He was feared because of a reputation earned, because he was Artemis Entreri.

That was before Barrabus, before the betrayal of Jarlaxle and the enslavement by Charon’s Claw. Rarely could Artemis Entreri recall those days now, particularly when he was around Alegni and that awful sword. Claw wouldn’t allow it.

Claw had told him to kill Drizzt.

Now Claw insisted that he turn around and kill Drizzt.

His steps came more slowly. He couldn’t believe that he had denied the intrusion this long, but even pausing to be incredulous at that thought cost him ground.

In a daring move, Entreri had allowed the citizens of Neverwinter to name this bridge “The Walk of Barrabus.” How that had infuriated Herzgo Alegni! And how Alegni had punished him for his insolence!

Punished him through the sword.

He remembered that pain keenly now.

He used that memory of pure agony in a manner opposite its intent. The punishment had been to warn him, but now Entreri used it to reinforce his hatred of Claw and of Alegni, and most of all, to reinforce his ultimate hatred . . . of Barrabus the Gray.

“The Walk of Barrabus,” he whispered aloud.

“The Walk of Barrabus.”

He transformed those four words into his litany, a reminder of the agony Alegni had inflicted upon him, and a reminder of the man he used to be.

Claw screamed protests in his head. He shook with every step.

But Artemis Entreri said, “The Walk of Barrabus,” and stubbornly put one foot in front of the other.

He burst through the ash wall, sword stabbing and slashing with power and abandon, and had Dahlia not guessed perfectly, rolling aside at the last possible second, she surely would have been cut down.

Alegni pursued, creating more visual barriers as he went, laughing at her, mocking her, certain that he was fast cornering her.

Dahlia couldn’t disagree, particularly when she rolled through one ash wall to slam hard into the bridge rail, for she was closer to the edge than she had believed.

Through the cloud of swirling blackness she had left behind, she noted the confident approach of Alegni.

Too close!

She glanced left and right, looking for an out, and on that turn to her left, the woman noted a curious sight. Her gaze apparently tipped off Alegni, as well, for as she rose to her feet, now looking back at the man, she saw that he, too, was glancing that way.

“Barrabus?” he asked, and his voice showed a lack of confidence that Dahlia had not heard before.

The elf leaped to her feet, thinking an opportunity before her, but Alegni turned on her immediately and rushed in.

She couldn’t hope to dive out to the left, nor to the right, nor could Dahlia begin to parry or block the mighty tiefling with her back against the rail.

So Dahlia took the only course remaining: she jumped over the rail.

Alegni charged in and swept his blade across as Dahlia fell away, then growled in anger at his clean miss. The river was low, so late in the autumn season, the fall considerable, the jagged rocks plentiful, and her desperate escape would likely be the end of her, he knew.

But that seemed an empty victory indeed, considering the pain and torture he had intended to inflict on Dahlia. Perhaps his minions might find her alive, he dared hope, and they could nurse her back to health enough for him to play with her.

He dismissed all thoughts of Dahlia at that, and turned on Barrabus. Barrabus!

No, not Barrabus the Gray, but Artemis Entreri, he realized as Claw informed him that the foolish man was somehow resisting.

“Impressive,” he said loudly enough for the man to hear.

Artemis Entreri did not acknowledge the words, but merely kept walking, head and gaze steady, his lips forming some words, some mantra, that Alegni could not quite catch.

Herzgo Alegni reached to his belt and produced the tuning fork. “You should rethink your course,” he warned.

Artemis Entreri roared and leaped forward in a sudden rush.

Alegni banged the fork against the blade, the vibrations sending forth the bared power of Charon’s Claw.

How close Entreri came! Barely a stride away, the wave hit him and stopped him, as if every muscle in his body was suddenly on fire. He staggered, he growled, he managed to spit “The Walk of Barrabus!” one last time before he found himself on his knees.

“Oh, a pity,” Alegni teased, and he snarled and cracked the fork against the metal blade again.

Entreri grimaced, veins standing clear on his forehead as he battled the disrupting energy. He almost fell to the stones—it seemed so much like that time when Alegni had heard of the bridge’s intended name!

But he didn’t fall flat. Not this time. The waves would likely destroy him in his stubbornness, but he didn’t care. He knelt and he even managed to look up at Alegni, to let the man see his hate-filled eyes, to let the man know that he was not Barrabus!

He was Artemis Entreri, and he was a slave no longer!

Herzgo Alegni’s eyes went wide then as he considered the sight before him. Entreri could not break free of the physical pain prison enacted by Claw, perhaps, but the man had resisted the mental entrapment.

The man had resisted.

“Ah, you fool,” Alegni said, deep regret in his voice. “I can never trust in you again. Take heart, for you have found your freedom, and your death.”

Herzgo Alegni knew that he was losing the best associate he had ever commanded, and it pained him greatly, but he knew, too, that Barra—Entreri, had at last found his way through the maze of Claw’s machinations. Indeed, he could never trust this one again.

He stepped forward. Entreri tried to lift a sword against him, but Alegni easily kicked it from his grasp. Then he banged the tuning fork once more and the waves of agony knocked the dagger, too, from Entreri’s hand.

