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.He needed sentiences who knew useful things, who didn't raise his ire from mere contact, and whom he could control.Or did he?There was no need to rush into this.Anyone the sword slew, whom he commanded its magics to subsume, would be drawn into the blade.Not their bodies but all else that made them who they were.Bodies, they could regain later, if he helped them conquer the minds of beings wounded by Armaukran.They could shatter those minds and take over the bodies.He could do that, too, and in the space of a few breaths become a king.Or a queen.Or even an adventurer.Preferably one less bumbling than, say, a Knight of Myth Drannor.Old Ghost chuckled and flew on into the night.EpilogueMorning touched chilled skin and slowly brought cold, stiff Knights awake from wherever atop the boulder-strewn Horn they'd slumped to sleep the night before.They yawned, stretched, scratched at itches, and winced at aching feet in worn boots, saying little to each other.The water in the spring was so cold that it numbed their mouths.Before them, the road awaited, rising as it ran on through the trees.Around that little bend and over that hill, or the next one, was Shadowdale.Florin peered around, collecting silent nods of readiness.No one wanted to tarry over a roadside morningfeast of greens and ditchwater tea when there was an inn somewhere ahead.Semoor's stomach growled that message almost loudly enough to echo off the nearby trees.He winced amid a chorus of kindly, sympathizing chuckles.Pennae strode to the fore, clapped Florin on the arm, and gave him her emphatic nod.He nodded back, a slow smile stealing onto his face, and she set off at a steady pace, not hurrying.The Knights fell into line behind her."Oh, I've been walking all my days—" Semoor sang, but his mocking song ended abruptly when Doust drove an elbow into a gut, amid a general chorus of "Shut up, Semoor!"No one, it seemed, felt much like talking yet.That lasted until they reached the crest of the hill.Shadowdale wasn't stretched out before them on its far side but lay somewhere farther on.Of course.Out here, things were always farther off than they seemed.Yet they knew that walking would lose the Forest Kingdom behind them, so they stopped and looked back at mountains and wild, rolling woods they didn't recognize, largely lost in morning mists."Farewell, Cormyr," Semoor said.His fellow Knights nodded silently.A few breaths later, he added, "Rest quiet, Narantha."Florin flinched back as if someone had slapped him across the face, then stepped forward again, eyes suddenly glimmering."Narantha," he murmured."I'll never forget you.""Farewell, Espar and all our kin," Doust said.Pennae chuckled softly and waved cheerfully in the direction of the Forest Kingdom."Gods smile on you, all you rampant young noble lordlings.I'll miss you—arrogance, heaps of coins, preening codpieces, and all."She turned away, leaving Islif rolling her eyes.The tall warrior woman gazed back in the direction of Cormyr then said simply, "I will be back."Jhessail sighed and turned away without a farewell."Let's go on.I want to see Shadowdale."Silently they started trudging along the road again.The red-haired mage walked along with her head bent, her eyes on the toes of her boots.Florin stretched out a long arm that curled around her shoulders and gathered her against him."Hey, Jhess," he said."We've been through all this together.Remember that, lass."And suddenly, out of nowhere, Jhessail discovered that she wanted to cry.Here ends Book III of the tales of the Knights ofMyth Drannor.The Sword Never SleepsPage 1 of 174
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