Summary: Artemis Entreri must seek help from his greatest enemy in order to regain a drow youngster he has come to love as a son. RENEWED! REVAMPED! AND REINCARNATED!
A/N: Yes, for those of you who were avid followers of the original "Broken" – I HAVE RETURNED! With a brand-new "Broken", all nice and shiny-new! The original plot-line remains – never fear – but written MUCH, MUCH BETTER than before, as most of the original was actually written about three years ago, and, let's face it – the original version (at least the beginning) needed some serious work.
MUCH THANKS must be awarded to Iceheart Firesoul, who is the wonderful person responsible for the return of my inspiration and a significant portion of the re-vamped plot-line. THANK YOU, YOU WONDERFUL PERSON, YOU!
TO ALL READERS: This story is still an AU. Everyone is basically where they were at the end of the Legacy quartet. When I wrote this I had no idea what had happened to my favorite assassin, and so I made this up. Jarlaxle – forgive me – does not take part in this story. Wulfgar is still hanging out at Icewind Dale, all scarred and morbid-like. Catti-brie and Drizzt haven't gotten together yet. Delly is nonexistent. I very much enjoy the Paths of Darkness plotline and characters, but it just doesn't fit into this story. Thank you for your time.
And so – to old readers, welcome back! To new readers, hope you enjoy the ride! See ya'll on the other side!
The cold autumn wind howled over the tundra landscape, bringing with it the chill and promise of winter to the desolate land known as Icewind Dale. The first early snows had already fallen, leaving a four-inch-thick crust of snow over almost everything while the sun fought a loosing battle to clear the icy covering away.
A lone figure made its stubborn way up the hilly region of the dale, plowing heedlessly through the snow and ice. Few were brave – or foolish – enough to trek Icewind Dale alone, but this man was neither cocky nor soft in the head. In fact, this man was the last person anyone expected to come there.
Artemis Entreri, the famed assassin, was making his way towards Icewind Dale.
"Damnit," the assassin growled as he slowly made his stubborn way up the mountainous slope. Of all the places in the world, this was on the bottom of his list of places to be. And of all the people to be seeking – for help, nonetheless – he disliked this one even more than the region.
But, he reminded himself for the thousandth time since beginning his trek, he wasn't here without good reason. He was seeking this particular person for help because he knew that he was the only one who could help. And that rankled him more than anything else, but there was too much at stake here to give in to past grievances. Much too much.
Over the past few years, Artemis Entreri's life had taken a drastic change – beginning with a lone drow youngling, not even fifteen as of yet. Some years ago, Entreri had found himself rescuing the misplaced youngling from a band of rogues. After the ex-assassin had rescued him, the drowling, who gave his name as Aari, convinced the gruff man to let him stay on with him and teach him of weaponry. Entreri had found the youngling to be an eager and capable student, full of potential, and soon began to realize that he was coming to enjoy Aari's light-hearted company.
Aari was possessed of a jubilant and unrelenting enthusiasm concerning everything that life managed to throw his way; and this constant, stubborn optimism was starting to rub off on his grouchy companion. Entreri slowly began to enjoy life once more as his apathy was worn away by his companion's unceasing gusto. Over the nearly three years that they had traveled together, the two had become very close. Entreri, though he rarely showed it, was proud of the young drow's accomplishments, and loved him like a son, though he scarcely admitted this even to himself.
But now, Aari was gone. Stolen. Vanished without a trace.
And Artemis Entreri, the fabled hunter, could not find him.
Entreri found it hard to believe that Aari possessed any enemies whatsoever. It was like trying to imagine a Lolth priestess offering children pastries and milk with a smile on her face – just downright impossible. So whoever had kidnapped his charge had to be someone from his own dark past, come back to haunt him once more. Entreri knew that, whoever it was that had stolen Aari, he would need help to get him back.
There was never any doubt in the ex-assassin's mind that he would get Aari back – and that whoever had stolen the drowling would pay. Dearly.
Ironically, the only person Entreri could ever trust to help – and not betray – him, with the goal so terribly important, was once Entreri's greatest enemy: Drizzt Do'Urden.
He had worked together with the drow ranger before – the both of them unwilling, but together fighting for their very survival. Entreri knew that the ranger had a good soul, something that was increasingly rare in Faerûn as more and more found little use for it. He could only hope that the ranger would be willing to help him now. He would have prayed, had there been any deity in whom he believed, but there was none.
The ex-assassin continued on through the snow of Icewind Dale, past Ten Towns, towards the mines of the dwarves. He knew of no other place that the drow ranger might be.
Drizzt Do'Urden, drow ranger and friend of the dwarves of Icewind Dale, looked down from Bruenor's Climb with more than a little curiosity at the lone traveler making its slow way up the dale. He knew of none that needed – or wanted – to travel up to the dwarven mines for business: the dwarves usually conducted their trade down in Ten Towns.
Curiosity piqued, the dark elf ghosted downwards, careful to conceal himself, in order to gain a closer look at the strange traveler. The man, for a moment, glanced about, giving Drizzt a clear look at his face – and the ranger nearly cried out in shock at what he saw.
Artemis Entreri!
