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For the first time in his career, Terry will be publishing a book every six months from the start to end of this series: here is the second in a brand-new trilogy, following The Wards of Faerie, in the New York Times bestselling Shannara universe!Long ago, many dangerous creatures were locked behind a magical barrier, bringing peace and prosperity to the land. But now those barriers are eroding, and generations of embittered prisoners are about to escape. War seems inevitable...unless a few brave souls can stem the tide. While some venture into the forbidden lands, others must undertake a perilous quest-a quest whose success will mean the death of a young girl who has barely even begun to live, but whose failure will have unimaginable consequences. From riveting start to cliffhanger ending, this is an epic for the ages! Views: 59
Kaidos is stunned when he realizes the prostitute he’s been paid to kidnap—Veyl--is a man, and even more surprised when he begins to fall in love. But the ambitions of a dying tyrant separate the lovers, and Kaidos must try to convince a strange army of allies to help win back the man who is worth far more to him than a king’s ransom. An m/m fantasy tale full of romance and magic. Views: 59
Joseph Fairweather languishes in a mental institution because he has a theory about time and space that's just plain crazy. Across the ocean in an abandoned warehouse by the River Thames, Eadgyth Whitchurch lies bound hand and foot, soon to be thrown into the river by the London branch of the Tong of the Lean Grey Rats That Swarm the World, just because she overheard a phone conversation she shouldn't have. Meanwhile, back in the States there's a slab of ancient stone that seems to disappear and reappear according to some laws of nature we know nothing about. What's going on here? Views: 59
This early short novel by F. Paul Wilson was written at a point when the author was beginning to understand that horror… was the genre he should focus on. THE TERY is certainly not a straightforward scare novel… Wilson began adding horrific elements to his pseudo-fantasy beauty-and-the-beast tale. The creepy stuff includes 'The Hole,' a nightmarish place where failed results of genetic experimentation have been dumped… the eerie way the tribe of telepaths that the tery bonds with practices 'humane hunting'… where we see how radically religion can change after a number of generations…the clever, cool prose that makes Wilson such an easy read is evident…anyone interested in tracking the development of a major genre writer will find much to satiate his or her curiosity. - Fangoria's Nightmare Book Of The Month, Tom Deja Views: 59
### Product Description It started as a dream—a redheaded warrior king fought and died for his men centuries ago. The dream would lead archaeologist Annja Creed to the king's undisturbed corpse...and one of England's greatest mythical artifacts. Deep in an archaeological dig in England's Midlands, Annja locates a braided necklace around a mummiï¬ed king's neck. Made of an unusual material—not quite obsidian, but gleaming with multihued color—the torc is an astonishing ï¬nd. But someone knows exactly what the torc means. And he will do anything to get his hands on the Tear of the Gods. When the dig is compromised and innocent archaeologists are slain, even Annja herself is left for dead. Now she is fleeing for her life, not knowing the terrifying truth about the relic she risks everything to protect—or the devastating consequences should it fall into the wrong hands.... ### Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Myrrdin sat high astride his horse and stared down the slope of the hill at the Roman army amassing in the valley below. What was left of his command was gathered at his back, but it was pitifully small compared to the enemy presence before him. It was hard to believe that things had gone wrong so swiftly. Less than a week before, he[HTML_REMOVED]d been war leader to Queen Boudica herself and had led an army of more than eighty thousand souls across Britannia, carving a path of destruction in their wake. They had destroyed the colony at Camulodunum and had marched against first Verulamium, and then Londinium itself, sacking each city and slaying as many of the invaders as they could find. Blood flowed like a river wherever they went, appeasing the anger of the gods at the presence of the Roman invaders and bestowing blessings upon the Iceni as a result. Nothing, it seemed, could stand in their way. Nothing, that was, until the coming of Gaius Suetonius Paulinus. Even thinking of the Roman[HTML_REMOVED]s name was enough to make Myrrdin curse aloud and spit on the ground. He longed to carve the man[HTML_REMOVED]s flesh from his bones and feed it the crows. He prayed to the gods that he would get his chance before the battle was over. What a difference seventy-two hours made. Less than five thousand men remained of the army that had met Paulinus and the soldiers of the XIV _Gemina _on the field of battle three days before. Few, if any, of his senior commanders still lived, for they had stood their ground and fought on even when the battle had turned in the Romans[HTML_REMOVED] favor. Myrrdin would have gone down fighting alongside them if the queen hadn[HTML_REMOVED]t ordered him to retreat, to ensure that someone still remained who could rally the remnants of the Iceni and see to it that their people[HTML_REMOVED]s