Frenzied-Braelin thought that a fitting word for this particular type of demon.
The drow was brought from his thoughts by screeching sounds echoing down the tunnel walls.
“They’ve seen the carnage in the cavern,” Ravel remarked. “It’s amazing that they find no deterrence in climbing over piles of dead comrades.”
“Perfect soldiers,” Tiago replied. “A pity we do not possess more of their ferocity in our own ranks.”
“You had no more tricks to play on this group?” Braelin dared to ask. “Balgura are better dispatched with magic than the blade.”
Tiago glared at him again.
“Everything is better dispatched with magic,” Ravel replied flippantly, and he gave a dramatic sigh and walked away.
Tiago turned to watch him go, letting his glare follow the wizard. “You are only next to me because of Jarlaxle’s assurances,” Tiago said to Braelin. “Are those assurances worthless, then? Would it serve us both better for me to assign you to stand second to some other warrior?”
Braelin stared at the noble son of House Baenre for a long while. A big part of him wanted to take Tiago up on that offer, though he knew it wasn’t a sincere question and indeed, more of a threat. Still, to be away from Tiago would bring relief on so many levels …
But the Bregan D’aerthe warrior could not ignore the truth. There was no finer warrior to be found at House Do’Urden-none even close-and indeed, few in all of Menzoberranzan could match Tiago’s prowess in battle. Malagdorl, perhaps, and Jarlaxle when he was in the city, which was not often. Beyond that, were there any warriors, weapons masters even, who would serve better in battle than this young upstart noble beside him?
“Of course not,” he answered, and bowed politely. “I will show you my worth when the blood stains the stones.”
He meant it, and he knew that he had to mean it. Tiago wasn’t keeping him close out of any favors to Jarlaxle-as far as Braelin could tell, Tiago didn’t think much of Jarlaxle at all. Tiago had accepted Braelin as his second because Jarlaxle had told him that he’d not find a more worthy battle companion. Now it was incumbent upon Braelin to live up to that billing.
Or perhaps, Braelin reminded himself, Tiago wanted him as second because Tiago wanted to keep Jarlaxle’s eyes and ears in House Do’Urden very, very close.
With that unsettling possibility in mind, Braelin pointedly reminded himself that if he did not acquit himself well in battle, Tiago would find a way to get him killed in battle. Perhaps Tiago would even do the deed himself if a balgura could not.
Braelin knew that beyond doubt once he looked again at Tiago’s expression.
The shrieks of the approaching beasts increased, and Braelin tossed that unsettling thought away. He had no room for such doubts now that battle was upon them, and his life was dependent upon the coordination between he and Tiago.
“Wife!” Tiago called, turning back and motioning Saribel forward. He swung back around just in time to duck behind his shield and catch a leaping balgura with it. The weight of the blow sent him skidding backward, the demon sliding, too, past Braelin’s right flank.
Braelin stabbed with his right-hand sword, his left blade going forward to fend off the rush of another wild, orange-furred demon.
The balgura to his right hissed and spat in protest, and the sword sank in deeply indeed. That seemingly mortal strike didn’t fell the creature, though, and it apparently did not even notice as it swung around at Braelin.
But then came Tiago, out from behind that strange and beautiful shield, with his magnificent sword sweeping down from on high to split the wounded demon’s head in half.
Braelin somehow managed to fend off the clawed hands of the demon in front of him and extract his sword from the falling balgura’s ribs. With both weapons in hand, the skilled drow warrior fast turned the flow of battle back against the ferocious beast.
Tiago came by him, yelling, “Forward!”
Braelin was about to argue-he didn’t really have anywhere to go-but Tiago’s deadly sword flashed out from under his shield, stabbing Braelin’s foe in the side. So fine was that blade, Vidrinath by name, that a mere sweep of Tiago’s arm had it slicing through the thick demon’s torso, nearly cutting the thing in half.
Braelin tried unsuccessfully not to gasp, then to keep up as Tiago leaped at the incoming swarm of demons, even as they leaped at him.
He kicked aside the dying beast’s last clawing strikes and went down to one knee, his swords in a double-thrust to stab up at a balgura that had leaped at him. The demon landed and stumbled, skidding on torn feet, easy prey for the drow warriors in the next rank.
Feeling quite pleased with his clever maneuver, Braelin started ahead once more. And then he wasn’t so pleased with himself, and nearly forgot that battle was upon him as he noted the movements of Tiago Baenre Do’Urden. The drow noble more than matched the ferocity of his wild opponents. He leaped every which way, batting at clawing hands and biting maws with his fabulous shield, taking the life from one demon after another with that magnificent sword.
Engaged once more with a demon, Braelin lost track of Tiago’s battles. After his balgura was finally dead, it took Braelin some time to locate and watch the leaping, scrambling blur that was Tiago. He shook his head in disbelief as he realized that for every attack Tiago blocked, one or more was getting through.
A gash opened on Tiago’s arm-he nearly lost his grip on Vidrinath-but the wound closed almost as it appeared.
Braelin glanced back at Tiago’s wife, High Priestess Saribel, to see her in a constant stream of spellcasting. With Tiago as her singular focus, waves of Lolth-given healing magic flowed at the noble son of House Baenre.
And Tiago trusted her, obviously. He had left his companion behind and recklessly rushed into the midst of their fierce enemies. If Sanibel let him die, Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre would not be merciful.
That realization, and the understanding that Tiago had planned this long before, brought an unsettling thought to Braelin. Though Tiago did not need him as a flanking protector, could he say the same? He did not have a high priestess standing behind him imparting unlimited healing.
And though he was of House Do’Urden now, was he really? Braelin Janquay was Bregan D’aerthe, minion to Jarlaxle, loyal to Jarlaxle.
Tiago had to know that.
Tiago wouldn’t care if he died in this corridor outside of Menzoberranzan.
Tiago might even welcome that. Might, indeed, have made his attack in the hope of killing off Braelin.
All thoughts of catching up to the Baenre faded, and Braelin braced himself defensively, letting the monsters come to him.
Tiago rolled sidelong up over one hunched, simian demon and felt the explosion of pain as the balgura bit him hard on the hip. His fine adamantine armor kept the teeth from tearing too deeply, but oh, he felt the pain.
The exquisite pain followed by the ecstasy of healing warmth, the embrace of the goddess.
He rolled over the balgura’s head, turning as he landed so that as the ape-demon turned to pursue, Tiago’s readied sword cut it from belly to throat. A high sweep of Vidrinath took the head from the next demon in line.
He found himself laughing now as a trio of the beasts leaped at him to bury him under their bulk, in his turn he had noted Braelin Janquay.
Braelin understood now that Tiago considered him expendable, and that was a message the eager young weapons master wanted Jarlaxle to hear.
“Bregan D’aerthe,” he spat from under the pile of clawing and biting ape demons, his shield, magically expanded to its fullest diameter now, keeping the bulk of the attacks away, his sword arm finding its openings to stab ahead and violate demon flesh.