Charon's claw

SHADOWS, ALWAYS SHADOWS

Effron continually looked over his shoulder, peering through the ashen mists and endless shadows of the Shadowfell. He wasn’t supposed to be there, and Draygo Quick would punish him severely if the weathered old battle mage discovered his breach of etiquette and station.

But he had to know.

This involved Dahlia. He had to know!

Despite his desperation, Effron didn’t dare travel anywhere near the Cavus Dun guildhouse, nor did he dare speak with any of the leaders of that organization. Nay, they would rush straight to Draygo, he knew, for they would not protect the confidentiality of a mere ascendant noble like Effron when weighed against the potential ire of Draygo Quick.

He knew that he had only a matter of hours, however, and when he could not locate Jermander or Ratsis at their usual haunts-and more troubling, when he learned that Ratsis had indeed been spotted that very day in the Shadowfell-he went to a secluded boulder tumble, set with a small cottage that never seemed to stay in the same place for more than a moment or two.

Effron waited for a shift, then sprinted for the door and reached out to grasp… nothing.

Smiling, appreciating the cleverness of the home’s owner, the twisted warlock waited and watched, trying to discern some pattern to the illusionary games. When he thought he had it figured out, he quietly began a spell, timing it for another house jump.

The cottage disappeared and popped back into view between a pair of large boulders. Into the ground went the wraithlike Effron, slipping through cracks in the stone, sliding down and popping up again right where the house should have been.

But it was across the way, beside a different stone entirely.

“Clever,” Effron whispered under his breath. “Was it ever really in this place?”

“What do you want?” came a sharp reply from right behind him, and the startled Effron jumped around so violently that his limp arm went into a great pendulum swing behind his back.

“Shifter,” was all he could gasp as the spectacle of the imposing woman stood before him-or, he reminded himself, appeared to stand before him.

“What do you want?” she snapped at him again, biting each word short with her harsh accent. “I do not appreciate uninvited visitors.”

“I am Effr-”

“I know who you are. What do you want?”

“You went with Jermander.”

“You assume much.”

Effron straightened and cleared his throat, then politely rephrased, “Did you go with Jermander’s band?”

“Again,” the Shifter reiterated, and then she was gone. Effron thought to spin around, guessing that she would be standing right behind him, but he decided against that course.

“I hired Jermander of Cavus Dun-”

“Mentioning that group, admitting that you paid them, speaking of them at all, will likely get a person killed,” came the reply from right behind him. “Assuming, of course, that such a person or such a group even exists.”

Effron realized that in his desperation and fear of Herzgo Alegni-or was it his fear of disappointing Herzgo Alegni, he wondered-he was getting very sloppy.

“I need to know the fate of Dahlia,” he said simply, resisting the urge to add any details that might hint at Cavus Dun, Jermander, Ratsis, or anyone else.

“Dahlia?” the Shifter asked. Effron suddenly wondered if Jermander had indeed subcontracted the Shifter. But then she unexpectedly added, in a whisper, “Alegni’s man.”

Effron wasn’t sure if the Shifter was referring to him or to Barrabus the Gray, but the way she spoke the words led him to believe it to be the latter, and made him think that it was directly related to whatever had happened, or had not happened, regarding Dahlia.

He turned around to face the woman. “Whatever you can tell me, whatever you can learn for me, will be much appreciated.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“And richly rewarded,” he added.

A smile widened on the Shifter’s pretty face. “Five hundred pieces of gold,” she said flatly.

Normally Effron would have argued, even to the point of refusing the transaction, so outrageous was the price, but again the specter of Alegni hovered over him and he brought forth a bag of coins and handed it to the Shifter.

Of course, that was just an image of the disorienting woman, and he felt a sudden pull from the side as the invisible lady snatched the purse, which seemed to dematerialize into nothingness as it left his hand.

He heard the clink of coins off to the other side and started to turn, but just held his ground and laughed helplessly. Maybe she was there, maybe not, for this clever sorceress could certainly misdirect sound as easily as she created the visual discrepancies.

