Ed Greenwood Forgotten Realms Shadow of the Avatar 3 All Shadows Fled

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beside Itharr.
Blood was bubbling at his lips with every breath. She unstoppered the vial
with infinite care and tipped it deep within, feeling his teeth tighten on the
glass as a sudden spasm racked him.
"May the gods ascend to their rightful places, so that we can pray to them
once more,17 she said feelingly, holding the vial firmly in place as Itharr
bucked and writhed in Belkram's arms.
"May these accursed shapeshifters return to their rightful places," Belkram
said to her, "so that we don't have to!"
"Gnorlgh," Itharr agreed weakly, from beneath them. "Gut thlisgh out ou
my mouth!" He spat out the vial and struggled to sit up.
"Itharr!" Shar said joyfully, and embraced him, covering his lips with her
own.
"Some men," Belkram said, watching her weep and meeting one of Itharr's eyes
through her hair, "are far luckier than they have any right to be." Then he
discovered something must have gotten into his own eye. The world suddenly
glimmered and blurred and a sound large and raw rose in his throat. . . .
Tower of Mortoth, Sembia, early Midsummer Day
A crystal ball spun unheeded in a darkened room in the Tower of Mortoth. It
flickered fitfully, then came to
S.7SL
ALL SHADOWS FLED
a sudden halt. As its inner glow died and it crashed to the privy chamber
floor, a woman screamed nearby, high and despairing, and drowned out the sound
of the crystal shattering. .. .
Tilverton, early Midsummer Day
A solitary lantern guttered outside the gates in the gray hour before dawn,
but its light was enough to reveal the Purple Dragon emblazoned proudly on the
wrinkled surcoat of a yawning sentry. The armsman came alert with a grunt and
stepped back to lower the tip of his spear. Something small and sleek and dark
slid around the gatepost.
He relaxed and gave it a grin. Surmalkin back from mousing . . . and irritated
at a lack of success, by the look of him.
"How now, little one?" the armsman growled, bending over fondly. The cat gave
him a warning, defiant look and minced past. The guard watched him go.
Grinning, the man leaned on his spear. It must be a nice, soft life, being a
cat.. ..
Something that was strong and swift instead of nice and soft smashed him
across the back of the head. He stumbled forward, dazed and was still
gathering wits and breath to shout for aid when the same something took him by
the throat. It wrung his neck.
Blood ran from the armsman's nose and mouth as the Malaugrym propped him
against the gatepost, hooking the shoulder straps of his armor upon the gate
so he seemed to be leaning on it, lost in slumber.
After that, it was the work of a few breaths to scale the crumbling stone
walls of the mansion that served the visiting high and mighty of Cormyr as
home in Tilverton. From its high site, Lorgyn could see the lamps of the town
winking below as his tentacles pulled
ED GREENWOOD
him onto the balcony. He slid easily into human form ... or at least, the
appearance of an elegant old Cor-myrean courtier he'd once seen, but with
hands like large, flexible webbed paddles akin to the hind feet of a beaver.
He glided into the room.
The small blue glimmering of the lady's ward spun her awake in alarm.
But he was already bending low over the bed and whispering, "Good morning, my
dear. Alambrara, isn't it?"
With one of those broad hands, he smothered whatever reply she might have
made. His iron strength held her down until her sudden struggles subsided.
When she fell limp under him and the tiny lightnings of her collapsing ward
had finished jittering through him, Lorgyn checked that she yet breathed. She
was alive.
He nodded in satisfaction and set about stripping away the gems she wore at
her ears, throat, and ankles. Who knew what sort of tracing magic could be
linked to the jewelry of a powerful war wizard?
Her own bedclothes soft samite sheets, no less served admirably to gag and
bind her, and he was gone from the room before the first light of dawn broke
the eastern sky, low beyond the gray walls of Tilverton.
Breaths later, that wan, rosy light fell upon the wagon marked "Pendle's Fine
Meats." Lorgyn unlatched its side door and thrust his bundle inside.
It was his wagon now, he thought as he melted into the heavy, grizzled form of
Pendle once more and undid the sheet that had covered his prize from the eyes
of any overly curious early risers.
Carefully drawing the door closed, he tore the sheet into strips and bound the
war wizard Alambrara beside the fat Amnian, Gorluth the Great. He chuckled at
the contrast between the shapely limbs of the Cormyrean, the fat and hairy
little mage from Amn, and beyond him, Irendue's slim beauty. She was awake,
her eyes blazing at him over the gag that was her only garment.
ALL SHADOWS FLED
Lorgyn winked at her as he tightened a lashing and stood back to survey the
three naked people bound to the meat bars.
The beginnings of a fine collection. If more folk collected wizards thus,
there'd be less trouble all over Faerun, to be sure. Still, he'd be needing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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