The Pirate King

DEUDERMONT'S GAUNTLET



Three spears flew down the alley almost simultaneously, all thrown with great anger and strength. Desperate defenders angled bucklers to deflect or at least minimize the impact. But the spears never made it to the opposing lines, for a lithe figure sprang from an open window, tumbled to the street, and a pair of curved blades worked fast to chop at the missiles as they passed, driving them harmlessly aside.



The defenders cheered, thinking a new and mighty ally had come, and the spearmen cursed, seeing their impending doom in the fiery eyes and spinning blades of the deadly dark elf.



"What madness is this?" Drizzt demanded, turning repeatedly to encompass all the combatants with his accusation.



"Be asking them!" cried one of the spearmen. "Them who killed Suljack!"



"Be asking them!" the leader of the defenders retorted. "Them who came to wage war!"



"Murderers!" cried a spearman.



"By your lies!" came the response.



"The city is dying around you!" Drizzt cried. "Your disputes can be resolved, but not until..." He ended there since, with another cry of, "Murderers!" the spearmen flooded into the alleyway and charged. On the opposite side, the defenders responded with, "Lying thieves!" and similarly rushed.



Leaving Drizzt caught in the middle.



Suljack, or Taerl? The question swirled in Drizzt's thoughts as the choice became urgent. With which Ship would he side? Whose claim was stronger? How could he assume the role of judge with so little information? All of those thoughts and troubling questions played through his mind in the few heartbeats he had before being crushed between the opposing forces, and the only answer he could fathom was that he could not choose.



He belted his scimitars and ran to the side of the alleyway, springing upon the wall and pulling himself up out of harm's way. He found a perch on a windowsill and turned to watch helplessly, shaking his head.



Fury drove the Suljack crew. Those behind the leading wall of flesh who couldn't punish their enemies in melee threw any missiles they could find: spears, daggers, even pieces of wood or stone they managed to tear from neighboring buildings.



Taerl's defenders seemed no less resolute, if more controlled, forming a proper shield wall to defend the initial collision, showing patience as the rage of the attackers played out.



Drizzt didn't have the detachment necessary to admire or criticize either side's tactics, and didn't have the heart to even begin to predict which side would win. He knew in his gut that the outcome was assured, that all of Luskan would surely lose.



Only his quick instincts and reflexes saved his life as one of Suljack's men, unable to get a clear shot at Taerl's defenders, instead lifted his crossbow at Drizzt and let fly. The drow dodged at the last instant, but still got slashed across the back of his shoulder before his mithral shirt turned the bolt. The effort nearly sent him tumbling from his perch.



His hand went to his scimitar, and his eyes discerned a path down the wall and to the alleyway near the archer.



But pity overruled his anger, and he responded instead by calling upon his hereditary power to create a globe of darkness around the fool with the crossbow. Drizzt understood that he had no place in that fight, that he could accomplish nothing positive with combatants who were beyond reason. The weight of that tugged at him as he scaled the building to the roof and made off from the alley, trying to leave the screams of rage and pain behind him.



They were before him as well, however, just two streets down, where two mobs had engaged in a vicious, confused battle along the avenue separating the Ships of Baram and Taerl. As he ran along the rooftops above them, the drow tried to make out the allegiance of the fighters, but whether it was Ship Baram against Ship Taerl, or Suljack against Baram, or a continuation of Suljack and Taerl's fight, or perhaps even another faction all together, he couldn't tell.



Off in the distance, halfway across the city, near the eastern wall, flames lit up the night.



"Triple the guard at the mainland bridge," High Captain Kurth instructed one of his sergeants. "And set patrols to walk the length and breadth of the shoreline."



"Aye!" replied the warrior, clearly understanding the urgency as the sounds of battle drifted to Closeguard Island, along with the smell of smoke. He ran from the room, taking a pair of soldiers with him.



"It's mostly Taerl and Suljack's crews, I'm told," another of the Kurth sergeants informed the high captain.



"Baram's in it thick," another added.



"It's mostly the kid o' Rethnor, from my guess," said another of the men, moving to stand beside Kurth as he looked out to the mainland, where several fires blazed brightly.



That prompted a disagreement among the warriors, for though rumors abounded about Kensidan's influence in the fighting, the idea that Taerl and Baram had gone against Suljack without prompting was not so far-fetched, particularly given the common knowledge that Suljack had thrown in with Deudermont.



