The Last Threshold (Neverwinter #4)(24)

Back into the sprint they went, an Ashmadai spinning down before them. A scimitar flashed out, right before Draygo Quick’s vision, and he shouted and threw his arms across his face, trying desperately to retreat from the overwhelming sights, sounds, and smells.

He felt as if he were falling, falling, into a vast and dark hole.

“… it led us here because there was something here.” Drizzt’s voice reached out to him, drawing him from the darkness and back into the senses of the panther. “Something powerful …”

The last word faded away as Guenhwyvar turned her ears to focus on a distant shout. Had some of the Ashmadai band escaped?

“… working with the vampire?” Dahlia asked.

The cat sprang away, running up the side of a tree, and all Draygo Quick could catch of Drizzt’s response was, “… it’s much worse than that.”

Oh, go back, you idiot cat! the warlock’s mind screamed futilely.

The elf and the drow continued to talk below, but the panther focused off into the distance, and Draygo Quick heard the breathing of a fleeing Ashmadai warrior more keenly than he heard their voices. His thoughts pleaded with Guenhwyvar, but of course, the panther could not hear them.

The panther jumped down from the tree, and Draygo Quick cried out in horror to see the ground rushing up at him. The sheer shock broke his connection with Guenhwyvar, but as his consciousness returned to his room in the Shadowfell, he heard the voice of Drizzt saying, “What do we know of the fate of Valindra Shadowmantle?”





“Lord Draygo?” Effron asked quietly, moving into the old warlock’s private chambers. He glanced all around. The place seemed quite empty. By all accounts, though, Draygo Quick was in here. The old warlock had summoned him, even.

He moved slowly and cautiously, always as if walking on tiles of blown glass when around this most dangerous and vindictive wretch. Effron had not leaped with joy when Draygo Quick’s messenger had arrived with the summons.

He passed the side room, where Guenhwyvar was kept, and resisted entering it, for fear that he would be discovered and accused of trying to steal the panther yet again.

“Lord Draygo?” he repeated as he entered the main chamber.

Still empty. Effron again turned to the side room. He summoned his courage and moved to the door, gently turning the handle and shouting out, louder now, “Lord Draygo!”

He froze in place when he looked into the chamber, for there sat Draygo Quick, on the floor! What was left of the old man’s scraggly hair stuck out at curious angles, and he stared at Effron vacantly. Always before had Draygo Quick seemed composed and proper, his hair kempt, his clothing, be it robes or a smart vest and breeches, always neat and straight.

Draygo Quick stared at him for many heartbeats, and only then seemed to register his presence.

“Ah, Effron, good that you have come,” he said at last, and he began pulling himself up from the floor.

Effron dashed over to help him to his feet.

The withered old warlock ran his hands over his head to smooth his meager hair, and he flashed a yellow-toothed smile.

“Quite a ride, boy,” he explained.

Effron didn’t understand. He looked around the room, to the cage. Its bars were not glowing, and no panther stalked within.

“I have been to Toril,” Draygo Quick explained. “Through the senses of the great panther.”

Effron stared at him, not quite catching on.

“I am bound to the creature, by the blessing of a deceived druid,” the withered old warlock explained. “And so I can see through her, hear through her, smell through her, and even feel through her. It’s quite an exhilarating ride, I assure you!” He laughed, but sobered quickly, his face turning serious. “Never have I experienced a kill like that before. The smell … it was … personal.” He looked up at Effron. “And beautiful.”

“Master?”

Draygo Quick shook his head, almost as if to dismiss a trance. “No matter,” he said. “Not now, at least, though I do intend to explore this more.”

“Yes, Master,” Effron said and his gaze went back to the empty cage. “And what is my role?”

“Your role?”

“I was told you wished to see me, at once.”

Draygo Quick seemed quite flustered for a few heartbeats—something Effron had never witnessed before. He couldn’t help but glance back at the empty cage, trying to fathom what wondrous or terrifying experience had befallen Draygo Quick.

“Oh that, yes,” the warlock said after he had composed himself. “You wish a chance to redeem yourself, and so I offer you one. I had intended one direction, but now, very recently indeed”—he glanced at the cage and grinned “—some other information has come to me. What do you know of this Valindra Shadowmantle creature?”

“The lich?” Effron asked. “I have watched her from afar. She is quite insane, and doubly dangerous.”

“Go and spy on her again. For me this time,” Draygo Quick informed him. “I would know her movements and intent, and if she poses any serious threat to the region of Neverwinter.”

“Master?” Effron was less than enthused, and his voice revealed that fact clearly.

“Go, go,” Draygo told him, and he waved his leathery hands at the young warlock. “Learn what you may and return with a full accounting. And let me warn you again, my impetuous young protégé, beware your dealings with Dahlia and her companions—particularly with her companions. Dahlia is inconsequential at this time.”