The Ghost King (t-3) by Robert Anthony Salvatore

Author:Robert Anthony Salvatore [Salvatore, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy
Published: 2009-03-19T04:00:00+00:00

“We require the other four,” decided Yharaskrik, still in the body of Ivan and speaking through the dwarf’s mouth. “The lich First Grandfather Wu is lost to us, for now at least, but four others are missing and awaiting recall.”

“They are busy,” Hephaestus insisted.

“No matter is more important than the one before us.”

The dracolich emitted a low, threatening growl. “I will have them,” he said.

“The drow and the human?”

“You know who I mean.”

“We already have lost First Grandfather Wu to the drow,” Yharaskrik reminded. “It is possible that Jarlaxle was killed in that same conflict.”

“We do not know what happened to First Grandfather Wu.”

“We know that he is lost to us, that he is … gone. There is nothing more we need know. He found Jarlaxle and was defeated, and whether the drow was also killed—”

“Is something we would know if you cared to search!” Hephaestus said, and there it was, the true source of his simmering rage.

“Do not overreach,” the illithid in the dwarf’s body retorted. “We are great and mighty, and our power will only multiply as more minions are brought through the rift, and more undead are called to our service—perhaps we will soon learn how to raise the bodies of the crawlers, then our army will be unending. But mighty, too, are our enemies, and none more so than the one we have here, within our reach, at the place they call Spirit Soaring.”

“Magic is failing.”

“But it has not failed. It is unpredictable, of course, but potent still.”

“Fetchigrol and Solmé have bottled this mighty enemy up in his hole,” Hephaestus argued with dismissive sarcasm, his voice dripping as he referred to Cadderly as “mighty.”

“They are out on the trails even now.”

“Where many have been killed!”

“A few, no more,” Yharaskrik said. “And many of our minions were consumed in the battle. They do not issue from an inexhaustible source, great Hephaestus.”

“But the walking dead do—millions and millions will answer our call. And as they kill, their ranks increase,” the dracolich proclaimed.

“The summoning is easy for those of this world who have fallen,” Yharaskrik agreed. “But it is not without cost to the power of Crenshinibon—and who more likely than the powerful Cadderly to discover a countering magic?”

“I will have them!” Hephaestus roared. “The drow and his human companion—that Calishite. I will have them and I will devour them!”

The body of Ivan Bouldershoulder settled back on its heels. The illithid within was shaking the yellow-haired head with dismay and resignation. “A creature of centuries should know more of patience,” Yharaskrik scolded quietly. “One enemy at a time. Let us destroy Cadderly and Spirit Soaring, then we can go hunting. We recall the four apparitions—”

“No!”

“We will need all of our power to—”

“No! Two in the north and two in the south. Two for the drow and two for the human. If First Grandfather Wu returns, then bring him back to our side, but the other four will hunt until they have found the drow and the human. I will have those treacherous fools.

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