“Why, Lord Alegni, here they come,” Glorfathel remarked.
Alegni’s smile widened, his eyes sparkled, and he clenched his fists eagerly. They hadn’t begun to properly prepare for this, having just secured the forge room, but that didn’t matter to the tiefling. He just wanted his revenge.
“Go,” Effron called to the few others in the room. “To the forge and gather a great force! Send others through the tunnels to prevent any escape. Go!”
“On me way!” Ambergris replied, yanking back a pair of shades who had started for the tunnel to the forge room and rambling past them. Afafrenfere sprinted to catch up, but the dwarf slugged him in the gut as he started past her.
“Go protect the lord, ye dolt!” she scolded, and she disappeared into the small corridor.
“Which of them carries the sword?” Glorfathel asked.
“The drow had it in the forest,” Effron answered. “Strapped across his back.”
“I will stop that person, then,” Glorfathel declared. “We cannot allow him to get anywhere near the primordial’s pit.”
“You have magic to counter such an attempt?” Alegni asked, his voice betraying his anxiety, for to lose that sword to the primordial would be disastrous indeed. He felt a sting of regret that he hadn’t properly prepared his defenses, but the simple fact that they had managed to get between those who would destroy Claw and this fiery beast was no small thing.
The tiefling warlord surveyed his forces, and looked to the forge room tunnel. He had only a pair of magic-users, Glorfathel and Effron, and a handful of warriors. It should be enough, he figured, even without Claw to dominate Barrabus.
“Five ranks!” he ordered. He motioned to a pair of rogues and sent them away. “Find them and strike them down.” He signaled for a pair of warriors to go off right behind them, then pointed to a second group of Shadovar warriors. “You four in next—meet them twenty strides inside the tunnel if they get past the first line.” As that second line hustled into place, Alegni turned his gaze on the remaining two warriors. “Each of you with me, third rank!”
“Effron and you, monk”—he waved absently at Afafrenfere—“behind me, but within the chamber. Destroy any who manage to slip past and get near the chamber.”
“And I in the back, near the rim,” Glorfathel agreed, moving into position opposite the tunnel, before the primordial pit. “Though expect that I will not await their entrance and will strike at them from here.”
“Do not kill the female elf,” Effron said.
Alegni glanced at the twisted warlock, then nodded to Glorfathel to signal his agreement with that command. Indeed, he wanted Dahlia alive. Alegni reviewed the positioning, then moved toward the tunnel entrance flanked by the two shades. He looked again at the corridor to the forge room, hoping the reinforcements to this room and those circling the approaching trio would be quick. He couldn’t take any chances, nor would he tolerate another escape.
Out of the tunnel came Ambergris, huffing and puffing, and nodding Alegni’s way as if to signal that reinforcements were close behind.
Artemis Entreri led the way. The corridor was mostly cooled, the floor solid, but enough glowing lava along the walls and floors remained to provide ample light.
So the assassin moved stealthily, in perfect silence, shifting from shadow to shadow. Still, even with all of his considerable skill, the shade rogues were no novices and it was good fortune alone that allowed Entreri to see them before they noticed him. He went flat against the wall in an advantageous spot, and held his breath.
As they neared, he noticed other forms coming along as well.
Entreri clenched his jaw tightly. He was so close! But the way was blocked. He could smell his freedom in the brine and smoke of the distant chamber, yet he could not get there.
“No!” he growled as he leaped from the wall, sword leading, dagger slashing as he turned past the first shade.
The first fell. The second managed to shrug enough so that the dagger cut at her shoulder and not her throat, as Entreri had intended. She fell away with a cry and broke off into a run back the way she had come.
“Come on!” Entreri called to his companions, and he started after her, then fell back with a cry of surprise of his own as a lightning missile streaked past him, taking the shade rogue in the back and laying her low.
On came the shade warriors, but on came Dahlia and Drizzt in support.
Another arrow flew off . . . and disappeared.
“Will you stop doing that!” Drizzt scolded, but Dahlia laughed at him and sprinted on, right past Entreri and into the pair of enemies. She led with a stab of her staff, into the ceiling just before the enemies, and the shocking burst of lightning halted them and blinded them momentarily—just long enough so that when they came out of the blindness, they were met by a pair of whipping and spinning flails, a fierce barrage that had them back on their heels before they could begin to formulate any coordinated movements.
