Years have passed since the great miracle atop Mount Aida, and Corona is a different place—yet a threat looms, one Kilseponie could never have anticipated in this next installment in the DemonWars series from bestselling author R. A. Salvatore.
Much to the seething dismay of his long-time mistress, King Danube has asked Julsepnie Wyndon to become his queen. But she is torn. How can she love any man as completely as she did the Ranger Elbryan, the father of the child she lost? But unknown to Jilseponie, that child never died. Aydrian was stolen away by the queen of the elves.
A headstrong boy secretly raised to be a weapon, Aydrian shows great promise in the arts of combat, and he is as powerful with the gemstone as his mother. Now, De’Unnero, the weretiger and mortal enemy of Jilseponie, will join forces with Aydrian, who is hungry for power and on a collision course with destiny.
Building upon the events in Mortalis, #1 New York Times bestselling author R.A. Salvatore continues the fresh second trilogy within the DemonWars saga with his fifth book in the series.
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As one of the fantasy genre’s most successful authors, R. A. Salvatore enjoys an ever-expanding and tremendously loyal following. His books regularly appear on The New York Times bestseller lists and have sold more than 30 million copies. Salvatore’s most recent original hardcover, The Two Swords, book three of The Hunter’s Blades Trilogy debuted at #1 on The Wall Street Journal bestseller list and at #4 on The New York Times bestseller list. His books have been translated into numerous foreign languages, including German, Italian, Finnish, Greek, Hungarian, Turkish, Croatian, Bulgarian, Yiddish, Spanish, Russian, Polish, Czech, and French.
Years have passed since the great miracle atop Mount Aida and Corona is a different place. Yet threat looms, one Jilseponie could never have anticipated. For the child that she lost never died--as she believes--but was stolen away by the queen of the elves.
Chapter 1: The Second Dimension CHAPTER 1 THE SECOND DIMENSION
YOUR BODY IS THE CONDUIT,” Lady Dasslerond explained, trying very hard to hide her exasperation. She leaned back against a birch tree, ruffling her nearly transparent elven wings and tossing her head carelessly, sending her golden locks back over her delicate shoulders. She was the only elf who truly understood the magical gemstones, having worked intimately with her powerful emerald for centuries. Thus, Dasslerond had taken on this part of young Aydrian’s training herself, the first time a human had ever been trained in the gemstone magic by one of the Touel’alfar.
The young man, nearly a foot-and-a-half taller than Dasslerond’s four-foot height, grimaced and clutched the gemstone, a lightning-producing graphite, all the tighter, as if he meant to squeeze the magical energy out of it. He was built much like his father, strong and muscular, with wide shoulders and corded muscles, but many of his features favored his mother—of whom he knew practically nothing.
At first, Dasslerond thought to correct him again, but when she noted the intensity on Aydrian’s face, she decided to allow him these moments of personal revelations. The lady of Caer’alfar could hardly suppress her grin as she watched the concentrating Aydrian—her Aydrian, the young human she believed would become the savior of her people. Though she wasn’t overfond of the lumbering, larger folk, Dasslerond could not deny that this one was handsome, with his thick shock of blond hair and his piercing blue eyes; his lips, full like those of his mother; and his jaw strong and square, a chin and chiseled cheekbones quite familiar to the lady who had overseen the training of Elbryan the Nightbird. Yes, this one had the best features of both his parents, it seemed, a beauty brought out all the more because he was growing up in the splendor of Andur’Blough Inninness, a place of health and vitality. In just the last year, Aydrian’s lanky frame had thickened considerably, his weight blossoming from a slight hundred and twenty pounds to a hundred and sixty and more, and not an ounce of it was fat. He was all sinew and muscle, all cords of strength; but unlike other humans, there was a suppleness to the young man’s muscles, an incredible flexibility that made his work with bi’nelle dasada all the more graceful.
Aydrian was far from finished growing, Dasslerond knew. His father had topped six feet, and so would Aydrian, and easily; and the lady suspected that he would range well on the other side of two hundred pounds. Yes, physically he would be a specimen—he already was!—to make people stop and stare. But his real strength, Dasslerond hoped, would be less visible, would be in the pure focus of his well-disciplined mind. He would outfight any man and any elf, any goblin or even the great giants; but a greater woe would befall his enemies when Aydrian combined this second talent, this training with the magical gemstones. His mother was among the most powerful stone users in all the world, so it was said; and so, Dasslerond demanded, would this Aydrian be.
He grimaced and groaned, squeezing the gemstone, calling to it, demanding of it that it let its energies flow forth.
“It is not a contest of wills—” Dasslerond started to say, but before she could finish, there came a sharp crackle of arcing blue light, snapping out of Aydrian’s hand and flickering downward to slam into the grass at his feet. The resulting report sent both the young man and the elven lady into the air. While Dasslerond caught herself and retained her balance by using her small wings, Aydrian came down hard, stumbling back and finally just allowing himself to tumble into a momentum-stealing backward somersault. He came to his feet, staring incredulously at the small gray gemstone, looking from it to the blackened spot on the green grass of the hillock.
Lady Dasslerond looked from the boy to the spot, at a loss for words. She knew that he had done it wrong, so very wrong! Gemstone magic was a cooperative interaction between the wielder and the stone, and the powers of an enchanted gemstone could not be pulled forth by brute force of will. And yet Aydrian had just done that, had just fought a battle of wills with an insentient energy… and had won!
Dasslerond looked at him then, at the smug, satisfied smile on his handsome face. Something else showed there, something the lady of Caer’alfar found strangely unsettling. She had watched the progress of dozens of rangers in her life, and always there would be a series of breakthroughs that the humans in training would realize. Those breakthroughs were often met with smiles of joy, sometimes with a grim nod, but always with a profound satisfaction, for the tests of the Touel’alfar were not easily passed. So it was with Aydrian now, his expression falling into the latter category more than the first, for there was no joy on his face. Just grim satisfaction and, the lady recognized, even something a bit more than that, something akin to the look of a heartless conqueror, supremely arrogant and taking more joy in the defeat of his enemy than in the attainment of any other goal. Logically, Lady Dasslerond knew that she shouldn’t have expected less from this young one—the elves had trained him from birth to be just that kind of force—but the look of sheer intensity on Aydrian’s face, the effort necessary for him to have forced out the gemstone powers in such a confrontational manner, gave Dasslerond definite pause.
There was an inner strength in this one beyond her expectations. Logically, and given the monumental task she had in mind for him, Dasslerond knew that to be a good thing, but still…
She started to go into her gemstone training litany again, the speech she had delivered to Aydrian several times already about working in unison with the powers of the stone instead of battling against them. But the lady was too tired of it all at that moment and too taken aback by the display she had just witnessed.
“You will work with the gemstones again, and soon,” she said finally, holding out her hand for Aydrian to give her back the graphite.
The young man’s blue eyes glowered fiercely for just a moment—an impetuous moment, but telling, Dasslerond realized, of his true desire to keep the stone. Clearly this work with the gemstones had awakened something within the boy, some deep emotion, a flicker, perhaps, of power beyond anything he had ever believed possible. And he wanted that power, the lady understood without the slightest doubt. He wanted to work it and master it and dominate it. That was good, for he had to be driven, had to achieve the very highest levels of power if her plans for him were to come to fruition. However, like the sheer willpower he had just shown in tearing the magic from the stone, this level of ambition, so clearly reflected in those striking and imposing eyes, warned Dasslerond of something potentially ominous.
The moment passed quickly, and Aydrian obediently walked over and placed the graphite in Dasslerond’s hand, offering only a shrug and a quick flash of a sheepish smile as he did.
Dasslerond saw that smile for what it was: a feint. If Aydrian’s true feelings at having to relinquish that gemstone had been honestly expressed in a smile, she figured, he would have had to grow fangs.
BRYNN DHARIELLE WAS DOWN IN the field below him, tacking up Diredusk, the smallish but muscular stallion that Belli’mar Juraviel had brought to Andur’Blough Inninness for her training several years before. All the Touel’alfar were there this night as well, most sitting among the boughs of the...
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