By Graham McNeill

Ulthuan is a land on the verge of destruction. At Lothern, a fell military marches opposed to the elven defenders of Prince Imrik and Prince Tyrion. In Averlorn, brothers struggle for forgiveness and their correct to safeguard their humans. yet at Tor Elyr, the clash may be misplaced and received. The druchii military, led via Morathi and Issyk Kul, battles the collected may of the excessive elves in an enormous, damaging clash. yet Morathi has even grander plans than this – to wreck the vortex that holds Ulthuan jointly, plunging the island right into a nightmare area of Chaos. The noble elves needs to conquer their darkish cousins, in any other case face the tip in their race.

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I knew your brother,” said Lilani. “You look a lot like him. ” “I saw you beside Caelir when the Everqueen…” began Eldain. ” “We met crossing the Finuval Plain,” she said, linking her arm with his and leading him towards the musicians and dancers within the grove. ” Eldain was taken aback at her frank admission, but knew he shouldn’t have been. Avelorn was a realm where the normal rules of conduct and etiquette were proudly flouted. What would have shocked the polite society of Lothern or Tor Elyr was a daily occurrence within the Everqueen’s realm.

Yet no sooner had they crushed this first attack beneath the glittering hooves of their steeds than Tyrion had felt the dagger thrust as though it had plunged into his own heart. “Lead us within the walls,” hissed Tyrion. ” Belarien waved to the Silver Helms’ clarion and a shrill note was blown from an icy trumpet that rallied the triumphant riders to their prince. Steeds of dappled grey formed up around Tyrion, their flanks gleaming with their own inner light. Tyrion spun his horse, taking up position at their head as the Silver Helms moved off.

Cries of anger and frustration echoed from the forested glade as the Maiden Guard cast aside their bows and took up their lances. They bounded through the crowds of panicking elves, intent on slaying the killer in their midst. ” yelled Eldain, but his brother was in no mood to listen. He vaulted onto the back of Eldain’s steed with the grace of one to whom being on horseback was as natural as breathing. Caelir settled onto the back of Irenya, the reins leaping into his hands as he turned the beast’s rearing into a curving turn.

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