“You did not tell Jermander that Alegni’s man would defend Dahlia,” she said.

“Defend her? Or did he wish to claim the kill as his own?” Effron replied.

“Either way, Jermander is dead.”

Effron swallowed hard, suddenly understanding that there would likely be a great price to pay for this unfolding catastrophe.

“And Dahlia?” he managed to ask past the lump in his throat.

Herzgo Alegni felt like a prisoner in his own city of Neverwinter, and it was a feeling he did not like at all.

“I would see the result,” he stated flatly, and started for the door.

“You would not,” Draygo Quick rasped back at him.

Alegni paused and composed himself, not looking back at the withered old warlock. Draygo Quick’s news that Jermander and some others of Cavus Dun had been killed was not unwelcomed by Alegni, nor was it surprising, for he had figured from the first time he had seen Jermander in Neverwinter that Effron had hired out the mercenaries, and that Effron would be bold enough to try to strike at Dahlia despite his orders to the contrary.

For the twisted and broken young warlock, it would be, after all, a double victory.

“Don’t you think they are coming for you?” Draygo Quick asked. “Or lying in wait, should you ever leave the defenses of this place?”

Alegni shrugged as if it hardly mattered. It wasn’t as if Barrabus the Gray could actually hide from him, after all, though he did wish that his magical link to the dangerous man was more informative and more continual.

“Do you not think they will come into the city after me?” he asked.

“Do you?”

“I count on it,” Alegni said with a grin. “I hope for it.”

“Don’t underestimate-”

“I do not underestimate anyone,” Alegni interrupted. “Even you.”

It was not often that Draygo Quick could be put back on his heels in a conversation, but Herzgo Alegni had obviously done just that, and the warrior tiefling did well to hide any gloating at that moment.

“Effron is young,” Draygo Quick said, and Alegni could hardly believe that the stubborn and fierce warlock was actually changing the subject. “He is full of promise.”

“And full of conflict,” Alegni added.

“Indeed,” said the warlock. “Particularly in this delicate situation.”

“I didn’t bring him here,” Alegni reminded. “I didn’t want him here.” He paused and stared hard at the withered warlock for just a moment. “I do not want him here.”

He thought that he might have pushed just a bit too far, though, when Draygo Quick stiffened and hardened his gaze.

“And yet he is here,” the warlock stated flatly. “And he remains here by my command.”

Alegni’s face tightened, but there was no room for debate in Draygo Quick’s tone.

“There are proper punishments and there are excessive punishments,” Draygo Quick warned. “I take it personally when one of my minions is excessively punished.”

“And there are reparations,” Herzgo Alegni offered, and Draygo Quick cocked his head curiously. He seemed so decrepit and withered that, had he been reclining, Herzgo Alegni might have thought that he had just died.

“Sylora Salm is dead and the Thayans in disarray,” Alegni explained. “But they are not yet fully defeated. And there are other interests in the region, including these Neverwinter citizens I have subjugated, and some agents, I presume, of other interested parties. Now is the time for a full show of force.”

“You’re asking again for more soldiers.”

Alegni shrugged. “It would seem prudent.”

“The best thing you might do to secure your hold here is to destroy these assassins who hunt you,” Draygo Quick replied.

“That will be done,” Alegni assured him, and he instinctively grasped Claw’s hilt, though the sword had offered him little of late regarding Barrabus the Gray. “But still… to minimize the damage done by Effron…”

“A hundred,” Draygo Quick agreed.

“Three,” Alegni started to bargain, but Draygo Quick cut him short with a sharp reiteration.

“A hundred.”

After a courteous-and wise-bow, Herzgo Alegni took his leave.

“You understand your role?” Draygo Quick spoke in the apparently empty room.

From behind a tapestry stepped an elf Shadovar, dressed in fine breeches and an expensive waistcoat, and with a flat top hat adorned with a ribbon of gems. He wore his blousy white shirt open to the waistcoat, showing a shapely neck and a small tattoo to the right of his windpipe: the letters CD, for Cavus Dun, intertwined.

