get everyone into the boat!” Derek ordered. “We can use that for cover.”
Brian ran back, shouting at the others and yelling at them to run for the boat. He grabbed hold of Tasslehoff and hustled him off. Flint, Gilthanas and Laurana hurried after them. Sturm assisted Elistan, who was having difficulty keeping his footing.
The warriors continued to advance. Aran began blowing on his hands, trying to warm them so he could use his bow. Flint peered out over the hull, fingering his axe and staring curiously at the odd-looking axes of the enemy.
“These must be the Ice Folk the griffons mentioned,” said Laurana, hastening up to Derek. “We should try to talk to them, not fight them.”
“I will go,” Elistan offered.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Derek.
Elistan looked at Tasslehoff, who was blue with the cold and shaking so badly that his pouches rattled. The others were not much better.
“I think the most urgent danger we face now is from freezing to death,” Elistan said. “I do not think I will be in danger. These warriors have not rushed to the attack, as they would have if they thought we were with the armies of the Highlord.”
Derek considered this. “Very well, but I will be the one to talk to them.”
“If you will allow me to go, Sir Derek, it would be more prudent,” said Elistan mildly. “If anything should happen to me, you will be needed here.”
Derek gave an abrupt nod.
“We will cover you,” he said, seeing that Aran had managed to warm his fingers enough to be able to use his bow. He had an arrow nocked and ready.
Laurana stood close to Tasslehoff, pressing the shivering kender against her body and wrapping her coat around him. They watched in tense silence as Elistan raised his arms to show he carried no weapons and walked out from the shelter of the boat. The warriors saw him; several pointed at him. The lead warrior-an enormous man with flaming red hair that seemed the only color in this white world-saw him too. The lead warrior kept going and urged his warriors forward.
“Look at that!” Aran exclaimed suddenly, pointing.
“Elistan!” Brian called a warning. “The white bear is following you!”
Elistan glanced around. The bear was trotting over the ice on all fours, her cubs running along behind her.
“Elistan, come back!” Laurana cried fearfully.
“Too late,” said Derek grimly. “He would never make it. Aran, shoot the bear.”
Aran raised his bow. He started to pull back the string, but his arm jerked and he lost his grip.
“Let go of me!” he cried angrily.
“No one has hold of you,” said Brian.
Aran glanced around. Flint and Sturm were standing on the other side of the boat. Tasslehoff-the most likely suspect-was shivering in Laurana’s grasp. Brian stood next to Derek, and Gilthanas was over beside Flint.
Aran looked foolish. “Sorry.” He shook his head, muttered, “I could have sworn I felt someone.”
He lifted the bow again.
The bear was on Elistan’s heels. The warriors had seen the animal as well, and now their red-bearded leader called a halt.
Elistan must have heard the warning shouts. He must have heard the beast scrabbling over the ice close behind him, but if he did, he did not turn. He kept walking.
“Shoot!” Derek ordered, rounding on Aran furiously.
“I can’t!” Aran gasped. He was sweating, despite the cold. His hand grasped the arrow, his arm shook with his great effort, but he didn’t fire. “Someone has hold of my arm!”
“No, someone doesn’t,” said Tasslehoff between chatters. “Should one of us tell him?”
“Hush,” said Laurana softly.
The bear reared up on her hind legs, towering over Elistan. She lifted up her great paws, held them over him, and gave a great, bellowing roar.
The leader of the warriors gazed long at the bear, then, turning around, he made a motion to his men. One by one, they threw their weapons onto the ice. The red-bearded warrior walked slowly toward Elistan. The bear relaxed down on all fours, though she still kept her gaze fixed upon the warriors.
The red-bearded man had bright blue eyes and a large nose. His face was seamed and weathered, and his voice rumbled like an avalanche. He spoke Common, though with a thick accent. He gestured at the bear.
“The bear has been hurt. She is covered with blood. Did you do this?” he asked Elistan.
“If I did, would she walk with me?” Elistan returned. “The bear was attacked by draconians. These valiant knights”-he pointed at Derek and the others, who had come out from the shelter of the boat-“chased them off. They saved the bear’s life.”
The warrior grunted. He eyed Elistan and he eyed the bear and then he lowered his spear. He bowed to the bear and spoke to her in his own language. Reaching into a leather pouch he had tied to his belt, he threw some bits of fish to the bear, who ate them with relish, then, rounding up her cubs, the bear lumbered away, heading at a rapid pace over the glacier.
