Once Around the Realms (single books)

by Brian Thomsen

Across the Trackless sea or Until We Evermeet Again

  Before he left, Herve explained to the four travelers the whys and wherefores of operating the raft of magic plumes. Steering was accomplished by gently lifting the raft's corner in the direction in which you wanted to proceed. Altitude was controlled by the mutual movements of the riders on board while clutching the feathered surface at their sides. Leaning forward would instigate a gradual dive, leaning back a gradual ascent.

  "One more thing," Herve had warned. "Try not to fly too close to the surf. The feathers become weighed down with moisture, and it becomes hard to keep aloft. Also try to avoid puncturing the raft in any way. It upsets the balance of the floating spell."

  "Why?" Volo had asked, hoping for a possible new notation for a revised edition of Volo's Guide to All Things Magical.

  "Don't ask me," the halfling had replied. "I don't build them, I just fly 'em."

  As before, Volo and Passepout used a combination of existing charts in the master traveler's pack, and the enchanted map that accompanied the necromancer's jewels to chart their course, as the chubby thespian cast an enchanted gem overboard at each of its appointed sites, thus marking their location on the map with the completion of each divestiture.

  "Bombs away," Passepout announced, no longer surreptitious when dropping the enchanted formerly green, now red, gems. Only Volo would have heard him anyway, as Curtis and Shurleen were much too involved in silently getting reacquainted. Passepout looked back at the two young lovers, a feeling of slight heartache still present.

  Once they had left the coast, Shurleen had apologized to all for her behavior, asking for forgiveness from those who had saved her from a fate she deemed worse than death. She had then apologized to Passepout personally, asking for his forgiveness for the way the treated him. He, of course, accepted her apology, and had smiled when she stated that she hoped that they could still be friends, the smile masking the internal tears that only a disappointed friend who really wanted much more would really understand. He continued to smile until she rejoined Curtis at, the hark of their feather airship, when he allowed himself a single tear, which he quickly wiped away before any one could see it.

  Oh, well, he said to himself with a faint sniffle, maybe I wasn't cut out to marry an heiress, anyway. There's always still the possibility of a reward from her father.

  "Passepout," Volo called, "when was the last time you dropped a gem?"

  "Minutes ago," the thespian replied. "That's what I did when I said, 'Bombs away.' "

  "Great," the master traveler replied with great enthusiasm. "By my calculations, we should be approaching the island of Evermeet very soon now."

  "So?" the thespian replied, not seeing the appeal of this locale.

  "Well, I've never been there," Volo replied. "It's off limits to all except the elves. Surely you must have heard that," he added with a trace of condescension in his voice.

  "Well, I would have thought that no place was off limits to the master traveler of Faerun," the thespian replied, laying the sarcasm on good and thick.

  Volo realized that his tone of condescension had been uncalled for. The chubby thespian had proven himself to be an excellent traveling companion, a brave warrior, and a good friend, and deserved better for it.

  "You're right," Volo conceded with a chuckle. "Unfortunately, I blew it. I was in line for a special non-elf dispensation, and well, I, uh, got on the wrong side of the head lady of those parts."

  "You mean Queen Amlaruil?" the thespian replied, glad to show off what little knowledge he did have of the elves of Evermeet."

  "You guessed it," Volo replied. "Give that man a cookie. She managed to get a hold of a copy of my suppressed book on magic.

  "Vote's Guide to All Things Magical?" "That's right," he confirmed, "except she got her hands on the unexpurgated text, and sort of took offense at some of the things I said. So now I'm not just barred from Evermeet for being a non-elf, I'm also barred for just being Volothamp Geddarm." "Too bad," Passepout offered in consolation. "Thanks," the master traveler replied, a trace of the effervescence of enthusiasm in his voice, "but now an opportunity presents itself to us." "How so?" the thespian asked. "We can fly in real low, and get a good look at the place as we fly over."

  "I don't know," Passepout replied unsurely. "Herve said we shouldn't fly too low, moisture weighing us down and all."

  "We won't go in too low," Volo responded, "just low enough to get a good look."

