Watcher of the Dead: Book Four of Sword of Shadows

By J. V. Jones

The epic fourth novel of the Sword of Shadows delusion series

In this robust saga of redemption and renewal, J. V. Jones brings to brilliant lifestyles the very good tapestry of an international instantly desperately combating for survival opposed to supernatural monsters and lease by way of internecine conflict. The frozen land on the north of the realm was governed through a mythical kingdom of superhuman warriors. yet that age has handed, leaving historic clans to fight for dominance as supernatural forces past their keep watch over threaten their very existence.

Amid the chaos of world-changing violence, not likely heroes emerge. An undesirable warrior, a forsaken girl of energy, the betrayed widow of a slain extended family leader: those are the heroes emerging to say what has been taken from them and to reshape the world.

In a sharply saw narrative that illuminates those riven lives, Jones has crafted a human drama choked with the thrill, suspense, and sheer storytelling strength that experience made the Sword of Shadows a myth sequence that transcends style to develop into a memorable story of human striving and triumph that speaks to readers as have few others.

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Angus permit his gaze waft to the desk. The handbag used to be nonetheless open, its contents glittering within the dim kitchen mild. “You may have all of it when you locate me the girl with burned palms. a physician during this urban may be seeing her. She wishes stitches and epidermis flaps got rid of. Burn care. Ointments. The palms are in a nasty method. seek advice from the opposite apprentices, discover who’s tending them. ” The boy positioned jars, one glass, one made up of glazed brown pottery, at the desk. He was once eighteen or nineteen and if Angus Lok needed to bet he’d say the boy’s grasp used to be operating him too difficult.

An try out have been made to hide the gold ingots with an aurochs cover, however the chiefs of Blackhail didn't make stable housekeepers and the moldy and maggot-eaten epidermis had fallen to at least one facet. Crates and coffers have been piled on most sensible of one another. a few have been laid open, exposing dusty armor, steel cups, hammer chains, jeweled horns, sheathed daggers and swords: the spoils of battle. packing containers of each variety lay in tons; fabric baggage, saddlebags, hands circumstances, embroidered handbags, jeweled containers, horns and baskets.

The stroll towards the west Thistle Tower took seconds. Bram’s arm was once already in movement as he closed distance towards the door. Rain had soaked the wooden. Thumping it with the heel of his hand produced a lifeless rumble. shortly, gentle and noise touched off in the tower. “Who is going there? ” got here the shouted problem from the opposite part of the door. “Bram Cormac to work out his brother. ” The door didn't open; Bram had now not anticipated it to. Tower guards have been no fools. Moments handed as he used to be inspected via a chain of finger holes drilled at eye peak.

Extra time. Raina slid the major within the lock and became it. If it have been attainable to think gazes on one’s again, she felt them now. The lock barrel tumbled and he or she driven her palm opposed to the door. maintaining the lamp sooner than her, she entered absolutely the heart of the roundhouse, the securest chamber within the clanhold, available purely throughout the nice fireplace: Blackhail’s strongroom. dirt and rancid air stirred as she became and closed the door. Chiefs had died the following, during this round domed house that appeared like a tomb.

The hotel was once a warren of small rooms, tunnels, nooks and screened-off alcoves. One tunnel led belowground. Bram heard the low laughter of fellows emerging from it. In a small sitting zone close to the again, 4 younger women, all donning little black aprons and caps, have been sharing a platter of tripe. Bram attempted to not colour as he handed them. one of many girls whispered, no longer too quietly, “That’s a fine-looking boy. ” Bram didn’t comprehend what to make of that. At Dhoone he have been advised he was once too small, and had the glance of the wild clans.

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