“We have a great opportunity here,” Draygo Quick said.

“And a great risk,” the elf, Glorfathel, replied, his words carrying more weight in light of the recent losses Cavus Dun had realized.

“You are my hedge against that,” said the old and powerful necromancer.

The elf bowed low. “How will I know?”

“I trust your judgment,” Draygo Quick assured him. “This region of Toril, Neverwinter Wood particularly, is of importance to us, no doubt, but not with the urgency that drives Herzgo Alegni. And I will not be embarrassed by chasing that hot-humored tiefling on a fools’ errand.”

“I understand.”

“I knew you would.”

“Did you think it would be any different?” Arunika asked Jelvus Grinch when she found him with some other prominent citizens of Neverwinter, all standing with hands-on-hips, staring dumbfounded at various points along the city walls. Portions of the wall were cloaked in deeper gloom. For at those locations, shadowy magical gates had appeared, like doorways into the void, and Netherese soldiers, shades one and all, were coming through.

“Is it an invasion?” Jelvus Grinch asked the red-haired woman.

“If it is, then ye’d be wise to be thinkin’ o’ leaving,” answered a voice from the back, and a female dwarf, quite dirty from the road, stepped out into the open.

“And who might you be, good dwarf?” Jelvus Grinch asked.

“Amber Gristle O’Maul, at yer service,” she said with a low bow. “O’ the Adbar O’Mauls. Me and me friend just come in from the road to yer fine city.”

“Your friend?”

“Sleepin’, ” Amber explained.

“Came in from where?”

“Luskan, and what a mess that place’s become!”

“A paradise compared to Neverwinter,” another man remarked, and several laughed-but it was an uneasy bit of mirth, to be sure.

“Aye, ye got some problems, and I’m thinkin’ that me and me friend’ll be wandering on our way quick as can be done.”

“You should be on your way now,” Arunika said, rather coldly. “This is none of your affair.”

The dwarf eyed her curiously for a few heartbeats, then just bowed and walked off.

“Why would Herzgo Alegni invade that which he already owns?”

Grinch turned an angry look over Arunika. “You played no small role in his ascension,” he reminded. “Early on, when first he came to us, you teased with words that he might be our great hope.”

“We could not have foreseen the fall of Sylora Salm,” Arunika admitted. “Not in the manner in which it happened, at least. With the counterbalance of the Thayans removed-”

“There remain only Alegni and the Netherese,” Jelvus Grinch finished.

“That is not necessarily true,” said Arunika. “There is more to play out, I am confident.”

“When you decide that I am worthy to hear your information, do tell,” Jelvus Grinch sarcastically replied.

Arunika didn’t bother answering the man, and she really had nothing definitive to tell herself, never mind tell him. She believed that Dahlia and this drow ranger, Drizzt Do’Urden, were coming for Alegni, perhaps with Alegni’s own champion in tow, but she couldn’t be sure. And even if they did come after him, she mused as she watched the dozens of new Netherese recruits pacing the city walls, what might three do against this force? For unlike the overconfident Sylora in her forest fortress, Alegni was obviously on his guard now.

Patience, the succubus reminded herself. The Abolethic Sovereignty was gone for now, but they would likely return. Or would they?

Her own thoughts gave Arunika pause. She had assured Brother Anthus that the Sovereignty’s departure would prove a temporary thing, but how could she know anything for certain regarding those strange, otherworldly fishlike creatures? They would come and go as they pleased.

And did she even truly want them here? Arunika thought that she had figured out the Sovereignty, at least to the point of understanding their passion for order, one that even outdid her own. But there was something else here, something more, and the succubus couldn’t deny a bit of relief that the aboleths had apparently departed the region. For within their promise of order loomed the threat of enslavement-perhaps even for a being as powerful as Arunika.

The succubus considered the cityscape around her. She had invested much here, years of her time on the Material Plane. Glasya had only grudgingly allowed her to come to this place and remain for so long, and only because of Arunika’s passion and insistence that the desperate settlers of the ruins of Neverwinter could be subtly coerced toward the will of Glasya through the teachings of Glasya’s loyal Arunika.