“The white bear is the guardian of our tribe,” the warrior stated. “You are fortunate she vouched for you, otherwise we would have killed you. We do not like strangers. As it is, you will be our honored guests.”
“I swear to you, Derek,” Aran was saying as the knights went to meet Elistan, “it was as if someone had hold of me in a grip of iron!”
“Good thing, too,” remarked Brian. “If you’d killed that bear, we would all be dead now.”
“Bah, he’s missing his liquor, that’s all,” said Derek in disgust. “He’s having a drunkard’s dream.”
“I am not!” said Aran, speaking with dangerous calm. “You know me better than that, Derek. Someone had hold of my arm.”
Brian caught Elistan’s eye.
The cleric smiled and winked.
The Ice Folk made them welcome. They offered them smoked fish and water. One took off his own thick fur coat to wrap around the half-frozen kender. The red-bearded warrior was their chief, and he refused to talk or answer any of their questions, saying they were all in danger of frostbite. He hustled the group back to the camp, which consisted of small snug tents made out of animal hides stretched over portable frames. Trickles of smoke rose from the center holes in each tent. The heart of the camp was a longhouse known as the chieftent. Long and narrow, the chieftent was made of furs and hides draped over the large rib cage of some dead sea beast whose carcass had been frozen in the ice. The small tents were used only for sleeping, being too cramped for much else. The Ice Folk spent most of their time either fishing the glacial pools or in the chieftent.
Those gathered in the chieftent sewed hides, braided and repaired nets, hammered fishhooks, fashioned spear and arrow heads, and performed countless other tasks. Men, women, and children worked together, and while they worked someone would tell a story or the group would sing, discuss the fishing prospects, or share the latest gossip. Little children played underfoot; older children had their tasks to perform. In this harsh clime, the tribe’s survival depended on every person doing his part.
The Ice Folk gave their guests clothing designed for living on the glacier, and they snuggled thankfully into the warm fur coats, slipped their feet into thick fur-lined boots and thrust their chilled hands into heavy gloves. Laurana was given a tent of her own. The three knights shared another, and Sturm, Flint and Tas had a tent to themselves. Elistan was on his way to his tent when he found his way blocked by an elderly man with a long white beard, heavily bundled and wrapped in furs and a gray robe. All that could be seen of him was a hawk-like nose poking out of a gray cowl and two glittering eyes.
The old man planted himself squarely in Elistan’s path. Elistan halted obligingly and stood smiling down at the old man whose bent body did not come to his shoulder.
The old man snatched off a fur glove, revealing a gnarled hand with enlarged joints, permanently crooked fingers, and spider webs of blue veins. He lifted his hand toward the medallion Elistan wore around his neck. He did not touch it. His hand, shaking with a mild palsy, paused near it.
Elistan took hold of the medallion, removed it, and pressed it into the old man’s hand.
“You have waited long and patiently for this, haven’t you, my friend?” Elistan said quietly.
“I have,” said the old man and two tears trickled down his cheeks and were lost in his fur collar. “My father waited, and his father before him, and his father before him. Is it true? Have the gods returned?” He looked up anxiously at Elistan.
“They never left us,” Elistan said.
“Ah,” said the old man, after a moment. “I think I understand. You will come to my tent and tell me all that you know.”
The two walked off together, deep in conversation, and disappeared into a tent slightly larger than the others that stood near the chieftent.
Laurana sat for a time alone in her tent. Her grief burned, her sorrow ached, but she no longer felt as though she was lost at the bottom of a dark well, with the light so far above her that she could not reach it. Looking back on the past several days, she could not remember much about them and she was ashamed. She saw clearly that she had been walking a terrible path, one that might have led to self-destruction. She remembered with horror how, for a brief moment, she had wished the stranger in Tarsis would kill her.
The griffons had saved her. This frozen, white, stark world had saved her. Paladine, in his mercy, had saved her. Like the white bear, she had come back to life. She would always love Tanis, always mourn him, always think of him, but she resolved now that she would work for him, work in his name to bring about the victory over darkness he had died fighting to achieve. Laurana said a silent prayer giving thanks to Paladine, then went to join the others in the chieftent.
Peat fires burned at intervals in the tent, the smoke rising through the holes in the ceiling. The Ice Folk sat cross-legged on the floor on furs and hides, going about their work. Their songs and tales were silenced, however, as they listened to the conversation their chief was holding with the strangers.
