The Reaver: The Sundering, Book IV
Richard Lee Byers
Language: English
Pages: 352
ISBN: 0786965428
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In the 4th book of the multi-author Sundering series launched by New York Times best-selling author R.A. Salvatore, Richard Lee Byers introduces Anton Marivaldi—a renowned reaver with an insatiable thirst for bounty and a moral compass that always leads him toward the evil he’s never tried.
Endless, pounding rain afflict the Sea of Fallen Stars and the coastal regions surrounding it. Harvests are failing, travel and trade are disrupted, and civilized forces are giving way to the deluges caused by the storms. In panic and despair, many have turned to the goddess Umberlee, Queen of the Deeps, offering her sacrifices with hope that they will be spared the inevitable reckoning of her perpetual tempest.
Evendur Highcastle, undead pirate captain, risen from the depths to assume the mantle of Umberlee’s Chosen, takes advantage of the people's desperation to strike for both spiritual and temporal power in her name.
Vying with Highcastle for the hearts and minds of the people is Stedd Whitehorn, a little boy and the chosen of a god thought lost to time: Lathander, the Morninglord. In a time of such upheaval, Stedd’s message of renewal and hope runs in stark contrast to the savage ethos of Highcastle and his waveservants.
When Anton captures the boy in order to collect Highcastle’s considerable bounty, the reaver is quickly caught in the riptide caused by the sundering of worlds.
From the Hardcover edition.
Pathfinder Chronicles: Classic Treasures Revisited
Oath of Nerull (D&D Retrospective, Book 3)
Dungeons & Dragons Adventure: The Rise of Tiamat (5th Edition)
Charon's Claw (Forgotten Realms: Neverwinter, Book 3)
Her participation was necessary to draw Silvanus’s magic here, where it was needed, and her stuttering heart had disrupted that process as summarily as it had ended her efforts to destroy Evendur Highcastle. Paradoxically, though, the realization that her failure was even more complete than she’d first imagined replaced her despair with resolve. Because she wasn’t the only one who’d depended on the power coursing down from the Elder Spires. The druids aboard dozens of ships, faithful servants of.
Rowers faltered. Meanwhile, the capacious sleeves and voluminous folds of his robe billowing like the wings of a huge red bat, Kymas sprang from the main deck onto the quarterdeck. The crewmen who’d been adjusting the stern rudder recoiled. So did Umara. But when Kymas plunged down on top of her, she vanished. A heartbeat later, a second Umara appeared in front of the drooping awning and the entrance to the vampire’s cabin. She too had her hand outstretched, and with a crackle, a twist of.
“never deserves anything but punishment.” “Evendur—” the small man quavered. “That’s Captain, you filth! Or Wavelord! Or Chosen!” “Chosen, then! Please, mercy! You know we would only have lost the trail if we’d tried to follow. Wasn’t it better to return here quickly to tell you what we’d discovered? And isn’t it good news? The boy may well die in Gulthandor.” “You’re a coward and an idiot.” Evendur heaved the other reaver back onto the floor and shoved him away. Mourmyd lost his balance and.
Fell on his rump. “But I did need to hear this news, and I suppose I also need to fight with the weapons Umberlee has given me. So I’m going to let you live.” The pirate with his cloudy left eye drew himself to his feet. His clothes were smeared with slime where Evendur had gripped them. “Thank you, Chosen.” “You can thank me by serving the goddess better than you have hitherto.” “Anything. Just tell me what to do.” “Go through the town and the docks. Tell the captains of Immurk’s Hold that.
Ground in light. Standing to the west of her collaborators, Shadowmoon began a kind of slow, twisting, pirouetting dance in place. She made the contortions look as effortless as they were lithe. To the north, Shinthala looked upward and muttered; the clouds overhead rumbled and flickered as lightning stirred inside them. In the south, Ashenford stroked arpeggios from his harp. Traceries of light flowed from the druids’ positions across the ground to interweave with the figures Lathander’s power.