Promenade, when the first bridge was in ruins and the river impassable, a scorpion-shaped construct had been sighted, on occasion, in the caverns that opened onto the eastern banks of the Sargauth. When the Protectors extended their patrols into the caverns to the southeast a few years ago, they’d expected to run into it, but the construct had seemingly disappeared. It had, they surmised, either wandered away into some deeper corner of Undermountain or been summoned home by its maker.
“It’s a wizard’s construct,” Leliana answered. “Deadly when active, but this one looks frozen with rust.”
The human and the drow male both took a nervous step back. Jub merely grunted. He clambered down into the trough in the magic-parted river and yanked on the net, trying to free it. Blindfish scattered from it and landed gasping on the slick rock. Jub put a foot on one of the construct’s legs and boosted himself higher, trying to unhook the net from the barbed tail. Rust flaked away under his boots.
“Don’t get so close to it, Jub!” the human called, stepping forward. “Be careful!”
Jub laughed. “It’s not gonna come alive. Even if it does, there’s a Protector here.”
Leliana smiled. Three and a half years ago, at the time of the Selvetargtlin attack, Jub had been reduced to a few scattered body parts by a dracolich. The priestesses had recovered what remained, and resurrected him. He didn’t fear anything any more. Not after he’d danced, briefly, with the goddess.
Jub climbed higher. Balanced with one foot on the scorpion’s back and the other on the base of its tail, he wrenched at the net. The barbed tip bent with a loud creak. Then it snapped off, sending Jub tumbling backward in a tangle of net and wriggling blindfish. He scrambled to his feet and held up the net triumŹphantly. “There! All it took was a little muscle and”
“Quiet!” Leliana barked.
Jub looked puzzled. “What?”
“Listen! That crackling sound.”
Jub cocked his head. He dropped the net and used his hands. I don’t hear anything.
Leliana hesitated. Had she actually heard something, or was that just the rush of the river? Then a white-hot spark streaked out of the hollow stump where the tail barb had been. She smelled the sharp tang of lightning-burned air.
“Jub!” she shouted. “Get away from the construct! It’s animating!”
She drew her sword and motioned the other two lay worshipŹers back. Then she leaped down into the hollow in the river. She motioned Jub behind her and braced herself, sword raised. Ready. The singing sword sharply pealed, eager for battle.
More sparks erupted from the tail. Leliana heard a scratchŹing sound, like claws scrabbling against metal. It started inside the head of the construct, and worked its way down through the abdomen. Leliana began a hymn of protection, but before she could complete the verse, a smaller construct, this one made of gold and shaped like a crab, appeared at the broken end of the tail. It teetered a moment, like a plate on a blade’s edge, then fell with a clang onto the riverbed. Leliana immediately changed her prayer to one that would disable the construct, but the crab was too quick for her. It scurried sideways and disappeared into the wall of suspended water.
“What was that?” Jub asked. “The scorpion’s brain?”
“Good guess,” Leliana said, impressed. For someone who was only half drow, Jub was pretty bright.
“There!” the drow male shouted. “It’s climbing out of the river.”
Leliana scrambled up the bank and looked where he was pointing. The gold crab was scuttling sideways across a cavern fronting onto the rivera cavern that opened onto a twisting maze of passages that held the ruins of a drow city.
Leliana ran for the bridge. “Stay there,” she shouted over her shoulder. “Don’t try to follow.”
That last had been for Jub’s benefit. The half-orc wasn’t even armed, save for his fishing knife. If the construct was on its way back to its wizard master and Jub followed, he’d only get himself killed. Again.
“Right,” he called back. “No favors. Got it.”
Leliana didn’t have time to wonder what he’d meant. She hurried into the cavern on the opposite side of the bridge, past its trio of columns, and on into the maze of twisting corridors. As she ran, she cast a sending. She tried to remember the name of the young Nightshadow who was patrolling that cavern. She could picture him clearly in her mind: he was as light-footed as a dancer, with straight-cut bangs above intense red eyes. A recent convert