“Drizzt the hero,” Entreri muttered.
The drow shrugged, unwilling to engage the assassin on that level.
Artemis Entreri stared at him a few moments longer, then placed both his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. “We do not part as enemies, Drizzt Do’Urden, and that is no small thing,” he said. “Well met and farewell.”
With a last glance at Dahlia, he turned and walked out of the tavern.
“And where is that leaving us?” Brother Afafrenfere asked Ambergris.
The dwarf looked at Drizzt for an answer. “Which road are ye thinking to be more excitin’?” she asked. “Yer own or Entreri’s? For meself, I’m itching for a fight or ten.”
“Ten, and ten more after that,” Afafrenfere added eagerly.
Drizzt had no answer, and when they looked instead to Dahlia, the elf woman could only shrug.
Drizzt, too, looked at Dahlia, her crestfallen expression stabbing deep into his heart. Not a stab of jealousy, however, and he found that curious.
“Well we’re not to solve it here, then,” Ambergris declared, and she too leaped up from her seat. “And me belly’s grumblin’ to be sure!” At the sound of a crashing plate, she looked over to the bar where a band of ruffians began jostling for position.
“House covers the bets,” the bartender announced.
“Oh, but I’m startin’ to like this Neverwinter place,” Ambergris said. “Come along, me friend,” she added to Afafrenfere. “Let’s go earn a few coins.”
She turned to Drizzt and Dahlia and offered an exaggerated wink. “Don’t look like much, does he?” she asked, indicating her rather small and scrawny companion. “But bare-fisted, ain’t many to be standin’ long against him!”
She gave a great laugh.
“We’ll be about, if ye find a road worth walkin’!” she said. She glanced back at the bar, where two large men were stripping down to the waist to begin their battle, and where others passed coins and shouted their odds and bets.
“Ye might just find us in the most expensive rooms to be found in the city,” Ambergris offered and started away, Afafrenfere in tow. As they left, Drizzt and Dahlia heard the dwarf remark softly to her monk companion, “Now don’t ye drop any o’ them too quick. Keep the next one hopin’ that he can beat ye, that we might be playin’ it out for all it’s worth.”
Dahlia’s chuckle turned Drizzt back to her.
“We seem to attract interesting companions,” he said.
“Amusing, at least.” She immediately sobered after the remark, and gave Drizzt a serious look. “What is our road?”
“Right now? To find our vampire, is it not?”
“Battlerager, you mean.”
“That, too.”
“And then?”
Drizzt wore a pensive look as he sincerely tried to sort out that very thing.
“Find an answer quickly or we’re to lose three companions,” Dahlia remarked. “Or two more, for it seems that one is already gone.”
Drizzt considered that, but shook his head. The allure of the jeweled dagger would keep Entreri beside him, he believed, for at least a bit longer. Despite Entreri’s parting words and obvious anger, Drizzt knew that he could get the man on the road beside him, as long as they started that journey soon.
“You wish to keep them by our side?” Drizzt asked, nodding toward the monk and dwarf.
“The world is full of danger,” she replied. She looked past him, then, to a commotion beginning to brew, and she nodded for him to turn around.
There stood Afafrenfere, stripped to the waist, his wily form seeming puny indeed against the giant of a man he faced.
The hulking fighter took a lumbering swing, which the monk easily ducked, and Afafrenfere quietly jabbed the man in the ribs as he did so. A second wild hook by the large man missed badly, and the crowd howled with laughter.
The third punch, though, caught Afafrenfere on the side of the jaw and he went flying to the floor, and the crowd howled again.
“It hardly touched him,” Dahlia remarked, and with respect in her voice indicating that she had recognized the monk’s feint. Drizzt had seen it as well. Afafrenfere had turned with the blow perfectly, always just ahead of it enough so that it couldn’t do any real damage.
The monk got up to his feet, appearing shaky, but as the hulking man fell over him, Afafrenfere found a perfectly balanced stance and tore off a series of sudden and vicious strikes at the man’s midsection—again, subtly, in close, and few noticed that the big man leaning over him was too tight with pain to offer any real response.
Afafrenfere slipped out of the hold to the side and struck repeatedly, his open hands slapping against the man’s ribs.
“He’s pulling his strikes,” Drizzt remarked.
“Now don’t ye drop any o’ them too quick,” Dahlia said in a near-perfect Ambergris impression. She ended abruptly, though, and winced, and so did Drizzt, when the big man spun around with a left hook that seemed to come all the way from his ankles, a wild and powerful swing that might have ripped Afafrenfere’s head from his shoulders had it actually struck.
But the monk ducked, again so easily, and the fist sailed over him to crash into one of the tavern’s support columns so forcefully that the whole of the building shuddered.
And how the big man swooned as he pulled in his broken hand, his eyes crossing, his knees wobbling, and it seemed like he was doing all he could manage to prevent himself from vomiting.
Afafrenfere slipped around to the side of him with great speed, bent low, and spun a circuit on the ball of his right foot. He grasped the bar, planting himself firmly as his lifted left foot set against the large man’s back, giving him full balance and brace as he kicked out. He launched the man through the air to crash face first into a table, sending plates and glasses and splintering wood flying, and patrons dancing aside.
