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"They are expendable," Alegni assured him "More will come to replace the the settlers--Shadovar declared as heroes of Neverwinter"

"Perhaps we can greet thee?" another Shadovar reni turned to the wo

Barrabus rolled and rolled again, taking all the shock fro zombies to set his feet properly under hi creatures His sword drove theer stabbed hard into any who tried to come in behind that sword

He was surrounded, but that ht, his sword slashing and stabbing, and at one point, he even tossed the blade up a bit and caught it with a reversed grip He turned his wrist then stabbed behind his back to skewer a leaping zo the sword hilt up high so he could bend back in under it, tearing it free of zorip and circled it over his head before slashing it across another zoht of the blow stopped the charging creature cold It crouched as the blade tore down across its chest Then the zo away

Barrabus couldn’t savor the kill, for he stood alone out there and soflesh, and ca He kept killing

He couldn’t think, and that was the joy He couldn’t think of Alegni or the Empire of Netheril, or Drizzt Do’Urden, or who he’d once been or what he’d now become

He just existed, simply survived, in the ecstasy of battle, lost on the precipice of death itself His muscles worked in perfect harmony, honed in the practice of a century Every strike cah because of the growing eneh and his eneh to him

To tear at him To bite at him To kill him?

Could they?

Barrabus the Gray was doubly cursed The years did not diminish him, but he hated his existence

He couldn’t kill himself, for that sword, Claas inside of his mind and wouldn’t allow it He’d tried--oh, how he’d tried!--in the early years of his indenture to the Netherese, in his service to Herzgo Alegni, but to no avail He’d even built a contraption that would drop him on his knife to end his life, but it had failed because he had not properly secured the weapon--because that sword, Claw, had deceived him

Nor did it even matter when, indeed, he had been killed For that awful sword and the h death Even as he drew his last breath, his life was renewed, resurrected, by the awful, unrelenting devil sword

And so Barrabus the Gray was left with battle, wild and ferocious battle, and he believed that this was hoould eventually row bored enough with hio

Would it be this day?

Did he want it to be this day?

The question seemed ridiculous as he surveyed his work: a handful of destroyed zoround, li or maimed so badly they couldn’t support the creature or answer its crazed call

Perhaps the curse was his oardice, Barrabus thought Perhaps he couldn’t kill himself or even let himself be killed, or even truly put himself in an inescapably deadly position because somewhere deep inside of his heart and soul, his continual declarations that he wanted to die were all a lie For if he were slain over and over again, if he proved useless in battle, would Alegni not let hio?

Another enemy neared, and at the lasteyes and not those of a wretched zo Ashnized the intensity in those eyes, and he knew to take this foe seriously She cah stab of her weapon, one of those familiar red-flecked staff-spears almost all of the Ashmadai employed As Barrabus moved his sword up horizontally to parry, the wo her hands along its length, she spun a full circuit and clubbed at him with the scepter’s thicker end

Barrabus expected the h-feint, low-club ainst hiotten near to hitting him Even as his sword started its ascent, Barrabus quietly repositioned his feet, and as soon as the woed ahead

She hadn’t even come all the way around when he slain to hold her balance against his bull rush She tu her atte above her head and facing her

She recognized the danger and she thrashed, trying to turn at least sidelong to theabove her head, where any swings or stabs she ht try had little effect

He stared into her eyes Perhaps it was because they looked so different from the soulless zombies’ eyes, but for some reason, Barrabus didn’t slip his sword past her pathetic defenses and finish her

She al of her scepter but he dropped his leg back in ti the club where she gripped it The Ash

"Yield!" Barrabus poked his sword tip just below the hollow of her throat He couldn’t believe the word as it left his lips

"Never!" she hissed She grabbed the blade of his fine weapon and blood erupted froainst her pull His disgust for these zealots heightened in that moment, but still, he didn’t stab down hard to put an end to her

He sensed a zorip on his sword, thrusting it out behind hiut He bent down and held his sword fir into the zealot as she tried to get away