Gauntlgrym (Neverwinter #1)(65)
“Our beast is awakening once more,” Sylora went on. “It will rain greater death and destruction this time, feeding the Dread Ring, securing our hold here. Even without that, the agents of Shade Enclave are retreating.”
“They’re still about,” Dahlia dared say.
“But not in Neverwinter Town in any numbers,” said Sylora. “Their grip on that city was undisputed before I awakened the beast, was it not?” Her tone with that last question made it quite clear to Dahlia that she was actually seeking an answer.
“Yes, milady,” the elf warrior dutifully responded.
“Now they remain only because they seek some ancient elven relics in Neverwinter Wood, but what they find, day after day, are my minions, risen from the ash and eager to kill.” She paused and looked across the small field to a group of Ashmadai standing beside a trio of different zombies, not ash-colored, but darker hued. Two of the three carried garish wounds, as if their corpses had been fed upon, and indeed they had. “That is the genius of His Omnipotence, is it not? Other armies diminish with death, but his grows with every fallen enemy.”
Dahlia’s eyes fixed on the third of those corpses, one who had died from a single crushing blow to the side of his head. She had done that, defeating the man in single combat, and it had been a good kill against a worthy opponent. In times past, she would have savored that victory, but looking upon the corpse brought a bitter taste to her mouth.
“Go to Neverwinter Town in the morning,” Sylora instructed her. “I wish to know how many reside there now, and how many of the Netherese stalk her streets.”
Fists clenched at his sides, Herzgo Alegni looked down upon the town of Neverwinter, focusing his gaze and his anger on that beautiful winged structure that centered the rebuilding.
The Herzgo Alegni Bridge, it had been called, for just a few days. For several years after that, like everything else in Neverwinter, it had been called nothing more than part of the disaster, for there had been no one around to take note of it.
But its name was the Winged Wyvern Bridge once more. None of the new settlers had heard of that decade-old proclamation of Lord Hugo Babris.
Hugo Babris—dead like everyone else who had been in or around the city of Neverwinter on that terrible day, save those Shadovar nobles, like Alegni, who had shadowalked back to Shade Enclave.
And one other, the man who stood beside Alegni even then, and who had informed him—with a bit too much glee in his voice, Alegni thought—of the reversion of the bridge’s name.
“You are certain of this?” Alegni asked.
“It was one of the tasks you put upon me to prepare for your arrival,” answered Barrabus the Gray. “When have I ever failed you?”
That sarcastic response had the tiefling turning hateful eyes at his subordinate.
“We will not be welcomed in there,” Barrabus went on.
“Then perhaps we should not ask their permission before entering,” Alegni said with a sneer, and turned back to the distant town and the bridge he had so coveted.
Barrabus didn’t even wait until the tiefling had turned before offering a shrug in response, but he did add to it, “These are not enemies to be dismissed too easily, these men and women we will face in Neverwinter, nor are they any friends of the necromancers who pull forth undead from the ruins. These are seasoned fighters and spellcasters who have stubbornly held that patch of ground against a legion of zombies crawling up right into their midst.”
“My Shadovar kill those creatures with impunity. And most of the monsters had been raised from Neverwinter, and had long departed, before the first of these new settlers ever arrived, according to your first report.”
“True enough, but I caution you to take them seriously, lest we find ourselves fighting to the death for this camp they insist on calling Neverwinter, and even then with so many enemies waiting for us in the forest.”
Herzgo Alegni continued to stare at the patch of black rock that had once been a thriving city, and rubbed his weary face. The tiefling—always an outsider, even among the Netherese—had faced severe discipline after the cataclysm, with some Shadovar blaming him personally for not foreseeing the Thayan threat and dealing with the minions of Szass Tam before they could inflict such damage. Few Netherese had been killed in the cataclysm, since most were rarely in the actual city of Neverwinter, but out in the forest pursuing the ancient treasure they so craved.
For the last decade, the expedition had continued, but Herzgo Alegni had not been sent back to lead it. But with the ground trembling yet again and the minions of Szass Tam gaining a clear upper hand—and an unstoppable position should they ever complete their Dread Ring—Alegni had asked for and had been granted a chance for redemption. He had returned just a month earlier, replacing the current commander, with orders to continue the hunt for fallen Xinlenal Enclave and to beat back the Thayan intrusion at all costs.
Xinlenal—a Netherese enclave, a city built on a floating mountain—was the first of the legendary Netherese enclaves. It had tried to flee the Fall, but made it only to the edge of the Empire of Netheril’s elven frontier. There it came crashing down, as had all the other enclaves save prescient Shade when Karsus stole the power of a goddess and magic itself failed. Thus far, only Sakkors had been rediscovered, once more floated, and eventually settled. The other great enclaves eventually wore away under the blasting sands of the phaerimm’s unnatural desert, but Xinlenal had fallen somewhere in what would eventually come to be known as Neverwinter Wood—or so the Twelve Princes believed. And as the Twelve Princes believed, the Empire of Netheril believed.