Neverwinter (Neverwinter #2)(91)

“Where is he?”

“Gone north,” said a second guard, coming fast around the corner. “We found a patrol, one of our own, slain in the forest.”

Barrabus looked at him skeptically. Shadovar were dying almost every day in the continuing battle with the Thayans, so why would Alegni go out personally to investigate?

“This is different,” the first said.

Barrabus looked from one to the other. “Where is that miserable Effron?” he asked.

“With Herzgo Alegni,” the first replied. “He arrived two hours ago, and claimed that you had been lost in battle.”

“That was his hope,” Barrabus muttered.

“He arrived just as the first report of the deaths in the north came back to us,” the other explained.

“Where?” Barrabus demanded.

“The fourth patrol route, near the northern road,” replied the guard, referring to a location that Barrabus knew well, since it had been Barrabus, after all, who had determined the most appropriate positions for the patrols.

The assassin set off, but he wasn’t walking this time. He had suffered the pain and trekked back to the city on foot because he expected that it would loosen up his injured hip and also in the hopes that he might find Effron along the way.

Yes, finding Effron before the fool had returned to Alegni’s side had been his deepest desire, Claw’s magic and certain punishment notwithstanding.

He dropped his obsidian figurine to the ground and called forth his hellish steed. The black nightmare materialized in front of him, angry as always, pawing the ground with its fiery hooves. Still favoring his left arm, Barrabus climbed into the saddle and thundered away, following the cobblestones around the city to the northern road. The sun was just peeking over the horizon to his left when he found the small trail and turned back to the west, his long shadow standing out in front of him.

Among the trees on the smaller path, he dismissed the nightmare and began to track—an easy enough task given the heavy-footed Alegni.

“Sylora Salm’s champion returns,” he heard Alegni say a short while later.

“She has two champions, then,” came the reply from a raspy, whispering voice Barrabus surely knew. “The one who killed the fool Barrabus was quite formidable.”

Barrabus crept up in sight of the pair.

“Barrabus is not dead,” Alegni insisted. “I would know of such an occurrence—indeed, I would summon him back to life.”

“The sword has the power to do even that?” Effron asked with a wide smile.

“He will not so easily escape his eternal indenture,” was all that Herzgo Alegni would admit, but Barrabus knew the truth of it anyway.

“The strange Ashmadai—perhaps it was indeed a true mummy—had him beaten, I’m certain,” said Effron.

“And you left him?”

The warlock shrugged crookedly. “I had used the majority of my repertoire, since it was left alone to me to defeat the entire Ashmadai force, save that one.”

The assassin stepped out of the brush then, pacing steadily across at Effron and drawing his sword. “Good, then,” he said. “Just what I was hoping to hear.”

“Barrabus,” Alegni remarked, but the assassin paid him no heed.

“Far enough!” the tiefling warrior ordered, but the assassin again paid him no heed.

He did hear Alegni then, however, and in no small way, as that awful sword reached forth into him and twisted his guts into agonizing knots. Stubbornly Barrabus continued, one step, then after what seemed like many heartbeats, another.

“Barrabus.…” Herzgo Alegni warned.

“You hate him as much as I do,” the assassin managed to spit through his gritted teeth.

“That’s not the point.”

“Let … me … do … this,” Barrabus struggled to demand.

“Yes, do,” said Effron. “I have enough of my repertoire left to dispatch this lowly idiot.”

Herzgo Alegni shot the warlock a hateful glare then turned his attention fully back to Barrabus. He drew out Claw and stated, “Enough!” and such a wave of disjointing pain swept through Barrabus that he staggered to the side and fell over.

“Such a wonderful blade!” Effron said with exaggerated glee, and he clapped his one good hand against his chest. “Do let me borrow it, that I might play with Barrabus as well!”

Alegni silenced the warlock with a look, Barrabus noted, and he stubbornly pulled himself back to his feet.

“Enough of all of this,” Alegni warned them both, and he slid his sword away.

Barrabus closed his eyes and breathed easier, released from the grip of Claw. He knew the sword still watched him, though, in his thoughts, knowing his movements before he executed them. He wouldn’t get near that troublesome Effron.

So be it, Barrabus decided. He would find himself alone with the insufferable warlock soon enough. He’d make sure of that. He opened his eyes again and turned his attention back to the situation at hand, with Alegni poking around the bodies of four Shadovar.

“Sylora’s champion returns,” Alegni said to him when he arrived at the tiefling warrior’s side.

Barrabus considered the bodies, their positioning, and quickly concluded that more than one opponent had battled this group. He focused on one dead Shadovar particularly, noting six long cuts across the bloody torso, and he could visualize the brilliant maneuvers that had so fully torn the dead warrior.