The Ogre's Pact: The Twilight Giants Book One (Forgotten Realms)
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A new trilogy by the author of many best-selling books in the Forgotten Realms series stars a young peasant who rescues a princess from a giant, only to find that her father is the real problem. Original.
The noise was so faint that Brianna could hardly hear it, much less tell the exact direction it came from. There was a muffled scream, then another, and finally a chorus of rasping battle cries resembling the one the ogre had made before dying. The sounds were followed by several more thuds, then Morten’s deep voice bellowed out of the forest, full of bloodlust and anger. The lady realized that her bodyguard had found what he was searching for, and from the sound of it he was outmanned by a fair
invocation meant. Until now, Goboka had been too busy fighting mountain lions to use his shaman’s magic, but that had changed. Runolf’s mouth fell open. “Stronmaus save us!” The traitor took an involuntary step backward, then caught himself and rushed toward Brianna. “Milady, forgive me.” he called. “Had the decision been mine, I wouldn’t have betrayed you.” Brianna started to demand whose choice it was, but a half dozen mountain lions bounded past her. For an instant, the princess did not
and leaned forward to see what had happened to his companion. Tavis’s arrow caught him in the mouth. The brute’s head snapped back, then he slumped down on the ledge. The swaddled figure next to his corpse did not even stir. “It’s a g-good thing your aim is true,” Morten said, “If you had hit Brianna, I would have k-killed you.” With that, the bodyguard started to climb. “Wait,” Tavis said. He pointed at the coil of rope hanging from Morten’s belt. “Let me have that. I’ll t-tie a line around
broken, just bruised. You’ll survive.” “But I … can’t … breathe!” the lord mayor gasped. “No wonder. You smell like a dung heap!” Brianna taunted. She shoved him into the hands of his two guards. “Take your master and wash him, so he can catch his wind.” “What about the verbeeg?” asked a guard. “There is no verbeeg,” Brianna snapped. “Now perhaps you should do as I suggested.” The earl glared at Brianna and shook his head. “Finish the search,” he rasped. The guards resumed their havoc,
safe yet.” As Tavis uttered his warning, the crow sailed low over his head and dropped down on the granite shore. Before the scout could utter another word, Rog’s wolves leaped for the bird, snapping and snarling, knocking Morten into Tavis and sending both firbolgs sprawling in the pond. The crow sprang into the air, but did not fly away. Instead, the bird darted to and fro, its talons slashing noses and its beak shredding ears. Cowards that they were, the dire wolves retreated the instant