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.
Of course, Alegni’s first act upon regaining command of the recovery of Xinlenal was to summon his principal scout and assassin back to his side, something that had not pleased Barrabus the Gray at all. The assassin had been living in relative luxury in Calimport, putting his skills to work for Netherese agents who sought to rule the street trade there. And best of all, he had seen little of Herzgo Alegni in that time.
It was clear to the tiefling that the one thing most intolerable to Barrabus the Gray was servitude. He could exist in a hierarchy, and had never seemed desirous of the responsibilities of command, but Alegni knew the assassin had acted as an independent assassin, serving the needs of the pashas of Calimport or other interests in return for agreed-upon rewards. That had all changed with Alegni, though, and the dominance the tiefling and the other Netherese nobles had exacted over Barrabus was wrought of magic compulsion and nothing more.
In the mind of Barrabus the Gray, he was a slave. He was rarely beaten or tormented with their debilitating magic, the demands on him had never been excessive, and he was able to live a very good life by anyone’s standards in Memnon or Calimport, or wherever he chose. But the coercion remained, and Alegni knew it gnawed at him.
Herzgo Alegni turned to face Barrabus and said, “You suggest we leave the city alone for now?”
“They are enemies of our enemies,” Barrabus replied. “But they are friends of Waterdeep, and so no friends of ours.”
Alegni continued to nod. “Then let them and the Thayans kill each other. Spend little time in the city-just enough to inform me of any significant changes.”
“And the bridge?”
“They can call it whatever they choose,” Alegni decided, though he couldn’t help but wince and betray his true feelings as he spoke the words. Alegni had to be careful, and had to find a way to regain his standing in the empire, and with fewer resources and much more to lose.
“Little time in the city,” Barrabus repeated back to the tiefling. “Little enough to return to the south in the interim?”
“There is a war raging here and you think to leave?” Alegni answered angrily, just the response he knew Barrabus the Gray had feared. “To Neverwinter Wood with you. I will not assign you to any company at present, but I expect you to be productive in battling my enemies.” He handed Barrabus a pouch, and from the sound of it as it was shuffled, it seemed to be full of small metallic vials. “Shy from the undead wretches and aim your blades at these fools who call themselves Ashmadai. And when they are dead, sprinkle this consecrated water upon them to deny the Dread Ring its food, and new minions.”
“You call the Ashmadai fools because they pay allegiance to a devil?” Barrabus said with a grin obviously designed to let Alegni know that he was indeed snidely referring to one line of the tiefling’s heritage.
“Be gone, Barrabus,” Alegni said. “Every tenday, I will know the news from Neverwinter Town from your lips, and as you come in to report, so too shall you offer me your tribute in the form of Ashmadai brands. Do not disappoint me, or you will find yourself serving among the shock troops in the ranks of one of my lesser commanders.”