But where was she now, with any of that? The changes in the region could prove quite dramatic, and after all, would she even be around to witness them? For while Arunika found the movements of soldiers and the shifting power of the region tantalizing, perhaps she was, after all, growing a bit bored with it all.

Why was she interested in opposing Herzgo Alegni in the first place? Jelvus Grinch’s claims were true, and she had teased this bold tiefling warrior into a more solid footing of power in Neverwinter. And though that had honestly been, as she insisted, more to provide a counterbalance to the threat of the Thayans, what benefit to Arunika if Jelvus Grinch and his fellows once more regained supremacy in Neverwinter at this time?

None of them could please her in the way Alegni did, after all. None of them could aspire to any real position of power and influence, within or without Neverwinter, as Alegni had and would no doubt continue.

She could become a consort to Alegni, perhaps, and help usher him to new heights of power and more brazen demands, on the city and the region. Perhaps she could use him to get the attention of Waterdeep, and thus unleash upon Neverwinter an even greater struggle, one that would pit the Netherese Empire directly against the Waterdhavian lords.

It could be perfectly delicious.

Still, the succubus couldn’t quite manage a smile. Such bold actions would bring powerful opposition. Too powerful, likely. Suppose she proceeded only to find that the Sovereignty had returned and were not pleased by her choices, by her helping Netheril to gain a strong foothold here?

But still…

“The Thayan Dread Ring is continuing to animate corpses,” Alegni said to Effron late that night.

“Sylora Salm is dead and the ring’s power is greatly diminished,” Effron assured him, and the young warlock tried hard not to look too curiously at Alegni, though he suspected from the hulking tiefling’s tone that Alegni was hinting at something. “But still functioning.”

Effron shrugged and tried to look unconcerned. What did it matter, after all? “Including our own Shadovar fallen, who stand once more, this time in opposition to Netheril,” Alegni said.

“So it has been.”

“A curious zombie came against us this very day. I think you would know him.” Effron swallowed hard and when he looked at the hulking warrior, he knew the truth of Alegni’s implication: Jermander.

“You struck out against Dahlia without my permission,” Alegni bluntly accused. “T-to capture her only,” the tiefling warlock stammered. “She was not to be harmed.”

“Your Cavus Dun mercenaries were sophisticated enough to make such a distinction?”

Alegni said with obvious, mocking skepticism.

“They were!” Effron insisted, hardly taking a long enough breath to consider the words before he blurted them. “I employed Ratsis and his spiders. And the Shifter! Even the Shifter…”

He almost finished before Herzgo Alegni backhanded him, launching him across the room to crumple hard to the floor. The tiefling warlord stormed over and gathered Effron up by the collar, hoisting him to his feet before he could begin to recover from the swat.

“You are not an independent entity,” Alegni warned. “You are mine, to do with as I please.”

Effron managed to squeak out, “Draygo,” but that only got him a violent shake that had his limp arm flapping wildly and his teeth chattering. When it ended, Effron was gasping for breath, but he managed to say “The Shifter,” one more time, this time plaintively.

Alegni tossed him down into a chair.

“It was a powerful band,” Effron said as soon as he had composed himself. Alegni had gone to his balcony door by then and stood staring out over Neverwinter, toward the bridge that bore his name.

“It would have been a gift to you,” the young warlock added after several more silent moments passed.

Herzgo Alegni swung around on his heel, an incredulous glare aimed Effron’s way.

“Had my hirelings killed the drow and delivered Dahlia,” Effron tried to explain, his voice rising as he expected the angry Alegni to rush over and swat him, or likely worse.

“You sought to capture Dahlia for my benefit?” Alegni asked skeptically. “You wish her captured, surely!”

“You did it for yourself!” Alegni yelled at him, the warrior’s booming voice overwhelming any pathetic attempts to deny the obvious truth of the matter. “You seek vengeance on Dahlia-your craving for it outweighs my own!”

