Cormyr (Forgotten Realms: The Cormyr Saga, Book 1)
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Cormyr has been ruled by the Obarskyr family since its inception one and a half millennia ago. Now its king, Azoun IV, lies on his deathbed, and the vultures are circling, hoping to usurp the throne for their own. Against this crisis of state, the history of the Forest Kingdom unfolds, relating the previously untold story of a nation, its rulers, and its wizards.
Cormyr: A Novel is the epic historical saga of the most powerful nation in the Forgotten Realms fantasy world, as told by the world's co-creators.
taking on the Witch Lords by themselves. Indeed, if the king hesitated any longer, they would do exactly that. The mages signaled that their preparatory spells were complete, and Thanderahast rode to join the king. The wizard’s mount was a light pony, a dappled veteran of many battles. It had been trained to retreat if Thanderahast left the saddle, and it had survived a number of nasty frays as a result. The king was mounted on his black charger, a magnificent mount clad in ivory-shaded
and end it now.” The old wizard stepped down from the dais and positioned himself to one side, between the king and the rebellious prince. The wizard wanted a parley, then. For all the good that would do. “Greetings, Uncle,” said Rhigaerd, his young face struggling to look somber and serious. “And to you, Nephew,” said the king. “You have come to your father’s house to surrender yourselves and end this bloody folly?” “I have come to my father’s house, yes,” said the Prince, “and I seek to end
forest, its undisputed master, disturbed Thauglor. He pressed such dark concepts into the back of his reptilian mind. The King of the Forest Country swooped low, disturbing a flock of craw vultures roosting in the skeleton of a lightning-struck oak. Squawking, the carrion birds scattered before him as the buffalo had done earlier, but Thauglor did not bother even to snap at them as they fluttered and squalled. Yes, a tour of his domain was in order before he settled down for a long nap. Best to
to sleep, doesn’t he?” the wizard asked the priests who were hastily gathering around the king’s head, feeling at his hands and brow and neck. One of them, a short man whose face was almost hidden by a bristling mustache, looked up. “Of course,” he snapped. “Who can heal in peace with this going on?” He indicated the long line of waiting, chattering nobles with an angry wave of his hand. Another turned from Azoun to say, “In general terms, I agree. Yet from time to time ’tis probably best if
which bore an uncanny resemblance to the four previous High Mages of the realm, ran along the wall, and the floor here was tiled in a chessboard pattern of alternating dark and light squares. Ignoring Baerauble’s unmoving gaze, the Royal Magician put one hand on his head, stretched forward uncomfortably to touch the fingers of his other hand to a certain gargoyle nose, and then touched the toe of his right boot to a particular tile square. Silent radiance rose and sparkled around him. When it