Kurth ignored the bickering. He knew full well what was going on in Luskan, who was pulling the strings and inciting the riots. "Will there be anything left when that fool Crow is through?" he mumbled under his breath.



"Closeguard," answered the sergeant standing beside him, and after a moment's thought, Kurth nodded appreciatively at the man.



A stark cry, a shriek, from outside the room ended the bickering and interrupted Kurth's contemplation. He turned, his eyes and the eyes of every man and woman in the room widening with shock as an uninvited guest entered.



"You live!" one man cried, and Kurth snickered at the irony of that notion.



Arklem Greeth had not "lived" in decades.



"Be at ease," the lich said to all around, holding up his hands in an unthreatening manner. "I come as a friend."



"The Hosttower was blasted apart!" the man beside Kurth shouted.



"'Twas beautiful, yes?" the lich responded, smiling with his yellow teeth. He tightened up almost immediately, though, and turned directly to High Captain Kurth. "I would speak with you."



A dozen swords leveled on Arklem Greeth.



"I understand and accept that you had no real choice but to open the bridges," said Arklem Greeth, but not a sword lowered at the assurance.



"How are you alive, and why are you here?" Kurth asked, and he had to work very hard to keep the tremor from his voice.



"As no enemy, surely," the lich replied. He looked around at the stubborn warriors and gave a profound, but breathless, sigh. "If I came to do ill, I would have engulfed the lowest floor of this tower in flames and would have assailed you with a magical barrage that would have killed half of your Ship before you ever realized the source," he said. "Please, my old friend. You know me better than to think I would need to get you alone to be rid of you."



Kurth spent a long while staring at the lich. "Leave us," he instructed his guards, who bristled and muttered complaints, but eventually did as they were told.



"Kensidan sent you?" Kurth asked when he was alone with the lich.



"Who?" Arklem Greeth replied, and he laughed. "No. I doubt the son of Rethnor knows I survived the catastrophe on Cutlass Island. Nor do I believe he would be glad to hear the news."



Kurth cocked his head just a bit, showing his intrigue and a bit of confusion.



"There are others watching the events in Luskan, of course," said Arklem Greeth.



"The Arcane Brotherhood," reasoned Kurth.



"Nay, not yet. Other than myself, of course, for once more, and sooner than I expected by many years, I find myself intrigued by this curious collection of rogues we call a city. No, my friend, I speak of the voices in the shadows. 'Twere they who guided me to you now."



Kurth's eyes flashed.



"It will end badly for Captain Deudermont, I fear," said Arklem Greeth.



"And well for Kensidan and Ship Rethnor."



"And for you," Arklem Greeth assured him.



"And for you?" Kurth asked.



"It will end well," said the lich. "It already has, though I seek one more thing."



"The throne of Luskan?" Kurth asked.



Arklem Greeth again broke out in that wheezing laugh. "My day in public here is done," he admitted. "I accepted that before Lord Brambleberry sailed into the Mirar. It's the way of things, of course. Expected, accepted, and well planned for, I assure you. I could have defeated Brambleberry, likely, but in doing so, I would have invoked the wrath of the Waterdhavian lords, and thus caused more trouble for the Arcane Brotherhood than the minor setback we received here."



"Minor setback?" Kurth indignantly replied. "You have lost Luskan!"



Greeth shrugged, and Kurth's jaw clenched in anger. "Luskan," said again, giving the name great weight.



"It is but one city, rather unremarkable," said Greeth.



"Not so," Kurth replied, calling him on his now-obvious bluff. "It is a hub of a great wheel, a center of weight for regions of riches, north, east and south, and with the waterways to move those riches."



"Be at ease, friend," said Greeth, patting his hands in the air. "I do not diminish the value of your beloved Luskan."



Kurth's expression aptly reflected his disagreement with that assessment.



"Only because I know our loss here to be a temporary thing," Greeth explained. "And because I expect that the city will remain in hands competent and reasonable," he added with a deferential and thoroughly disarming bow toward Kurth.



"And so you plan to leave?" Kurth asked, not quite sorting it all out. He could hardly believe, after all, that Arklem Greeth - the fearsome and ultimately deadly archmage arcane - would willingly surrender the city.



