Chapter 10: Strange encounters
They were only a stone's throw away from the bears. All three of the animals were clearly visible through the trees; they were laying on the riverbank, dozing in the bright sunshine. Two of them appeared to be asleep, while the third was awake. Imoen was filled with nervous excitement. She had never been this close to a bear before, and for the first time she realized how huge the animals were. The awake one was aware of them, following them lazily with its eyes as they moved. What would they do if it decided to attack them?
"Do not look at them," Kivan murmured quietly, "and do not panic. Follow me." He led them in a slow, casual walk around and away from the bears. None of them spoke till the bears were well out of sight.
"Well done, children," Kivan said, halting next to a low cliff-face of reddish rock.
"Why didn't the bears attack us?" Imoen asked.
"They did not feel threatened. Few wild animals will attack people unless provoked. Even wolves will normally prefer to run away, unless they are starved or insane."
"Normally?"
"Too many people have moved into the woods lately. They scare away the wolves' usual prey, and many are unarmed. Easy prey for a flock of wolves on the hunt."
"But we aren't defenseless."
"Indeed, child, but wolves that have gained a taste for sentient flesh may not be able to tell the unarmed from the armed."
"...Oh."
They followed the river for quite a while, and when it emptied into a lake, they continued along the gravelly lakeshore. The air was still and warm under darkening clouds. Maybe there'll be thunder later, Imoen thought. It had been a quiet day; they hadn't run into any of the hobgoblin patrols they had become accustomed to, and had not even been in a skirmish since they were accosted by a handful of half-ogres yesterday evening. It hadn't taken long to deal with the uppity brutes, and as she aimed her bow at the last standing half-ogre, Imoen had remembered something. "Bjornin says hello!" she had yelled as she shot him.
She and Ember had then spent half an hour discussing how likely it was that these were the same half-ogres as the ones had troubled the old paladin in Beregost. It had ended in a stalemate when the roast hare they had been cooking for supper was ready, Imoen recalled with a grin.
Kivan halted in front of them; Imoen wondered what he'd heard this time. More bears, or maybe some bandits?
"There is swordfighting nearby," the elf said and turned away from the lakeshore. Picking up his increased pace, the others followed him.
---
It was the most unfair fight Imoen had ever seen. A dozen or two gnolls were chasing a single cloaked figure. Every now and then, the figure would turn and slash at one of the gnolls with a pair of curved swords, but mostly he or she was just dodging the gnolls' halberds.
"By Helm, we must aid him!" Ajantis cried.
Kivan didn't answer in words; instead, he drew his bow. Imoen pulled her own bow off her back and readied it as Ember and Ajantis drew their swords and ran towards the closest gnolls. Ajantis used his shield to block the swing of a halberd before striking, while Ember dodged a blow aimed at her and spun around to cut the arm off the gnoll that'd attacked her.
Watching Ember fight was actually becoming fun, Imoen mused as she aimed at a gnoll. Her friend sparred with Ajantis every morning and most evenings, and it was beginning to show. Even without a shield, she didn't get injured much more often than Ajantis did, and her movements were growing more and more fluid. It's almost like dancing.
Her own archery practices with Kivan were showing as well, Imoen admitted to herself with no small amount of pride as her arrow struck a gnoll in the eye. She smoothly notched a new arrow and singled out another target, ignoring the awful sight of the dead and dying bodies in front of her as much as she could.
The cloaked figure was running less and less and fighting back more and more as the gnolls fell left and right. Soon, only a dozen gnolls were left standing, then half a dozen, then three. The five fighters closed in around the three gnolls. The cloaked stranger spun and slashed viciously at one of the gnolls. For a moment, a glimpse of a dark face was visible under his hood.
Kivan inhaled sharply next to Imoen, and his next shot went wild and struck a tree. Before Imoen could ask what was wrong, the last two gnolls fell. The cloaked stranger immediately approached them.
"Well met, strangers; I appreciate your assistance," the cloaked man said in a husky voice. "I do not recall banditry being of such epidemic proportions in this area; how long has this been so?"
"Long enough, drow," Kivan said.
The cloaked man sighed. "I assure you, I am not your enemy. I am Drizzt Do'Urden," he said, pulling back his hood, "and it is many years since I left the Underdark."
