Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(111)

Not everyone, Ambergris thought, but did not say.

“The graves, then,” the monk suggested.

“Touch a stone and I’ll be making another one for yerself,” Ambergris said, without leaving a hint that she was interested in any debate. Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened, almost maniacally, and Afafrenfere backed down.

“You can never take the pride from a dwarf,” Glorfathel said with a laugh. “No matter how much you might darken her skin.”

Ambergris nodded, glad that the elf had justified her level of rage.

As Glorfathel led the way to the tunnel they had been tasked with guarding, Ambergris let her stare linger on that wondrous throne, and once more she pictured a red-bearded dwarf sitting there, king of kings. Her last look before they left was back to the graves, to the grandest of the group, for she figured who might be buried there.

She managed a slight and inconspicuous bow as she departed.





“Drizzt!” Dahlia yelled, and grabbed at the drow’s arm. “It’s over!”

He shoved her away and began anew, the image of her coupling with Entreri burning in his thoughts.

He would sweep clear this corridor all the way to Gauntlgrym!

An arrow flew free, but its lightning glow was stolen even as it left Taulmaril. A second went similarly dark, and even a third before Drizzt even realized it, even noted Dahlia, crouched to the side with her magical staff extended, the energy of Kozah’s Needle absorbing the magic of Taulmaril with each release.

She was protecting him!

Drizzt’s eyes widened with rage. Instead of reaching for another arrow, he took up the bow as a club, thinking to bash Dahlia aside.

The darkness dissipated then, and both paused and looked to the corridor.

The sorcerer sat awkwardly against the wall, legs and arms splayed wide, chin on his chest and wafts of smoke, even a bit of flame, rising from several holes in his torso. Taulmaril, the Heartseeker, had lived up to its name. Beside, curled into a defensive ball, lay the smoking husk of a halfling shade, and a larger form lay very still farther along. The walls were pitted with holes, smoke rising from them, and shards of broken stone lay all around.

“What have you done?” Dahlia demanded, rising up.

Sobered by the scene, confused indeed, Drizzt lowered Taulmaril and stepped past her, peering into the quiet, smoky corridor.

He almost set another arrow and let fly when the third body in line shifted suddenly, but he had no time as out from under it came Artemis Entreri, a knife flying before him, and blades drawn in a desperate charge.

Drizzt deflected that thrown knife by dropping Taulmaril in its path, and out came his scimitars to meet that charge.

Entreri barreled in, sword thrusting once and again, leading him into a turn that brought his dagger around from on high, chopping down at the drow.

But Drizzt, too, rolled, and opposite the assassin, outpacing that dagger. The drow came around with a sidelong swipe of Twinkle, which Entreri expectedly parried.

Drizzt stopped in mid-turn and burst forward, thrusting Icingdeath, and had Entreri simply executed a block on Twinkle, the drow would have found a clear opening.

But the assassin was too clever for that, and had fought this particular opponent before. Instead of merely meeting the leading slash with a block and bat to drive it out wide, the parry had rolled Entreri’s blade over the scimitar.

Entreri let Drizzt’s momentum carry Twinkle out harmlessly wide, disengaging his blade and coming forward with a thrust of his own.

Both could have scored a killing blow, but to do so would have meant accepting a similar fate.

So both crossed to block instead, sword and scimitar meeting with a heavy crash and locking tight between them.

“Stop!” Dahlia yelled out, her voice strained and teeth chattering for some reason that neither combatant understood, or cared to even notice.

Entreri’s dagger stabbed for Drizzt’s throat. Drizzt’s free scimitar flashed across to block, then the drow punched straight out at Entreri’s face.

The assassin ducked the blow and the two went into a clench, arms tangled.

So Entreri found another weapon and head-butted.

As did Drizzt, their foreheads cracking together between them, and both fell back a couple of staggering steps.

And both meant to leap right back in and be done with this.

But a long metallic staff knifed between them like a blocking bar, its tip slamming into the far wall, and with that impact, Dahlia released the energy of three of Taulmaril’s enchanted arrows, and a bit from the staff as well, lighting the corridor with a stinging, explosive blast.

Nearly blinded, the woman still caught the motion as the two leaped away, two who seemed as one warrior leaping back from a mirror. Both half-twisted in the air, executing a barrel roll, turning and diving into a headlong roll then coming back to their feet at exactly the same moment and in exactly the same turn to spin around to face each other once more, at the ready, feet wide, blades leveled.

“Are you brothers, then?” the stunned Dahlia asked.

“He would have me dead!” Entreri yelled at her.

“I will,” Drizzt replied.

“I will join against he who makes the first move,” Dahlia warned.

“First move was his,” Entreri accused.

“Last move will be mine, as well,” Drizzt promised.

“Desist!” Dahlia demanded.