Neverwinter (Neverwinter #2)

That notion came to him again in that moment, on the knoll overlooking the impressive fortress of Sylora Salm, and again, as with every time previous, Drizzt allowed the reasoning to play through its logic in his thoughts. But even before he came to the same conclusion as the previous times, Drizzt knew in his gut that it was so. He glanced over at the assassin, lying low again and studying the fortress and the many Ashmadai zealots moving around inside of it.

Drizzt knew he would be glad to have Artemis Entreri fighting beside him when he, too, went over that wall.

“When the sun sets,” Drizzt promised Dahlia, and a quick glance to the west told them that was nearly upon them. “We would do well to determine where Sylora will be found before all daylight has flown. The tower, I would guess.”

“The tower,” Dahlia answered without hesitation. “Sylora is vain above pragmatic, and confident above cautious. She wouldn’t allow anyone to gain a seat above her, whatever the risk of identifying herself.”

“Unless she was trying to ensure that she could not easily be found,” Drizzt replied. “She’s surrounded by enemies. Wouldn’t she be wise to—”

“If Sylora was the slightest bit afraid of the Netherese, or any others, she wouldn’t have built this … place,” Dahlia interrupted, shaking her head.

“Vanity above prudence?” the drow asked.

Dahlia nodded. “She’s in that tower.”

They lay in wait while the shadows lengthened around them, the light quickly fading.

“The darkness won’t protect us from those guards,” Entreri said some time later, the night growing thick. The assassin slid over to join the other two and pointed down at the wall. Drizzt and Dahlia could just make out the forms, a group of sentries. In the dim light, Drizzt at first thought them goblins, or kobolds, perhaps. But as he watched them more closely, he realized they didn’t move in the least. They just stood there, perfectly still, not swaying, not moving their arms, nothing.

“The ashen zombies,” Drizzt said.

“Darkness won’t slow them,” said Entreri.

“They sense life, and need no daylight to see us,” Dahlia agreed.

“Where do we want to breach the wall to find the best route to the tower?” Drizzt asked of Entreri, who had been sliding all around, after all, studying the black-walled fortress from many different angles.

“Very near to where that bunch is gathered,” Entreri replied.

Drizzt glanced down the other side of the ridge, then brought forth his onyx figurine and summoned Guenhwyvar to his side. He whispered to the panther, and Guenhwyvar sprang away. Drizzt drew his blades and motioned for Dahlia and Entreri to follow him back behind the ridge.

There, the drow climbed a skeletal tree, high enough to see the wall, and the panther, as Guenhwyvar approached the cluster of zombies. The cat growled and struck, tearing the head from one, then darted back up the hill with the others in pursuit. There followed a bit of commotion atop the wall, as living guards tried to see what was happening.

As Drizzt had instructed, Guenhwyvar circled back around to ensure that she would be clearly seen by the guards. She growled at them before running up the knoll and over the ridge, past Drizzt as he dropped down from the tree, past Entreri and Dahlia.

The scrambling zombies came in pursuit, and right into three waiting warriors, four blades, and a pair of spinning flails.

Only heartbeats later, the trio lay at the ridge-top again, looking down at the wall, which had gone quiet once more, the Ashmadai resuming their patrol routes. Again Drizzt whispered his instructions to the panther.

“It’s a dozen feet, perhaps,” Entreri said. “No more.”

Drizzt produced a fine elven cord from his pack and tossed one end to Entreri. “I’ll brace,” he explained.

Sylora Salm opened her eyes and was almost surprised to find herself back in her chamber in the tower. She’d been watching the fight in the forest through the eyes of one of her zombie minions—a creature that had met a sudden and shocking end at the decapitating swing of a scimitar. She started to shake her head, but nodded instead, conceding a bit of respect for what she’d witnessed.

“They’re coming,” she explained to Jestry and Valindra, who were in the room waiting for her to return. “They’re in the forest nearby, already fighting our minions.”

“All three?” Jestry asked.

“It’s rather amazing,” Sylora admitted, “and somewhat amusing.” Her expression revealed her honest surprise. “Truly, I believe Dahlia the least of these three warriors, and by no small margin.”

Valindra seemed as if she didn’t know what to make of that, but Jestry nodded, though he seemed a bit removed from appreciating the weight of that statement.

Yes, they wouldn’t truly understand, Sylora reminded herself. Jestry had little personal knowledge of Dahlia’s considerable martial prowess, and while Valindra had witnessed Dahlia fighting in Gauntlgrym, that was in the midst of a larger, frenetic battle, and at a time when the lich was hardly in her right mind.

“True, they’re formidable,” Jestry replied at length. “We know the reputation of Barrabus the Gray, of course, though few thought him the equal of Dahlia from what I’ve heard.”

“I would disagree,” said Sylora. “She’s quite his equal. But, yes, they are quite formidable. More than I expected.”

“Then why would you let them get so close?” Jestry asked.