And so they were still on their heels when Dahlia’s companions rushed past her to engage them. These two could not have matched Drizzt Do’Urden and Artemis Entreri on even turns, but now, caught so abruptly, they were quickly doomed.
A scimitar stabbed straight out, driving the one before Drizzt back. The drow’s second blade went across at the other, distracting him as Drizzt cut across to confront him.
Entreri rolled behind the drow and sprang forward, and the first shade, busy trying to gather some understanding of the darting ranger, never saw the sword coming.
Drizzt turned his blades over and over before him, driving back the remaining shade, keeping the poor fool completely focused in a desperate attempt to block the rolling barrage.
So when Entreri rushed past on his flank, that shade was helpless against the dagger thrust. That alone would have proven a mortal wound, but Dahlia, close behind Entreri, only sped the process with a tremendous pair of heavy flail swings, cracking his skull.
He fell into the wall and slumped, and Drizzt, too, rushed past.
“Many more!” Dahlia cried, spotting the next four in line.
“Turn back!” Drizzt said, but Entreri lowered his head and ran on, determined to be done with this wicked business.
Dahlia hesitated, thinking to turn, but only until she looked past the next line of shades, to see the familiar hulking tiefling coming behind them.
By the time Entreri had engaged, she was right there beside him.
Determined to be done with this wicked business.
And so was Drizzt, for he would not abandon his companions. As he joined them in their line of attack, he saw the others behind, and still more in the steamy chamber beyond that.
“So be it,” he said aloud.
Ambergris ran across the floor toward Glorfathel. The elf wizard shifted all around, head moving as if he was a hunting bird waiting for a mouse to appear among the many cracks in a woodpile.
“Whatd’ye know?” the dwarf asked, sliding into place beside the wizard. Ambergris looked to the tunnel as she did this, and could understand easily enough why Glorfathel was having so much trouble picking out a clear shot. Just before them, but still in the room, Effron similarly bobbed, every now and again launching some black bolt into the tumult of the darker corridor. Beside him, Afafrenfere danced around nervously, air-boxing and glancing back at Ambergris, nodding eagerly and rather stupidly.
Ambergris sighed.
“The narrower corridor aids our enemy,” Glorfathel said. “We cannot flank them or overwhelm them.”
“And yerself can’t find a clear lightning line,” the dwarf said.
Glorfathel didn’t seem to be listening to her at that moment, though, his face brightening.
“The drow has the sword,” he said, and he stopped bobbing, and stopped blinking. “Aye, we were knowin’ that,” the dwarf replied.
Again Glorfathel didn’t seem to hear her. He seemed locked in his focus, pinpointing Drizzt, holding perfectly still as he waited for the drow to show himself more fully. So much like a hunting animal did Glorfathel seem that Ambergris almost expected him to start tamping his feet as if readying to spring.
He brought one hand out before him, lining up his angle, and rolled his fingers to reveal a small metal bar. Smiling, eyes glittering in the glow of the room, Glorfathel started casting.
He chanted slowly, softly, and his voice began to rise in volume, his words coming faster and more forcefully as he rose to a towering crescendo.
Ambergris grabbed him by the arm. “Hey, wizard . . .”
Glorfathel nearly choked on his words. He pulled away roughly, staring incredulously at the stupidly grinning dwarf. He went right back to focus on the hallway, arm and magical component out before him. He seemed quite flustered and quite intent all at once, obviously trying to find his target and his composure before he lost the moment.
“Hey, wizard,” Ambergris said again, just as Glorfathel settled once more.
Glorfathel gasped angrily and snapped his gaze over her.
“Ye got a spell o’ levitation for yerself or meself?” the dwarf asked.
Glorfathel stared at her as if she had lost her mind, then turned back to the situation before him and as he began moving his arms into spellcasting position again, he answered emphatically, “No!”
He started chanting for his lightning bolts once more, and hardly caught the significance when Ambergris quietly replied, “Good.”
Glorfathel did feel the dwarf ’s strong hand slap hard against his back, though, and felt it more keenly as the dwarf ’s other hand slapped up between his legs to grab him by the crotch.
He managed to say, “What?” but that was all, as Ambergris lifted him over her head and pitched him back over her shoulder and over the ledge, into the primordial pit.