The chief’s name was Harald Haakan. He spoke to Derek, who had taken it upon himself to announce he was the group’s leader. Flint huffed at this, but was quieted by Sturm.
“You said ‘draconians’ attacked the bear,” Harald said. “I have not heard of such creatures. What are they?”
“Monstrous beings never before seen on Ansalon,” Derek replied. “They walk upright like men, yet they have scales, wings and the claws of dragons.”
Harald nodded, scowling. “Ah, so that’s who you meant. Dragon-men we call them. The foul wizard, Feal-Thas, brought these monsters to Ice Wall castle, along with a white dragon. None of us had ever seen a dragon before now, though we have heard tales that they lived here in ancient times. None of us knew what the great white beast was, until Raggart the Elder told us. Even he did not know these dragon-men, however.”
“Who is Raggart?” Derek asked.
“Raggart Knug, our priest,” Harald replied. “He is the eldest among us. He reads the signs and portents. He tells us when the weather is about to change, when to leave the pools before they are fished out and he shows us where to search for new ones. He warns us when our enemies are coming, so that we may prepare for battle.”
“Is this man a priest of the white bear, then?”
Harald was clearly put out. He glared at Derek. “What do you take us for, Solamnic? Savages? We do not worship bears. The bear is our tribal guardian, honored and respected, but not a god.”
Harald had a temper to match his fiery hair, it seemed. He muttered to himself in his own language, shaking his hairy head at Derek, who said many times he was sorry for the mistake. Eventually the chief calmed down.
“We worship no gods at the moment,” Harald continued. “The true gods left us, and we wait for them to return. That could happen at any time, according to Raggart. The white dragon is a portent, he says.”
“By the true gods, do you mean Paladine, Mishakal and Takhisis?” Sturm asked, interested.
“We know them by other names,” Harald replied, “though I have heard them called such by the fisher folk in Rigitt. If those are the old gods, then, yes, it is for their return we wait.”
Laurana looked about for Elistan, thinking he would be interested in this, but he had not come with them into the tent and she did not know where he had gone.
Derek steered the conversation to the Dragon Highlord, Feal-Thas.
Harald said that Feal-Thas had resided in Icereach for hundreds of years and up until now the wizard had kept mostly to himself. Harald had heard that Feal-Thas was calling himself a Dragon Highlord, but Harald knew nothing about that, nor did he know anything about dragonarmies or the war raging in other parts of Ansalon.
“I care nothing either,” he said, waving it away with his large hand. “We are locked in a never-ending war waged on a daily basis-we fight every day just to stay alive. We fight foes far older than dragons and just as deadly-cold, disease, starvation. We fight the thanoi, who raid our villages for food, and so we care nothing about what is happening in the rest of the world.” Harald fixed Derek with a shrewd stare. “Does the rest of the world care about us?”
Derek was discomfited, not knowing what to say.
Harald nodded and sat back. “I didn’t think so,” he grunted. “As for the wizard, he is stirring up trouble, bringing in these dragon-men to join with the thanoi to attack us. His armies have wiped out smaller tribes. They slaughter women and children. Feal-Thas has told us openly he means to destroy us all, so that no Ice Folk will be left alive in Icereach. Our tribe is large and my warriors are strong, and thus far he has not dared attack us, but I fear that may be about to change. We have caught his wolves prowling about, spying on us, and he has sent small forces against us to test us. I mistook your group for his soldiers.”
“We are the foes of Highlord Feal-Thas,” said Derek. “We are pledged to the wizard’s destruction.”
“We would welcome your swords in a fight, Sir Knight,” Harald returned, “but you won’t meet Feal-Thas in battle. He stays holed up in his ice palace or in the ruins of Ice Wall castle.”
“Then we will go there to fight him,” Derek stated. “Are there other tribes in the area? How large an army could we raise in a short time?”
Harald stared at him a moment, then the big man let out a laugh as hearty as himself. His large guffaws shook the ribs of the tent and caused all the people gathered within to join in.
“A rare jest,” Harald said when he could speak. He clapped his hand on Derek’s shoulder.
“I assure you, I was not jesting,” said Derek stiffly. “It is our intent to go to Ice Wall castle to challenge the wizard to battle. We will go by ourselves if need be. We have been sent to Icereach on an important secret mission-”
“We’re here to find a dragon orb!” Tasslehoff called out excitedly from the opposite end of the tent. “Have you seen one around anywhere?”
