Promise of the Witch King by R. A. Salvatore

Author:R. A. Salvatore [Salvatore, R. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

By the time Entreri caught up to Jarlaxle and the others, they were camped on a hillock beyond Palishchuk’s northern wall. From that vantage point, the growing black castle was all too clear to see.

“When I left here last it was no more than foundation stones, and seemingly for a structure much smaller than this,” Mariabronne informed them in hushed tones. “Wingham named it a replica of Castle Perilous, and I fear now that he was correct.”

“And you once glanced upon that awful place,” Ellery said.

“Well, if none are in there, then we’ll make it our halls!” roared Athrogate. “Got me some friends to be guardin’ our walls!”

“Got you a habit to bring on your fall,” Jarlaxle muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Athrogate to hear, which of course

only brought a burst of howling laughter from the wild-eyed dwarf.

“Good grief,” said the drow.

“Only kind I’m likin’!” Athrogate said without missing a beat.

“I doubt it is uninhabited or’s to stay that way for long,” Pratcus

put in. “I can feel the evilness emanating from the thing—a beacon call, I’m guessing, for every monster in this corner o’ Vaasa.”

Entreri looked over at Jarlaxle and the pair exchanged knowing glances. The strange castle, as with the similar tower they’d previously encountered, likely needed no garrison from without. That tower had nearly killed them both, had destroyed perhaps his greatest artifact in the battle. Entreri wondered how much more formidable might the castle be, for it was many times the size of that single tower.

“Whatever your feeling, good dwarf, and whatever our fears, it is of course incumbent upon us to investigate more closely,” Canthan put in. “That is our course, is it not, Commander Ellery?”

Entreri caught something in the undertones of Canthan’s words. A familiarity?

“Indeed, our duty seems clear to that very course,” Ellery replied.

It seemed to Entreri that she was being a bit too formal with the thin wizard, a bit too standoffish.

“In the morning then,” Mariabronne said. “Wingham said he would meet us here this night and he is not one to break his word.”

“And so he has not,” came a voice from down the hill, and the troupe turned as one to regard the old half-orc trudging up the side of the hillock, arm-in-arm with a woman whose other arm was locked with that of another half-orc, a large and hulking specimen.

Normally, Entreri would have focused on the largest of the group, for he carried himself like a warrior and was large enough to suggest that he presented a potential threat. But the assassin was not looking at that one, not at all, his eyes riveted to the woman in the middle. She seemed to drift into the light of their campfire like some apparition from a dream. Though arm-in-arm with both men flanking her, she seemed apart from them, almost ethereal. There was something familiar about her wide, flat face, about the sparkle in her eyes and the tilt of her mouth as she smiled, just a bit nervously.

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