The crowd cheered wildly, and even more so when the big man tried to rise and simply fell back to the floor, clutching his smashed hand as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
Jingling coins and sputtered curses, wild cheers and calls for more, filled the air as the tavern took on an even greater festive atmosphere.
And amidst it all, Drizzt and Dahlia focused on Ambergris, pulling forth her holy symbol as she moved to the fallen pugilist. “I’ll be fixin’ yer hand for ye,” she said, and added, “for a few coins.”
“Brilliant,” Drizzt muttered helplessly, and behind him, Dahlia laughed again.
“I grow bored,” Afafrenfere said to Ambergris. The two stood off to the side as another match took center stage.
“Bah, not to worry,” said the dwarf. “After that last one, I ain’t to get anyone to challenge yerself anyway.”
As she spoke, a burly man in the current brawl hoisted his opponent up over his head and threw him across the room, to smash down among the chairs and tables.
“More coins for a healer,” Ambergris whispered. She started away, but stopped abruptly, considering the victor, who stood with his large arms upraised, roaring and prancing about.
“Might that that one’ll want a try at ye,” the dwarf said to the monk.
“He is a lumbering fool,” Afafrenfere replied.
“Aye, but a proud one.”
The monk shrugged.
Soon after Ambergris had cast a healing spell upon the latest loser, Afafrenfere squared up against the large man, who seemed to have a bit of ogre blood, so tall and wide was he.
Of course, that only made him a bigger target.
He came on brazenly, swiping his thick arms across one after the other, while Afafrenfere ducked back, then under, then off to the side.
The cheers began to quiet, shouts of complaint arising as many twists and turns resulted in not a blow being landed.
Afafrenfere kept glancing at Ambergris, who held a bag of coins, for which she could find no takers.
The big man came at him, hands open, and Afafrenfere did not dodge then, but stepped forw
ard and punched the man in the face.
The move cost him dearly, though, as the big man grabbed him around the neck with both hands and lifted him off the ground. Afafrenfere kicked out at him, but so long were the man’s arms that the monk couldn’t get any solid hits.
He glanced over again at Ambergris, who was arguing with several patrons who were demanding that she honor her offer and place her bets.
The dwarf convincingly argued—too convincingly and for far too long, Afafrenfere thought, as the big man choked him and jerked him side to side like a doll. Finally, Ambergris relented and handed over the coins.
She noted the monk’s glance her way and tossed him a wink.
Afafrenfere grabbed the big man’s thumbs and held on tight then kicked out at him with both feet but pulled them back in close before they connected. He used the momentum to go right over, lifting his legs above him and thus breaking free of the hold.
He landed back a stride or so, but the big man kept up in pursuit, as Afafrenfere had hoped, and grabbed again at the monk’s throat. Before the behemoth could come close and hoist Afafrenfere from the floor again, however, the monk grabbed at his hands, hooked his thumbs under the big man’s thumbs and folded his legs under him, dropping straight to the floor.
The big man lurched forward, but before he realized what was happening, the monk landed in a kneeling position and used the momentum of that drop to drive his hands down and over with sudden and brutal force, bending the big man’s thumbs back over the large hands.
The dull thud of the monk’s knees hitting the floor fast became the sharp crack of finger bones breaking.
The big man made a strange sound, half growl, half howl, and pulled his hands away. Up came the furious monk, leaping forward to strike a quick left and right into the man’s face. And up came the broken hands and Afafrenfere came on even harder, letting fly a tremendous right into the man’s gut. He staggered back to crash into the back and lurched over, arms crossed over his belly.
Afafrenfere’s left hook cracked him across the face, whipping his head to the side. He brought his hands to block, and the monk’s tremendous right-handed uppercut hit him in the gut with enough force to lift him off the ground.
Down went the big man’s hands and across came Afafrenfere’s left hook, again snapping his opponent’s head to the side. Up went the man’s hands defensively and another uppercut lifted him from his feet.
The devastating cycle repeated a third time, which left the big man out on his feet, his arms just hanging there helplessly. Still angry about the choke hold, Afafrenfere leaned right against the big man and his right hand pumped repeatedly, each blow hoisting the brute from the floor and dropping him back in place.
“Enough!” came a cry from the crowd.
“Aye, ye’re to kill him! Enough!” shouted another.
Brother Afafrenfere turned around and put up his hands unthreateningly. He stared into a score of amazed expressions, many shaking their heads in disbelief.
The monk looked at Ambergris and gave a helpless shrug and a crooked grin, and the dwarf, recognizing the intent behind that look, shook her head and grimaced.
Just as Afafrenfere spun a sudden circuit up on his the balls of his feet, coming around with great speed and force, a spinning left hook that chopped the side of the big man’s jaw and sent him flipping and flopping over and down, to land heavily flat on his back on the wooden floor.
The whole room seemed to stand in place and time, cheers and jeers and shouts becoming a sudden frozen silence, all eyes locked on this shocking, wiry man with his thunderous hands.
