By R.A. Salvatore
Do not pass over the gripping end to Salvatore's New York Times best-selling Transitions trilogy!
When the Spellplague ravages Faerûn, Drizzt and his partners are stuck within the chaos. looking for the aid of the priest Cadderly–the hero of the lately reissued sequence The Cleric Quintet–Drizzt reveals himself dealing with his strongest and elusive foe, the twisted Crenshinibon, the demonic crystal shard he believed were destroyed years ago.
From the Hardcover edition.
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Additional resources for The Ghost King: Transitions, Book III
Example text
He could see the road, quiet and empty. From one of the trees a cicada crescendoed its whining song, and a bird cawed as if in answer. A rabbit darted through the small grassy lea on the downside of the camp, fleeing with sharp turns and great leaps as if terrified by the weight of Jarlaxle’s gaze. The drow slipped down from the low crook in the tree, rolling off the heavy limb that had served as his bed. He landed silently on magical boots and wove a careful path out of the copse to get a wider view of the area.
It took a moment for the implications of that boast to sink in to Elastul, and the possibility brought him little amusement, for it served as a reminder and a warning that he dealt with dark elves. Very dangerous dark elves. ” Jarlaxle asked. “I will open the tunnel to Barkskin’s storehouse,” Elastul replied, referring to a secret marketplace in the Undercity of Mirabar, the dwarf section. “Kimmuriel’s wagons can move in through there alone, and none shall be allowed beyond the entry hall. ’ Surely you do not expect that we will deign to move further into your city, good marchion.
For Hephaestus needn’t ask Yharaskrik anything ever again. Doing so would be no more than pondering the question himself. Hephaestus was Yharaskrik and Yharaskrik was Hephaestus. And both were Crenshinibon, the Ghost King. Hephaestus’s great intellect worked backward through the reality of his present state and the enthusiasm of the seven liches as his thoughts careened and at last convened, spurring him to certainty. The strand of blue fire, how ever it had come to be, had tied him to Crenshinibon and its lingering necromantic powers.