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Kierstaad, son of Revjak, knelt on the soft turf, his knee pocking the ground He was not tall by the standards of the Icewind Dale no six feet, and was not asand blond, his eyes the color of the sky on the brightest of days, and his smile, on those rare occasions that he displayed it, beamed from a warm soul

Across the flat tundra Kierstaad could see the snow-capped top of Kelvin’s Cairn It was the lone mountain in the thousand square miles of the land called Icewind Dale, the ept strip of tundra between the Sea of Moving Ice and the northwestern spur of the Spine of the World mountains If he were to move but a few miles toward the mountain, Kierstaad knew that he would see the tips of the est of the three lakes in the region

A few miles to a different world, Kierstaad realized He was just a boy, really, having seen only seventeen winters But in that time, Kierstaad had witnessed more of the Realms and of life than most in the world would ever know He had traveled with

ar, from Icewind Dale to a place called Settlestone, far, far away He’d celebrated his ninth birthday on the road, re barbarian lad had battled goblins, kobolds, and drow elves, fighting beside Berkthgar the Bold, leader of Settle-stone It was Berkthgar who had decided that the time had come for the barbarian peoples to return to Icewind Dale-their ancestral home-and the ways of their forebears

Kierstaad had seen so much, had lived two different lives, it seemed, in two different worlds Noas a nohteenth birthday and his first solitary hunt Looking at Kelvin’s Cairn, though, and knowing of the fishing ships on Lac Dinneshere, on Maer Dualdon to the west, and on Redwaters to the south, Kierstaad realized how narrow his existence had truly become, and how much wider was the world-a world just a few short miles from where he now knelt He could picture the est of the ten towns surrounding the lakes He could iarments, the jewels, the excite, the southerners bartering for the fine scrimshaw carved from the head bone of the three lakes’ abundant knucklehead trout

Kierstaad’s own garments were brown, like the tundra, like the reindeer he and his people hunted, like the tents they lived in

Still, the young h was not a lanation that this was now his way, the way of his ancestors There was a sihness, too, that hardened the body and the soul Kierstaad was a young man, but he ise beyond his years A family trait, so it was said, for Kierstaad’s father, Revjak, had led the unified tribes after Wulfgar’s departure Calm and always in control, Revjak hadn’t left Icewind Dale to go to war in Mithril Hall, explaining that he was too old and set in his ways Revjak had stayed on with thethe alliance between the no the ties with the folk of Ten-Towns

Revjak hadn’t been surprised, but was pleased at the return of Berkthgar, of Kierstaad-his youngest child-and of all the others Still, with that return ca the future of the nomadic tribes and the leadership of the barbarian people "More blood?" ca man from his contear a up behind him

Kierstaad nodded and pointed to the red splotch on the brown ground Berkthgar had speared a reindeer, a fine throw froreat distance, but only had wounded the beast, and it had taken flight Always efficient, particularly when dealing with this aniave to them so very much, the hunters had rushed in pursuit They would not wound an animal to let it die unclaiar, "the wasting way of the men who lived in Ten-Towns, or who lived south of the Spine of the World"

Berkthgar walked up beside the kneeling younghis own stare on distant Kelvin’s Cairn "We ets too close to the valley, the dwarves will steal it"

There were a few nods of agree party started off at a swift pace Kierstaad lagged behind this tihed by his leader’s words Ever since they had left Settlestone, Berkthgar had spoken ill of the dwarves, the folk who had been their friends and allies, Bruenor’s folk, who had fought in a war of good cause beside the barbarians What had happened to the cheers of victory? His most vivid memory of the short couple of years in Settlestone was not of the droar, but of the celebration that had followed, a tireat fellowship between the dwarves, the curious svirfneblin, and the warriors who had joined in the cause froes

How had that all changed so dramatically? Barely a week on the road out of Settlestone, the story of the barbarian existence there had begun to change The good tiedy and hardship, of the barbarians lowering their spirits to menial tasks not fit for the Tribe of the Elk, or the Tribe of the Bear, or any of the ancestral tribes Such talk had continued all the way around the Spine of the World, all the way back to Icewind Dale, and then, gradually, it had died away

Noith rumors that the several score of the dwarves had returned to Icewind Dale, Berkthgar’s critical reun anew Kierstaad understood the source The ru of Mithril Hall, had returned Shortly after the droar, Bruenor had given the throne back over to his ancestor, Gandalug, Patron of Clan Battlehaical iht of their alliance, relations between Berkthgar and Bruenor had been strained, for Bruenor had been the adoptive father of Wulfgar, the ends Bruenor had forged ar, had become the ar gone, Bruenor would not give Aegis-fang over to Berkthgar

Even after his heroic exploits in the battle of Keeper’s Dale against the drow, Berkthgar had rear’s shadow It seemed to perceptive Kierstaad, that the leader had ear, to convince his proud people that Wulfgar rong, that Wulfgar was not a strong leader, that he was even a traitor to his people and their gods Their old life, so said Berkthgar, one of roa free of any bonds, was the better way

Kierstaad liked his life on the tundra, and wasn’t certain that he disagreed with Berkthgar’s observations concerning which was the rown up adar’s words about the dead leader did not sit ith hi the soft, spongy ground, and wondered if the ru Bruenor with theht with hi, that le at that thought, but it was lost a ar spotted the wounded reindeer and the hunt was on in full

"Rope!" Bruenor bellowed, hurling to the floor the twine the shopkeeper had offered hi that I’m to hold up a tunnel with that?"

The flustered shopkeeper scooped up the twine and ra at Bruenor’s left, Regis gave the dwarf a scowl

"What?" de to face the portly halfling directly There weren’t many people that the four-and-a-half foot dwarf could look down on, but Regis was one of theh his curly brown hair and chuckled "It is good that your coffers run deep," the halfling said, not afraid of blustery Bruenor in the least "Otherwise Maboyo would throw you out into the street"

"Bah!" the dwarf snorted, straightening his lopsided, one-horned helot old for Maboyo"

"Good thing," Regis is looked up curiously, his expression one of blank a to face hiain"