Hand of the Hunter: Chosen of Nendawen, Book II
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Epic struggles as a young woman comes of age in the Forgotten Realms® world...
Nendawen the Hunter has accepted Hweilan’s sacrifice and claimed her as one of his. Now she must learn to truly become a hunter so that she may take on the powers of Nendawen and avenge her family. But while Nendawen’s faithful forge the young woman into a brutal killer, the undead forces of Jagen Ghen have found a way into Nendawen’s sanctuary in the Feywild.
Following in the footsteps of such masterworks of setting as The Wheel of Time and Shannara, the Chosen of Nendawen series is a deftly detailed fantasy that sucks readers in and leaves them eager for more.
Gatar, until the queen herself—with a little help from Lendri—had finally destroyed Soran’s body. But still the thing had come after her, filling Kadrigul’s body. Looking back, she realized that in her heart she had known that at the time, though she hadn’t stopped to consider it. When she did, she knew her instincts were true. Even after the body was destroyed, the demon found a new “home” and came after her. If it could do such things, move from dead flesh to dead flesh as if it were nothing
Everyone in Kunin Gatar’s realm knew of the thing that had invaded, killing many of their people and even managing to hurt the queen before she killed it. What approached them … it could not be the same one. Kunin Gatar had killed that one. But Kovannon knew that where you found one fly, more were soon to follow. If one of these things had been killed by their queen, then it seemed that one of its kin had come looking for revenge. Kovannon heard the steel of Durel’s sword sliding out of its
loosen their grip, but the last of the light around Gleed’s staff faded, and the evening darkness closed in. Hweilan felt as if a shroud were closing in around them. “You were called,” Gleed whispered. “You were chosen. By Nendawen himself. But you, dear girl … there’s something about you that even the Master had not planned on.” He looked around, glancing quickly over each shoulder, and when he returned his gaze to her she saw the last thing she’d expected—sympathy. A softness that even
All breath left her body in one pained gasp, and she felt muscles grind and tear against her bones at the force that hit them. Hweilan flew back—skidded against the rough bark of a tree, shredding the shirt off her back—then hit the ground and tumbled end over end. She forced herself to move—again acting more by instinct than conscious thought—rolling away and pushing herself to her feet. The world rocked and shivered around her, and she had to force breath back into her battered body. Lights
remember what we spoke about before,” said Gleed. “That Lendri might know things. About you. Things that you could … put to use when the time comes. Well, every hunter needs a wolf. You are Vil Adanrath. The way of the wolf is the way of your people. Call him. Call Lendri. Bring him back to fight at your side and redeem himself.” Hweilan let that settle in. If Lendri would come, he would be a powerful ally. But he’d told her that wouldn’t happen. “He saw this coming,” said Hweilan, though it