Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(35)

Now he felt it, the fiery beast, the god of flaming destruction. This was why Matron Zeerith had included him in his hated brother’s expedition, and now, suddenly, feeling that power, experiencing the clarity of mind which could only be brought through such a close communion with an old and basic power, Brack’thal held his curses back, and even thanked Zeerith for allowing him this journey.

He did not even watch the battle at hand before him. His sisters would win out, he fully expected, and he could no sooner turn from this stone, from the deep sensations and vibrations of the primordial beast of fire than he could from a tryst with Lady Lolth herself.

For the promise was no less.

The promise of power.

The promise of magical strength as it had been those many years ago.





COMRADES IN COMMON CAUSE





Dahlia fought hard against the stubborn webbing to turn her head. She didn’t want to miss the demise of her tormentor, and was quite pleased when Entreri’s sword split open the shade’s skull.

She wriggled some more and managed to free her head almost completely, though the rest of her remained tightly bound. As she glanced around, she came to understand that she was alone—alone with this man Entreri, Alegni’s champion. After a moment to catch his breath and retrieve his thrown knife, he started toward her, sword leveled her way.

Dahlia twisted and strained, struggling to free up one arm. But then she settled, knowing she could not hope to defend herself.

The sword was close.

Dahlia stared the small, cold man in the eye, trying to discern his intent.

The sword came in at the side of her neck and she stiffened and held her breath. But Entreri began to cut the webbing away.

“I am truly touched,” she said sarcastically after she had recovered from the shock.

“Shut up,” Entreri said as he continued freeing her.

“Are you embarrassed by your concern for me?” the elf woman quipped.

“Concern?”

“You’re here, against your master’s allies,” Dahlia reasoned.

“Because I hate him more than I hate you,” Entreri was quick to reply. “Do not presume that such thoughts shine brightly upon you.”

His last words were lost in the rumble of a low and threatening growl, and Entreri froze, and Dahlia smiled—she could see six hundred pounds of musclerippled panther crouching right behind him.

“You have met my friend Guenhwyvar, no doubt?” she asked with a grin.

Artemis Entreri didn’t move.

“Hold!” came a call from the side, as Drizzt Do’Urden, limping only slightly, came over the ridge. Whether he was speaking to Entreri or Guenhwyvar, neither Dahlia nor Entreri could be sure.

Both, likely.

Entreri dismissed the drow with a snicker and drove his sword down halfway to the ground, greatly loosening the bindings on Dahlia.

“A change of heart?” Drizzt asked when he came beside the pair. Dahlia extracted herself from the webs. Behind Entreri, Guenhwyvar remained poised to leap upon the small man.

“Easy, Guen,” Drizzt prompted the cat, and her ears came up.

“Why have you returned?” Dahlia asked Entreri as she continued to pull strands from her clothing. She wasn’t feeling particularly generous, and didn’t much like being rescued. She intended to push Artemis Entreri, and hopefully to push him far away.

When he didn’t immediately answer her question, Dahlia stopped plucking the webs. Her question had struck him hard, obviously. She was caught by surprise, for she had never expected to see him in such a pensive pose.

“Why?” she asked again, sharply and loudly, but only to pull the man from his apparent introspection.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Dahlia felt Drizzt’s gaze upon her and glanced his way. His visage was cold, as if chastising her for going after Entreri so bluntly. The man had just saved her life, after all. She offered a shrug.

“Well, why did you leave us, then?” Dahlia asked, a bit more cordially.

“Herzgo Alegni carries my old sword,” Entreri replied. “My old sword, sentient and telepathic, can learn things from me. Being with you endangered you, and while I care not a whit for the lives of either of you, I do not wish for you to fail in your quest.”

“And yet, despite your words, here you are, endangering us.”

“I know your intent,” Entreri replied. “Being closer to Alegni makes it more likely that he will learn of your intentions from me.”

“So we should just kill you,” said Dahlia, and she kept any hint of humor out of her voice.

“You will die first,” Entreri promised.

Drizzt stepped between them. Only then did Dahlia realize that she and Entreri had begun drifting together, face to face, unblinking.

“I thought to simply go away, though I could not escape Alegni if I fled Faer?n itself,” Entreri explained.

“And you just happened upon us?” Drizzt asked.

Entreri shook his head. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to help you before Alegni—before my old sword—lays me low on the street,” he admitted. “And yet, here I am,” he added, looking around at the dead Shadovar, “helping you on your way. Alegni and Charon’s Claw did not hinder my blade as I struck at your enemies, whom I would have to presume serve as his allies.”