Raveler: The Dark God Book 3 (Volume 3)
John D. Brown
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Talen is in the hands of a powerful half-beast, a creature twisted for war, who is convinced the most merciful thing to do with Talen is kill him. But he might not have that chance, for Nashrud, the Divine sleth hunter, is hot on their trail. As they flee, the two can only hope the perils of the Wilds will save them, for if they are taken, both will become the tools of Mokad.
Back on the coast, Sugar is sent to guide Argoth and a handful of warriors on a mission to assassinate Mokad’s Skir Master. To succeed they’re going to have to get through an army, patrols of dogmen, and at least 3,000 dreadmen. And that’s just in the world of flesh, for Mokad also has forces in the world of souls.
The odds against Talen and Sugar are immense. At the same time, their powers are awakening. And what they learn just might give mankind a chance against the army poised to annihilate them.
want a repeat with those orange skir. But the two of them were just sitting here like ducks in a pond. “I’ll look,” he said. He peeked his roamlings out of his wrists. The yellow world opened before him. He looked about for the orange skir, but there were none, so he rose to the tops of the trees in the copse. In the distance, above the wurm vale, the flock of orange skir dove and fought over things they were picking up from the vale below. The souls of dead wurms, Talen thought. Maybe those of
and charged. But Flax did not meet Eresh’s attack. Instead he cast himself over the wall. “Get him,” Eresh said. But a clamor rose from a number of Shimsmen on the wall. “The blackness!” a soldier yelled. Out on the river, a number of Bone Face ships bore down on the Mokaddian vessels. Down at the mouth of the river were dozens of other Bone Face ships. Gathering above them, spreading out like a thunderhead, was a roiling blackness. The same blackness that had been at Fishing. Argoth
roamlings were working on the last urgom, but he knew the power of the creature that towered over Uncle Argoth. Talen had raveled the thrall of an urgom. Surely, this creature had something similar grown into it. He didn’t know what it would do once released, but he knew exactly what it would do under the thrall of its master. He peeled two of his roamlings off the urgom and raced toward the thing the Skir Master Rubaloth had called a son of Lammash. The creature reached down and grabbed Uncle
was used to with the candidate weave. But he was not going to be left behind. He increased his Fire. Then increased it a bit more, and flew down the gentle slope, dodging past the trees, trying to catch up to Harnock and River. Behind them, the woodikin began shouting and hooting, blowing their whistles, filling the trees with noise. A number began to run along the branches after them, sometimes making great leaps from one branch to the next. Talen caught up to River, the packs and quivers
Just enough to tip him his way. Shaymash the Skir Master had almost died. He wasn’t very strong now, but he was full of wrath. And he wanted vengeance. And Berosus had promised he’d give it to him. Now that Shim’s army was corralled, the rest was really straight forward. At the appropriate time, he’d go back up on that wall. He figured it would be easy enough to knife Shim, then incapacitate Argoth. He could do that before the Kish knew what was going on. And then it would be time to face