Read Online The Chaos Curse by R. A. Salvatore - Free Book Online

had neither forgotten nor forgiven the young priest for his actions. He was the dean of the library, the head of his order, and he would not be treated like a puppet by any man.
    That was Dean Thobicus’s greatest shortcoming. He still could not accept that Cadderly’s domination had been granted by Deneir, by the true tenets of their faith. Thobicus had been tied up in the bureaucracy of the library for so long that he had forgotten the higher purpose of the library and the order. Too many procedures had dulled the goals. The dean viewed his upcoming battle with Cadderly as a political struggle, a fight that would be decided by back room alliances and gratuitous promises.
    Deep in his heart, of course, Thobicus knew the truth, knew that his struggle with Cadderly would be decided by the tenets of Deneir. But that truth, like the truth of the order itself, was so buried by false information that Thobicus dared to believe otherwise, and fooled himself into thinking that others would follow his lead.
    Kierkan Rufo’s dreams were no longer those of a victim. He saw Cadderly, but this time it was the young Deneirian, not the branded Rufo, who cowered. This time, in this dream, Rufo, the conqueror, calmly reached down and tore Cadderly’s throat out.
    The vampire awoke in absolute darkness. He could see the stone walls pressing in on him, and he welcomed their sanctuary, basking in the blackness as the minutes turned into an hour.
    Then another call compelled Rufo; a great hunger swept over him. He tried to ignore it, consciously wanted nothing more than to lie in the cool black emptiness. Soon his fingers clawed at the stone and he thrashed about, overwhelmed by urges he did not understand. A low, feral growl, the call of an animal, escaped his lips.
    Rufo squirmed and twisted, turning his body completely about in the crypt. At first the thrashing vampire thought to tear the blocking stone away, to shatter this barrier into a million pieces, but he kept his senses enough to realize that he might need this sanctuary again. Concentrating on the minute crack at the base of the slab, Rufo melted away into greenish vapor-it wasn’t difficult-and filtered out into the mausoleum’s main area.
    Druzil, perched on the nearest slab, doglike chin in clawed fingers, waited for him.
    Rufo hardly noticed the imp, though. When he assumed corporeal form, he felt different, less stiff and awkward. He smelled the night air-his air-about him and felt strong. Faint moonlight leaked in through the dirty window, but unlike the light of the sun, it was cool, comfortable. Rufo stretched his arms into the air, kicked off with one foot, and twirled around on the other, tasting the night and his freedom.
    “They did not come,” Druzil said to him.
    Rufo started to ask what the imp might be talking about, but, as soon as he noticed the two corpses, he understood. “I am not surprised,” the vampire answered. “The library is full of duties. Always duties. The dead priests may not be missed for several days.”
    “Then gather them up,” Druzil ordered. “Drag them from this place.”
    Rufo concentrated more on the imp’s tone than on the actual words.
    “Do it now,” Druzil went on, oblivious to the fast-mounting danger. “If we are careful…” Only then did Druzil look up from the nearest corpse to see Rufo’s face, and the vampire’s icy glare sent a shiver along the normally unshakable imp’s spine.
    Druzil didn’t even try to continue with his reasoning, didn’t even try to get words past the lump that filled his throat.
    “Come to me,” Rufo said quietly, calmly.
    Druzil had no intention of following that command. He started to shake his head, large ears flapping noisily; he even tried to utter a derogatory comment. Those thoughts were lost in the imp’s sudden realization that he was indeed moving toward Rufo, that his feet and wings were heeding the vampire’s command. He was at the end of the slab, then he hopped off,