Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [87]
Well, four times, now. Or so he thought for the space of slightly more than one deep breath.
"Well net, butcher," came a cold, clear voice from close at hand.
Manshoon turned in time to see Shandril standing amid the rocks nearby. Her eyes kindled into twin flames. "For Delg," she whispered fiercely. Her lips curved into a wolfish smile as she raised flaming hands. He did not even have time to scream.
Chapter 13
DARKER DREAMS THAN THIS
Weep not, child-whatever terrors your night dreams hold, someone somewhere in the Realms has faced and fought worse. Wizards who raise monsters from nothing, or twist them from simpler beasts, or call them from far and strange places, you see, are tormented by the evil they work-and all of them dream darker than you can. That is their worst punishment-no matter what horrors keep you awake, all of them must nightly face darker dreams than this.
Laeral of Waterdeep
quoted in Words to an Apprentice Ithryn Halast
Year of the Weeping Moon
You will be subject to my will, Iliph Thraun You will follow and feed only as I direct, and you will challenge no one. You will take care not to be seen or felt by the one you drain. You will…
The voice that Iliph Thraun had come to hate so much in these last few days the voice that had echoed through its being, ccompelling it with irresistible authority, faded at last-forever stilled. The speaker was dead, and the lich lord was free.
"And," the hollow voice hissed, rising in triumph, "so passes Manshoon of the Zhentarim-and I am free again."
The skull rose so suddenly out of a tangled ravine deep in the Stonelands that a dunwing flying past squawked and shed feathers as it darted away in fear. The skull laughed. The chilling sound trailed behind it as it flew, breaking free of the last, fading traces of Manshoon's control, and racing westheading for Shandril, filled with hunger.
Thrulgar. the older of the two doorguards, stiffened and brought his spear down, and its tip caught the lamplight in a gleaming arc as it moved.
Azatlim, the guard who stood at the other end of the porch, turned when he saw the flash.
Out of the night, three folk were approaching Eveningstar. A fat, aging rogue with a disquieting look about him; a young man in the robes of a mage; and a bedraggled wisp of a girl in torn clothing.
Travelers, aye-but were they fallen afoul of brigands? Were they beggars? Pilgrims-or thieves themselves?
Thrulgar made sure his back was against the double doors that led into the main hall of Tessaril's Tower, braced his spear against the bronze door plates behind him, and cast a quick look down the porch to make sure Azatlim had seen them, too.
Azatlim was hastening toward the tower doors, spear at the ready. Good. This could mean trouble.
Thrulgar cast a glance in the other direction, judging just where the alarm gong was in case he had to strike it in a hurry.
Then the three stepped up onto the porch.
"Who are you three, and why come you here by night?"
Thrulgar kept his voice calm and his eyes on the empty hands of the intruders.
The fat man rumbled, "We've come to see Tessaril Winter, Lord of Eveningstar, on a most urgent matter. We cannot wait until morning, and must see her now." When these words were out, the man shut his mouth as if it were a steel trap.
A little silence followed; Thrulgar let it stretch as he peered long and consideringly at the three of them, then said. "You cannot pass. Go up the road, and take rooms at the inn. The lord will see you in the morning."
"We will see her now," the fat man repeated patiently. Thrulgar locked gazes with him and was surprised at the wisdom-and the steel in the eyes that met and held his. He had to muster