sacrifice was not in vain. How he wished he had never left her side! He reached up and fingered the torc he wore about his neck, the one Boudica had entrusted to him before the battle. She[HTML_REMOVED]d always claimed it to be the root of her power, that the metal from which it was formed, the metal given to them by the very gods themselves, protected her time and time again. But Boudica was dead now, poisoned by her own hand while in Roman custody rather than be handed over to Paulinus[HTML_REMOVED]s troops as a plaything for their amusement. When word reached him earlier that morning of her fate, he wept, wondering if he[HTML_REMOVED]d condemned her to death simply by taking the torc. Not that it mattered now; what was done was done. Myrrdin was a good enough tactician to know that at this point there was no way the Iceni could win. They were outnumbered and the Romans were not only better armed but better armored, as well. If he hadn[HTML_REMOVED]t been able to beat them with eighty thousand warriors at his command, there was no way he was going to be able to do so with only five thousand. But there was no question of retreat. He would rather die on the field of battle, sword in hand, than be hunted down like a dog in the weeks to come. And perhaps, Awran willing, he could take a few Romans with him as an offering before it was his time to die. He let his gaze roam over the soldiers gathering on the field below. Unlike his ragtag band of warriors, who often wore as little into battle as possible, the Romans were all dressed in identical coats of chain armor worn over a short jerkin with thick-soled leather sandals on their feet. They each carried two iron-tipped spears, pilums he[HTML_REMOVED]d heard them called. The short swords were designed primarily for stabbing in close-quarter combat. The soldiers also held large rectangular shields, big enough to cover a man from ankle to chin. The legion[HTML_REMOVED]s standard, a charging boar on a field of crimson that was so dark as to be almost purple, flapped in the afternoon breeze, the Romans arrogantly claiming this land on behalf of the Emperor. Myrrdin turned and surveyed the men assembled behind him. What a sharp contrast to those they were about to face. Where the Romans were tall and muscled from years of disciplined labor, his men were smaller and wiry in nature, built for speed and dexterity. Where the Romans were armored and carried multiple weapons, many of his men were naked or nearly so, their fair skin decorated in blue woad. They clutched swords made of iron and carried small, round shields of leather stretched over wooden frames. Of his illustrious horse soldiers, less than fifty remained. They sat stiffly in the saddle off to his right, weary from the days of fighting and the long chase they had endured so far, yet none hesitated to return his gaze or gave any sign they would shy away from the confrontation to come. As he turned away, one thought was prominent in his mind. We don[HTML_REMOVED]t stand a chance. Myrrdin shook his head, clearing it of such defeatism. The simple fact was he no longer had any choice; there was nowhere else to run. He[HTML_REMOVED]d never get his men through the bogs on the other side of the hills before the enemy could catch up with them. He had no choice but to stand and fight. Like all good commanders, Myrrdin wanted that fight on his terms, not the enemy[HTML_REMOVED]s, which was why he[HTML_REMOVED]d assembled his men along the crest of the hill while the Romans attempted to set up camp in the valley below. He hadn[HTML_REMOVED]t been able to choose the field on which they would meet, but he[HTML_REMOVED]d be damned if he wouldn[HTML_REMOVED]t choose the time. And that time was now, before the enemy got themselves organized and settled in. He brought his horn to his lips and blew a long blast. The sound echoed across the valley, like a great voice shouting from the hilltop, and Myrrdin smiled in defiance as he watched the Roman soldiers milling about in response. Behind him, his men took up the call to battle, pounding the flats of their swords against their shields, calling up a frightful racket, letting the spirits know that there would soon be newcomers, friend and foe alike, entering the land of the dead. Bare-breasted women moved among the ranks, screaming in hatred at the Romans massed below and whispering words of encouragement to their men, stoking the twin fires of courage and power. Myrrdin let it build for a few minutes, allowing his men to whip themselves into a killing frenzy, and then, when he judged the time was right, he raised his right arm above his head, his fist clenched for all to see, and then brought it slashing downward. Like a breaking wave his army surged into motion, pouring down the hill toward the enemy, shrieking their war cries as they went. With a joyous shout, Myrrdin spurred his horse and joined them, thundering down toward the rapidly forming enemy line. Behind him came the rest of his horse soldiers, their voices raised in harmony with his own. Ahead of them the Romans stood shoulder to shoulder in a long, unbroken line, waiting with disciplined ease for the enemy to make contact, their oversize shields held before them to form a wall. As the Iceni warriors closed in, the Romans unleashed a blistering rain of stones and spears from behind the protection of that wall, hoping to blunt the force of the attack. The Iceni had faced the Romans before, however, and they were