Shadows of Doom: Forgotten Realms: The Shadow of the Avatar, Book 1 by Ed Greenwood

Author:Ed Greenwood [Greenwood, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786961511
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2011-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

Stormcloak swayed amid the milling horses. He clutched his head and his gut, feeling wretchedly sick and wincing at the splitting pain in his head, all at the same time. Gods! So that was what it was like to be linked to the mind of a man when he’s killed. Ohhh, gods above!

When Irreph charged out into the marketplace, a slim figure ran with him: a long-haired, beautiful woman in tattered leather armor, the one who’d earlier been with the wizard with the wand. A long sword gleamed in her hand. Irreph frowned. What had the Harpers called her?

One of the Knights of Myth Drannor, they’d said. Irreph shot another look at her; she winked back. He’d heard of that band of adventurers—who in the Dales hadn’t?—and she certainly looked as if she knew how to handle a blade. He glanced back. There was no sign of the old man with the wand now. Elminster or not, he’d vanished.

Irreph began to think, for the first time that day, that the High Dale could be his again. He just might live to see the last of these accursed Zhents gone. He bounded forward and swung his chains with a savage grin, smashing the nearest Wolf from his saddle.

The man fell on the other side of his horse. He staggered up and got out his sword before Irreph could reach him. The Wolf’s broad blade swung up, and the high constable had to leap back. His chains were too slow and heavy to stop the flashing steel of a good bladesman in time.

Then a slim sword came past his shoulder to his rescue, taking the Wolf’s blade aside. Its wielder fenced with the Wolf in a dazzling exchange of cuts and parries before sliding her blade in with silken ease through one eyehole of the Wolf’s helm. The lady Knight! Sharantyr, that was her name!

Irreph turned to her. “My thanks, Sharantyr of Myth Drannor,” he said formally, as if he wore court robes and not merely hair and dirt. “Welcome to the High Dale.”

“The honor is mine, High Constable,” she replied calmly, saluting him with her bloodied blade. “Shall we stand together awhile?”

Irreph smiled and indicated the fray before them with an offering hand. She laughed and ran forward.

The next Wolf was already beset by four dalefolk wielding pitchforks and clubs. Sharantyr ran her sword point into the back of his knee, and he fell from his saddle in pain. His attackers did not give him time to moan very long.

They ran on, Irreph bearing to the left around the main press of horses and struggling men. “The castle!” he yelled. “We must get at the wizards. Without them, these Blackhelms are just so many swordsmen.”

Sharantyr nodded, and they ran at another Wolf in their way. Irreph’s chains smashed the man from his saddle without pause. Beyond, they saw the Zhentarim wizard who’d hurled fire and lightning standing at the end of the castle road, in obvious pain.

Sharantyr plucked a dagger from her boot and threw it, all in one smooth motion.

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