Gauntlgrym (Neverwinter #1)(101)

When he reached the bottom, where Drizzt had been, Bruenor found the second line, drilled deep into the angled ceiling across the way, set firmly into the stone by one of Taulmaril’s enchanted arrows.

The tunnel continued, sometimes a drop, sometimes a gentle slope, and the five managed it fairly well. They were near the end of their endurance, but dared not stop and set camp, and yet, there seemed no end in sight.

But then they went down a small shaft and under a low archway where the tunnel turned sharply and showed them the glow of Underdark lichen. A few moments later, they came out onto a high ledge on a great cavern. Giant stalagmites stood quietly around a still pond, and both Drizzt and Bruenor blinked in disbelief, first at the worked tops of those mounds—guard towers—then at the great castle wall across the way.

Bruenor Battlehammer swallowed hard and glanced at the other dwarf.

“Aye, King Bruenor,” Athrogate said with a wide grin. “I was hoping this cavern survived the explosion, that ye might see the front gate.

“There’s yer Gauntlgrym.”





THROUGH THE EYES OF AN ANCIENT KING


IT WAS DUMB LUCK,” DOR’CRAE INSISTED. “THERE WERE TEN CAVES THEY might have—”

“These are dark elves in the Underdark, fool,” Sylora interrupted. “They likely ruled out most of the other caves simply by sniffing the air currents.”

Dor’crae shrugged and tried to respond, but Sylora growled at him, warning him to silence.

“I’ll not have them binding the primordial,” the Thayan sorceress insisted. “Its awakening will seal the fate of the Netherese along the Sword Coast North, and it will complete the Dread Ring and ensure my victory.”

“Yes, my lady,” Dor’crae said with a bow. “But they are a formidable force. The traitor Dahlia strikes fear into even hearty Ashmadai, and this dark elf, Drizzt, is a legend across the North. But we are talking about a primordial here, a grounded god-being. Could Elminster himself, even in his prime, calm such a beast?”

“It was trapped once to serve Gauntlgrym, a prison that lasted millennia.”

“A prison keyed by the Hosttower of the Arcane, which is no more.”

“But which exudes residual magic,” Sylora warned him. “Trust that if there is a way to rebuild the prison, the clever Jarlaxle has discerned it. They are a threat.”

“The Ashmadai pursue them,” Dor’crae promised her. “And from my recent visit to Gauntlgrym, I can assure you that the primordial has populated its sleeping place with worthy guards, mighty creatures from the Plane of Fire that have answered its incoherent call. A small army of red-skinned lizard men roam the halls.”

“Salamanders …” Sylora mused. “Then you have time to get back there and join in the battle.”

The look of dread on Dor’crae’s face as she spoke brought a smile to the sorceress’s lips. The vampire had been hesitant from the beginning, and he still harbored fears that Dahlia wanted to move that tenth diamond chip, the one that represented him, from her right ear to her left.

“I can take no chances on this,” Sylora went on a moment later. “Awakening the primordial into another act of devastation is our penultimate goal here. Unfortunately, the ultimate goal presses, as the Netherese continue to fight me for Neverwinter Wood, though I still struggle with why, and I dare not leave here. So I send you, in respect and confidence.”

Dor’crae’s expression told her that he knew the hollowness of her compliments, but he bowed anyway and said, “I am humbled, my lady.”

“You will take Valindra with you,” Sylora said as Dor’crae straightened, and the vampire’s eyes widened with surprise and trepidation. “She’s far more lucent now,” Sylora assured him. “And know this, Valindra Shadowmantle hates Jarlaxle most of all, and has no love for this other drow, either, whom she blames in no small part for the loss of Arklem Greeth.”

“She is unpredictable, her power often minimally contained,” Dor’crae warned. “She might have a fit, manifested magically, that would facilitate exactly that which you fear most.”

Sylora narrowed her eyes at the vampire, warning him that she didn’t like having her judgment so boldly questioned. She let it go at that, though, for there was a measure of possibility in Dor’crae’s fears. Indeed, as she thought about her decision in that moment, it occurred to Sylora that the vampire might be right, that Valindra was too much the “unexpected bounce of the bones,” as the old Thayan saying went.

Sylora tried to fathom a way to back out of her command that he take Valindra, thinking she might posit that she only suggested Valindra to test Dor’crae’s understanding of the situation. But when such a remark fell flat even in her thoughts, she decided against it. Which left the stubborn leader, who would never admit she was wrong, only one option.

“Valindra will expedite your return to the caverns. And once there, she can move as swiftly as you through the tunnels.”

“Unless she wanders off,” Dor’crae dared mutter, and Sylora flashed him an angry glare.

“You will guide her,” Sylora told him in no uncertain terms. “And when you have caught up to our enemies, point her at the two drow, remind her of who they are and what they did to her precious Hosttower and Arklem Greeth. Then watch in awe as the mighty lich brings old Gauntlgrym itself down on the heads of our enemies.”