ready, having expected just such a move. Almost as one they bent low over their mounts, their heads sheltered by the animals[HTML_REMOVED] long necks, and as a result the majority of them made it through the storm unscathed. Mere yards separated the two forces and Myrddin felt his lips peel back from his teeth as he bared them at the enemy like a wild animal defending its den. Heart racing, blood pumping, he let out another shout of defiance and drove his horse right into the ranks of the enemy, smashing aside that wall of shields, trampling those foolish enough to stand firm in the face of the attack under the hooves of his battle-hardened mount. Beside him, his horse warriors did the same, smashing aside the Roman line, creating a breach for their foot soldiers to exploit as they caught up with the charging cavalry. In seconds the orderly nature of the Roman defense had dissolved into chaos. The air was full of the coppery scent of fresh blood, the smell of leather and sweat, the screams of the injured and the dying. Myrrdin slashed about him with his sword, hacking at anyone who got close enough, striking down as many of the enemy as he could, driving his horse relentlessly forward, doing all he could to widen the gap, to give his people a fighting chance at survival. If they could break through the other side of the Roman battle line, some of them might survive to fight another day. A tall Roman rose up on his right side, his battle-ax already in motion, but Myrrdin took the blow on the buckler strapped to his left arm. The shield shattered, smashed to pieces by the force of the blow, but it served its purpose, giving Myrrdin time to thrust his sword deep into the other man[HTML_REMOVED]s chest, killing him where he stood. The Iceni chieftain turned in the saddle, searching for his next foe. The spear came out of nowhere, whistling through the air with all the grace of a weapon of war doing just what it had been designed to do. It struck him high in the right side. As luck would have it, he[HTML_REMOVED]d been in the midst of turning and the projectile drove into the narrow gap his mail coat failed to cover at his armpit, burying itself deep in his chest. It was like being buried in an avalanche of ice, his sword falling away from fingers gone suddenly numb, his grip on the saddle loosening as he lost the feeling in his legs, and he tumbled from his mount to lie in the mud of the battlefield as the fight raged on around him. As his vision began to narrow and the darkness closed in, Myrrdin could have sworn he felt the torc about his neck pulse in time with his heartbeat. Annja Creed studied the decapitated heads on the table in front of her. Two of them had their eyes closed, as if they[HTML_REMOVED]d died peacefully in their sleep, but Annja knew better than to trust in simple appearances. There had been nothing peaceful about their passing; the fact that they were sitting on the table minus the rest of their bodies was proof of that, she thought wryly. The eye... Views: 59
Features a bonus section following the novel that includes a primer on the Star Wars expanded universe, and over half a dozen excerpts from some of the most popular Star Wars books of the last thirty years! To make his biggest score, Han's ready to take even bigger risks. But even he can't do this job solo. Han Solo should be basking in his moment of glory. After all, the cocky smuggler and captain of the Millennium Falcon just played a key role in the daring raid that destroyed the Death Star and landed the first serious blow to the Empire in its war against the Rebel Alliance. But after losing the reward his heroics earned him, Han's got nothing to celebrate. Especially since he's deep in debt to the ruthless crime lord Jabba the Hutt. There's a bounty on Han's head--and if he can't cough up the credits, he'll surely pay with his hide. The only thing that can save him is a king's ransom. Or maybe a... Views: 59
Everyone knows Frank Herbert's Dune.This amazing and complex epic, combining politics, religion, human evolution, and ecology, has captured the imagination of generations of readers. One of the most popular science fiction novels ever written, it has become a worldwide phenomenon, winning awards, selling millions of copies around the world. In the prophetic year of 1984, Dune was made into a motion picture directed by David Lynch, and it has recently been produced as a three-part miniseries on the Sci-Fi Channel. Though he is best remembered for Dune, Frank Herbert was the author of more than twenty books at the time of his tragic death in 1986, including such classic novels as The Green Brain, The Santaroga Barrier, The White Plague and Dosadi Experiment.Brian Herbert, Frank Herbert's eldest son, tells the provocative story of his father's extraordinary life in this honest and loving chronicle. He has also brought to light... Views: 59
HE'D DO ANYTHING TO GET A STORY. When journalist Lex Falk gets himself
chipped into the brain of a combat soldier, he thinks he has the
ultimate scoop - a report from the forbidden front line of a distant
planetary war, live to the living rooms of Earth. When the soldier is
killed, however, Lex has to take over the body and somehow get himself
back to safety once more... broadcasting all the way.Heart-stopping combat science fiction from the million-selling Warhammer 40,000 author.File Under: Science Fiction [ Future Warefare | Chipped-In | Anything For a Story | Get Out Alive! ] Views: 59
