Undead: Haunted Lands, Book II (Forgotten Realms)
Richard Lee Byers
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Join heroes fighting the undead hordes!
Undead armies have massed and march to the beat of an evil necromancer's drum. The living citizens of the magic-rich realm of Thay must unite and mount a defense before they die and join their enemy's ranks.
The second book in The Haunted Lands series, the events in Undead will have tremendous impact on the Forgotten Realms world.
the beast harm? The thing was so bizarre that he couldn’t tell. But the barrage distracted it. It left off pursuing the men on the ground to grope impotently at the attackers harassing it from on high. Or perhaps not so impotently after all. Without warning, it shot up into the air. If it could fly all along, Bareris wondered why it had climbed to the top of the chasm. It made no sense, but then, nothing associated with the blue fire did. He wheeled his mount to keep beyond the creature’s
document inside, unfurled it, and read it. A chill oozed up his spine. “Is it anything?” Brightwing asked. “Yes.” He rolled up the parchment again. “We need to get back to the city.” Dmitra Flass kept a garden in the heart of the grim black fortress that was the Central Citadel, and the rosebuds blazed in voluptuous shades of crimson and gold despite the droughts, tainted rains, and plant-killing pests of the past ten years. Perhaps, Malark thought, it was illusion that kept the flowers
his psyche proved too strong, and he struck back with a kick to her knee. She snatched her leg out of the way and cut at his torso. He dropped low, and the stroke whizzed over his head. The combatants resumed circling, exchanged another set of attacks and then another. Still, neither could land a decisive blow. It was plain to Malark that he was more skillful. Unfortunately, Tammith’s preternatural strength helped to make up the difference, as did her sword, armor, indefatigability, and
are who you are.” Even by the ghost’s standards, it was a cryptic if not meaningless declaration, yet it evoked a twinge of muddled, irrational guilt, and since Aoth was truly the injured party, he resented it. “The whoreson doesn’t even care whether I forgive him or not. If you understand anything about him, you know he only cares about his woman.” “That isn’t true,” Tammith said. Her voice had an odd undercurrent to it, as if echoing some buried sorrow or shame. “He always valued his friends,
and over time, wizards of every order have defected …” His voice trailed off as he realized that it might not be an ideal moment for his usual practice of fussy, argumentative nitpicking. Dmitra rose. “Great One, we accept your rebuke. Will you instruct us how we might do better?” Bane smiled. Nevron couldn’t see the expression, but he could feel it, and although it conveyed no threat in any immediate sense, something about it was disquieting even to a man accustomed to trafficking with the