Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be useful to her, and in a number of ways.
Despite her protests earlier, the redhead did engage in a bit of overpowering seduction, to indulge herself as much as to please Entreri. She didn’t leave his room until the sky was beginning to lighten with the dawn, and she left Entreri quite exhausted, indeed fast asleep.
She had shown him great pleasure, and he had reciprocated. An added bonus, the succubus thought, for the purpose of her seduction had not been her own pleasure. Not this night, though it had come as an added bonus, surely! No, in the midst of their entwining, Arunika had placed an enchantment upon this dangerous assassin, a dweomer of clairvoyance. And when they were done, collapsed in each other’s arms, the red-haired succubus, a whispering demon, had lived up to the reputation of her kind, offering quiet encouragement into Entreri’s ear, assuring him that his best road forward lay beside Drizzt and Dahlia.
Her reputation as a seer wasn’t wholly unearned, after all, and now Artemis Entreri, marked by the dweomer of Arunika, would spy for her.
Chapter 4
The change in perspective was quite disorienting for Draygo Quick. First he was standing in his room, watching the panther turn to mist, then he was traveling the ether, swirling and spinning, his sensibilities secretly carried along with Guenhwyvar.
Soon he was beside the drow ranger and Dahlia on Toril, but low to the ground, stalking. He could hear the pair but he couldn’t turn to regard them. Not having command over the cat’s muscles, but rather just seeing, hearing, smelling, and feeling through her created a strange, out-of-body, and more importantly, out-of-control, experience for the old warlock.
An altered reality, actually, for the panther’s eyes did not view the world as a human would. Everything seemed elongated, with distances more clearly defined. The crystal clarity led to a dizzying, almost magnifying effect on the grasses and branches and fallen leaves, as if a hundred mirrors had taken the sunlight and magnified it many times over to completely alter the color of the world.
Sounds filled Draygo Quick’s mind-some were soft, like the call of a distant bird, then became suddenly loud as the panther turned her ears. In that turn, other sounds were muted. It seemed to Draygo that the cat could lock her hearing directionally, this way or that, amplifying regions of sound almost to the exclusion of other areas.
She was moving then, swiftly, in pursuit of something, and the ground and low brush sped by so wildly that Draygo reflexively closed his own eyes to try to block it out. But he could not close Guenhwyvar’s eyes and so his actions had no effect. He almost broke the connection, but then Guenhwyvar’s prey suddenly came into view.
Humans and tieflings-Ashmadai zealots-scrambled in alarm, gathering up their war scepters, shoving each other aside.
A blinding flash ripped the air above him, and an Ashmadai man went flying away.
Then the warlock felt as if he were flying, too, as Guenhwyvar leaped. He saw a woman dive aside, another turn and shriek, and he flew past them both, crashing hard against the chest of a burly tiefling warrior. Draygo Quick felt the impact as that warrior tried to bang his scepter against the panther’s flank, but more keenly, Draygo Quick tasted the sweat and flesh as Guenhwyvar bit down. His vision failed him. The cat had closed her eyes, but he heard, keenly, the tearing of flesh and the crunch of bone, and the smell-oh the smell! — overwhelmed him. Coppery and warm.
The scent of gushing blood.
He felt as if he were flying again, and his vision returned suddenly. He saw the drow spinning by, scimitars humming through the air. Dahlia vaulted past and he heard a grunt and a groan and the slapping of her staff against the skull of a woman. The panther crashed into another man, tackling him to the ground, breaking branches and flattening the brush. As soon as they landed, Guenhwyvar spun around and sprang away. Draygo Quick didn’t even realize that he was pawing and clawing the air reflexively to mimic the feeling of Guenhwyvar’s claws ripping the flesh from the man.
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.”