Not even bothering to turn around and admire her handiwork, the dwarf fell right into her own spellcasting, waggling her fingers.
Before her, Afafrenfere stared blankly, for he had seen the throw, and apparently he had not yet figured out that he was the target of the dwarf ’s coming dweomer.
The four shades standing before them were not novices to battle, and had fought and trained together for a long, long time. Drizzt knew that almost immediately. The shades’ coordination of movements was too precise to indicate anything less.
They stood four across in the tight tunnel, and that alone showed a level of trust and familiarity, for their movements and efforts had to be straightforward, or properly angled outward on a diagonal—and not a block or thrust of theirs could come as a surprise to the others in line, else risking a catastrophic entanglement.
With Dahlia next to him on his left and Entreri beyond her, the three companions fought ferociously, going for the fast kill. Time was not their ally.
Drizzt set his scimitars to rolling again and rushed forward, trying to break the line. But the shade to his opponent’s right thrust out to intercept.
Dahlia moved perfectly to intercept that thrust, her spinning flail cracking at the blade.
But the shade retracted and came ahead again, and Dahlia had to fend a similar attack as Drizzt, but from the third shade in line.
Entreri slapped that thrust away, freeing up Dahlia, but then he faced an attack from the far end, and Dahlia from the next, and Drizzt, again, from the second.
The shade line held.
“You have failed, Barrabus,” Herzgo Alegni said from behind the fight. “And you will be punished.”
Dahlia, not Entreri, reacted fiercely, driving forward to get at the most-hated tiefling.
She was driven back before she ever started, and only fast reactions by Drizzt and Entreri at her sides prevented her from taking multiple hits from those shades flanking her intended victim.
In the effort, Entreri got cut across his right forearm by the fourth shade, the one holding the end of the line on his side.
Behind the four, Herzgo Alegni laughed.
“Faster, faster,” Drizzt prompted his friends, and all three pressed ahead, blades stabbing wildly, scimitars rolling, flails spinning.
The four shades responded with a barricade of parrying swords.
One flicked a dagger out suddenly, throwing for Dahlia.
Entreri picked it off with a slight turn of his sword.
A dagger came at him, as well, but Dahlia’s flail batted it aside.
One came for Drizzt, then a second, but his scimitars took them from the air cleanly, and he hardly slowed his rolling barrage of blows.
Artemis Entreri flicked his own dagger, feigning a throw at the shade to his right, but actually spinning it at a backward arc.
In came swords, left, right, and center, to block, and the assassin’s suddenly free hand went to his belt buckle, brought forth the knife, and launched it at a lower angle in one fluid movement.
It disappeared into a tangle of swords and flails, but the grunt of the targeted shade signaled a hit.
Entreri spun a complete circuit—Dahlia reflexively sent a flail snapping across to protect him as he turned—and when Entreri came around, he held sword and dagger once more, for he caught the fake throw behind him perfectly.
The shade before Dahlia, Entreri’s buckle knife deep in his gut, could not maintain the pace, and the elf pounced, sending a straightforward barrage of spinning poles at him.
His companions left and right defeated that attack, but Dahlia side-stepped to the right as she worked the weapons.
And Drizzt rolled behind her to take her place as she took his, and Icingdeath flashed ahead past those defenders still trailing Dahlia.
The shade carrying Entreri’s dagger took the stab in the chest and fell away.
But another was there immediately, thrust forward by Herzgo Alegni, who continued to grin.
“Well done!” He mocked them with a wicked laugh.
Drizzt knew that Alegni’s confidence was justified. They had scored a minor gain and no more. The shades fought defensively, and in the tight tunnel, they three could not begin to break through in time.
In time . . . Alegni’s confident grin told them that more Shadovar would soon arrive, before them and probably behind.
“Fight hard, Dahlia!” Entreri cried, and his curious reference to her only clued Drizzt in to his meaning.
The drow went forward with a double thrust, but reversed almost immediately and threw himself backward into a roll, and the instant he vacated his spot, Entreri and Dahlia both shifted in half a step to fill the gap.
Drizzt came up from his roll with Taulmaril in hand.
“Center!” he called, and the two fell apart, and the arrow streaked through.
A shade warrior slapped his sword across desperately and managed to deflect the lightning arrow, but only changed its angle so that instead of catching him in the chest, it hit him in the face, and he, too, flew away.