“I… I…” Effron shook his head and looked down, unable to deny any of it.

He knew that his eyes were moist and he didn’t know whether to simply squint or to reach up and wipe them to ensure that no tears rolled down his slim face. Herzgo Alegni would surely not accept tears.

The large tiefling didn’t advance, and Effron realized that Alegni’s posture had softened, as had his scowling visage. “I cannot blame you.”

“I thought the win assured,” Effron admitted. “The Shifter, Jermander, Ratsis the Spider Farmer-and with more warriors and monks beside them.” He took some heart that Alegni nodded in recognition, for most important Netherese from their region of the Shadowfell surely would know those names. “It was no meager band assembled, nor did they come cheaply. These are expert hunters.”

“And yet, Dahlia and her new companion defeated them,” Alegni replied. “Perhaps they had allies,” Effron reasoned, and he noted that Alegni put his hand to Claw’s hilt at that suggestion. Neither was saying it aloud, but they both knew that Barrabus the Gray had likely been involved.

“They won’t find enough allies to help them into the city,” the tiefling warrior proclaimed.

“You parlayed my actions into reinforcements,” Effron realized, and he dared smile. “You turned my error into gain in your continual bargaining against Draygo Quick.”

“You would do well to keep your reasoning to yourself,” Alegni interrupted, and that scowl returned tenfold. Effron’s eyes widened and he shut his mouth, realizing then that he was walking down a dangerous road, and remembering then that he was dealing with Herzgo Alegni, who, despite any understanding of Effron’s motivation, was not the forgiving type, nor particularly merciful. But Alegni seemed distracted.

Slowly the young warlock rose from the seat into which Alegni had dropped him, eyeing the hulking tiefling with every movement, and ready to drop back down in an instant if he thought he was angering the volatile warrior. Even after he got to his feet, Effron moved tentatively, but if Alegni had any residual desire to punish him, the tiefling wasn’t showing it.

Effron started slowly for the balcony door. Alegni fixed him with a stare and he froze, expecting an attack.

But Alegni’s expression was surprisingly sympathetic. He stared at Effron, slowly nodded, and said, “We will get her.”

After her run-in with Jelvus Grinch, Arunika was in no mood for the sour Brother Anthus who came rapping at the door of her cottage south of the main city late that evening.

“Arunika!” he called loudly, and banged hard on the door.

Arunika pulled open the door, catching the young monk in mid-swing.

“Arun-” he started, and stopped abruptly.

“Do announce our liaison at this late hour to the world,” Arunika replied, every syllable dripping with sarcasm. She grabbed Anthus by the wrist and tugged him hard. “Get in here,” she ordered, and she slammed the door behind him.

“You said that he would get no further help from Netheril!” the monk growled, and pointed his finger at Arunika’s face.

It took all of the tired and angry devil’s willpower not to bite that digit off. “It didn’t seem likely.”

“You were wrong!”

Arunika shrugged and held her hands up as if that hardly mattered for anything. “Had I foreseen Herzgo Alegni’s reinforcements, would we have been able to change anything?” she asked. “What actions would you have taken, would you have had me take, to prevent Alegni from strengthening his hold?”

“We could have gone to the ambassador earlier,” Anthus fumed, almost incoherently. “We could have convinced the Sovereignty-”

“Of nothing!” Arunika interrupted. Her patience had reached its end. “No!” Anthus flew backward through the air, launched by an open-palmed thrust into his chest. He slammed hard against the back wall, and were it not for the wall, he surely would have tumbled to the ground.

Gasping for breath, Anthus stared back at Arunika, whom he had known as merely a simple human woman-daring in her subterfuge and espionage and surely forceful sexually-but no more than a human woman.

He was wondering about that right at that moment, Arunika realized. She’d hit him hard-harder than any human woman of her stature ever could. Had she just compromised her true identity?

For a moment, Arunika thought it might be prudent to walk over and simply snap the fool’s neck.