Alegni grabbed Entreri by the hair and roughly pulled his head aside.

Up went Claw.

At the end of the bridge, Drizzt Do’Urden watched it all helplessly. He did not know what had happened to Dahlia, only that she was gone, for his view had been obscured by walls of floating ash. But he could clearly see the end of Artemis Entreri as the red blade went up high.

A strange sensation of deep regret came over Drizzt.

He was alone again?

No, not alone, he realized as Guenhwyvar, battered but still very animated and obviously angry, bounded up to him.

“Go!” he yelled, pushing the cat along, and surely hope sprang anew within him, but when he turned back up the bridge, he knew that it was too late. “Kill the Shadovar!” he ordered. “Kill him, Guen!”

The recognition that this would be mere vengeance, though, for surely Entreri was doomed and Dahlia nowhere to be seen, and likely already dead or gravely wounded, filled Drizzt with anger, and that rage brought strength back to the torn drow and he forced himself to stand.

Herzgo Alegni saw the cat coming fast, but he kept his concentration—Entreri was too dangerous for distraction!

He twisted the assassin’s head farther as Claw went up, opening an easy target, and down came the blade.

Almost.

A shadow appeared on the ground beneath them, and before Alegni could even register it, a great form crashed up against him, a giant raven, battering him with its wings and pecking him hard—right in the eye!—with its powerful beak.

He staggered to the side and thrust his sword out before him to fend the beast, but then it was a beast no more, but an elf warrior.

A young elf woman.

And in her hands, Dahlia held not a long staff, and not flails, but a tri-staff, spinning and sparking with power, and before the hulking tiefling could properly orient himself, she was before him, then beside him, striking him hard across the fingers with the handle-pole of her weapon. The tri-staff swung down and under, then back up again with its third length, that last pole nearly clipping him in the face and forcing him even farther off balance.

Dahlia didn’t pursue. She ran directly away from him and tugged with all of her strength, and the tri-staff unwound, Kozah’s Needle releasing its considerable lightning energy at that very moment, and the force of the twist and the blast tore Claw from Alegni’s grasp and sent the sword flying high over the far rail of the bridge.

Herzgo Alegni roared in protest, and leaped upon her, catching her by her skinny throat and squeezing with all his strength. But then he felt a profound sting as a spinning dagger caught him in the gut, and he noted the betrayer, Entreri, picking his sword from the bridge stones.

And past that formidable enemy came another, the panther, up in the air and flying down from on high.

Alegni threw Dahlia down to the stone, but there was nowhere to run. So Herzgo Alegni didn’t run.

He stepped instead.

Shadow-stepped.

Guenhwyvar hit him halfway through, and went with him through the gate into the Shadowfell.

Chapter 11: What Price Freedom?

We should have gone in earlier,” Glorfathel the wizard lamented as the battle on the bridge turned sour. He started forward, but a strong dwarf hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned to regard Ambergris.

“Nay, it’s as I telled ye it’d be, and if ye went in, all ye’d’ve done is get us all killed to death,” Ambergris replied. “Townsfolk’re watchin’, don’t ye doubt!”

Glorfathel glanced around, and indeed, most shutters around the area were open, a bit at least.

“As I telled ye,” the dwarf said, and she pointed to a distant street corner, where some townsfolk—armed townsfolk—had gathered. “They’re smellin’ their freedom and coming to take it.”

“Draygo Quick will not be pleased.”

“Less pleased if ye lose half yer force. Lord Alegni choosed his own course, always. He demanded the fight and he got it.” The dwarf looked up the bridge just as the panther leaped upon Alegni. “Oo,” the dwarf groaned. “Aye, he got it!”

Glorfathel considered his Cavus Dun cohort and nodded.

Artemis Entreri straightened immediately, his pain gone, his enslavement broken. He staggered back from the receding mists of Alegni and Guenhwyvar, trying to sort it all out, trying to regain his composure.

No such ambivalence slowed Dahlia. She leaped back from the bridge stones, ignoring the cuts and bruises, and threw herself with abandon at the spot where Alegni had been, thrashing the air with helpless fury, and crying out for the tiefling to “Die!”

A cry of “Guenhwyvar!” from back down the bridge turned Entreri, to see Drizzt stumbling toward him, the onyx figurine in one hand.

Entreri grew concerned—that Drizzt might come for him after his earlier betrayal. But any thoughts about the drow did not hold for the assassin, for the sight beyond Drizzt demanded his attention.

“Dahlia,” he said somberly. “Dahlia, the fight isn’t over.”

Beyond the bridge in the square stood Effron, his twisted form shaking with outrage. And next to him loomed the Shadovar forces, five-score and more.

“Dahlia!” he said again, more insistently, and she at last paused in her furious outburst to notice him.

“I will kill every one of them,” she promised under her breath.

“Get your unicorn, drow,” Entreri remarked, and he produced the enchanted token that would bring his nightmare steed to his call. As Drizzt slowed to regard him, he pointed past the ranger.