The Lone Drow: The Hunter's Blades Trilogy, Book II (The Legend of Drizzt 15) by R.A. Salvatore

Author:R.A. Salvatore [Salvatore, R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786954155
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2009-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

Regis squeezed Bruenor’s hand and stared down at his friend, wondering if it would be last time he would see the dwarf king alive. Bruenor’s breaths seemed more shallow to him, and the dwarf’s color was even more grayish, as if he was made of stone. Stumpet and Cordio had told Regis that it likely wouldn’t be much longer, and he could see that plainly.

“I owe you this,” the halfling whispered, barely able to get his voice out through the lump in his throat. “We all do, and know as you rest that Mithral Hall will stand strong in your absence. I will not let this place fall.”

The halfling gave another gentle squeeze, then laid the dwarf’s hand down across his chest. For a moment, he saw no movement in Bruenor’s chest, and he wondered if the dwarf had heard him and had at last let go.

But then Bruenor took a breath.

Not yet.

Regis patted the dwarf’s hands and briskly walked out of the room, overcome and trying hard to bring himself emotionally back to center. He moved quickly along the tunnels, knowing that he was late for a meeting with Galen Firth of Nesmé. He still didn’t know how he would handle the fierce warrior. What aid might he offer with Mithral Hall under such duress? The eastern door was sealed—the dwarves had even dropped the tunnels behind it to make sure that any enemies trying to come in that way would have to claw through more than twenty feet of stone.

Reports from the north were no more promising, for Banak Brawn-anvil had sent word that he was not certain how long he could hold his position. The giants were setting catapults on the western ridge, and soon enough, Banak feared, his forces would be under terrible duress.

He had asked for Regis to swing the force that had settled in the western end of Keeper’s Dale around to the north to overrun the ridge from the west, but the request had come with a caveat: if it was feasible. Even Banak, settled in an increasingly desperate situation, recognized the danger of following such a course. Not only would that be exposing one of his two remaining surface armies to a potentially devastating situation, but in moving them out of their defensive position in Keeper’s Dale, Regis would be risking leaving a wide-open path to Mithral Hall’s western gate.

And Nesmé was sorely pressed—likely even overrun—so the halfling had to keep the western approach protected from potential enemies moving up from the south.

Too many problems flitted through the halfling steward’s mind. Too many issues confronted him. He hardly knew where he was half the time, and in truth, all he wanted was to go eat a big meal or two and settle down in a warm bed, with nothing troubling him more than the all-important decision of what he would choose to eat for breakfast.

With all of that weighing down his little shoulders, Regis started away. But he stopped and glanced back at the candlelit room where King Bruenor lay, and he remembered his words to his dying friend.

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