to her shoulder, though there was no way the drawer could be nearly that deep. She felt around for a bit and retracted her hand from the obviously extra-dimensional bag, holding a small box. She moved back to stand in front of Sylora.
“A gesture of good will,” she said. “To seal our alliance.”
“I thought we’d just done that,” Sylora replied seductively, and Arunika laughed.
The succubus bent low in front of the sorceress and slowly opened the box, revealing a copper ring with an empty gemstone setting.
“A stormcatcher band,” the devil explained.
Sylora looked at it, and back at Arunika.
“It will catch the magic of Kozah’s Needle and turn it back on Dahlia,” Arunika explained.
Sylora’s smile widened. She gingerly reached for the band and pulled it from the box, holding it up in front of her eyes.
“I’m sure that my alliance with Brother Anthus will provide more to help you build your champion,” Arunika said.
The devil was right, Sylora knew. She wasn’t looking at Jestry as a man, a free-willed human being. He was her champion, or soon to be, and she would construct him as such, with armor, with a superior weapon, with this stormcatcher ring. He was an instrument, not a companion. Even in their sexual encounters, Jestry was no more to her than a means to an end, and woe to him if he failed in that role. He had purpose only in those goals Sylora determined.
Something stirred deep within the sorceress, some regret that she’d allowed herself to move to such a place of callousness. What forks in her road had she chosen? What decisions might she have made to alter this destination in her life?
Sylora let these questions fly away as she glanced back at the ring, reminding herself of how badly she wanted to see the corpse of Lady Dahlia. Perhaps she would raise the witch as a personal zombie servant. Perhaps, with Valindra’s help, she might even be able to allow Dahlia to retain enough of her former self so that her continuing torment at Sylora’s hand would wound her all the more profoundly.
Sylora peered through the ring at Jestry and considered the many tools she could bestow upon him to give him the edge he needed. What a fine beginning this ring would offer! Sylora grinned wickedly as she imagined Dahlia hurled backward by the lightning burst of Kozah’s Needle. She remembered the elf’s pretty face so very well, and in her mind, she twisted it into a look of sheer shock and stinging pain. That was how Dahlia would recognize the last moments of her life.
Delicious.
“So, once again, I’m needed to save the pitiful Barrabus the Gray from certain doom,” Herzgo Alegni announced loudly when Barrabus entered the Netherese encampment not far from the gates of Neverwinter.
“All hail Herzgo Alegni!” one of the Shadovar saluted, and others took up the cheer.
Every laughing face that met the gaze of Barrabus went stoic immediately, though, for the assassin obviously wasn’t taking the joke very well.
“Saved me?” Barrabus remarked to Alegni, stepping up in front of him.
“Why, my small friend, it was obvious,” the tiefling replied. “They had you flanked-an army of zealots against one small man.”
“Do you believe that I would’ve been foolish enough to go out amid that swarm had I not known of your impending arrival?” Barrabus replied.
“You deny your predicament?”
“I served you up a feast of zealots,” Barrabus said, and he took great satisfaction in seeing the doubt spreading on the faces of the gathered Shadovar-and all of Herzgo Alegni’s charges had gathered and were listening intently by this point. “I could have remained within the city walls, of course, destroying zombies. But to what end?” He turned around, appealing to the crowd as if they were a greater and more important judge than Herzgo Alegni.
“To what end?” he said again, more loudly. “The zealots had recognized that they couldn’t breach the wall, and seemed content to let their zombie fodder do what damage they may. But I, of course, could not allow that, and so I ventured out. I knew that the zealots couldn’t resist the chance to defeat the Gray. I knew they would find comfort in their numbers and would come forth from the forest. What a prize they might have scored-”
“Enough!” Herzgo Alegni shouted.
“And this is the gratitude I’m shown for taking such a risk?” Barrabus continued, spinning back on Alegni. “You mock me when I’m the cause of your vic-”
He ended with a growl of pain as Herzgo Alegni drew his red blade just enough to tap the tuning fork in his hand. Answering the call, Claw sent forth its devastating magical energy-powers attuned to the life force of Barrabus the Gray.
“This… is the… gratitude…” Barrabus the Gray said through teeth clenched so hard the veins on his neck stood out clearly.
Herzgo Alegni leaned in close and whispered, “You would mock me in front of my minions?”
Barrabus growled in response, and Alegni gripped his sword tighter, bidding it to greater intensity.
Barrabus went down to one knee. He lowered his head, trying to fight the pain, but a cough escaped his lips and it carried with it bright red blood.
“Why do you force me to treat you this way?” Herzgo Alegni asked, walking around him. “Certainly you did your job… acceptably, though I’m surprised that you put yourself into such a situation that required me to rush my counterattack in order to save your life. Perhaps I should have let the zealots slaughter you.”
Barrabus thought that a preferable choice, indeed.
A few heartbeats slipped past, and finally Alegni called to his sentient sword and the vile blade released its grip on Barrabus the Gray. It took all of his willpower to keep from toppling over. He slumped down to both knees, but he wouldn’t give Alegni the satisfaction of seeing him lying on the ground.
“You let her escape,” Alegni said.
Barrabus managed to turn his gaze up to the tiefling.
“The witch, Valindra,” Alegni explained.
“The lich, you mean?”
“She’s both. Our victory would’ve been complete if we’d taken her down. And if you had fought better against the worthless zealots, I could have delayed my charge and the lich would have more likely been lured into the battle.”
Barrabus rose to one knee, letting the waves of anguish pass. He tried to ignore Alegni’s preposterous claims, because he knew that otherwise he would surely say something the Netherese lord would make him regret.
“So I had to choose… because of your mediocrity,” Alegni went on. “But in the end, I had nothing to gain by delaying. The lich would’ve destroyed you from afar and would have remained beyond my grasp anyway.”
Alegni’s gloved hand appeared in front of Barrabus’s face, and the assassin knew better than to let that invitation pass. He took the hand and the powerful tiefling roughly hoisted him to his feet.
“So, as I explained, I saved you, and for no reason other than my generosity,” Alegni insisted, and he ended with a prompting stare at Barrabus.
“Thank you, my lord,” said Barrabus. “I’m not worthy.”
“No,” Alegni agreed. “Not unless you can assure me that your efforts in the battle, and indeed your warning to the Neverwinter settlers of the coming storm, has put you in proper standing among them.”
“They begged me to stay,” Barrabus said.
Herzgo Alegni considered that for a short while. “You can gain access to the city whenever you choose?”
“They will throw their gates open wide for me.”
Alegni nodded, taking his time as he considered the words. Finally, he started walking away. “Then perhaps you were worth the effort of my rescue,” he said without looking back, “despite your ineptitude.”
“You got your prize!” Barrabus dared yell after him.
“The lich escaped.”
“The prize was the defeat of the Thayan forces, and they are defeated,” Barrabus insisted. “The prize was
