Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(16)

Arunika strode onto the scarred ground, something she would not have dared just a couple of days previous. For then the ring had teemed with palpable necromancy, and then the ring had served Sylora and Szass Tam. Arunika was schooled enough in the Thayan manipulation of the thin veil between life and death to understand that such a functional Dread Ring could accomplish many tasks for its masters, not just in granted power to raise a fortress or raise and control undead, or even to create implements of channeling energy to draw the life force of enemies, but the power of scrying and manipulation. For Arunika to enter Sylora Salm’s functional Dread Ring was to grant Sylora and Szass Tam true knowledge of Arunika, perhaps even to strike forcefully into Arunika’s mind in a manner similar to the intrusions the aboleth had waged on Valindra.

But not now, the succubus knew with confidence. There was residual power, but it posed no threat to a being as powerful as she. She continued her walk through the blackened patch until a scrabbling sound caught her attention. On her guard, Arunika cautiously approached.

It took her a moment to decipher the curious sight, for before her lay a female, dressed in torn but once-magnificent robes. Arunika gasped as she recognized Sylora Salm, or what was left of the sorceress. Several brutal wounds showed on the corpse, burns and blasted holes, but even those mortal injuries paled compared to the greater image. For Sylora had been bent in half backward, folded at the waist in reverse! It seemed as if some powerful creature, a giant or major devil, perhaps, had simply folded the woman’s body over backward.

Arunika couldn’t contain a giggle as Sylora moved, trying ridiculously to crawl. She got only a few inches before toppling over onto her side once more, and so the scrabbling began anew as the zombie—a pathetic undead thing animated by the residual power of the Dread Ring—tried to prepare itself for another short dash.

Arunika nodded and considered Valindra’s present mental state in light of this new information.

She thought to destroy the undead Sylora, out of mercy, but then scoffed at the notion and simply walked off, shaking her head. As a creature of the lower planes, Arunika had little sense of, or care for, the concept of justice, but she did have a soft spot for the notion of cosmic karma. To see Sylora Salm, who had raised so many dead into a state of undead slavery, scrabbling so pathetically on the ground, pleased the succubus. Whatever the greater implications to the succubus’s overall designs, good or bad, Sylora’s demise, this part of it . . . pleased her.

The devil walked from the grotesque crablike zombie and turned reflexively toward Neverwinter, considering the now-dominant Herzgo Alegni. Perhaps the Thayans would return in force. Perhaps Szass Tam would appoint another powerful sorcerer, or even oversee the rebuilding of his Dread Ring personally.

Arunika shook her head, thinking that doubtful, and realizing that even if such an event were to come to fruition, it would not be in any timely manner, considering how fast things were moving in Neverwinter.

The foil for Alegni was no more.

What did that mean? What did it mean for her? She thought of the many possibilities and potential roads before her.

“It is weaker,” came a raspy and familiar voice behind her.

“Invidoo,” Arunika replied, speaking the true name of the imp, a name that gave her great power over the nasty little creature. She turned to face the imp and shook her head, smiling knowingly, as she considered the open sores and torn flaps of skin that still covered the diminutive devil’s form, wounds suffered at the hand of Sylora Salm.

“She is defeated.”

“She’s dead,” Arunika corrected.

“Yesss!” Invidoo replied with a satisfied hiss. “Sylora Salm is defeated and dead and gone, and Invidoo killed her.”

Arunika stared at the imp doubtfully.

“I took her wand!” Invidoo insisted. The imp began to gulp in air then, manipulating its torso, rolling its thin belly under its rib cage. Then with a cough and some gagging, Invidoo vomited into its own hand, and as the acidic bile flowed through, only a small discolored digit remained. Grinning widely, showing a grate of yellow, bile-soaked pointed teeth, Invidoo held up that trophy.

“Took her wand, took her fingers!” the imp said triumphantly. “Have more, have another!” Invidoo assured Arunika, and it began to undulate and gag once more, until the succubus patted her hand in the air and bade Invidoo to stop.

“Invidoo killed Sylora!” the imp announced proudly.

Arunika didn’t know what to make of the seemingly absurd claim, and didn’t really care anyway. It mattered not at all to her how Sylora Salm had died, only that Sylora was dead.

“You said when Sylora dead, Invidoo go home,” the imp reminded her. “Invidoo go home?”

The question reminded Arunika of her suspicions regarding some of the imp’s other recent exploits, and her pretty face grew very tight as she stared hard at Invidoo.

“Had you come to me directly upon Sylora’s death, I would have granted you leave,” she said slyly.

Invidoo hopped into a back flip, then landed rocking back and forth from clawed foot to foot. “Had to heal.”

The imp’s voice trailed off and it began to upchuck again, a panicked expression coming over the little creature’s face as Invidoo realized the telepathic intrusion of the succubus.

For Arunika was not without some mind-reading powers of her own, particularly regarding an imp she had taken as her familiar.