  "I guess so," Passepout agreed warily, wishing that they were closer to the Faerun mainland.

  At the appointed time, everyone leaned forward, and the raft of magic plumes sailed down into the mist that enshrouded and obscured the magical island of Evermeet. As they plowed through the mint, the air became clearer, and the fantastic locale no longer bidden.

  The travelers traded Volo's spyglass back and forth, taking in the magical sites of the elven homeland. Elven communities grew out of forest clearings magic and enchantment, permeated the actual building structures and architecture. Sylvan creatures cavorted in the forests. Unicorns frolicked with pegasi. Sprites and fairies rode tamed dragons at play.

  "It's beautiful!" Shurleen exclaimed.

  "And how!" Curtis agreed.

  "Not bad," said Passepout, purposely trying to appear underwhelmed. "Are you satisfied, O master traveler?"

  "Why certainly!" Volo replied. "Just one last pass, and we'll be on our way."

  That one last pass was one pass too many.

  "What's that?" Passepout asked, pointing toward a mountain.

  "Where?" Volo asked, straining to see without the spyglass.

  "There," Passepout replied, pointing as he passed the spyglass to the helm-bound Volo.

  Volo looked through the glass just in time to see the launch of magical spears from one of numerous elven sentries, camouflaged by cloaks of stars and sworn to protect Evermeet from all outsiders.

  "Quickly! Lean back and up!" the master traveler ordered, sending the plumed raft soaring back through the damp, mist-filled cloud that shrouded the island, and forward eastward.

  No sooner had they regained the other side of the cloud than they noticed that a spear had indeed hit its mark. A gaping hole now existed in the middle of the raft, and it was interfering with their steering.

  "Everybody hold on!" Volo ordered, cursing his wanton curiosity that had resulted in this most recent of problems, and the pride that was the underlying cause of all of his problems so far. "It's going to be a bumpy ride!"

  The feathers beneath them felt damp, having retained some of the moisture from the mists, as a result of the increased weight, the raft was unable to ascend in the manner that it had before.

  The clear skies that had existed prior to the Evermeet side trip had now been replaced by storm clouds. Thunder and lightning struck on all sides, and the feathers, dampened from the two trips through the moistened clouds of mist and the present proximity to the raging surf below, began to lose their magic. The raft began to descend farther.

  The storm followed them as if magically drawn to the flying raft of feathers by some elven enchantment in retribution for their invading the privacy of the Evermeet community.

  Fog set in somewhere over Alaron, and the raft began to disintegrate.

  "Hold tight!" Volo shouted over the roar of the wind. "She's coming apart! I'm going to try to bring her in for a landing."

  With the fog obscuring his view, the maps safely ensconced in his pack (his not having the light to read them or free hand to hold them, rendering them useless for navigation at the present time), the master traveler tried to engineer a controlled descent.

  They overshot landing in the sea of midnight blue just beyond the Moonshae Isles, and offshore from the Faerun continent the raft quickly dissolved into a slick of loose feathers as the icy waters welcomed their latent prey.

  Chapter 21

  In the Sword Coast or Saved By a Dark Elf

  "I can't swim!" Shurleen yelled as the raft came
apart, dropping her into the icy cold waters of the Sea of Swords.

  Curtis, having quickly recovered from his own shock at being dropped into the icy deep, frantically looked in the direction he had last heard Shurleen's scream.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, resting among the water-sodden feathers of the raft, he spied a few atcly grabbed for it. Beyond the oar was a dinghy, and in the dinghy a pair of dark arms to help him aboard, and beyond them a pair of bright lavender eyes, glowing orbs in a body that seemed to melt into the darkness that surrounded it.

  "Now to get your companions," the figure said. "There are four of you altogether?"

  "That's right," the master traveler replied, just beginning to realize how cold he was, and how he couldn't stop shivering.

  "There's a pile of blankets on your left," the figure said as if reading his mind. "It doesn't make sense to save anyone from drowning only to have them freeze to death from the chill."

  The figure had rowed the boat within reach of Curtis and Shurleen, who were quickly brought aboard, and then turned around to pick up Passepout.