The lich shrugged, a collection of mucus and seawater in its lungs crackling with the movement. "Perhaps. But before I go away, I wish to repay a certain traitorous wizard. Two, actually."



"Arabeth Raurym," Kurth reasoned. "She plays both sides of the conflict, moving between Deudermont and Ship Rethnor."



"Until she is dead," said the lich. "Which I very much intend."



"And the other?"



"Robillard of Sea Sprite," the lich said in a tone as close to a sneer as the breathless creature could imitate. "Too long have I suffered the righteous indignation of that fool."



"Neither death would sadden me," Kurth agreed.



"I wish you to facilitate that," said Arklem Greeth, and Kurth lifted an eyebrow. "The city unravels. Deudermont's dream will falter, and very soon."



"Unless he can find food and - "



"Relief will not come," the lich insisted. "Not soon enough, at least."



"You seem to know much for one who has not shown himself in Luskan for many months. And you seem to be quite certain in your assurances."



"Voices in the shadows...." Arklem Greeth replied with a sly smile. "Let me tell you of our observant and little-seen allies."



Kurth nodded and the lich spoke openly, only confirming that which Morik the Rogue, at Kensidan's bidding, had already explained. The high captain did well to hide his consternation at the further unwelcome evidence of yet another powerful player in the tug-of-war that was Luskan, particularly a player with a reputation so vile and unpredictable. Not for the first time did High Captain Kurth question Kensidan's judgment in helping to facilitate the Luskan disaster.



And not for the last time, either, he thought as Arklem Greeth told his dark tale of lacedon ghouls and murdered sailors.



"We act now or we lose Luskan," Governor Deudermont announced to Robillard, Drizzt, Regis, and some of his other commanders almost as soon as Drizzt delivered the news of the melee in the streets. "We must calm them until the caravans arrive."



"They will hear no reason," said Drizzt.



"Simpletons," Robillard muttered.



"They seek a focus for their frustrations," said Deudermont. "They are hungry and frightened, and grieving. Every family has suffered great losses."



"You overestimate the spontaneity of the moment," Robillard warned. "They are being goaded...and supplied."



"The high captains," Deudermont replied, and the wizard shrugged at the obvious answer.



"Indeed," the governor continued. "The four fools construct small empires within the city and posture now with swords."



Drizzt glanced at the luncheon platters still set on the table, and the scraps of meat - of deep rothe meat - and he wondered if there was even more posturing going on than the infighting of the high captains. He kept his fears silent, though, as he had when they'd first surfaced at dinner the previous night. He had no idea who had opened the trade channels necessary to get deep rothe and Underdark mushrooms, or with whom that enterprising high captain might be trading, but there was chaos in Luskan, and Drizzt's life experiences associated that state with one race in particular.



"We must act immediately," Deudermont announced. He turned to Robillard. "Go to the Mirabarrans and bid them to reinforce and keep safe the Red Dragon Inn."



"We're leaving?" Regis asked.



"To Sea Sprite, I pray," said Robillard.



"We need to cross the bridge," Deudermont answered. "Our place now is in Luskan proper. The Mirabarrans can control the north bank. Our duty is to step into the middle of the fighting and force the competing high captains back to their respective domains."



"One Ship is without her captain," Drizzt reminded him.



"And there we will go," Deudermont decided. "To Suljack's palace, which I will declare as the temporary Governor's Residence, and we will ally with his people in their time of need."



"Before the vultures can tear the carcass of Ship Suljack to bits?" Regis asked.



"Precisely."



"Sea Sprite would be a better choice," said the wizard.



"Enough, Robillard! You weary me."



"Luskan is already dead, Captain," the wizard added. "You haven't the courage to see it clearly."



"The Mirabarrans?" Deudermont asked in a sharper tone, and Robillard bowed and said no more, leaving the room immediately and the Red Dragon soon after to enlist the men and dwarves of the Shield District.



"We will announce our presence in no uncertain terms," Deudermont explained when the wizard was gone. "And will fight to protect any and all who need us. Through strength of resolve and sword we will hold Luskan together until the supplies arrive, and we will demand fealty to the city and not the Ship."



It was obvious that he was thinking on his feet. "Call in the magistrates and all of the city guard," he said, speaking as much to himself as to anyone else. "We will show them stakes. Now is the time for us to stand strong and resolute, the time to rally the city around us and force the high captains to acquiesce to the greater good." He paused and looked directly at Drizzt, showing the drow his strength before squarely laying down the gauntlet.