Just for a moment, though. Brother Anthus might be a fool, but in the end, he was her fool. His contacts with the aboleth ambassador had saved her from any personal dealings with the otherworldly creatures. She could easily manipulate him and control him. That counted for something.

“We could have done nothing had we guessed correctly that the Netheril Empire would strengthen Herzgo Alegni’s forces,” she said calmly. “With the Thayans in retreat and the Sovereignty gone, we have little leverage against the Netherese.”

“Then what are we to do?” Anthus asked, or tried to, for he had to repeat himself several times until his breath at last came back to him. He pulled himself up and straightened his robes. “Are we to simply allow this dominance of the Netherese?”

“If they overstep, they will attract the attention of Waterdeep,” Arunika said, and she knew she sounded less than convincing. “But there are other possibilities afoot,” she quickly added when Brother Anthus started, predictably, to argue. He looked at her, clearly intrigued and clearly skeptical.

“So for now, we are to observe,” Arunika instructed. “There will be holes in Alegni’s defenses-there always are, after all. Find those holes. Find his weaknesses. When his enemies make their appearance, whoever those enemies might prove to be, let us, you and I, be ready to help them exploit those weaknesses.”

“What enemies?” Anthus demanded.

“That, too, is for us to learn,” Arunika said cryptically, unwilling to play her hand fully in the fear that the weakling Anthus would break to the interrogation of Alegni, should that come to pass. And given his screaming at her door and his open agitation, it did seem quite likely to Arunika that the fool might well turn unwanted curious gazes his own way soon enough.

As if to prove that very point, Anthus started to growl and yell at her again, even coming forward a stride, but again, Arunika had tolerated too much already.

She didn’t strike out at him physically this time, but reached out with her mind, assaulting Anthus with an overpowering blast of willpower, imparting images of her tearing his beating heart right out of his chest, and other such pleasantries, and the monk stumbled to a stop, staring at her incredulously.

“I too have learned some tricks from the Sovereignty,” Arunika lied. “Herzgo Alegni has made temporary gains in a game as fluid as the sea. The waves will again crash against him.”

“You underestimated him,” the obviously humbled Anthus said quietly. “You underestimate me,” Arunika warned. She said it so forcefully, the succubus almost believed her bluff. Alegni might win here, or he might lose, and while Arunika preferred the latter, simply in case the Sovereignty did return, she intended to find her preferred place in either instance.

She moved to her door and swung it open. “Get out,” she instructed. “And do not ever come back here with your ire directed at me, unless you desire a fast journey to the end of your days.”

Brother Anthus turned sidelong as he moved past her, as if not daring to let her out of his sight while he remained in striking distance. He was barely out the door, though, when he spun around. He lifted one finger and started to speak out.

Arunika slammed the door in his face, and reminded herself repeatedly that Anthus was an idiot, but a useful one. It was the only thing keeping her from opening the door once more and tearing out the young monk’s beating heart.

“No, you cannot!” Invidoo said with a hiss and a sneer, and snapped its poisontipped tail up over its shoulder.

Only a deft dodge from the other imp prevented that stinger from taking out an eye, and still it tore the imp’s large ear substantially.

“Through the length of the Nine Hells and the Abyss I sought you out!” screeched Invidoo, and the diminutive devil stumbled to the side, grasping at the torn ear. The poison wouldn’t bother the imp, of course, but the gash was real enough, and painful enough. “You cannot deny!”

“You put your indenture on me! No!” screamed the imp, but then, just before a full brawl erupted in the smoky ash of this hellish land, a larger voice interrupted.

“No,” said the large demon. “I do.”

The angry imp scrunched up its face, a low growl of utter frustration issuing between its pointy teeth, for yes, this imp understood the inevitability of this, given its master, from the moment it had learned of Invidoo’s inquisition. The imp began to shake its head, growling all the while, as the huge demon continued.

“You will replace Invidoo as Arunika’s servant,” the great beast instructed. “This, I desire.”

The poor imp relaxed then and stared hatefully at Invidoo. The creature was helpless. Its master had spoken.

And it all made perfect sense, of course, given the history.