Verwandte Artikel zu The Usurper

The Usurper - Softcover

Wells, Angus

 
9780553285666: The Usurper
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0553285661 ISBN 13: 9780553285666
Verlag: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, 1990

Inhaltsangabe

Kedryn, the young prince prophesied the sacred Book of Kyrie, has led the Three Kingdoms to victory over the barbaric northern Hordes commanded by the demonic Taws, the fire-born Messenger of the war-god Ashar. But victory had a terrible price. Kedryn was blinded by an ensorcelled sword in his hour of triumph. Now he must journey into the abode of the dead, accompanied by his beloved Wynett, on a perilous quest to confront the shade of the warrior who wielded the blade. In Kendryn's absence, Taws the Messenger rises again, using his terrible magic to foment bloodshed and rebellion among the Kingdoms. A vivid and exciting tale of courage, adventure, and dark magic by an exciting new fantasy talent, The Usurper is the second spellbinding novel in The Books of the Kingdoms.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Aus dem Klappentext

young prince prophesied the sacred Book of Kyrie, has led the Three Kingdoms to victory over the barbaric northern Hordes commanded by the demonic Taws, the fire-born Messenger of the war-god Ashar. But victory had a terrible price. Kedryn was blinded by an ensorcelled sword in his hour of triumph. Now he must journey into the abode of the dead, accompanied by his beloved Wynett, on a perilous quest to confront the shade of the warrior who wielded the blade. In Kendryn's absence, Taws the Messenger rises again, using his terrible magic to foment bloodshed and rebellion among the Kingdoms. A vivid and exciting tale of courage, adventure, and dark magic by an exciting new fantasy talent, The Usurper is the second spellbinding novel in <i>The Books of the Kingdoms</i>.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Prologue



The taste of defeat was bitter, the more so for being both unknown and unexpected. The might of the Horde he had raised was broken against the stones of the Lozin Gate, the creature he had lifted up to lead it slain by a near-beardless youth, the creature he had sent to slay that youth himself destroyed. He could not understand it, for his master had promised victory and the promise of the god Ashar was as sure as the fires of his birthing; yet it had come: the Kingdoms stood intact.

In bitterness he retreated into the forests, leaving the barbarians to their own devices, to sue for peace or flee, he no longer cared: the promises he had made them in the name of his master meant nothing, for they had failed him. And yet, even in the chagrin of his rout, he saw that a purpose still remained–the youth, the one called Kedryn Caitin, must be destroyed. He did not properly understand the significance of the young man, knowing only that Kedryn had somehow stood against the ensorcelled sword of Niloc Yarrum, had somehow escaped the berserk fury of Borsus, thus confirming the instinctive suspicion that he was, in some inexplicable way, a greater obstacle than all the armies mustered in defense of the Kingdoms. While he still lived Ashar's purpose must stand in threat of thwarting, and while that menace should exist so must his own existence stand in danger. He must find a way to bring about his master's design.

He moved steadily deeper into the woodlands, traversing paths untrod by man, moving with a speed greater than human form might attain, the beasts of the forest scattering from his way as they would scatter from the encroaching breath of fire, sensing in him that which he was able to hide from man. Deeper and ever deeper he moved, until he came to that place where first he had known this life given him by his master, where Ashar's fires had first burned in the Beltrevan.

It was a silent, sere place devoid of birdsong or animal life. The trees were not grown back where his birthing fire had scorched the ground, nor any undergrowth. Rather, it was a place that denied natural life, the earth still hidden beneath a thick layering of ash undisturbed by spoor or seeding, nubs of flame-scorched timber like rotted tooth stumps, the rock itself glass-smooth as cooled magma.

Ashar was here. He could feel the presence of the god, and he felt a chill touch of dread.

