The Last Threshold

“You’ll owe me, then,” said Drizzt.

“What? A few silver coins?”

“Not for the ale,” Drizzt answered.

Entreri tried to look as if this whole conversation had bored him and annoyed him, and perhaps there was some truth in that. But Drizzt couldn’t contain his grin, for he knew, too, that he had intrigued his old nemesis.

That grin disappeared a moment later, though, as the common room’s main door banged open and a group of citizens burst in. A woman and a male elf flanked a man, and indeed held him up, his arms across their shoulders, his head lolling about uncontrollably.

“Help here!” the woman cried. “Fetch a priest!”

They came in nearly sideways to fit through the door. When they straightened out, the problem was clear for Drizzt and everyone else to see. The man’s shirt was torn and soaked in blood, a line of wounds stretching from hip to ribs.

“Get ’im here!” Ambergris yelled, as others ran for the door, one heading out and crying for a cleric. Ambergris swept her table clear of drinks, mugs splashing to the floor, and the three with her jumped back and started to protest until they saw the dwarf pull forth her holy symbol and lift her broad hands in supplication, whispering the name of Dumathoin as she did.

Drizzt, Entreri, Dahlia, and Afafrenfere all got to the table about the same time as the wounded man’s companions laid him down atop it. The monk, quite familiar with the dwarf’s work, rushed beside Ambergris and bent low, holding the wounded man still.

All about them, questions filled the air, along with shouts of “Sea devils!” and curses at the wicked god Umberlee. In the midst of that turmoil, Drizzt pulled the elf aside. He followed after a short hesitation, surely confused by the sight of a drow in Port Llast.

“How did this happen?” Drizzt asked.

“As they are claiming,” the elf replied, and he continued to look at Drizzt suspiciously.

“I am no enemy,” Drizzt assured him. “I’m Drizzt Do’Urden, friend of—”

He didn’t have to finish, for the name sparked recognition in the elf, revealed his welcoming smile and nod. “I’m Dorwyllan of Baldur’s Gate,” he said.

“Well met.”

“Sea devils,” Dorwyllan explained. “Sahuagin, the scourge of Port Llast.”

Drizzt knew the name, and the monster, for he had battled the evil fish-men on several occasions during his years riding Sea Sprite with Captain Deudermont. He glanced at the wounded man—Afafrenfere had pulled his torn shirt aside and others had splashed water on it to clear the excess blood. The drow saw the wounds clearly now: three deep punctures, as if a trio of javelins had hit him in a straight line. He could well imagine the trident, a preferred weapon of the sahuagin, that had stabbed the poor fellow.

“Where?”

Others were asking the same question.

“The northern boat house,” Dorwyllan answered.

“And so it begins,” Dahlia mumbled at his side.

The elf looked at her and started as he came to fully appreciate this female elf standing before him, her beauty and that curious pattern of bluish dots that adorned her face.

“Good fortune that we arrived this day,” Drizzt said.

“Bah, but this sight’s more days than it ain’t!” one of the dwarves who had been sitting with Ambergris explained. “Sea devils thrice a tenday, or it ain’t Port Llast, don’t ye know?”

Many began filing out of Stonecutter’s Solace then, and shouts for a posse filled the air outside the tavern.

Drizzt looked to Dahlia and Entreri and the three moved to follow, but Dorwyllan grabbed Drizzt by the arm. “No need,” he explained when Drizzt looked back at him. “The sea devils have fled to their watery sanctuary, no doubt, for they know that we got over the wall in our retreat. The folk will go down in a great show of force, lining the docks, lobbing rocks into the dark waters, just to let the creatures know that Port Llast remains vigilant. And the sahuagin will hear the splashes above, safe in their watery homes and ready to return. It has become almost a sad game.”

“Then why were you three down there alone?”

“They are not often ashore in the daytime,” Dorwyllan replied.

“But at night?” Artemis Entreri asked from the side before Drizzt could get the question out.

“They slither from the tide,” Dorwyllan answered. “They near the wall and throw taunts and stones and spears. They are testing us, looking for a moment of weakness that they might raid the upper city and feast on man-flesh. And each day, we send down patrols.” He nodded at the woman and wounded man with whom he had entered the inn. “The sea devils are building defenses in preparation for the coming battle. We go down each day and try to find these barricades and tear them down.”

“But at night?” Drizzt asked leadingly.

“We avoid the docks at night,” Dorwyllan answered. “We man the wall, heavily, but we don’t cross beyond it. We don’t have enough folk with the ability to see in the dark, and carrying a torch makes one a fine target.”

“Then I assume the sea devils come ashore at night, each night.”

Dorwyllan nodded. Drizzt grinned and glanced over at Entreri, who wore a grim expression, understanding exactly where this might be leading.

“Are you almost done with your work, Amber?” Drizzt asked.