Sylora shot him a glare.

“It’s a valid question,” Valindra put in, and Sylora turned her glower her way.

“We’re surrounded by warriors,” Sylora said, “but understand that I hope Dahlia and her two companions get much closer.” She held up the wand as she spoke. “You have brought a group of zombies close by, for my … use?” she asked Jestry.

“More than a dozen,” he replied. “Just to the side of the hill, as you instructed.”

“Yes, I can feel them,” said Sylora, and she brought the wand up to tap it against the side of her head. She whispered something the others couldn’t hear, and waved the wand.

“An even dozen remaining now,” she explained as a burst of ash came through the wand and filled the air around Sylora.

Rather than fall to the ground, the individual ash particles dissipated and became a grayish, translucent cloud that encircled Sylora, forming a semicircular, bubblelike shield in front of her.

“Valindra, call some more zombies nearer to the tower, so that I can access their life forces as needed,” she commanded, and Jestry looked at her as though wounded that she’d not assigned him the task.

“You will wait in the cave near the entrance to the tower,” Sylora said to him. “You are not to leave. You will meet Dahlia if she gets close.”

“I’ll kill all three!” Jestry declared.

“You were constructed to defeat Dahlia,” Sylora replied sharply. “Do not forget that. Your ring, the wrappings, the weapon I’ve given you …”

“You just claimed her to be the least of the three,” Jestry argued.

“When you’re done with Dahlia, then you may destroy the others,” Sylora agreed. “But only when Dahlia is defeated and dead.”

Jestry straightened and didn’t reply.

“Do you understand?” Sylora prompted, and she tapped the wand against her face again to convey a clear threat.

The mummy-wrapped zealot nodded. “Dahlia will die.”

Sylora responded with a wide grin. “Oh, they all will,” she replied.

Sylora waved them away and moved back to the small, descending stairway to the balcony, heading down so that she could look out over Ashenglade. She reached into the wand again, seeing the world through the eyes of various zombies, looking for a vantage point from which she might again spy her enemies.

She didn’t find anything then, but no matter.

They were close, and they were coming.

The trio of would-be assassins spent another few moments watching the patrols along the wall top, looking for the optimal moment of approach. Just a few moments, though, for none of these three had ever been known as overly cautious.

Drizzt led the way down the slope and across the open ground. He ran right to the wall, spinning around and throwing his back against the lava stone, crouching and cupping his hands down low as he did.

Just a few running strides behind, Entreri sprinted right up to the drow, planted his foot in his cradled hands, and leaped as Drizzt threw him, easily grabbing the wall top and scrambling up.

Drizzt went right back into position, expecting Dahlia next, but she hardly needed him, charging the wall with her long staff held out in front of her. Even as Drizzt turned and began to climb, with Entreri bracing the rope from above, Dahlia vaulted beside him and rose above, landing on the wall top with a graceful inversion and roll, catching the crenellation with her hand and setting her feet firmly on the parapet. She spun around and broke down her weapon into the more manageable flails before Drizzt gained the wall only a couple heartbeats later.

Artemis Entreri pointed to a building to his left, then to his right, then dropped, caught the wall with his hand, and swung down, hanging for just a moment before silently dropping to the ground. Similarly, Drizzt dropped to his right, and headed for the back wall of the structure Entreri had indicated, as Dahlia went off to the left.

Entreri split the middle, moving along the wall of the left-hand building, which looked quite like a blackened and enlarged boulder. Drizzt moved to the corner and watched him, and heard, as Entreri no doubt heard, some talking from in front of Dahlia’s position.

Drizzt motioned to Dahlia to hold her place, and glanced back at Entreri.

The assassin put a hand up, open, signaling for Drizzt to stay put, then folded his fingers one at a time into a fist, and Drizzt understood he was calling for a five-count pause.

Then he disappeared around the corner.

By the time Drizzt had silently counted to five and moved to the spot where Entreri had been, the assassin came back around the corner, dragging the body of an Ashmadai woman.

Drizzt slipped around the front corner and retrieved the assassin’s other victim, dragging him, too, out of sight.

Dahlia came by him as he did, moving to the next structure in line.

Silently, signaling with their hands, the deadly trio hop-scotched, structure to structure, to the inner wall. They almost made it without further resistance, but as Drizzt sprinted out in front across the small clearing between the last structure and the wall, he noted movement far down to his right. For a moment, he sucked in his breath, thinking their stealthy approach at an end. But then he saw that the pair were not Ashmadai, and weren’t raising an alarm. The withered, charred zombies were hardly interested in proper tactics.

Instead of throwing his back to the wall, the drow dug in, pulling Taulmaril from his back and setting an arrow in one fluid motion. He thought better of taking the shot, though, figuring the flash would surely alert any and all Ashmadai in the bailey, perhaps even those within the second wall. When he considered his companions, who even then came out to join him, weapons drawn, he realized he didn’t need the bow.