In book two of the DemonWars Saga, Elbryan and Pony fervently hope that the tide of darkness is at last receding from the land of Corona—but if evil is on the retreat why are hordes of goblins and bloody-capped powries slashing their way ever deeper into civilized lands? A sinister threat now looms over Corona for the power of the demon dactyl was not entirely vanquished by the sacrifice of the monk Avelyn Desbris. Instead, its darkness has infiltrated the most sacred of places—as a once-admired spiritual leader rededicates his life to the most vicious, most insidious revenge against the forces of good. There may be no stopping the spread of malignant evil. In book two of the DemonWars Saga #1 New York Times bestselling author R. A. Salvatore returns in what Booklist calls “a gripping story…some of his best work.” “An enthralling epic adventure.”—Terry Brooks “Wild adventure, unique magic, stunning suspense, and forgettable characters.”—James Rollins, bestselling author of the Sigma Force series and The Starless Crown As one of the fantasy genre’s most successful authors, R. A. Salvatore enjoys an ever-expanding and tremendously loyal following. His books regularly appear on The New York Times bestseller lists and have sold more than 30 million copies. Salvatore’s most recent original hardcover, The Two Swords , book three of The Hunter’s Blades Trilogy debuted at #1 on The Wall Street Journal bestseller list and at #4 on The New York Times bestseller list. His books have been translated into numerous foreign languages, including German, Italian, Finnish, Greek, Hungarian, Turkish, Croatian, Bulgarian, Yiddish, Spanish, Russian, Polish, Czech, and French. Chapter 1: Another Day CHAPTER 1 ANOTHER DAY ELBRYAN WYNDON COLLECTED HIS WOODEN chair and his precious mirror and moved to the mouth of the small cave. He blinked as he pulled the blanket aside, surprised to see that the dawn was long past. Climbing out of the hole seemed no easy task for a man of Elbryan’s size, with his six-foot-three-inch muscular frame, but with the agility given him in years of training with the lithe elves of Caer’alfar, he had little trouble navigating the course. He found his companion Jilseponie, Pony, awake and about, gathering up their bedrolls and utensils. Not so far away, the great horse Symphony nickered and stomped at sight of Elbryan, and that image of the stallion would have given most men pause. Symphony was tall, but not the least bit lanky, with a powerful, muscled chest, a coat so black and smooth over those rippling muscles that it glistened in the slightest light, and eyes that projected profound intelligence. A white diamond-shaped patch showed on the horse’s head, above the intelligent eyes, but other than that and a bit of white on the legs, the only thing that marred the perfect black coat was a turquoise gemstone, the link between Symphony and Elbryan, magically set in the middle of the horse’s chest. For all the splendor, though, the ranger hardly paid Symphony any heed, for, as was so often the case, his gaze was locked on Pony. She was a few months younger than Elbryan, his childhood friend, his adult wife. Her hair, thick and golden, was just below her shoulders now, longer than Elbryan’s own light brown mop for the first time in years. The day was lightly overcast, the sky gray, but that did little to dim the shine of Pony’s huge blue eyes. She was his strength, the ranger knew, the bright spot in a dark world. Her energy seemed limitless, as did her ability to smile. No odds frightened her, no sight daunted her; she pressed on methodically, determinedly. “Do we look for the camp north of End-o’-the-World?” she asked, the question shattering Elbryan’s contemplation. He considered the thought. They had discerned that there were satellite camps in the region, clusters of goblins, mostly, supplied by the larger encampments set up in what used to be the three towns of Dundalis, Weedy Meadow, and End-o’-the-World. Because the towns were each separated by a day’s walk, Dundalis west to Weedy Meadow, and Weedy Meadow west to End-o’-the-World, these smaller outposts would be key to regaining the region—if ever an army from Honce-the-Bear made its way to the borders of the Wilderlands. If Elbryan and Pony could clear the monsters from the dense woods, there would remain little contact between the three towns. “It seems as good a place as any to start,” the ranger replied. “Start?” Pony asked incredulously, to which Elbryan could only shrug. Indeed, both were weary of battle now, though both knew that many, many more fights lay before them. “Did you speak with Uncle Mather?” Pony asked, nodding toward the mirror. Elbryan had explained Oracle to her, that mysterious elven ceremony in which someone might converse with the dead. “I spoke at him,” the ranger replied, his olive-green eyes flashing as a shiver coursed his spine—as always happened when he considered the ghost of the great