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Rime is a wild mage. She can bend the very fabric of reality, but at a cost - a cost to her health and her sanity. Her power is unstoppable but it leaves her empty, weak, and often unconscious. Jonas is a squire on the run - running away from the shadow of murder. They travel together to find the one person that can save Rime from the wild magic, from the inexorable madness and death that comes to those who are born to ignore the rules of the universe. The Gray Witch of the Wheelbrake Marsh, a creature out of a fairy tale. The anti-epic fantasy, the nascent genre of SWORDPUNK: Fantasy Action A La Carte. Earnestly written in the shadow of Lieber and Moorcock. Love the book/ hate the book? www.spell-sword.com
Although Darkover was a world inhabited by humans as well as semi-humans, it was primarily forbidden ground to the Terran traders. Most of the planet's wild terrain was unexplored, and many of its peoples seclusive and secretive. But for Andrew Carr there was an attraction he could not evade. Darkover drew him - and when his mapping plane crashed in unknown heights, Darkover prepared to destroy him. Until the planet's magic asserted itself - and his destiny began to unfold along lines predicted only by phantoms and wonder workers of the kind Terran science could never acknowledge.
They have... books with these terrible, awe-inspiring Names... they know that the use of these mysterious Names, without due and careful preparation, brings with it calamity and premature death. -from the introduction How much ancient wisdom was lost in the medieval years! here laments Moses Gaster, one of the most prominent Jewish theologians and folklorists of the late 19th century. In 1896, he translated a fragmentary relic of Gnostic literature, a manuscript concerned with the many secret names of God believed by Kabbalists to wield enormous magical power, but in the discussion that here precedes the translation, Gaster acknowledges that this document only hints at the texts that may be lost forever. It remains a tantalizing peek into archaic occult mysteries. Jewish scholar MOSES GASTER (1856-1939) was born in Romania but emigrated to England, where he lectured at Oxford University. His wrote numerous books of theology, folklore, history, and literature, including History of Rumanian Popular Literature (1883) and five-volume Sephardic prayer book (1901-6).
A painted sword is their only protection from evil sorcery, strange creatures, and enemy forces. On the spell-crossed Phaer Isle, teenage Xemion dreams of being a great swordsman. When he finds a blade-shaped stick, he fashions it to look like a real sword. Knowing that the laws of their cruel Pathan conquerors would require a death sentence for possession of such an object, his friend Saheli demands he destroy it. He agrees, but insists on performing just one sword ceremony. When his mastery of the weapon, a skill long forgotten, is witnessed by a mysterious man named Vallaine, the two friends are invited to join a planned rebellion. At first they refuse, but when a sadistic official discovers their transgressions, they are forced to flee their home and embark on a dangerous journey to the ruins of the ancient city of Ulde, where rebel forces are gathering. Armed with only their wits and the painted sword, they face Thralls, Triplicants, dragons, rage-wraiths, and a host of other spell-crossed beings. As they approach the Great Kone, source of all spell-craft, Saheli’s fear of magic and Xemion’s attraction to it bind them in a crossed spell of their own — one that threatens to separate the two forever.
Max and Olivia have discovered that Morgana Le Fay is plotting to use a mysterious 'swordspell' against King Arthur. They don't know what the spell is or how to stop it, and Olivia also has her training for the Squire's Challenge to worry about. But things are made even worse when Merlin is called away unexpectedly, leaving Max and Olivia without his magical protection. With the help of Sir Lancelot, Sir Bertram, Adolphus the dragon, Ferocious the rat and Vortigern the duck, the Pendragon children must quickly uncover Morgana's evil plan before it is too late for Arthur and Camelot. Join Max and Olivia for more magical fun in their fourth hilarious adventure!
Although Darkover was a world inhabited by humans as well as semi-humans, it was primarily forbidden ground to the Terran traders. Most of the planet's wild terrain was unexplored, and many of its peoples seclusive and secretive. But for Andrew Carr there was an attraction he could not evade. Darkover drew him, Darkover haunted him -- and when his mapping plane crashed in unknown heights, Darkover prepared to destroy him. Until the planet's magic asserted itself -- and his destiny began to unfold.
Bhaal sat on his most prized possession, a golden and ivory throne bought with the money he had earned during the adventures of his youth. It rose up from the floor like the stump of a once magnificent tree. Two huge armrests flanked each side of the seat, fanning out at the top to end in a smooth flat surface. Gold, etched with runes, spiraled and swirled through the structure everywhere. The sides were as the bark of a tree, rippled and pitted as if worn by time and water damage. The back reached up high enough to support his slender shoulders and bent back into a curl like the edge of aged parchment. Bhaal, however, was in stark contrast to the throne. His once statuesque body had wasted away. He was nothing more than skin and bones. The stench of his breath was that of a carcass. The dark black orbs that were his eyes stared straight ahead from his skull into the hallway before him. He had the look of someone seeing into eternity. A tarnished bronze crown sat on filthy, dusty black hair. His tunic had rotted away to nothing more than tatters. A rusted shirt of chain mail rested upon it, torn away at the waist. His leather breeches had dry rotted away from the knees down. A rusted chain skirt covered his thighs. Its links were broken and jagged at the seams. High top plate boots, rusted from years of neglect, covered his feet. The heavy coating of dust upon him told those who looked at him that he had not moved in years. It was hard to tell that Bhaal was still alive, but alive he was. He had somehow managed to live far beyond his own time, existing without eating or moving. The physicians had given up long ago on trying to figure out what it was that kept him so. Theologians had inspected him. Philosophers debated his refusal to die in his present state. In truth, he had not spoken in twenty years, even though the wilderness and upstart usurpers carved away at his vast empire until all he still owned was the small town of Nineveh that rested at the base of his small keep. And then there was the sword. An elegant bronze and Damascus steel broadsword reaching up from the base of the throne to the palm of Bhaals hand. Its point made a gouge in the floor. Red rubies adorned the hilt and pommel, and even through years of non-use the whole sword was immaculately polished and clean. It was the sword that had carved out Bhaals once mighty empire, and thousands of legends were attributed to the revered artifact. Forged from pure dark iron found only on the plains of the Abyss, it was rumored to have dispatched more than one daemon from existence.