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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.