The last time the two had fought, Drizzt had left assured that Entreri had lost his appetite for senseless battle between them. Apparently, he had been gravely mistaken, for he could think of no other reason that Entreri would travel to the dale.
The ranger peered down at the assassin, noting the many changes the years had wrought upon him. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his beard unshaved for several days – a far cry from the clean-cut and controlled man of the past. He plowed through the snow quickly and urgently, his face twisted with some emotion – worry? Surely not.
Drizzt crept off towards the mines to warn his friends – Artemis Entreri had returned to Icewind Dale.
"What!"
Catti-brie gaped, disbelieving, at her friend's distressing news. Entreri returned? Impossible! The assassin had had no interest in ever coming back the last time they had parted; of this she was certain.
"Ye be sure, Drizzt?" she asked, though she knew there was no way her elven friend could have been mistaken. Sure enough, Drizzt nodded, his expression unhappy to say the least. He had no wish to ever meet Entreri again, she knew.
The human woman shook her head in despair – would the assassin ever be free of his need to defeat Drizzt in battle? At her side, Wulfgar glowered ominously at the rough-hewn walls of the mines. The giant barbarian had not forgotten the assassin and what he had done to Regis and Drizzt, and had not forgiven, even through his torture at the hands of the demon Errtu.
Bruenor, after the initial shouting and waving of axes and oaths to slay the assassin where he stood, managed to calm down a bit and begin devising a plan to be rid of the dangerous man. He was furious, after all the man had done to his friends, but he knew the safest way to deal with the assassin was to act quickly, with great strength, and hope Entreri would be cowed by great numbers and unfamiliar territory. "I'll be sendin' a platoon to deal with him," he cautioned Wulfgar, who looked as though he was about to storm outside and take his warhammer to the assassin.
Drizzt smiled, relieved – the ranger wanted no part in the fighting that would ensue, though he would certainly help if needed. Wulfgar scowled, but Catti-brie cautioned him with a look – she wanted naught to do with the assassin if she could help it. They would not be going with the dwarven troops. Hopefully, Entreri would be cowed by the sheer numbers of the attack force, and leave. Good riddance, Catti-brie thought to herself.
Entreri could not find it within himself to be surprised when he found himself, quite suddenly, surrounded by burly, growling dwarven warriors, ominously hefting large axes with arrows nocked point-blank at his head. This was their territory, and he was an intruder – and a well-known one, at that. He stood calmly in the midst of them, giving nothing away, as their leader, one Bruenor Battlehammer, strode forth angrily.
"Begone from me home, assassin!" the dwarf barked, glowering as only a dwarf can glower. "Ye'll not be fightin' the elf again!"
Entreri stared steadily into the dwarf's face, unperturbed. "I have no wish to fight that one ever again."
"Then what're ye doin' in me mines!" Bruenor demanded, gripping his notched battle-axe tightly.
"I must speak with the ranger," was Entreri's steady reply.
"Get ye gone, yerself ain't worthy t' speak with that'n!"
Bruenor watched curiously as the assassin's face, stony and rigid up to this point, twisted with some motion the dwarf couldn't identify. If he hadn't known better, he'd have said it was worry – but that was preposterous. What could possibly worry the assassin enough to lose face amidst enemies?
"Please! I must speak with him!" The plea tore roughly and unexpectedly from the assassin's throat, startling both of them. Saying Entreri was not prone to beg was like saying Rumblebelly was not prone to missing meals – it was simply unthinkable. The dwarf began to wonder – and to worry – what it was that had the assassin so shook up.
Bruenor frowned thunderously, and hotly debated the matter with himself in his head, Entreri looking on with barely concealed anxiety.
"Fine," the dwarf finally huffed. "I'll be findin' the drow, an' ye'll be speakin' with him. But I'm warnin' ye now, assassin – any o' yer tricks, an' yer a dead man!"
Entreri nodded, seemingly unconcerned – but after that display a few minutes earlier, Bruenor had his doubts as to the truth of that expression. Bruenor huffed once more and, against his better judgment, stomped off to find Drizzt.
Bruenor found Drizzt not so far away, sitting in a patch of rare autumn sunlight on a snow-bare outcrop of rock – obviously waiting in case things went sour with the assassin. The drow looked upwards in surprise as the red-bearded dwarf stormed over, obviously in a fine temper.
"What is it, my friend?" he inquired curiously.
Bruenor huffed and muttered and grumbled to himself for a minute or two, too angry and confounded to know where to begin. Drizzt watched with something like vague amusement until his friend had calmed down enough to speak.
"It's the assassin," Bruenor finally managed to grunt. "He wishes t' speak with ye."
Drizzt began to protest, but Bruenor cut him off with a raised hand. "I know what ye're thinkin' elf – I'm thinkin' it too – but there somethin' different abou' him. Summat's got him all shook up. He pleaded t' talk with ye, if'n ye'll believe it."
Drizzt stared at his dwarven friend in shock. After a few moments silence, he managed a strangled whisper; "Surely you jest!"
Bruenor shook his head grimly. "I'm thinkin' ye should talk with him," he admitted reluctantly.
Drizzt nodded his agreement, still stunned. Could Bruenor truly be speaking of Artemis Entreri, the assassin?
Surely not …