This brought Derek’s conversation with the chief to an abrupt end. Rising angrily to his feet, the knight excused himself and stalked out of the chieftent. He motioned for Brian and Aran to accompany him. Derek cast a scathing look at Tas as he passed, which look went in one side of Tas’s head and shot out the other without the kender ever noticing.
Shortly after the knights’ departure, Gilthanas rose to his feet. “I beg you to also excuse me, Chieftain,” the elf said politely, “but I find I cannot keep my eyes open. I am going to my tent to rest.”
“Gil,” Laurana said, trying to detain him, but he pretended not to hear her and walked out.
The three knights were a tight fit inside the small tent. None of them could stand upright, for the ceiling was too low. They crouched on the floor, crowded together, shoulders jostling, practically bumping heads.
“All right, Derek, we’re here,” Aran said cheerfully. He was hunched nearly double, his knees up alongside his ears, but he was in a good mood again, the chief having provided him with a replacement for his brandywine. The drink was clear as water and was distilled from potatoes, which the Ice Folk received in trade for fish. Aran gasped a bit at the first gulp and his eyes grew moist, but he claimed that after one was used to it the liquor went down quite smoothly.
“What was so important you had to insult the chief and march us out of there in such a hurry?” Aran asked, tilting his flask to his lips.
“Brian,” said Derek, “pull aside the tent flap-slowly. Don’t draw attention to yourself. What do you see? Is he out there?”
“Is who out there?” Brian asked.
“The elf,” said Derek.
Gilthanas was loitering nearby, watching some children drop lines through a hole in the ice to catch fish. Brian might have thought the elf was truly interested in the fishing, except he gave himself away by casting sharp glances at the knights’ tent.
“Yes,” said Brian reluctantly, “he’s out there.”
“What of it?” Aran asked, shrugging.
“He’s spying on us.” Derek motioned them closer. “Speak Solamnic and keep your voices down. I do not trust him. He and his sister mean to steal the dragon orb.”
“So do we,” said Aran, with a cavernous yawn.
“They mean to steal it from us,” Derek said, “and if they get their hands on it, they will take it back to the elves.”
“Whereas we’re taking it for humans,” said Aran.
“There’s a difference,” said Derek sternly.
“Oh, of course,” said Aran, grinning. “We’re humans and they’re elves, which makes us good and them bad. I understand completely.”
“I will not even dignify that with a comment,” Derek returned. “We knights should be the ones to determine the best way to make use of the orb.”
Brian sat up as straight as he could, given that his head brushed the tent ceiling. “Lord Gunthar has promised that the knights will take the orb to the Whitestone Council. The elves are part of that council and they will have a say in what happens to the orb.”
“I have been giving that matter some thought,” said Derek. “I am not certain that is the wisest decision, but we can determine all that later. For the moment, we must keep an eye on that elf and his friends. I believe they are all in this together, including Brightblade.”
“So we’re spying on them now? What does the Measure have to say about that?” Aran asked dryly.
“‘Know your enemy,’ “Derek replied.
Laurana knew quite well Gilthanas was leaving to spy on Derek. She also knew she could do nothing to stop him. She squirmed uncomfortably. Only hours before she had thought she could never be warm again. Now she was growing uncomfortably hot and was feeling slightly nauseated from the smell of the smoke of the peat fires, the closeness of so many bodies, and the strong odor of fish. She started to leave, but Sturm detained her with a look, and Laurana sat back down.
Harald had been extremely astonished at Derek’s statement about laying siege to Ice Wall Castle. Frowning, the chief turned his gaze on Sturm. He sat patiently under the chief’s scrutiny, waiting for him to speak.
“Crazy, is he?” Harald said.
“No, Chieftain,” Sturm returned, startled by the comment. “Derek Crownguard is a high-ranking member of our knighthood. He has traveled a great distance on his quest for this dragon orb.”
Harald grunted. “He talks of raising armies, of going to Ice Wall Castle to attack the wizard where he lairs. My warriors do not lay siege to castles. We will fight, if we are attacked. If we are outnumbered, we have our swift boats to carry us across the ice and away from danger.”
Harald eyed Sturm curiously. “You’re a knight, aren’t you?” The chief pointed at Sturm’s long mustaches. “You travel in the company of knights. Why aren’t you with them, making plans or whatever it is they are doing?”