  Volo was amazed at how seemingly easy the pilot was able to locate his friends in the storm-ridden darkness.

  When all were on board, the pilot announced, "Wrap yourselves in the blankets. Well be on shipboard and dry in no time."

  "How did you…?" Volo chattered.

  "I saw you go down," the dinghy's pilot replied.

  "You're a drow, aren't you?" the master traveler said, putting two and two together: the night vision, the dark skin. Though dark elves were uncommon in the surface world, occasionally drow had been known to travel the Sword Coast. Volo only hoped that this fellow wasn't a slaver rounding up cheap and expendable labor for some underworld toil. Volo was finally beginning to warm up within the thick layers of the blankets.

  "That's right," the drow replied, "but you may call me Drizzt… and don't worry. I'm not here to capture you, just to help. I'm alone."

  With a sigh of relief Volo turned his attentions back to getting warm.

  In less than an hour the travelers were dressed in dry clothes and seated around a roaring fire in the main cabin of the good ship Leominster, sipping hot broth.

  The captain of the vessel was a taciturn dwarf named Wolflarson, who soon joined them.

  "I and my companions would like to thank you for your hospitality," Volo said. "You certainly came along at the right time."

  "Think nothing of it," the captain replied brusquely. "I sure don't. We're docking in Waterdeep tomorrow. You can get off there."

  Volo was slightly taken aback by the offhand manner in which he treated their rescue. "Still, if you hadn't stopped the ship, and turned around to get us, sending your man Drizzt out to get us, I…"

  In a carefully measured tone brimming with hostility, Wolflarson interrupted, "He's not my man, he's drow, and he's just another passenger. As for stopping the ship, I didn't, and woe to the person I find out that did."

  "But…"

  "And a «to that drow fool Drizzt, he acted on his own, even paid for the rental of the dinghy. Now if you will excuse me, I have to return to the wheel. I expect your clothes will be dry by the time we dock, so please leave the blankets here when you go. I won't be expecting to see you again."

  With that, the dwarf captain left the cabin.

  "Weil," Hhurleen commented, "remind me never to book passage on any ship he's the captain of. A regular charmer, he is."

  Passepout detected a certain trace of Suzail slang in her voice, which was uncommon to members of the upper class. Ho dismissed it as probably just an affectation she throw in for effect.

  Curtis looked around the cabin and stuck his head outside for a moment. When he returned he said, "I wonder where that guy Drizzt is. I mean, he fishes us out of the sea, saves us from a watery grave while risking his own life in storm-swept seas, and then doesn't even stick around so that we can say thanks."

  The cabin boy, who was carefully tending the fire so that it never got out of hand, answered. "He's probably in his cabin. The captain gave firm orders that Mister Do'Urden was not to wander the ship unescorted."

  "The captain doesn't like drow much, does he, lad?" Volo asked.

  "Who does?" the lad replied.

  "Is he getting off at Waterdeep, too?" Volo pressed.

  "No," the lad replied. "He's booked all the way to Luskan. His cabin is down below, right next to the stores. Just don't tell the captain I told you."

  "We should probably go thank him," Shurleen suggested without a trace of enthusiasm in her voice.

  "I'll go," Volo replied, getting to his feet. "With my change of clothes from my waterproof pack, I'm pretty much the only one of us suitable for visiting. The rest of you stay here and try to dry off."

  Volo left the cabin and looked for the passageway to the hold. The storms had ceased, and the fog had cleared. After a quick bit of reconnaissance, Volo discovered a rope ladder that led to the ship's hold and the stores. Balancing a lantern in one hand, he climbed down the ladder in search of the passenger's cabin.

  The master traveler quickly discovered that there was a good three inches of seawater in the hold. Surely, he thought, his accommodations aren't down here. With the available light from the lantern, he quickly surveyed the hold and was about to leave when he spied a door at the far end of the stores.

  The water was only about an inch deep there, so Volo trudged on over and up the incline of the curvature of the hull, and knocked on the door.

  "Mister Do'Urden," he called.

  Groowwwllll!

