By J. V. Jones
The lengthy evening has began. The Endlords and their darkish military of Unmade organize to unharness untold destruction upon the area. each Sull warrior needs to leap forward and struggle, or probability the North falling into everlasting darkness. Key to mankind's survival is the sacred warrior Ash March. yet for Ash to understand her precise power as a succeed in, and develop into the Sull's maximum weapon, she needs to hold herself secure because the perils that encompass her multiply. Raif Sevrance has an both perilous job. The exile needs to shuttle to the barren wastes of the pink Glaciers and recuperate the mythical sword named Loss. For Sull legend decrees that he who wields the Sword from pink Ice will convey terror to their enemies. yet fulfilment of those objectives might but come too past due. within the distant reaches of the sour Hills, the Endlords' minions have made a cataclysmic discovery: a crack within the Blindwall, an historical and unguarded passage top at once into the nation-states of fellows.
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Extra resources for A Sword from Red Ice: (Sword of Shadows, Book 3)
But was it true, he wondered? Were there not laws of some kind? Even a rich man's child had rights-was there not some parental responsibility to allow one's offspring to live in the century into which she had been born? It was hard to think: the noise of the stream was so insistent, the light beneath the trees so oddly diffuse, as though he labored under some kind of supernatural glamour. What should I do? Quit and file, a lawsuit? Take it to UN Human Rights? Wasn't Finney pretty much warning me about that when he hired me?
Then something closed on her wrist like a manacle and she slammed down against the path with her legs dangling over nothingness, her breath smashed out in one great gasp. Xabbu and Sam could pull her back to safety. Stretched on her stomach, blood sizzling through her head like electricity, Renie struggled to refill her lungs. Jongleur looked down on her like a scientist examining a dying lab rat. "I'm not certain I would have bothered to do it for one of your other companions," he said, then turned and continued down the path.
Xabbu curled up on the ground. Trained by his nomadic people to snatch the opportunity when it was available, within moments his breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed. Xabbu back again. Or a virtual version of him. She glanced at Felix Jongleur, still staring out into the sky like a ship's captain watching the weather, then at Sam, crouched silently beside Orlando's cairn. Although her knee was touching Renie's leg, the girl seemed farther away than Jongleur. "You get some sleep too," Renie told her.
A Sword from Red Ice: (Sword of Shadows, Book 3) by J. V. Jones