"Or they will lose their standing," he said. "We will dissolve the ship of any who will not swear fealty to the office of governor."



"To you, you mean," said Regis.



"No, to the office and to the city. They are bigger than any man who occupies the seat."



"A bold statement," said Drizzt. "Lose their standing?"



"They had their chance to show their value to Luskan throughout the long winter night," Deudermont steadfastly replied. "Other than Suljack, to a one, they failed."



The meeting adjourned on that grim note.



"'E's on our side, what?" one of the soldiers formerly of Ship Suljack who had just signed on with Deudermont asked his companion when they exited the palace to join the fighting, only to spot Drizzt Do'Urden at work on a couple of Baram's ruffians.



"Aye, and that's why meself's noddin' yes to Deudermont," said the other.



The first nodded back as they watched the drow in action. One of Baram's boys took an awkward swing, apparently trying to cut the drow's legs out from under him, but Drizzt nimbly jumped, snapping a kick in the man's face as he came over.



The second thug came in hard with a straight thrust from the side, but the drow's scimitars beat him to the mark. One blade crossed to easily drive the thug's sword out wide, the other stabbed straight out, driving right against the man's throat. Drizzt then swept his free blade back across in time to loop it over the other ruffian's blade as it came up from its low position. A twist and flick of the drow's wrist had that one flying free and the suddenly unarmed ruffian, like his friend who stood immobilized with a sharp tip against his throat, was caught.



"The fight is done for you," Drizzt announced to the pair, and neither was in a position to disagree.



The two men rushed down the alley to join the drow, skidding to an abrupt stop as Drizzt turned a wary eye on them.



"We're with Deudermont!" they yelled together.



"Just signed up," one clarified.



"These two are fairly caught," Drizzt explained, and turned to his prisoners. "I will have your words of honor that you are out of the fight, or I will spill your lifeblood here and now."



Baram's boys looked at each other helplessly, then offered undying oaths as Drizzt prodded with his blades.



"Take them to the eastern wing of the first floor," Drizzt instructed the new Deudermont recruits. "No harm is to come to them."



"But they're with Baram!" one protested.



"Was them what killed Suljack!" said the other.



Drizzt silenced them with an even stare. "They're caught. Their fight is ended. And when this foolishness is done, they will again become a part of Luskan, a city that has seen far too much death."



"Oh yes, yes, Mister Regis, sir," a voice interrupted, and all five at Drizzt's encounter glanced to see Regis entering the far end of the alleyway. A pair of thugs - Taerl's boys - trailed him stupidly, their eyes locked on a particularly fascinating ruby that Regis spun at the end of a chain.



"No more fightin' for me," said the other hypnotized fool.



Regis walked right by Drizzt and the others, offering a profound sigh at the inanity of it all.



"We win by preserving the heart and soul of Luskan," Drizzt explained to the thoroughly confused new recruits. "Not by killing everyone who's not now with our cause." Drizzt nodded to the still-armed ruffian to drop his blade, and when he didn't immediately respond, the drow prodded him again in the throat. His blade fell to the cobblestones. With his scimitars, Drizzt then guided the pair to the new recruits. "Take them to the eastern wing."



"Prisoners," one of the new recruits said, nodding.



"Aye," said the other, and they started off, the captured thugs before them and following the same line as Regis and his two captives.



Despite the enormity of the calamity around them - the streets around Deudermont's new palace were thick with fighting, as both Baram and Taerl, at least, had come against the governor fully - Drizzt couldn't help but chuckle, particularly at Regis and his effective tactics.



That grin was blown away a few moments later, however, when Drizzt ran to the far end of the alleyway, arriving just in time to see the less subtle Robillard engulf an entire building in a massive fireball. Screams emanated from inside the burning structure and one man leaped out of a second story window, his clothing fully aflame.



Despite his and Deudermont's hopes to keep the battle as bloodless as possible, Drizzt understood that before the fight was over, many more Luskar would lie dead.



The drow rubbed his weary eyes and blew a long and resigned sigh. Not for the first time and not for the last, he wished he could rewind time to when he and Regis had first arrived in the city, before Deudermont and Lord Brambleberry had begun their fateful journey.