“I am not one of their party, sir,” said Sturm, avoiding the question of whether he was or was not a knight. “My friends and I met up with Derek and his fellow knights in Tarsis. The city was attacked and destroyed by the dragonarmy, and we barely escaped with our lives. We thought it prudent to travel together.”
Harald scratched his beard. “Tarsis destroyed, you say?”
Sturm nodded.
“I had not realized this war you spoke of was so close to Icereach. What about Rigitt?” Harald looked worried. “Our boats sail those waters. We take our fish to their markets.”
“The city had not been attacked when last we saw it,” Sturm replied. “I believe that for the moment Rigitt will be safe. The dragonarmies extended their reach too far when they attacked Tarsis and were forced to withdraw. But if Feal-Thas grows in strength here in Ice Wall, he can provide the protection the armies of darkness need to maintain their supply lines and Rigitt will fall, as will many other cities along the coastline. Then the darkness will cover all of Ansalon.”
Harald was perplexed by this. “Feal-Thas is not alone in his evil ambitions? There are others?”
“Your priest is right,” Laurana told him. “The white dragon was a portent. Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, has returned and brought with her evil dragons. She has raised armies of darkness. She seeks to conquer and enslave the world.”
The other Ice Folk in the tent had stopped their work and were listening silently, their faces expressionless.
“A man sees the darkness coming and he fears only for himself,” Harald remarked. “He never thinks of others.”
“And if he does think of others, too often he says, ‘Let them fend for themselves’,” Laurana added sadly.
She was thinking of the dwarves of Thorbardin, who had decided to fight the dragonarmies but had refused to do so in the company of humans and elves. Gilthanas was here to obtain the dragon orb for the elves, to make certain the humans did not take it. If Derek and the knights were the ones to claim the dragon orb, they would take it for their own.
“I do not see your people coming to help the Ice Folk,” said Harald, bristling. He had mistaken her meaning and was offended.
“We have come-” Sturm began.
Harald snorted. “You would have me believe you came all this distance to fight for the Ice Folk? The kender says you are here seeking some sort of dragon something.”
“A dragon orb. It is a powerful magical artifact. Feal-Thas is rumored to have it in his possession. It is true the knights have come seeking the orb, but if Feal-Thas is killed, that would benefit your people as well.”
“What of the wizard who will come after him?” Harald asked. “Or will you and this dragon orb stay here in Icereach to help us fight the next evil?”
Sturm seemed as if he was about to say something more. He let the words go in a sigh and lowered his gaze, stared down at his hands that were unconsciously smoothing and stroking the white fur sleeve of his coat.
Harald eyed Sturm and frowned. “You have the look of a man who has eaten bad eel.”
“As to fighting Feal-Thas,” said Sturm, “you may have no choice, sir. The draconians got a good look at us. They must have recognized us for Solamnic knights. They will report back to the wizard, who will wonder what Solamnics are doing so far from home. You say his wolf-scouts are watching your camp. They will tell him you have taken us in-”
“-and Feal-Thas will bring war down on us whether we want it or not,” Harald finished. He glared at Sturm and growled, “This is a fine kettle of fish!”
“I am sorry, sir,” Laurana said, guilt-stricken. “I did not realize we might be putting your people in danger! Sturm, isn’t there something we can do? We could leave-” She stood up, as though prepared to depart on the instant.
“I’m sure Derek and the others are making plans for this now,” said Sturm.
“I’m not,” Flint muttered into his beard.
Harald drew in a breath, but his words were interrupted. The old man, the priest Raggart, came hobbling into the chieftent, accompanied by Elistan. Everyone in the tent rose in respect, including Harald. Raggart walked up to Harald. There were tears in the old man’s eyes.
“I have joyful news,” said Raggart, speaking Common out of deference to the strangers. “The gods are with us once more. This man is a cleric of Paladine. At his suggestion, I prayed to the Fisher God, and he answered my prayers.” The old man touched a medallion similar to Elistan’s, but graced with the symbol of the god known as Habakkuk to some, the Fisher God to the Ice Folk.
Harald clasped Raggart’s hand and said something in low tones to the old man in their own language. The chief turned to Sturm.
“It seems you bring death in one hand and life in the other, sir. What are we to do?”
“I’m sure Derek will tell us,” Sturm said dryly.