Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(68)

The recognition that this would be mere vengeance, though, for surely Entreri was doomed and Dahlia nowhere to be seen, and likely already dead or gravely wounded, filled Drizzt with anger, and that rage brought strength back to the torn drow and he forced himself to stand.

Herzgo Alegni saw the cat coming fast, but he kept his concentration—Entreri was too dangerous for distraction!

He twisted the assassin’s head farther as Claw went up, opening an easy target, and down came the blade.

Almost.

A shadow appeared on the ground beneath them, and before Alegni could even register it, a great form crashed up against him, a giant raven, battering him with its wings and pecking him hard—right in the eye!—with its powerful beak.

He staggered to the side and thrust his sword out before him to fend the beast, but then it was a beast no more, but an elf warrior.

A young elf woman.

And in her hands, Dahlia held not a long staff, and not flails, but a tri-staff, spinning and sparking with power, and before the hulking tiefling could properly orient himself, she was before him, then beside him, striking him hard across the fingers with the handle-pole of her weapon. The tri-staff swung down and under, then back up again with its third length, that last pole nearly clipping him in the face and forcing him even farther off balance.

Dahlia didn’t pursue. She ran directly away from him and tugged with all of her strength, and the tri-staff unwound, Kozah’s Needle releasing its considerable lightning energy at that very moment, and the force of the twist and the blast tore Claw from Alegni’s grasp and sent the sword flying high over the far rail of the bridge.

Herzgo Alegni roared in protest, and leaped upon her, catching her by her skinny throat and squeezing with all his strength. But then he felt a profound sting as a spinning dagger caught him in the gut, and he noted the betrayer, Entreri, picking his sword from the bridge stones.

And past that formidable enemy came another, the panther, up in the air and flying down from on high.

Alegni threw Dahlia down to the stone, but there was nowhere to run. So Herzgo Alegni didn’t run.

He stepped instead.

Shadow-stepped.

Guenhwyvar hit him halfway through, and went with him through the gate into the Shadowfell.





WHAT PRICE FREEDOM?





We should have gone in earlier,” Glorfathel the wizard lamented as the battle on the bridge turned sour. He started forward, but a strong dwarf hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned to regard Ambergris.

“Nay, it’s as I telled ye it’d be, and if ye went in, all ye’d’ve done is get us all killed to death,” Ambergris replied. “Townsfolk’re watchin’, don’t ye doubt!”

Glorfathel glanced around, and indeed, most shutters around the area were open, a bit at least.

“As I telled ye,” the dwarf said, and she pointed to a distant street corner, where some townsfolk—armed townsfolk—had gathered. “They’re smellin’ their freedom and coming to take it.”

“Draygo Quick will not be pleased.”

“Less pleased if ye lose half yer force. Lord Alegni choosed his own course, always. He demanded the fight and he got it.” The dwarf looked up the bridge just as the panther leaped upon Alegni. “Oo,” the dwarf groaned. “Aye, he got it!”

Glorfathel considered his Cavus Dun cohort and nodded.

Artemis Entreri straightened immediately, his pain gone, his enslavement broken. He staggered back from the receding mists of Alegni and Guenhwyvar, trying to sort it all out, trying to regain his composure.

No such ambivalence slowed Dahlia. She leaped back from the bridge stones, ignoring the cuts and bruises, and threw herself with abandon at the spot where Alegni had been, thrashing the air with helpless fury, and crying out for the tiefling to “Die!”

A cry of “Guenhwyvar!” from back down the bridge turned Entreri, to see Drizzt stumbling toward him, the onyx figurine in one hand.

Entreri grew concerned—that Drizzt might come for him after his earlier betrayal. But any thoughts about the drow did not hold for the assassin, for the sight beyond Drizzt demanded his attention.

“Dahlia,” he said somberly. “Dahlia, the fight isn’t over.”

Beyond the bridge in the square stood Effron, his twisted form shaking with outrage. And next to him loomed the Shadovar forces, five-score and more.

“Dahlia!” he said again, more insistently, and she at last paused in her furious outburst to notice him.

“I will kill every one of them,” she promised under her breath.

“Get your unicorn, drow,” Entreri remarked, and he produced the enchanted token that would bring his nightmare steed to his call. As Drizzt slowed to regard him, he pointed past the ranger.

Drizzt looked over his shoulder, then back at Entreri, showing the man the onyx figurine. Truly Drizzt seemed a broken person in that moment, a flash of hopelessness evident against the mask of stoicism he typically wore.

“We have to go,” Entreri said.

Drizzt didn’t move, just looked at the statuette.

“Later,” Entreri promised.

Drizzt finally nodded and reached for his whistle, but paused and asked, “The sword?” and ran to the side of the bridge.

“Take Dahlia with you!” he instructed. “I will meet you in Neverwinter Wood!”