The Halfling’s Gem Read Online Free PDF Page B

if Drizzt Do’Urden defeated him, or even proved his equal, the assassin’s existence would be no more than a wasted lie.
    But he didn’t think like that.
    Entreri lived to win.

    Regis, too, was watching the night sky. The crisp air had settled his stomach, and the stars had sent his thoughts across the long miles to his friends. How often they had sat together onsuch nights in Icewind Dale, to share tales of adventure or just sit quietly in each others’ company. Icewind Dale was a barren strip of frozen tundra, a land of brutal weather and brutal people, but the friends Regis had made there, Bruenor and Catti-brie, Drizzt and Wulfgar, had warmed the coldest of the winter nights and taken the sting out of the biting north wind.
    In context, Icewind Dale had been but a short stopover for Regis on his extensive travels, where he had spent less than ten of his fifty years. But now, heading back to the southern kingdom where he had lived for the bulk of his life, Regis realized that Icewind Dale had truly been his home. And those friends he so often took for granted were the only family he would ever know.
    He shook away his lament and forced himself to consider the path before him. Drizzt would come for him; probably Wulfgar and Catti-brie, too.
    But not Bruenor.
    Any relief that Regis had felt when Drizzt returned unharmed from the bowels of Mithral Hall had flown over Garumn’s Gorge with the valiant dwarf. A dragon had them trapped while a host of evil gray dwarves had closed in from behind. But Bruenor, at the cost of his own life, had cleared the way, crashing down onto the dragon’s back with a keg of burning oil, taking the beast—and himself—down into the deep gorge.
    Regis couldn’t bear to recall that terrible scene. For all of his gruffness and teasing, Bruenor Battlehammer had been the halfling’s dearest companion.
    A shooting star burned a trail across the night sky. The sway of the ship remained and the salty smell of the ocean sat thick in his nose, but here at the portal, in the sharpness of the clear night, Regis felt no sickness—only a sad serenity as he remembered all of those crazy times with the wild dwarf. TrulyBruenor Battlehammer’s flame had burned like a torch in the wind, leaping and dancing and fighting to the very end.
    Regis’s other friends had escaped, though. The halfling was certain of it—as certain as Entreri. And they would come for him. Drizzt would come for him and set things right.
    Regis had to believe that.
    And for his own part, the mission seemed obvious. Once in Calimport, Entreri would find allies among Pook’s people. The assassin would then be on his own ground, where he knew every dark hole and held every advantage. Regis had to slow him down.
    Finding strength in the narrow vision of a goal, Regis glanced about the cabin, looking for some clue. Again and again, he found his eyes drawn to the candle.
    “The flame,” he muttered to himself, a smile beginning to spread across his face. He moved to the table and plucked the candle from its holder. A small pool of liquid wax glittered at the base of the wick, promising pain.
    But Regis didn’t hesitate.
    He hitched up one sleeve and dripped a series of wax droplets along the length of his arm, grimacing away the hot sting.
    He had to slow Entreri down.

    Regis made one of his rare appearances on the deck the next morning. Dawn had come bright and clear, and the halfling wanted to finish his business before the sun got too high in the sky and created that unpleasant mixture of hot rays in the cool spray. He stood at the rail, rehearsing his lines and mustering the courage to defy the unspoken threats of Entreri.
    And then Entreri was beside him! Regis clutched the railtightly, fearing that the assassin had somehow guessed his plan. “The shoreline,” Entreri said to him.
    Regis followed Entreri’s gaze to the horizon and a distant line of land.
    “Back in sight,” Entreri continued, “and not too far.” He