By Liane Merciel
A exciting new voice in fable makes an unforgettable debut with this "intriguingly twisted story of treachery and magic" (New York instances bestselling writer L. E. Modesitt, Jr.). Liane Merciel’s The River Kings’ street takes us to a global of sour enmity among kingdoms, divided loyalties among comrades, and an insidious magic that destroys every little thing it touches. . . .
The wounded maidservant thrust the knotted blankets at him; instinctively, Brys progressed and stuck the package deal prior to it fell. Then he glimpsed what lay inside of and approximately dropped it himself.
There was once a toddler within the blankets. a child with a tear-swollen face purple and around as a midsummer plum. a toddler he knew, even with no seeing the lacquered medallion tucked into the swaddling—a medallion a long way too heavy, on a sequence a long way too chilly for an youngster who had now not but visible a 12 months.
A fragile interval of peace among the forever warring kingdoms of Oakharn and Langmyr is shattered whilst a shock bloodbath fueled by way of bloodmagic ravages the Langmyrne border village of Willowfield, killing its inhabitants—including a vacationing Oakharne lord and his family—and abandoning a scene so grisly that even the carrion eaters keep away from its desecrated earth. however the lifeless lord’s toddler inheritor has survived the carnage—a discovery that entwines the destinies of Brys Tarnell, a mercenary who rescues the helpless and in poor health babe, and who enlists a Langmyr peasant, a tender mom herself, to nourish and nurture the kid of her enemies as they trip a dismal, perilous highway . . . Odosse, the peasant lady whose purely guns are wit, braveness, and her fierce maternal love—and who hazards every thing she holds expensive to guard her new cost . . . Sir Kelland, a divinely blessed Knight of the sunlight, known as upon to unmask the architects at the back of the slaughter and keep away from battle among ancestral enemies . . . Bitharn, Kelland’s spouse on his trip, who conceals her lifelong love for the Knight at the back of her perfect archery skills—and whose emotions may possibly eventually be Kelland’s undoing . . . and Leferic, an Oakharne Lord’s sour youngest son, whose darkish goals gasoline the main bad acts of violence. As one infant’s existence hangs within the stability, so too does the destiny of millions, whereas deep within the woodland, a Maimed Witch practices an evil bloodmagic which can doom all of them. . . .
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Additional info for The River Kings' Road: A Novel of Ithelas
I've got heard the name,” Leferic admitted, “but i've got no inspiration what it skill. ” “It capability we're Ingvall’s kids who kill Hrotha’s little ones to guard ourselves. and also you summerlanders, even though you don't know it. The skraeli are Hrotha’s childrens. they're … like males, yet no longer. Mockeries of guys. They stroll on legs and feature a similar form, yet there the kinship ends. Their pores and skin is free and wrinkled and yellow like previous ivory; it hangs off their bony fingers in nice flaps. they've got no hair or lips or eyelids, and their eyes are milky blue just like the bellies of the icebergs at the White Seas. Their mouths are packed with tooth like damaged needles, and their claws are lengthy and sharp. “Skraeli devour males. They hunt the seas and the icy slopes in bowl-boats and sleds made from stretched human conceal. Their paddles are flayed legs and arms with the arms and feet minimize aside, unfold extensive, and webbed with bloody ice. Skraeli are issues of nightmare. while i used to be younger i presumed they have been tales, yet i've got fought them myself and now i do know the stories are actual. ” “But why should still they force you to exile? have been you afraid to struggle them? ” Ulvrar shook his head impatiently. “I was once now not afraid to struggle them. i used to be afraid to turn into them. nobody is familiar with the place the skraeli come from; they've got no women or little ones that anybody has obvious. even if we discover their lairs, it's constantly basically men. I believe—and i'm really not the single one—that skraeli are failed wildbloods. The beast takes them, they usually pass mad. for this reason there are so few skraeli now, simply as there were fewer wildbloods each year. it's a destiny i couldn't face. So I fled. ” “I see,” Leferic stated back, and this time it was once real. Ulvrar had grew to become his again on strength, and his humans, instead of hazard letting it corrupt him right into a monster. Leferic had now not. And even though his failure wouldn't flip him into a few ice-eyed nightmare, it is going to doom him simply as without doubt. yet that selection, too, was once some time past. He had made his bid for strength, and now it used to be in his palms. All he may possibly do was once grasp it, or be destroyed. 15 The Burnt Knight got here to Tarne Crossing 3 days after the baker’s dying. Albric stood one of the crowd that had accrued to monitor the Celestian knight trip around the bridge. Sir Rengaric, the knight who held Tarne Crossing, had ridden out with an honor protect to officially accompany the Burnt Knight into his city, and so they made a magnificent spectacle as they got here clattering around the light stone bridge in a movement of banners and glittering metal. purple pennons flew from the archers’ towers and the horses wore garlands of scarlet maple leaves, for there have been no roses so overdue within the yr. Rengaric’s armsmen wore hardened leather-based and ring mail, now not pricey plate, yet they'd oiled the leather-based and burnished the chain till it shone like bronze and silver. A trumpet blared because the procession got here to Tarne Crossing’s partitions. With nice rite the gates swung open and Sir Rengaric led his riders within. The Burnt Knight rode within the middle of the column, and as he crossed underneath the gatehouse arch and again into the daylight, Albric and part the folk of Tarne Crossing bought their first examine the guy.