So this is what a drow looks like, Imoen thought as she looked at the man, who was barely as tall as herself. His face was as dark as coal and formed a strong contrast to his white hair, which grew quite a bit past his shoulders. A mane like was probably quite attractive when groomed, but right now it was matted and stained with blood and dirt. And his eyes were the weirdest color; she'd read somewhere that almost all drow had red eyes, but this man's eyes were a kind of greyish purple.
"I have heard of that name," Ember said, "but how do we know you are he? You may be a liar."
"Yeah," Imoen said, "you look way too short to be the Drizzt I heard of. You know, the one who's seven feet tall, rides a dragon and eats fireballs for breakfast?" Her reward was a drow with a slightly suffering look on his face and an Ember that appeared to have problems holding back a chuckle.
"I may be able to solve this problem," Ajantis said. "Unless you object, drow?"
The dark elf sighed again. "Nay, I do not object. Do what you must to verify my words."
Ajantis closed his eyes and chanted a few syllables. A faint glow surrounded the drow, then faded. "I detect no evil intent in him," Ajantis said. "It seems reasonable to believe that he is who he says he is."
"Indeed I am. Now, perhaps you could lower your bow a little, good elf?"
"Perhaps," Kivan replied, lowering his bow an inch or two.
"So, if you really are Drizzt, what are you doing here?" Ember asked.
"I am merely passing through as I journey to Icewind Dale. It is a long journey, and these constant interruptions, whether by gnolls, hobgoblins or other bandits, only make it longer."
"But can't you handle them, though?" Imoen asked innocently. "After all, I've heard stories where you singlehandedly took on an entire dungeon full of kobolds!"
"I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but there is a large difference between taking on a dozen fiends in a row, and taking on all at once."
"But that's what you did in the story! Fought all the kobolds in the dungeon at the same time! It was a very heroic story, I thought."
Drizzt smiled wearily at Imoen. "Stories are but stories."
"You said you have encountered bandits," Kivan said. "Did you see if they wore any particular markings?"
"Indeed I have," Drizzt said. "Some have been like these gnolls, undisciplined and poorly organized, but there are others in these areas that are no mere vagabonds with blades. The humans bear the style of the Black Talon, and the hobgoblins that of the Chill. Mercenary groups, both of them."
"How do you recognize their styles?" Ember asked.
"The Chill wear markings of blue and white, while the Black Talons wear markings of red and black, often a black, taloned hand on red."
"We have seen those markings as well," Imoen said, glancing at Kivan. I wonder if he already knew their name.
"Where did you last encounter the Black Talon bandits?" Kivan asked.
"Four of them attempted to ambush me this morning, by the river a few miles south of here," Drizzt said. "They are your particular prey, yes?"
Kivan nodded.
"We strive to return peace to these lands," Ajantis proclaimed.
"I see. A noble goal indeed, and one I would hold dear myself. With luck, you may even uncover the mastermind behind the raider, although you may find that task to be easier if you tread subtly in your dealings with these mercenaries."
"Pardon?" Ajantis said, appearing to be very confused by the drow's choice of words. Imoen didn't blame him.
"Fighting them is not necessarily the most fruitful road to travel. After all, it is doubtful their bodies will give you more than the most cursory hint at who their masters are."
"In other words, you think we should try to be sneaky," Imoen said.
"Yes."
"We thank you for your sage advice," Kivan said in polite yet clipped tones, "and we wish you well on your journey."
The drow straightened himself. "Well met, and may luck be on your side." He wrapped his cloak around him, sheathed his scimitars, and strode northward.
Imoen chuckled. "So that was the famous Drizzt Do'Urden. What did you think of him, Em?"
"Em?"
Imoen looked around and saw that her friend had walked a short distance away from the others and was gazing across the large meadow where they had fought. She walked towards Ember and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, whatcha doing?" Imoen asked.
Ember slowly turned towards her, then back towards the meadow. Imoen was sure it was normally a lovely, lively place with flowers and bees and rabbits, but today it was littered with gnoll corpses and broken halberds, gouged where a foot or a blow had landed on the grass, and stained red with blood. No birdsong came from the surrounding trees; instead, there was a steadily increasing buzzing of flies.
"This place looks like a battlefield," Imoen said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"This place is a battlefield," Ember said.
