The Cerulean Storm (Prism Pentad) by Troy Denning

Author:Troy Denning [Denning, Troy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786961177
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2011-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

Neeva found her unconscious husband next to the well, one armed draped over the side. The flesh had been scraped off one side of his skull, and a dark streak on the cobblestones marked where he had been dragged across the plaza to the pit. Strangely enough, the wound itself looked clean, as though someone had taken the trouble to bathe it before abandoning him.

“Caelum! Wake up!” She kneeled at his side and shook his shoulder. When his eyes failed to open, she slapped his cheek—not lightly. “Tell me what happened to Rkard!”

The dwarf’s eyes did not even flutter.

Behind her, Jo’orsh’s bones continued to clatter as they tumbled toward each other. Neeva looked toward the noise and shuddered. The banshee had reconstructed only about half of his gnarled body, most of the torso and one leg, and somehow he looked even more hideous than before.

Rikus and Sadira appeared at the edge of the plaza, leading the five haggard survivors from the Bronze Company toward the well. The rest of the command, nearly thirty warriors, had perished in the battle with the counterfeit Borys. At the time, with its claws ripping through steel breastplates and its heels smashing thick dwarven skulls, the beast had seemed real enough. It was not until the fight had ended and the Dragon had shrunk into a frightened, battered gorak that they had discovered the creature’s true nature.

It was then that they had noticed the dust storm drifting out to sea. For a moment, it had seemed to Neeva that she saw a red light in the heart of the tempest, but the others had not been able to find it when she tried to point it out to them. Finally, even she could not see the glow, and the squall had moved out of sight. They had rushed back to the village, finding it as quiet as when they had first arrived.

“How is he?” called Sadira.

Neeva shook her head. “Alive, but that’s about all,” she reported. “Any sign of Magnus or Rkard?”

The sorceress shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Neeva cursed. “I want to know where my son is,” she said. “Why doesn’t Magnus send a wind-whisper to tell us where they are?”

“He may have,” Sadira replied. “But if he did it after the battle began to drift eastward, we wouldn’t have been there to hear it.”

“Or maybe he didn’t have time,” Rikus suggested. “If it came down to a choice of protecting Rkard or warning us, I’ve no doubts that he’d defend the boy.”

“As long as he was able—which may not have been that long,” Neeva said. She picked her husband up and carried him a safe distance away from the well. “But what happened isn’t as important as how we’re going to find my son again.”

“Maybe Jo’orsh will be able to tell us something,” Sadira suggested. She glanced toward the banshee, who had reassembled his complete torso, both legs, and an arm. “He must have seen what happened.”

Rikus nodded. “Until then, maybe this can tell us something.

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