By R. A. Salvatore
Big apple Times-bestselling writer R. A. Salvatore takes his readers again to his signature global of Corona, introducing a desirable new hero. It is God's yr fifty four, decades prior to the Demon Wars, within the land of Corona. The roads are harmful to shuttle; goblins and bloodthirsty Powries hunt down human prey. religions fight fiercely for keep an eye on. Bran Dynard, a monk of the fledgling faith of Abelle, returns from his challenge in a distant land with a e-book of mystical wisdom and a gorgeous and mysterious new spouse. yet he quickly realizes that the realm he left in the back of has replaced, and his dream of spreading the knowledge he discovered to his fellow priests is beaten. pressured to conceal his spouse and his priceless publication, Bran needs to make a decision whom he can belief and the place he should still now position his religion. Twenty years later, the placement has grown darker and extra determined. merely the Highwayman travels freely, his sword casting apart either Powries and squaddies. the folks desire a savior, yet is the Highwayman on a undertaking of mercy…or vengeance?
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Extra resources for The Highwayman, Volume 3
When he had left Chapel Pryd of the Honce holding of the same name on his Journey Proselyt (as the monks called their evangelical missions) seven years before, weary Brother Dynard had never expected any of this. He had served the Church of Blessed Abelle well, so he had thought, through his twenties and past his thirtieth birthday; and it had come as a surprise to him when Father Jerak had pointed him south for his mission. “Go to the desert of Behr,” the elderly Jerak had told him one cold and wet winter’s day in God’s Year 47.
Even on those days when SenWi was able to complete the single fold easily, she could not then go on. There was no “getting ahead” in the crafting of a Jhesta Tu sword. There was only the process, methodical and disciplined. The woman drew the heavy curtains closed and moved across the small room to the special metal table and the rolled steel. She felt the heat more profoundly with each step forward, for under the table was set a small oven, which she had fired up before going out to her morning exercise.
How could she ever love me? Dynard wondered as he looked down upon the beautiful creature, with her round face, dark brown eyes, and her delicate lips, perfectly shaped and balanced and brought to a pouting peak so that a hint of her white teeth showed when she assumed her typical expression, as if she were always smiling. How different she was than he, how much more beautiful! Brother Dynard could not help but make these comparisons whenever he looked at her. Her nose was a button, his a hawkish beak.