The big man groaned and shifted, showing that he wasn’t dead at least, breaking the spell, and several patrons near to Ambergris began shoving the dwarf and yelling. Afafrenfere moved quickly to her side.
“What magic, dwarf?” one man asked.
“None,” answered a woman from behind, unexpectedly, and the crowd parted and turned to see a red-haired woman well known in Neverwinter.
Arunika moved up to the dwarf and monk and scrutinized Afafrenfere carefully. She took him by the wrist, and when he didn’t object, she turned his arm over, revealing a tattoo of a yellow rose inside his forearm.
She gave a knowing laugh.
“No magic,” she said to those others around. “A fair win, though I’d not be betting on this one’s opponents.”
“Ah, ye gamed us, ye wretched little dwarf!” a particularly dirty patron grumbled.
“Ah, so’s yer sister,” Ambergris yelled right back at him. “Ye weren’t for givin’ me a bet, and then yer boy looked to be a winner and ye called me on me coin!”
“Ye set it up that way!” the patron declared.
“I set it up to get the life choked out o’ me friend?”
“He’s looking alive to me!”
“Aye, but if we’re to be agreeing with what ye’re sayin’, then yer champion there ain’t much o’ nothin’! Think about it, ye dolt!” As she built momentum, Ambergris moved very near the man and poked her thick finger right in his face, driving him back before her. “Yerself’s arguing that I let me boy get himself choked half to death knowin’ that he could then break out and pound yer boy to the floor. Says nothing good about yer boy, and I’ll be sure to tell him o’ yer confidence and praise”—she looked over at the man lying flat out on the floor “—soon as he’s waking up.”
That had the aggressive man back on his heels.
“Pay her,” Arunika told the patrons. “Coin won fairly. And if you’re to bet, then you’re to pay your losses.”
Much grumbling ensued, but Ambergris and Afafrenfere walked out of the tavern with several small bags of gold.
“We won’t be winning anymore that way,” Afafrenfere remarked. “We should have stopped after two.”
“Bah! They’ll bet again. Can’t help themselves, the dolts.”
“They will bet on me, so where is your win?”
“Ye might be right,” Ambergris said, and she grinned wickedly and winked at him. “Unless ye’re thinkin’ ye can take a pair o’ them.”
Afafrenfere started to respond, but just sighed instead. More likely, he knew, Ambergris would put him in a match against three opponents.
“There is your seer,” Dahlia remarked to Drizzt.
The drow reflexively put a hand to his belt pouch, but he moved it back immediately. He didn’t need Arunika, for Guen was back beside him.
But then another idea came to him, and he smiled at Dahlia and waved to Arunika to join him.
“You look well,” the red-haired woman remarked when she came over and took a seat beside the two.
“He found his panther,” Dahlia explained. “And now we seek—” Drizzt put his hand on her forearm, cutting her short, something Arunika surely noticed.
“Barrabus—Artemis Entreri, is here,” Drizzt said. “He is in the third private room upstairs. Would you go to him for me? I will pay.”
Dahlia’s eyes widened and she turned to stare at Drizzt, her expression full of surprise and anger.
“I am no whore,” Arunika replied with a laugh.
“No,” Drizzt replied with a laugh of his own, “not like that. Entreri has agreed to accompany us to the north, but now has fostered second thoughts. His best course is to the north, I insist, and I would like you to confirm that for him.”
“On your word?” the woman asked skeptically.
“Use your powers then,” Drizzt bade her. “I know where to find something he wishes returned to him.”
“The sword?”
“Is destroyed,” Dahlia interjected.
“Ah,” said Arunika, and she seemed impressed.
“This is something different, but no less important,” Drizzt assured her.
Arunika stared at him for a while, and whispered some words—a spell, he realized—under her breath.
“An item, or an epiphany?” the seer asked slyly.
“Yes,” Drizzt answered.
Arunika started to rise
and Drizzt reached for his coin purse. But the woman deferred and promised, “I will go to him.”
***
“What do you want?” Artemis Entreri asked from behind the cracked door. He was stripped to the waist—and Arunika made certain that he noted her appreciative stare at his muscled torso.
“Barrabus,” she replied.
“That is not my name—never again my name.”
“Artemis, then,” she said. “Speak with me. We’re great players amidst a sea of peasants. We shouldn’t be strangers, or enemies.”
Her words were weighted with more than a little magical suggestion, but she needn’t have bothered. For most males, and Entreri proved no exception, the magically disarming and enticing affect of her spell-enhanced appearance sufficed. Entreri stepped back and opened the door, and Arunika happily entered his den.
“It’s good that you’ve returned,” she said, taking a seat on his ruffled bedding and demurely crossing her legs. It occurred to her that she should abandon Drizzt’s request and convince Entreri to remain in Neverwinter. Could she make him an informant, perhaps, another great cog in the network she’d fostered? She knew the exploits of Barrabus the Gray, after all, and he was a man of no small danger and power.
Too much danger, she decided not long into her conversation with Entreri, not long after looking into his cold eyes. Yes, she did remember Barrabus the Gray, and had always understood that he was one of the few mortals she had ever met capable of defeating her.
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.
The Last Threshold: Neverwinter Saga, Book IV Page 7