Read Cry of the Ghost Wolf: Neverwinter NiChosen of Nendawen, Book III Online
Authors: Mark Sehesdedt
TIME IS RUNNING OUT …
Gleed and Ashiin had trained her. Kesh Naan had given her wisdom. Nendawen had given her new birth. But the old Hweilan still haunted her. And it was time to lay that ghost to rest.
THE FINAL BATTLE HAS BEGUN …
Hweilan clenched her fists and closed her eyes. Every instinct in the human part of her brain told her to run away from the tide into which she was wading—that it meant not just death, but something far worse. Something not meant for this world. A profanity against creation itself.
BUT THE HAND OF THE HUNTER IS NOT ALONE
.
Hweilan felt them all around her—those who had left this world but still watched with their gods, giving strength to those who stayed behind to continue the fight.
Time is running out
.
Help me
.
C
HOSEN OF
N
ENDAWEN
Book I
The Fall of Highwatch
Book II
Hand of the Hunter
Book III
Cry of the Ghost Wolf
ALSO BY
M
ARK
S
EHESTEDT
THE WIZARDS
Frostfell
Slavers stole her son and she would sacrifice everything to get him back. In the uncaring, frozen north, will it be enough?
THE CITADELS
Sentinelspire
With the powers of an archdruid at hand, the mad master of the fortress of Sentinelspire will bring death to more than just his enemies—he will call down doom on all of Faerûn.
Chosen of Nendawen, Book III
CRY OF THE GHOST WOLF
©2011 Wizards of the Coast LLC
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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Published by Wizards of the Coast LLC. Hasbro SA,
represented by Hasbro Europe, Stockley Park. UB11 1AZ. UK
.
F
ORGOTTEN
R
EALMS
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Cover art by: Jaime Jones
Map by: Robert Lazzaretti
eISBN: 978-0-7869-5943-3
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v3.1
Thanks to Ed Greenwood, for creating such a vast world for the rest of us to play in.
Special thanks to Elizabeth Mills for her editorial expertise and constant creative encouragement. My fingers made it through the book intact, though I’m not sure the same can be said of Liz’s nerves.
T
HE CANDLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR GUTTERED
, drowning in its own wax. Soon the flame would die, plunging the stone chamber into absolute blackness. Dim as the light was, though, Argalath could not bear to look at it. Its meager glow stabbed into the back of his skull like hot needles. It had been a long day, fraught with effort, and his strength was failing him. Despite the power that burned inside him, his body would have to rest soon.
He sat cross-legged on the stone floor. He must hold the power in check. But it was more of a struggle with each moment. If she didn’t return soon …