“Aye, and he’ll live, but not to be drinkin’ for a bit or he’s suren to leak,” the dwarf answered as she wiped her bloody hands.

“Get your own drinking done early,” Drizzt advised. “Tonight, we work.”

He took a step away, but again Dorwyllan held him by the arm, turning him back. “They will be out in force,” he warned.

“I’m counting on it,” Drizzt replied.

Drizzt gathered the five soon after, and limited their drinking, though they were soon to enjoy a grand meal, it seemed, as the proprietor of the Stonecutter’s Solace wanted to repay Ambergris for her fine healing work on his wounded friend.

“You have enough magic left to help us through a difficult night?” Drizzt asked the dwarf.

“Got plenty. What’d’ye got in mind, elf? And it better be good if ye’re thinking to keep the ale from me lips.”

“The darkness won’t bother you?” Drizzt asked Entreri.

“Long ago, I was given the gift of darkvision.”

“By Jarlaxle,” Drizzt said, for he recalled that fact from long ago.

“Don’t mention his name,” the assassin said.

“So only Afafrenfere will be hindered by the night,” Drizzt reasoned.

The monk snorted as if the reasoning was preposterous.

“Won’t be,” Ambergris explained. “That one’s trained to fight blind, and been living in the Shadowfell for years. Not quite a full shade yet, but he got close enough, don’t ye doubt. Yer night’s a shining beacon aside the Shadowfell day.”

“Perfect,” Drizzt said.

“We’re going over the wall,” Dahlia reasoned. “You’ve made some deal to save this town.”

“We’re going over the wall because it’s the right thing to do,” Drizzt corrected. “We’re going to strike hard at those sahuagin, and maybe convince them to stay away long enough for Port Llast to rally.”

“Sea devils are formidable foes,” Ambergris solemnly warned.

“So are we.” As he made the declaration, Drizzt looked to Entreri, whom he thought would be the most likely to reject the plan. But the assassin seemed quite at ease, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He offered no objections.

“We’ll let the moon come up,” Drizzt explained.

“Not much of one this night,” said Dahlia.

“I’m thinkin’ that’ll help us,” said the dwarf.

Drizzt nodded and said no more, as the staff of the Stonecutter’s Solace came over in a line, each bearing a tray piled with fine morsels. And it was food all the more precious because it had been collected under duress, Drizzt and the others realized. The trays were full of fish and clams, seaweed salad and huge red lobsters, which had once been considered the greatest delicacy of the Sword Coast North. Few in Luskan trapped them now, and of course, any venture to the seaside in and around Port Llast was fraught with danger.

“We get down to the sea for our fishing,” said the proprietor, a tall and thin man who walked with legs set in a permanent bow, and a face so leathery it looked like it could be cut from his head and used for armor. “One day soon, I’m serving sea devil, and here’s hoping the foul things taste better than they behave!”

That brought a round of “huzzah” from all about the tavern, and it reached a second crescendo when the man who had taken the trident propped himself up on his elbows and joined in with relish.

“Huzzah for Amber Gristle O’Maul,” they cheered.

“Of the Adbar O’Mauls!” the three who had been sitting with her before the disturbance added.

“A fine meal,” Ambergris said and belched a short while later.

“Last meals usually are,” Entreri said.

Drizzt and the others looked sourly at the man.

“What?” he said innocently, looking up, and holding a lobster claw in each hand.

“Ye always so full o’ hope?” the dwarf asked.

“I don’t fear for myself,” Entreri explained innocently. “I know I can outrun you, dwarf. And that one,” he added, pointing a claw at Drizzt, “is sure to stay behind, valiantly fighting to the bitter end so that his companions can escape.”

Afafrenfere and Ambergris both turned curiously to Drizzt at that statement, and Entreri added, “Why else would I remain beside the fool?”

Drizzt couldn’t even begin to answer, so stupefied was he to think that the levity of Artemis Entreri would help to settle his nerves before a dangerous endeavor.

They crept through the dark avenues of the lower city, moving with precision from structure to structure and staying mostly along the city’s southern reaches, under the shadows of the same high rock walls they had traversed when first coming down to Port Llast.

Entreri, Dahlia, and Drizzt did the “frog-hopping,” as Ambergris called it, taking turns in the point position, scouting and securing, then motioning for the next in line to hop past. Afafrenfere remained with the dwarf, always settling into position beside the trailing member of the frog-hopping trio.

Drizzt came to the northwestern corner of a low stone building and peered around. He crouched at the end of one long and fairly straight street, stretching far into the heart of the lower city. Just east of his position, back to his right and barely a block away, loomed the wall, where torches burned at regularly-spaced intervals. To his left, at about the same distance, this section of the city fell away steeply to the rocky coast.

The drow glanced back to Entreri, the next in line, and instead of signaling him to move past, motioned instead for him to join Drizzt at the spot. Almost as soon as he arrived, the assassin nodded, seeing the same potential Drizzt had noted in this particular location.