He shed the furs that had hid his frame from human sight and stood in unhuman nakedness, knowing what he must do yet fearing the wrath of his master, that fear stoking the hate he felt for Kedryn Caitin and the folk of the Kingdoms and the blue-robed followers of Ashar's enemy. He nursed the hate, letting it kindle until it burned fiercer than the dread, and then his thin lips began to move, forming words impossible for human tongue to utter. He stretched out his arms, blue flame flickering about his taloned fingers, sparking and crackling, filling the stifled air with the sharp tang of ozone. The droning of his chant grew louder, and as it did the cold fire formed in his mouth, wreathing about his mantis-features as his cratered eyes blazed red as smoldering coals. Louder and higher he chanted until the silence of the burned woodland was filled with the sound, his arms raised high, his head craned back, his frame rigid. Then, abruptly, he dropped his arms, screaming a single word: "Ashar!"

The blue fire spurted from mouth and fingertips, converging, striking ground that exploded into flame, a great column of incandescence blazing red against a darkening sky, tongues of fire filling the blackened clearing, washing over him so that he shuddered with the ecstasy of the heat. Up and up rose the column until it seemed to link earth and heavens, seemed to burn down into the earth, a corridor to the netherworld from which he summoned his master.

And Ashar came, the knowledge of the god's presence sending him to his knees, head bowed lest he gaze upon that which even he feared to observe directly.

"You have failed me."

The words were thunder and lightning that blasted the surrounding pines, setting them to swaying, flame dancing over their limbs.

He groveled, prostrating himself, his mouth against the ash, his answer–his plea–spoken into the cinders.

"I did my best. I did as you bade me."

"You say the fault is mine?"

"No, Master! Never yours; but . . ."

"Excuses! Do you plead for your miserable existence? That which I have given, I can take away."

"I plead to continue your work, Master! Only that. I know these creatures better now. I know that Kyrie stands with them."

"Kyrie!" The trees growing about the great blackened patch of forest burst into flame as the central column gouted outward, fire roaring until it seemed all the Beltrevan must blaze. "You affront me with that cursed name!"

"Her power is great there." He spoke quickly, spitting ash and hatred with each word, momentarily aware that the burning that was his god could so easily reach out to take him. "And one there is who stands in our way–Kedryn Caitin. He withstood the magic of the sword and I believe he is favored of her."

"Kedryn Caitin." The thunder rumbled a fraction softer, almost ruminative. "You killed him?"

"I tried, Master, but I could not. There is power in him; enough that three times he escaped me. He lives still."

"He should not," roared the god, "and as he does, why should I not destroy you?"

"I can serve you still, Master." His clawed hands dug into the ashy soil, his malformed shape tensing in anticipation of dreadful anger. "I know them better now and if you send me amongst them again I believe I may achieve your will–so long as I destroy this one."

"What is he?" demanded Ashar, the fulguration of his voice lessened. "A priest? Does she take men under her skirts now?"

"A warrior. A youth. A princeling of Tamur, I believe; not a priest–she still calls women to her service. But she affords him her protection. He it was thwarted our purpose."

"Then he must be destroyed!" Lightning stalked the ground about the prostate figure. "This time you must not fail me."

He drew deep, ashy breath as he recognized clemency and promised, "No, Master. This time I shall not fail you."

"You have thought on this? You have a design?"

"I have. I must go amongst them. Not the forest folk this time, but the people of the Kingdoms. Where might has failed us, subtlety may prevail. I shall seek to destroy from within, not overwhelm with sword might but seduce."

"How so?" Ashar demanded, the question a rolling peal of thunder.

"There are three kingdoms, Master," came the answer, "and a lord to each. A king above them in the city they call Andurel; elected. Men are ambitious and lords lust for kingship. Should their king die . . ."

"An ambitious man might be bent to my will."

"Aye, Master. And were that man made king the youth Kedryn must obey his commands and thus fall into my hands."

"If they know you, you are lost. I cannot protect you where that bitch holds sway."

"I shall guise myself," he promised, a little more confident now. "They will not know me until it is too late. I shall bring down Kedryn Caitin and all the blue-robed whores. I swear it."

Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed from the incandescent core of the fire, then Ashar said, "Go, Taws, and fulfill that promise. Give me the Kingdoms."

He...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
1990
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0553285661
ISBN 13 
9780553285666
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
356
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar