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Immortalis: The DemonWars Saga, Book 7 (DemonWars series, Band 7) - Softcover

Buch 7 von 7: The DemonWars Saga

Salvatore, R. A.

 
9781668018248: Immortalis: The DemonWars Saga, Book 7 (DemonWars series, Band 7)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1668018241 ISBN 13: 9781668018248
Verlag: Saga Press, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

In this extraordinary third and final work in the second DemonWars trilogy, R. A. Salvatore weaves a diverse tapestry of characters and events from all novels of the series into an epic, unforgettable conclusion as a dark young king is driven by a quest to remake humankind.

In Honce-the-Bear, King Aydrian Boudabras wakes in a cold sweat, his conscience haunted by those he has killed in order to garner power, including the rightful king before him, Danube, his mother’s husband. Now, Aydrian is preparing his armies for war, forging loyalties, playing one adversary against another, and giving those around him barely a glimpse at his remarkable powers.

In the neighboring Behren, the evil Yatol Bardoh is unleashing a war engine of his own, using armies of mercenaries and horrific tactics to bring down the walls of Jacintha and to drive a ferocious dragon from the city of Dharyan.

Between these two men, an explosive chain of events has been set into motion. Refugees flood the roads and valleys, alliances are formed and broken, navies clash at sea, and assassins seek their moment to strike. With Aydrian’s power and popularity turning into an avalanche and the courageous Byrnn Dharielle valiantly standing in the way of the Yalot Bardoh, the great players in the DemonWars saga will unite and clash on a single, magnificent stage.

In book three of the second DemonWars trilogy, #1 New York Times bestselling author R. A. Salvatore concludes the second trilogy and gathers the whole arc of the seven books of the DemonWars saga in a stunning conclusion that Kirkus Reviews claims “fans will dance with joy” to experience.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

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.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1: The Shadow in the Mirror CHAPTER 1 THE SHADOW IN THE MIRROR
THE SHADOW IN THE MIRROR drew him in, and Aydrian could not get the thought of Jilseponie out of his mind. Unlike the unrelenting hatred he felt for the woman, a rush of warmth came over him, as if this shadow was communicating to him that Jilseponie was his answer here. Not for glory. Not for power.

For what, then?

Salvation?

Aydrian leaned back against the wall in the small darkened room he had set up for Oracle, this mystical connection to the shadows in the mirror. The elves had taught him Oracle, and had taught him that in looking into the mirror, he was seeing those who had gone before. Aydrian wasn’t sure of that. Perhaps Oracle was more a way for him to look within his own essence and heart. Perhaps these shadowy creatures he saw in the mirror—and he saw two, whereas others usually saw only one—were messengers of the gods, or his own attunement to godlike wisdom.

It was here, at Oracle, that Aydrian had learned to comprehend the power of the gemstones. It was here, at Oracle, that Aydrian had first come to understand the manner in which he might reach his coveted immortality—immortalis in the ancient tongue of man and elf.

So now he watched, basking in the continuing rush of warmth and softness that accompanied the thoughts of Jilseponie—imparted, he understood, by this one shadow. But then the second shadow appeared across the way, and Aydrian was immediately reminded of the truth of Jilseponie, that she had abandoned him to die, that she had, in effect, forced him into slavery at the hands of cruel Lady Dasslerond!

Moments later, all warmth and thoughts of some mystical salvation flew away from Aydrian, replaced by his hatred for the witch Jilseponie, the pretend queen. He watched as the two shadows came together, not to blend into something larger and greater, but in an apparent attempt by each to overshadow the other.

Aydrian couldn’t help but grin at this continuing battle. Other people who knew the secret of Oracle saw one shadow, but he had two, and it was precisely that, these two warring viewpoints on every issue, that led Aydrian to realize that he was truly blessed. Unlike the lockstep fools who followed Oracle without question, Aydrian forced from Oracle the power of reasoned resolution. Each step was worked through logically and in his heart.

He laughed aloud, recognizing then that the first shadow was his own conscience, was the shackle the gods had placed about the neck of mortal men.

In that revelation, the issue of Jilseponie was settled once more. The witch would watch his rise to greatness beyond anything the world had ever known. She would die—of her guilt and with his smiling face watching her go—while he would live on forever.

Now very different images filtered through Aydrian’s thoughts. He visualized a map of Honce-the-Bear—the southern reaches, from Ursal to Entel, shaded red; the rest, uncolored. Like crawling fingers, the red began to spread. It moved north from Ursal to engulf Palmaris, and as soon as the city fell under his control, all of the Masur Delaval, the great river that cut through the kingdom, bloodied. In the east along the coast, the red moved north from Entel, sweeping along the Mantis Arm toward St.-Mere-Abelle.

Yes, Aydrian understood that the conquest of St.-Mere-Abelle would be the final victory to secure all of Honce-the-Bear south of the Gulf of Corona. The thought of that monastery, the seat of power for Father Abbot Fio Bou-raiy and the Abellican Church, made him consider another problem: what to do with Marcalo De’Unnero and Abbot Olin, both of whom desired to rule that Church?

Aydrian asked the shadows in the mirror. What of Abbot Olin?

He envisioned the map again, and now the red fingers crawled south of Entel, around the edge of the Belt-and-Buckle, to Jacintha, the seat of Behren’s power.

A knock on the door brought Aydrian from his contemplations, shattering the moment of Oracle. He looked up, his expression angry. But only for a moment, for as he considered what he had just seen, he realized that he had his answer.

THE COACH ROLLED THROUGH THE southern gate of Palmaris, much like any other. The city was open, for despite the rumors filtering up from Ursal, this was a time of peace in Honce-the-Bear. Thus no guards approached the coach or inspected its contents or passengers. If they had looked in through the curtained window, they might well have recognized the woman sitting there, though she seemed barely a shell of her former self.

Jilseponie was hardly aware that her driver had crossed into Palmaris. She sat quietly, her arms crossed before her, her face still showing the lines of the tears that had marked the first days out of Ursal. She wasn’t crying any longer, though.

She was just numb.

She could hardly comprehend the truth of Aydrian, could hardly believe that her child was not dead, but had been stolen from her by the elves and raised all these years apart from her. How could he have become the tyrant that she had seen in Ursal? How could a child born of her and Elbryan have become the monster that was Aydrian?

And he was a monster. Jilseponie knew that profoundly. He had torn Constance from the grave and, Jilseponie believed, had used her to murder Danube. He had stolen the throne of Ursal. And all of that under the guidance of Marcalo De’Unnero!

Marcalo De’Unnero!

To Jilseponie, there was no purer incarnation of evil than he, unless it was the demon dactyl Bestesbulzibar itself! How could Aydrian have taken up with the man who had murdered his own father?

It made no sense to Jilseponie, and in truth, the woman had not the strength to try to sort out the confusing morass.

Aydrian was alive.

Nothing else mattered, truly. No other questions could find their way to a reasoned conclusion within Jilseponie in light of that terrible and wonderful truth.

Aydrian was alive.

And he was the king, the unlawful king. And he was in league with De’Unnero and of like heart with the hated man.

That was all that mattered.

The coach lurched to a stop, and only then did Jilseponie realize that the road beneath them had turned from dirt to cobblestone, and that the fields beside them had changed to crowded streets, farmhouses to shops and taverns. The door opened and her driver, an older man with sympathetic eyes, offered her his hand.

“We’re here, milady Jilseponie,” he said tenderly.

Palmaris. A city Jilseponie had known as her home for much of her life. Here she had found refuge after the catastrophe that had destroyed Dundalis to the north. Here she had found her second family, the Chilichunks. Here she had married, though it had ended abruptly and disastrously. Here she had ruled as baroness. Here her friends presided over St. Precious. And here, Elbryan had been killed, as he and she had defeated the demon within Father Abbot Markwart. Moving as if in a dream, Jilseponie drifted out of the coach and onto the street. She was dressed modestly—not in any of the raiments suitable for the queen of Honce-the-Bear, surely—and so her appearance caused no stir among the folk moving about the crowded city avenue.

Jilseponie slowly looked around, absorbing the sights of the city she knew so well. Across the wide square stood St. Precious, the largest structure in the city, a soaring cathedral that could hold thousands within its stone walls, and that housed the hundred brothers under the leadership of Bishop Braumin Herde.

The thought of her friend had Jilseponie walking toward that cathedral, slowly at first, but then breaking...

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Verlag
Saga Press
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1668018241
ISBN 13 
9781668018248
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
688
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Van Ditmar Boeken, VDB Sales
sales@vanditmar.nl

Hondiuslaan 44
Utrecht
3528 AB
Niederlande