Unholy: Haunted Lands, Book III (The Haunted Lands)
Richard Lee Byers
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Join heroes fighting the undead hordes!
A powerful undead sorcerer reigns in Thay over a frightened people and hordes of undead. The mageocracy in exile, masters of no more than their beaten army, watch from distant shores as the new King of Thay prepares a great magical ritual--a ritual they cannot allow him to bring to completion.
The conclusion of The Haunted Lands series, the events in Unholy will have tremendous impact on the Forgotten Realms(R) world.
thought it would be a good gamble just to try to finish before any survivors reached the mountain. It still seems like a sensible strategy, once I dispose of you.” “So this is the way our friendship ends.” Malark shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be. Throw your spear over the edge, submit to a binding, and you can watch the ritual unfold. You’ve grown into one of the finest soldiers in the East. A master killer. A true disciple of Death, even if you don’t think of it that way. I’d like to believe
he evidently was, Muthoth had provided refreshments for all his guests. Some of the trestle tables proffered food and drink fit for mortals, but prisoners lay chained spread-eagled across others for the undead to devour. A specter slid his fingers into a boy’s face. The child screamed loud enough to drown out the orchestra as he grew old and died in a matter of moments. An undead ogre, its rotting body armored or perhaps simply held together by a framework of black iron rings and bands, ripped
told her she could go back to sleep. The griffon grunted, shook out her wings with a snap that would have knocked him staggering if he hadn’t seen it coming and stepped back, then lay back down in the dewy grass. Gaedynn turned to Jet. “Thanks for backing me up,” he said. “Glad to,” the familiar rasped. “Do you think more men will try to leave?” “I hope not. With luck, those four will warn other malcontents that we’re alert to the possibility. And speaking of them, I need another favor. Please
ghost even had he wished to do so. Which he didn’t. He needed to focus on whatever lay ahead. He told himself that if he survived, he’d come back for Mirror. Told himself too, that it was absurd to imagine that one could truly save a man already dead. Mirror’s existence was a cold, hollow mockery of life, misery without end, as a fellow undead knew only too well. The phantom was probably better off suspended as he was. Bareris stopped and raked his fingers through his hair. Then he turned and
theme of a world devoid of people or beasts, with their guide’s malevolent scrutiny wearing at them every step of the way. Whenever they came to an intersection, the entity contracted from a general miasma of loathing to a localized node of it to lead them in the right direction. They found a pair of bodies, burned by some conflagration to clumps of half-melted armor, scraps of blackened bone, and ash. Then came a mural of an underwater scene without any fish in it. The haunt positioned itself