  Volo distinctly heard the sound of a jungle cat on the other side of the door.

  "Mister Do'Urden," Volo called louder. "Are you all right? It's me, Mister Volo, whom you fished out of the drink. My friends and I would like to thank you."

  "One moment," Drizzt said from the other side of the door.

  A moment passed, and then the sound of a bolt and a lock being undone was audible, and the dark elf opened the door and bade Volo to enter.

  "Come in," Drizzt offered. "Please sit down."

  Volo was astonished at the cramped quarters. Thanks to a ridge in the doorway, most of the water stayed back in the hold, although a puddle was beginning to form by the door. The bare essentials of the efficiency closet were a single rope bunk, a cheat upon which a statuette of some sort was situated, and a tiny porthole that was almost eye level with the sea.

  When Drizzt closed the door behind him, the master traveler also noticed a pair of twin scimitars hanging from a hook on the door.

  "Handy," Volo commented.

  "But not always necessary," Drizzt replied, "particularly when making a rescue at sea."

  Having grown tired of bending forward to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling, Volo took a seat on the chest, next to the statuette, which seemed to be of some sort of panther.

  "Pretty," Volo commented.

  "But deadly," the drow returned.

  Volo realized that his presence was making the drow uneasy, and possibly claustrophobic, given the cramped quarters.

  "It looks like you are a man of few words, so I just wanted to stop by and say thank you for rescuing my friends," the master traveler said, beginning to feel oppressed by the dampness and the closeness of the space.

  Drizzt pointed out through the porthole.

  "I saw you crash through there. I like to look out into the night," the drow related. "I knew that the captain wouldn't have seen you…"

  "… or cared, for that matter…," Volo interrupted.

  "Oh," the drow acknowledged. "So you've met Wolflarson."

  "Charming fellow."

  "Would probably feel right at home in Menzoberranzan, if he were a drow, that is. That's probably one of the reasons I left," the drow said, "hut I digress. I launched one of the lifeboats after being sure to attach a safety line back to the ship, and set off after you. Even in the fog you were pretty easy to find."

  "You have good eyes," Volo complimented.
<
br />   "Thanks," said Drizzt. "It comes with the territory."

  "Well, I just wanted to say thanks," the master traveler said, reclaiming his stooped stance and heading for the door.

  "You are welcome," the drow replied.

  "The captain will let us ashore in Waterdeep."

  "Safe home."

  "The same to you."

  "I can never truly go home again," the drow said, a measure of melancholy in his voice.

  Volo slipped past the drow and out the door, when he stopped, and said, "I thought I heard the growl of a jungle cat when I knocked on your door."

  "It was only Guenhwyvar," Drizzt replied, shutting the door after his visitor.

  "Oh," said the master traveler, hearing the bolt being thrown back into place, and not bothering to ask for a further explanation.

  "Well, did you thank him?" Shurleen asked as Volo re-entered the main deck's cabin.

  "Yes," Volo replied absently, his mind still on their mysterious savior. "I didn't stay long. He seems to be a solitary sort."

  "I thought the drow were a cruel and evil race," Curtis remarked.

  "Once again, I guess there are exceptions to every rule," the master traveler replied.

  "I'm just glad he came along when he did," Passepout added, starting on his tenth cup of broth.

  An am I, thought Volo. An am I.

  Chapter 22

  Waterdeep or back in the City of Splendors again

  After Volo had returned to them, the four weary travelers lay wrapped in their dry blankets on the deck and went to sleep in a huddle, like kittens on their keeper's bed.

  Morning arrived quickly, and they, awoke to the great relief that their clothes were now dry and neatly folded (by the cabin boy, presumably), and waiting to be donned.

  The dwarf captain did not make another appearance, nor was any breakfast offered so the travelers had to make due with the remains of the broth from the night before.

  The ship docked at noon, and the foursome quickly disembarked and availed themselves of a hasty snack from a nearby fruit cart that seemed to cater to the harbor workers. Before Passepout had dropped a red gem in place and finished his fourth pear, the Leominster was once again setting out to sea, its captain Wolflarson at the helm, clearly visible from the dock.