Download A Dark Sacrifice by Madeline Howard PDF

By Madeline Howard

Greater than a century has handed because the amazing fight among the wizards and the mages led to their mutual destruction, and greater than 40 years because the Empress Ouriána grew to become the Divine Incarnation of the Devouring Moon. Appointing twelve lethal sorcerers as her monks, she ideas the land in darkness never-ending. but there's a small likelihood for wish, if one foreordained princess can continue to exist. yet she has vanished in the back of enemy strains, or even a courageous band of heroes is probably not capable of succeed in her in time. For Ouriána's darkish reign has woken the traditional terrors of legend, and their vengeance could be rapid and all-consuming. . . .

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Sample text

Walking over to one of the windows, she gazed down on a rambling landscape of shingled roofs. Far below, pigeons were feeding in a stone-flagged courtyard. Directly opposite her window, a lightning rod with green glass globes swung back and forth in the light breeze; otherwise there was nothing else on the same level. That last half-flight of stairs had brought them up to the highest room in the palace. It came to her then that this might be a place where King Ristil conducted the private business of governing his kingdom, far from prying ears.

They loved bright colors, rich fabrics, strong wines, and all things beautiful and finely crafted. They were impulsive, magnanimous, high-handed; they could be dangerous when provoked. But if their virtue was no greater than their pride, at least it was no less, and none of their faults were mean or petty ones. Then Maelor went on to tell of the lesser folk who lived in that long-ago city—common by birth but extraordinary in their attainments. They had been wizards, scholars, and alchemists, merchants, craftsmen, soldiers, and poets.

He had discarded his shield as much too heavy, had been forced to abandon the axe when it lodged in an enemy’s skull and refused to come loose. He was fighting two-handed, using a sword that somebody tossed him when he lost the axe. There was a hard ache in his chest, and pain stabbed at him with every breath; he thought that some of his ribs must be broken. It hardly mattered by now, because he knew he was going to die. The battle had continued too long; no skirmish in the field had ever lasted for so many hours.

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