Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(115)

His first arrow took that archer, lifted him into the air, and dropped him off the back of the boat. Then the drow concentrated on the nearer craft and sent a stream of lightning its way. The three shades on the craft ducked and dodged. One’s head exploded with the impact of a bolt and the other two, apparently having seen enough, jumped into the dark, brackish water.

Drizzt shifted for the second craft, but he paused in curiosity, for behind the boat, what seemed like a wind-whipped silvery spray danced across the top of the water.

But there was no wind in the cavern.

Unable to sort the mystery, the drow focused again on the task at hand, sending an arrow at the remaining manned boat, and some other missiles back toward the shore for good measure. His first shot skipped in low, purposely so, and exploded against the hull, splintering planks.

“Those are fish, not ripples,” he heard Dahlia say behind him, and prompted by that, he turned back to aim for a second shot at the remaining threat.

The shades within the craft had ducked out of sight, though, and splashed frantically at the water threatening to swamp them.

It wasn’t until Drizzt regarded the “wave” of fish again, and considered the sudden screams, that he understood their sudden desperation.

The fish had swept over the pair of shades in the water, leaping all around them and biting at them voraciously. In this light, Drizzt couldn’t make out the changing hue, but he knew from the horrible and desperate sounds that Shadovar blood was fast mixing with the dark water.

Screams came from the second boat, too, as those vicious little fish made their way in through the splinter, the boat’s open wound, that Taulmaril had caused.

“Faster! Oh, faster!” Dahlia begged him, for though most of the fish had stopped to feast, another leaping wave swept their way.

Drizzt held Taulmaril up, bowstring drawn, and motioned to the woman.

“What?”

“Catch it!” the drow implored her.

Dahlia stared at him in puzzlement for just a heartbeat, then held Kozah’s Needle out near the tip of the arrow.

Drizzt let fly and the staff swallowed the lightning energy.

Andahar whinnied loudly, in obvious pain. Beside them, Entreri and his steed cried out.

Dahlia plunged her staff into the water and released the lightning energy, and how both horses and all three riders yelped at that painful sting.

But they pressed on, silver fish now floating all around them, dead or stunned. More were coming, though, but Drizzt ignored them. For the water had become shallower, and the drow drove Andahar on, and all of his shots were aimed before them as he swept the beach with magical lightning.

Entreri’s steed charged across the wet sand first, steam flowing from its black, glistening mane. Straight for the doorway they ran, Drizzt and Dahlia riding close behind. The assassin rolled down and dismissed his mount immediately, that he might retrieve the obsidian statuette, but Drizzt did not similarly send Andahar away as he and Dahlia leaped down to the ground. Instead, the unicorn reared and turned and thundered off at the nearest enemies, lowering his ivory horn.

The three companions scrambled through the narrow entry tunnel and burst into the large audience hall beyond, to be met by a line of shade warriors. Drizzt and Entreri entered first, side by side, their blades working ferociously to drive back the stabbing pikes. One polearm thrust in between them and Drizzt sprang upon it, driving it to the ground, then jumped away, crossing before Entreri, who side-flipped the other way, back behind the drow, a perfect somersault that landed him on his feet, blades still working in harmony.

As he had gone across, Drizzt took a trio of pikes with him, tying up the line and forcing the shades to fall back. In that one instant of respite, Drizzt glanced down to his right, to the magnificent throne, and he imagined, but could not see, the grave of his dearest friend just beyond.

The enemies before him proved to be a skilled and well-practiced team, and their short retreat formed them into a defensive, blocking semi-circle around the entry tunnel.

And from the other side of that tunnel came the sounds of pursuit, and one voice in particular, a voice too familiar to the companions, particularly to Entreri, lifted above the others.

“Hold them!” a tiefling warlord screamed.

“He lives!” Dahlia cried in denial, in horror, in anger, as she skidded into the chamber behind her two companions.

“No time,” Drizzt started to yell back, for he expected that Dahlia would simply turn around and go after that most hated tiefling. Drizzt understood that desire well! Alegni had indeed survived and had taken Guenhwyvar, as that strange Shadovar woman had claimed. The drow’s mind spun wildly. He wondered if Alegni might have his beloved companion in tow. In the middle of his fighting, he managed to brush a hand across his belt pouch, silently calling for the panther, hoping against hope that perhaps Alegni had erred in bringing the cat, Drizzt’s cat, who was more than a magical creation, who was a loyal friend.

He shook it all away when a pike nearly skewered him. He continued to silently beckon for Guenhwyvar, but again called to Dahlia to fight forward and not turn around.

But no need, for Dahlia had already rushed past behind him, moving to the side. She planted her staff and vaulted up high, clearing the Shadovar line, pikes coming up behind her as the warriors tried to turn around to meet the threat.

Entreri, understanding Dahlia’s tactics, was already moving, though. He too swept behind Drizzt, coming in hard against the shades, driving them and turning them and cutting them down, tying up that corner of the defensive formation.