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720 pages, Hardcover
First published November 17, 2016
“It will be a dark day, a bloody day, a proud day, for this is the day of our wrath.”
“To my thinking, though, it's what happens before death that's important. All of us die. How many really live?”
‘I’m coming for you, Lykos,’ Maquin bellowed through cupped hands, ���and neither demons from the Otherworld nor flesh and blood will stop me.’
‘This day,’ he cried, shouting now, ‘we will live or die, but whatever the outcome, this will still be the day we avenge ourselves for those we’ve lost, the day we right the wrongs done to us, or die in the trying. It will be a dark day, a bloody day, a proud day, for this is the day of our wrath.’ ‘WRATH,’ the cry went up, ringing and echoing through the branches. ‘WRATH.’
‘Yes. So don’t go getting carried away and running off to stab people.’ ‘This is a day for stabbing people.’
‘The enemy of my enemy,’ Corban shrugged, remembering Balur had said those same words to him in Murias. ‘That’s no answer,’ Ildaer rumbled. ‘What do you fight for, if not Elyon?’ ‘For my kin and loved ones. So that we will not be enslaved or murdered. I’ve seen the Kadoshim, seen only a brief glimpse of what they would do, and it is terrible. I fight against that. I fight for my freedom.’
The warrior’s face filled her mind, beaten and scarred. Proud. Fierce.
In half a dozen strokes of his sword four men were dead or bleeding out on the floor. Maquin screamed wordless joy as the battle-rage took him and he strode through them like death itself, parrying, chopping, stabbing. He left one of his swords stuck in an enemy’s spine, drew a knife and fought on .
You are precious to me,’ she finished, her courage fading at the last, her eyes dropping away. A silence settled on them. The chattering of the stream, the sounds of Veradis’ warband making ready for their expedition, all faded around her. Maquin moved, suddenly close to her, a handspan between them, and her heart was racing. He leaned closer and kissed her lips, a soft caress. ‘I came back from death for you,’ he said, his voice a whispered tremor. ‘For me it was always forever, however long that may be. And those words you just spoke, they are the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. They are written upon my heart and soul.’ ‘Then let me give you another gift,’ she said, smiling, her heart soaring, grabbing his leather jerkin
'Nathair considered his allies. A drunken pirate. A demon-possessed attraction to flies and a half-burned Kadoshim. How have I sunk so low?'
'Brina, are you sober?’ ‘What?’ ‘You don’t usually appear to like anyone, is all.’ ‘I like Storm,’ Brina said and poked him with a bony finger. ‘Make the most of it,’ she added, ‘I doubt it’ll last.’
“This day,” he cried, shouting now, “we will live or die, but whatever the outcome, this will still be the day we avenge ourselves for those we’ve lost, the day we right the wrongs done to us, or die in the trying. It will be a dark day, a bloody day, a proud day, for this is the day of our wrath.”
“WRATH,” the cry went up, ringing and echoing through the branches.
“WRATH.”
“It will be a dark day, a bloody day, a proud day, for this is the day of our wrath.”
“TRUTH AND COURAGE.”