Passage to Dawn: Dungeons & Dragons

Danger awaits Drizzt Do’Urden and Catti-brie on the high seas in the final installment of The Legacy of the Drow series and the tenth book in the greater Legend of Drizzt. It has been six years since the fateful Battle of Mithral Hall. For Drizzt Do’Urden and Catti-brie, this means six long years apart from their companions, and six long years of loss weighing heavily on their shoulders. But aboard Captain Deudermont’s Yet just as Drizzt begins to settle into the patterns of life at sea, he receives a strange message, the contents of which send him and Catti-brie back to the very source of their pain--and into the clutches of a demon with vengeance on his mind.

Autorentext

R. A. Salvatore's books have sold more than thirty-five million copies, have landed on many bestseller lists, and have been translated into numerous foreign languages. When he isn't writing, Bob, his wife Diane and their Japanese Chin Spaniels Dexter and Pikel bounce coast-to-coast to see their grandchildren. Bob hits the gym and coaches/plays on Clan Battlehammer, his softball team that includes most of his family. His gaming group still meets on Sundays to play DND or DemonWars or whatever the Sadist... err, Game Master, decides.

Leseprobe
1

The Sea Sprite

Drizzt Do’Urden stood on the very edge of the beam, as far forward as he could go, one hand grasping tight the guide rope of the flying jib. This ship was a smooth runner, perfect in balance and ballast and with the best of crews, but the sea was rough this day and the Sea Sprite cut and bounced through the rolls at full sail, throwing a heavy spray.

Drizzt didn’t mind. He loved the feel of the spray and the wind, the smell of the brine. This was freedom, flying, skimming the water, skipping the waves. Drizzt’s thick white hair flipped in the breeze, billowing like his green cape behind him, drying almost as fast as the water soaked it. Splotches of white caked salt could not lessen the luster of his ebony skin, which glistened with wetness. His violet eyes sparkled with joy as he squinted at the horizon and caught a fleeting glimpse of the sails of the ship they pursued.

Pursued and would catch, Drizzt knew, for there was no ship north of Baldur’s Gate that could outrun Captain Deu­der­mont’s Sea Sprite. She was a three-­masted schooner, new in design, light, sleek, and full of sail. The square-­rigged caravel they were chasing could put up a fair run in a straight line, but anytime the bulkier vessel altered its course even the slightest bit, the Sea Sprite could angle inside it, gaining ground. Always gaining ground.

That was what she was meant to do. Built by the finest engineers and wizards of Waterdeep, funded by the lords of that city, the schooner was a pirate chaser. How thrilled Drizzt had been to discover the good fortunes of his old friend, Deu­der­mont, with whom he had sailed all the way from Waterdeep to Calimshan in pursuit of Artemis Entreri when the assassin had captured Regis the halfling. That journey, particularly the fight in Asavir’s Channel when Captain Deu­der­mont had won—­with no small help from Drizzt and his companions—­against three pirate ships, including the flagship of the notorious Pinochet, had caught the attention of sailors and merchants all along the Sword Coast. When the Lords of Waterdeep had completed this schooner, they had offered it to Deu­der­mont. He loved his little two-­master, the original Sea Sprite, but no seaman could resist this new beauty. Deu­der­mont had accepted a commission in their service and they had granted him the right to name the vessel and allowed him to handpick his crew.

Drizzt and Catti-­brie had arrived in Waterdeep sometime after that. When the Sea Sprite next put in to the grand harbor of the seaport, and Deu­der­mont found his old friends, he promptly made room for them among his crew of forty. That was six years and twenty-­seven voyages ago. Among those who monitored the shipping lanes of the Sword Coast, particularly among the pirates themselves, the schooner had become a scourge. Thirty-­seven victories, and still she sailed.

Now number thirty-­eight was in sight.

The caravel had noticed them, from too far away to see the flag of Waterdeep. That hardly mattered, for no other ship in the region carried the distinctive design of the Sea Sprite, the three masts of billowing triangular lateen sails. Up came the caravel’s square rigs, and so the chase was on in full.

Drizzt was at the point, one foot on the lion-­headed ram, loving every second. He felt the sheer power of the sea bucking beneath him, felt the spray and the wind. He heard the music, loud and strong, for several of the Sea Sprite’s crewmen were minstrels and whenever the chase was on, they took up their instruments and played rousing songs.

“Two thousand!” Catti-­brie yelled down from the crow’s nest. It was a measure of the distance yet to gain. When her estimate got down to five hundred, the crew would move to their battle posts, three going to the large ballista mounted on a pivot atop the flying deck in the Sea Sprite’s stern, two going to the smaller, swiveling crossbows mounted to the forward corners of the bridge. Drizzt would join Deu­der­mont at the helm, coordinating the close combat. The drow’s free hand slipped to the hilt of one of his scimitars at the thought. The Sea Sprite was a vicious foe from a distance. It had crack archers, a skilled ballista team, a particularly nasty wizard, an evoker full of fireballs and lightning bolts, and of course, Catti-­brie with her deadly bow, Taulmaril the Heartseeker. But it was in close, when Drizzt and his panther companion—­Guenhwyvar—­and the other skilled warriors could get across, that the Sea Sprite was truly deadly.

“Eighteen hundred!” came Catti-­brie’s next call. Drizzt nodded at the confirmation of their speed, though the gain was truly startling. The Sea Sprite was running faster than ever. Drizzt had to wonder if her keel was even getting wet!

The drow dropped a hand into his pouch, feeling for the magical figurine that he used to summon the panther from the Astral Plane, wondering if he should even call to Guenhwyvar this time. The panther had been aboard for much of the last tenday, hunting the hundreds of rats that threatened the ship’s food stores, and was likely exhausted.

“Only if I need you, my friend,” Drizzt whispered. The Sea Sprite cut hard to starboard, and Drizzt had to take up the guide rope in both hands. He steadied himself and remained silent, his gaze to the horizon, to the square-­rigged ship growing larger by the minute. Drizzt felt deep within himself, mentally preparing for the coming battle. He immersed himself in the hiss and splash of the water below him, in the rousing music cutting the wind, and in Catti-­brie’s calls.

Fifteen hundred, a thousand.

“Black cutlass, lined in red!” the young woman shouted down when, thanks to her spyglass, she was able to discern the design on the snapping flag of the caravel.

Drizzt didn’t know the insignia, didn’t care about it. The caravel was a pirate ship, one of the many who had overstepped their bounds near Waterdeep’s harbors. As in any waters with trading routes, there had always been pirates on the Sword Coast. Until the last few years, though, the pirates had been somewhat civil, following specific codes of conduct. When Deu­der­mont had defeated Pinochet in Asavir’s Channel, he had subsequently let the pirate go free. That was the way, the unspoken agreement.

No l…