Résultats pour "Chris Ryan" dans Fantasy

Things have never look so bleak. Saghir is on the run from the Avatar of Xakava, a city-sized demon that has already crippled the Spider-Mountain itself. Calmora is besieged by Totarius's endless legions, and more defenders fall daily. Li's only hope is marrying Lord Indra to seal the Celestial Mountain. She must sacrifice our future together to ensure the survival of her people. As for me? All I have to do is kill the eldest demon prince, my older and stronger brother, knowing that if he wounds me even slightly I will die. His wounds always kill.

The magical tea has worn off. My eyes are wide open. And it’s with horror that I realize the fate of two realms rests on my shoulders after my mother’s ultimate sacrifice to trap Rubezahl in Underhill. Terrified humans clamoring for answers, whispered rumors from both Seelie and Unseelie, and a stepmother who seeks the throne for surprising reasons are the least of my troubles. Rubezahl has returned far sooner than I thought possible. I’m not ready. I can’t win this. And not only that… He has something crucial if we are to win. He’s taken something I cannot live without.

Chosen. Framed by my father’s murderer. Running from the fae courts. Fated to never touch the man who sets my blood on fire.

The war in Hasra is over. A monstrous puppet sits upon the throne. Valys has fallen, and the Praetor rots in prison while his daughter remains a public hostage. Calmora is under Khonsu's rule, the dragonflight's plaything. Worse, my aunt and the other demon princes have fostered a new religion, which is sweeping the west. Our only choice was to flee to Olivantia, where we huddle with the dreadlords, who are under assault by the Tree of Blood and its armies of consumed. Things have never looked so grim. I have no more tombs. No more miracles from friendly gods.

He’s back. Despite absolutely no requests at all, Sir Apropos of Nothing - he who was spawned from the violent assault of a tavern wench by a group of drunken knights - has returned. This time his voyages take him to the land of Rogypt, a surprisingly ancient realm where the tragic people known as the Shews labor endlessly in building pyramids for their masters. When Apropos inadvertently interferes with he who is destined to be their savior, no less than a deity reaches down and points his fickle finger upon him, informing him it is now his responsibility to liberate the people.

Four centuries ago, the Stewards rained ash on the heartland of an empire for a year and a day, murdering the Elentian Empire and orphaning the Hasran Imperium where I was born. The stories say the ash drains magic and that any who venture into the Ashlands will need to contend with the armies of unliving swimming beneath the ash—unliving as old as the Mad Imperator Jhordil himself.

The Unliving are implacable. Unreasonable. No one knows what they want, beyond souls, and bone for their war machines and ships. Now they've set their sights on the Inurans, and hey, I couldn't wish an army of necromancers on a better target. There's just one problem. I'm trapped on the Inuran Trade Moon, and the necromancers are attacking. Even if I can get the minister back to her ship we'll still need to find a way to fight their flagship. That's going to be tough to do without enough magic to power the Word of Xal.

The Ganog have arrived. Their fleets are endless. Their will implacable. They cannot use magic, but that isn't stopping them from wiping out mages. Behind them lurks a worse foe, the Gorthians, those holding the Ganog's leash. They have devoured countless galaxies, harvesting them over and over to create more monstrosities.

I am the reincarnation of a dark god. I cannot escape that now. The prince of demons come again. And I am hunted. The Fomori have a prophecy about my return, and have been so kind as to dispatch the Morrigan herself to slay me. She's even forging a special divine sword. Their armies of beastmen and giants march upon Hasra, and the ailing empire is in no shape to hold. They need new troops. They need us. My friends and I are being sent off to the other Catalysts we control to gain more magic so that we can resist the Fomori advance.

Necrotis' endgame is upon us. The sector is starving. Frit is dead. The Krox have left the Confederacy, and the rest of it is falling apart. Time is fast running out to stop Necrotis, who will win through simple attrition if we do nothing. The time has come to ride to war. Xal'Aran is training me to be the deadliest captain to ever command the Word of Xal and will be flying alongside me to hunt down Necrotis. Nor do we ride alone. Voria and her Spellship will guide us into the storm to hunt our enemy once and for all.

My name is Xal, and I live in the dims - a walled prison where my people are kept by our cruel masters until we are needed to fight once more. One member of every family must answer The Call, for our blood bears the magic of a demonic god and all the terrible power that brings. We march to war against the Fomori, an unstoppable army of giants and their behemoths. If we do not, then our families are put to death. The Hasrans use us as cannon fodder and worse. They used up my father, and he never came home. Die resisting. Die fighting.

Guilt wracked and vengeful, Lad scours Twailin for the killer who destroyed his life. With the Assassins Guild at his beck and call, the search should be straightforward. However, cryptic clues lead to one dead end after another, thwarting his obsession. Forced to trust a traitor and keep secrets from those closest to him, Lad’s only hope is to find Kiesha, a woman caught between worlds. Is she a thief, an assassin, or a pawn of the very powers that control the Empire? Unfortunately, Lad’s not the only one hunting her.

Mya discovers that donning the Grandmaster’s ring does not make her master of the Assassins Guild, and won’t keep her safe from the machinations of those whose power she has curtailed. The Tsing guildmaster refuses to pledge allegiance. The power-crazed priest, Hoseph, vows to see the Grandmaster’s ring on the finger of a new emperor of his own choosing. Meanwhile, the heir to the throne ignites class warfare with his policies, earning the enmity of his own nobility. Mya struggles to overcome her fear and shattered heart to wrest control of the guild from those who view her as a usurper.

Necrotis has raised an armada to make our sector tremble. Hundreds of warships have begun to overwhelm the Confederacy, and we don't have nearly enough magic or ships to defend every world. Our only real hope is resurrecting the Vagrant Fleet. We have the Spellship, and our demon allies control the Earthmother's Bulwark. I'm the captain of the Word of Xal, our most powerful offensive ship in the fleet. We're strong, but Necrotis is stronger, and the gap is growing.

I have been sentenced to death for the crime of being born; of winning the Hasran's war for them. But my death has purchased the freedom of my people, and so I go to it gladly, ready for whatever final torture they might have in mind. The Imperator has decreed that I will be sacrificed in the Great Games, a sacred ritual that will magically empower the Gateway Arena. It requires five god-souled, the reincarnations of gods, divine shards that can be fed to the Arena, and used to increase its size. It means my life has narrowed to one purpose: live.

Aran awakens in chains with no memory. He’s conscripted into the Confederate Marines as a Tech Mage, given a spellrifle then hurled into the war with the draconic Krox and their Void Wyrm masters. Desperate to escape, Aran struggles to master his abilities while surviving the Krox onslaught. Fighting alongside him are a Major who will do anything to win, a Captain who will stop at nothing to see him dead, and a woman whose past is as blank as his own.

They sent me into the blasted lands to die. I refused. I lived. And now...I return to the empire that discarded me. A god, rich with worship. I don't know what has become of Hasra, or the war with the Fomori. I don't know where Li is, or if her homeland is still dealing with the wyrm Khonsu. My sister and mother were freed—the reward for my blood price— but I have no idea what has become of them. It is time to go home. Time to right old wrongs, and to find the legacy left behind by my former incarnation. Three tombs remain. Once I am certain my family is safe I will seek them.

A pyramid predating all known cultures appears without warning. Its discovery throws into question everything we know about the origins of mankind. Inside lies incredible technology, proof of a culture far more advanced than our own. Something dark lurks within, eager to resume a war as old as mankind. When it is unleashed it heralds the end of our species’ reign.

The world is without power. The dead rule. Yet only now does the true struggle begin. Osiris, Ra and Isis each jockey for position, fighting a war as old as mankind.

Tech Mage (Book one) Aran awakens in chains with no memory. He’s conscripted into the Confederate Marines as a Tech Mage, given a spellrifle, then hurled into the war with the draconic Krox and their Void Wyrm masters. Void Wyrm (Book two) Major Voria stands ready to accept the cost for her actions at Marid. Stripped of command and resources, Voria must find a ship and rally a crew. Somewhere within the Umbral Depths lays a hidden world, a world that the dead god Marid intended her to find.