The other shade flanking Alegni started to fill the void, but in came the tiefling warlord instead, now roaring in anger and with a huge broadsword flashing left and right.
“Kill them!” he ordered, and he led the assault, striking mightily and often.
Entreri and Dahlia couldn’t begin to counter the sheer power of those strikes with three other shades pressing in around the mighty Alegni.
Drizzt let fly again, the arrow streaking at Alegni, but Dahlia’s flail ate it before it got near. He let fly again immediately, but she took that one, too!
The drow couldn’t tell whether she meant to steal the arrows with her magical staff or whether her interceptions were merely the result of the furious flurry she needed to throw forth to try to slow the warlord and his minions. To try futilely, Drizzt realized, for the four shades pressed ahead and overwhelmed Entreri and Dahlia, driving them back.
Drizzt managed one last shot, which Dahlia again stole, before he had to take up his scimitars again and leap into the fray, and he did so just in time as Dahlia stumbled backward and cried out in pain, nearly caught by Herzgo Alegni’s sword slash, and struck instead by a line of searing black magic.
She turned as Drizzt stepped by to take her place, and he stayed near the center of the corridor, expecting her to flank him again on his right.
But she didn’t.
Grunting in pain, she turned and ran away.
Like Glorfathel behind him, Effron tried to find an angle of attack with his devastating magic. So focused was he that he didn’t realize that the sorcerer behind him had been thrown into the pit, the plummeting elf ’s screams drowned by the swirling thunder of the water elementals.
Nor did Effron notice Afafrenfere beside him, turning around and gaping incredulously at the traitorous dwarf.
The twisted warlock did see a shade fall away in the tunnel before him.
He did see a flash of lightning and a second fall, and saw Herzgo Alegni take up the fight.
No help had yet appeared, however, and strangely so! Effron released a spell, aiming just to the left of the warlord. He lost sight of the bolt, but his eyes sparkled when he heard a cry of pain, the voice of an elf female.
But then his eyes became heavy suddenly, and his limbs slowed and he felt as if he was underwater, then under something heavier, thicker than water . . .
He could barely move. His mind dulled as his limbs seemed to lock and freeze in place.
He fought back with all of his willpower. He managed to turn his head enough to see Afafrenfere, standing perfectly still, not moving, not even blinking.
Effron fought through the dweomer and spun around to see Ambergris the dwarf standing there, hands on hips, with Glorfathel nowhere to be seen.
“Ah, ye fool,” the dwarf said. “Ye should o’ stood still.”
Effron’s mind spun as he tried to sort it out, but one thing seemed crystal clear to him: The dwarf had cast a spell of holding over him and Afafrenfere.
Ambergris laughed, hoisted her great mace in both hands, and charged at him.
“Alegni!” Effron cried desperately, and he became a wraith and dived into the stone just an eye-blink before the sweeping mace of Ambergris.
Alegni heard the shout and it stole his momentum. He faded back from the fight just a bit and managed to look back into the primordial chamber, hoping that Effron’s cry signaled the arrival of the reinforcements.
Where were they?
And worse, what was he looking at? He saw the dwarf rush off out of view to his right, mace in hand—had enemies come in behind them? Had the dark elves arrived?
The warlord swallowed hard at that awful thought and shoved the remaining shade up before him to join the other three in their defensive line. Alegni turned back as he did, to see Dahlia in full retreat.
Had his forces swung around to block that end of the tunnel, he wondered and hoped?
Were his forces detained in the forge room, battling the drow?
“Kill them!” he ordered the four shades before him, and he fell back, cautiously but quickly, trying to make sense of a situation that suddenly seemed to be fast deteriorating.
With Herzgo Alegni dropping back from the fight, Drizzt and Entreri soon came up to even footing against the four before them, and while they couldn’t make much headway in the narrow tunnel, neither could the shades gain any advantages against the two supremely skilled warriors.
“Go!” Drizzt bade Entreri. “Run with Dahlia!”
“To what end, you noble fool?” Entreri asked, his question coming forth in choppy inflection as he parried a sword thrust with his own sword, then caught a second attack with his dagger and deftly turned it aside. “You’ve got the sword!”
Drizzt growled and batted aside a well-coordinated attack from the two before him.
“You go,” Entreri yelled at him. “Better for me to die than to be caught again by that wretched blade!”
But Drizzt was thinking that if Entreri did run off, he could hold back these four for a few moments, then sprint in pursuit, his anklets giving him the ground he needed to be away. “Go!” he shouted back at Entreri, even as the assassin shouted the same to him.
And both of their cries got cut short by the screech of a giant bird, coming in fast behind them!
Both dropped low and drove forward, even going to their knees as they forced down the attention and the blades of their opponents.
Dahlia the Crow soared over them and bashed into and through the shade line, scattering the four, knocking two to the ground in the process.
“Oh, good girl,” Drizzt said, leaping back to his feet beside Entreri, for now they had the advantage, all integrity of the defensive line before them broken.
Perhaps momentarily, but momentarily was all that Drizzt Do’Urden and Artemis Entreri fighting in concert would ever need.
Herzgo Alegni widened his eyes in shock as he saw Effron come up out of the floor far to the side, and saw the Cavus Dun dwarf charging at the warlock, mace in hand.
“Treachery,” the warlord breathed as he began to sort it out. The monk still had not moved, obviously held by some magical spell. And Glorfathel was nowhere to be seen.
And this dwarf attacked Effron.
Alegni dived aside and to the ground, catching a sudden and overwhelming movement out of the corner of his eye. He got clipped by a clawing talon, and used it to enhance his roll and bring him back to his feet. He could only watch in shock as that giant bird—Dahlia, he knew—dived out of sight, over the ledge and down into the mist.
Where were the reinforcements?
Alegni thought of the dwarf running for the corridor to fetch them.
And then he understood. This one’s treachery had been complete.
Alegni winced as Effron launched a spell at the dwarf, but one that met with magical defenses and hardly slowed her charge. Again at the last moment, Effron slipped into a crack in the floor.
But the dwarf skidded to a stop, laughing, so confident. “Ye canno’ get away like that for long, ye little sneaker!” she proclaimed, and truly she seemed to be enjoying herself.
The warlord spun back to the tunnel, where four defending shades had become two, and where the superb skill and coordination of Barrabus the Gray and this drow ranger would soon win out.
And no reinforcements would be coming.
“Damn you,” he whispered at Ambergris, at Barrabus, at Dahlia, at them all, for he had lost again. He yelled out to Effron, who was coming back to his threedimensional form far to the other side of the chamber, back near the corridor to the forge room, “Effron, be gone! To the Shadowfell! Get away!”
He turned back to the tunnel and saw the last of his shade warriors go down before a cut of Barrabus’s deadly sword, saw the drow ranger already coming for him.
Bitterly, Herzgo Alegni had to accept the truth: His side had failed.
“Be gone, Effron!” he called again, and he began to shadowstep, thinking of all the curses he would scream against Draygo Quick and the treacherous Cavus Dun before the Netherese Council.
The world began to fade into shadow.
But an image came to him, then, and it jarred him indeed. Herzgo Alegni saw his beloved red-bladed sword spinning down into the maw of the primordial, to be eaten by the fiery beast.
The sword cried out in his mind, begging him to fight on, promising him that it would help him, that it could control Barrabus.
Promising Herzgo Alegni that he and Claw would win.
The tiefling warlord ended his dimensional step and came back to Toril fully, the shadows around him dissipated.
Drizzt the ranger stood barely ten strides away, holding Claw out before him. This dangerous enemy reached out at Herzgo Alegni through the telepathic power of that sword, promising him, coaxing him, coercing him.
The crow swooped in.
The huge bird rolled over in mid-air and became an elf female, flying down at the distracted Alegni’s back from on high, tingling with arcing bolts of pent-up lightning magic, her face locked in a murderous expression.
“Father!” Effron screamed, seeing it all before him, seeing her drop upon the unsuspecting tiefling from behind, her muscles snapping in perfect coordination and timing to lead with a tremendous chop of her magical staff.
Herzgo Alegni glanced at Effron, his twisted son, his expression revealing a deep lament.
The explosion of Dahlia’s staff, the release of lightning, the momentum of her wild charge as she crashed down upon him, sent horn and bone and smoking hair and flesh flying aside and drove the mighty tiefling to his knees.
“Father!” Effron cried again, tears streaming from his strange eyes, red and blue.
“Get over here, ye little rat!” Ambergris yelled at him, and the ferocious dwarf closed furiously, mace ready to split his skull.