“You risk much.”

“No more than they’ve risked for me—many the times.”

Alustriel opened the door. “Very well,” she said, “and my respect on your decision. You will prove a noble king, Bruenor Battlehammer.”

The dwarf, for one of the few times in his life, blushed.

“Now go and rest,” said Alustriel. “I will see what I might learn this night. Meet me on the south slope of Harpell Hill before the break of dawn.”

Bruenor nodded eagerly and found his way back to his room. For the first time since he had come to Longsaddle, he slept peacefully.

Under the lightening sky of predawn, Bruenor and Harkle met Alustriel at the appointed spot. Harkle had eagerly agreed to the journey; he had always wanted a crack at driving one of Lady Alustriel’s famed chariots. He seemed out of place next to the battle-charged dwarf, though, wearing his wizard’s robe—tucked into leather hip boots—and an oddly shaped silver helmet with fluffy white fur wings and a visor that kept flopping down over his eyes.

Alustriel had not slept the rest of that night. She had been busy staring into the crystal ball the Harpells had provided her, probing distant planes in search of clues to the whereabouts of Bruenor’s friends. She had learned much in that short time and had even made a connection to the dead mage Morkai in the spirit world to garner further information.

And what she had learned disturbed her more than a little.

She stood now, components in hand and awaiting the break of dawn, quietly facing the east. As the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, she swept them into her grasp and executed the spell. Minutes later, a flaming chariot and two fiery horses appeared on the hillside, magically suspended an inch from the ground. The licks of their flames sent tiny streams of smoke rising from the bedewed grass.

“To Calimport!” Harkle proclaimed, rushing over to the enchanted carriage.

“Nay,” Alustriel corrected. Bruenor turned a confused glance on her.

“Your friends are not yet in the Empire of the Sands,” the lady explained. “They are at sea and will find grave danger this day. Set your course to the southwest, to the sea, then true south with the coast in sight.” She tossed a heartshaped locket to Bruenor. The dwarf fumbled it open and found a picture of Drizzt Do’Urden inside.

“The locket will warm when you approach the ship that carries your friends,” Alustriel said. “I created it many weeks ago, that I might have known if your group approached Silverymoon on your return from Mithril Hall.” She avoided Bruenor’s probing gaze, knowing the myriad of questions that must have been going through the dwarf’s mind. Quietly, almost as if embarrassed, she added, “I should like it returned.”

Bruenor kept his sly remarks to himself. He knew of the growing connection between Lady Alustriel and Drizzt. It became clearer and clearer every day. “Ye’ll get it back,” he assured her. He scooped the locket up in his fist and moved to join Harkle.

“Tarry not,” Alustriel told them. “Their need is pressing this day!”

“Wait!” came a call from the hill. All three turned to see Catti-brie, fully outfitted for the road, with Taulmaril, the magical bow of Anariel that she had recovered from the ruins of Mithril Hall, slung easily over her shoulder. She ran down to the back of the chariot. “Ye weren’t meaning to leave me so?” she asked Bruenor.

Bruenor couldn’t look her in the eye. He had indeed meant to leave without so much as a good-bye to his daughter. “Bah!” he snorted. “Ye’d have only tried to stop me going!”

“Never I would!” Catti-brie growled right back at him. “Me thinkin’s that yer doing right. But ye’d do righter if ye’d move over and make room for me!”

Bruenor shook his head emphatically.

“I’ve as much the right as yerself!” Catti-brie protested.

“Bah!” Bruenor snorted again. “Drizzt and Rumblebelly are me truest friends!”

“And mine!”

“And Wulfgar’s been akin to a son to me!” Bruenor shot back, thinking he had won the round.

“And a might bit more than that to me,” Catti-brie retorted, “if he gets back from the South!” Catti-brie didn’t even need to remind Bruenor that she had been the one who introduced him to Drizzt. She had defeated all of the dwarf’s arguments. “Move aside, Bruenor Battlehammer, and make room! I’ve as much at stake as yerself, and I’m meaning to come along!”

“Who’ll be seeing to the armies?” Bruenor asked.

“The Harpells’ll put them up. They won’t be marching to the halls until we’re back, or until the spring, at least.”

“But if both of you go and do not return,” Harkle interjected, letting the thought hang over them for a moment. “You are the only ones who know the way.”

Bruenor saw Catti-brie’s crestfallen look and realized how deeply she desired to join him on his quest. And he knew she was right in coming, for she had as much at stake in the chase across the southland as he. He thought for a moment, suddenly shifting to Catti-brie’s side in the debate. “The lady knows the way,” he said, indicating Alustriel.

Alustriel nodded. “I do,” she replied. “And I would gladly show the armies to the halls. But the chariot will carry only two riders.”

Bruenor’s sigh was as loud as Catti-brie’s. He shrugged helplessly at his daughter. “Better that ye stay,” he said softly. “I’ll bring ‘em back for ye.”

Catti-brie wouldn’t let it go so easily. “When the fighting starts,” she said, “and suren it will, would ye rather ye had Harkle and his spells beside ye, or me and me bow?”

Bruenor glanced casually at Harkle and immediately saw the young woman’s logic. The wizard stood at the reins of the chariot, trying to find some way to keep the visor of his helmet up on his brow. Finally Harkle gave up and just tilted his head back far enough so he could see under the visor.

“Here, ye dropped a piece of it,” Bruenor said to him. “That’s why it won’t stay up!”

Harkle turned and saw Bruenor pointing to the ground off the back of the chariot. He shuffled around beside Bruenor and bent over, trying to see what the dwarf was pointing at.

As Harkle bent to look, the weight of his silver helmet—which actually belonged to a cousin much large than he—toppled him over and left him sprawled face down on the lawn. In the same moment, Bruenor swept Catti-brie into the chariot beside him.

“Oh, drats!” Harkle whined. “I would have so loved to go!”

“The lady’ll make ye another one to fly,” Bruenor said to comfort him. Harkle looked to Alustriel.

“Tomorrow morning,” Alustriel agreed, quite amused by the whole scene. Then to Bruenor she asked, “Can you guide the chariot?”

“As well as he, by me guess!” the dwarf proclaimed, grabbing up the fiery reins. “Hold on, girl. We’ve half a world to cross!” He snapped the reins, and the chariot lifted into the morning sky, cutting a fiery streak across the blue-gray haze of dawn.

The wind rushed past them as they shot into the west, the chariot rocking wildly from side to side, up and down. Bruenor fought frantically to hold his course; Catti-brie fought frantically just to hold on. The sides wobbled, the back dipped and climbed, and once they even spun in a complete vertical circle, though it happened so fast—luckily—that neither of the riders had time to fall out!

A few minutes later, a single thundercloud loomed ahead of them. Bruenor saw it, and Catti-brie yelled a warning, but the dwarf hadn’t mastered the subtleties of driving the chariot well enough to do anything about their course. They blew through the darkness, leaving a hissing steam tail in their wake, and rocketed out above the cloud.

And then Bruenor, his face glistening with wetness, found the measure of the reins. He leveled off the chariot’s course and put the rising sun behind his right shoulder. Catti-brie, too, found her footing, though she still clung tightly to the chariot’s rail with one hand, and to the dwarf’s heavy cloak with the other.