By Mark L. Tompkins
“Fantastic . . . a decent, fantastically precise publication and an wonderful read.”
—DIANA GABALDON, THE WASHINGTON POST
"A fantastical treat."
“Simultaneously sweeping and complex . . . Tompkins’s extraordinary debut novel conjures an epic conflict for the soul of eire. jam-packed with papal machination and royal intrigue, magic and mayhem, faeries, Vikings, legates, kings and queens, angels and goddesses, this can be one wild and breathless ride.”
—KAREN pleasure FOWLER
“Plundering the treasure chest of human myths, from mysterious biblical giants to ferocious Celtic faeries, Tompkins has created a delusion experience with the moving views of dreamscape. a singular wealthy and strange.”
What turned of magic on the earth? Who had to eliminate it, and for what purposes? Drawing on fable, legend, fairy stories, and Biblical mysteries, The final Days of Magic brilliantly imagines solutions to those questions, sweeping us again to a global the place people and magical beings co-exist as they'd for centuries.
Aisling, a goddess in human shape, used to be born to rule either domain names and—with her dual, Anya—unite the Celts with the strong faeries of the center state. yet inside medieval eire pursuits are divided, and much from its seashores better forces are mustering. either England and Rome have a stake in riding magic from the Emerald Isle. Jordan, the Vatican commander tasked with vanquishing the remnants of otherworldly creatures from a disappointed Europe, has outfitted a profession on such plots. yet more and more he unearths himself torn among responsibility and his wish to comprehend the magic that has been forbidden.
As kings arrange, exorcists assemble, and divisions widen among the warring clans of eire, Aisling and Jordan needs to come to phrases with powers given and withheld, whereas an international which could nonetheless foster magic hangs within the stability. Loyalties are verified, betrayals sown, and the arrival warfare could have repercussions that ripple centuries later, in today’s world—and particularly for a tender graduate pupil named Sara Hill.
The final Days of Magic introduces us to unforgettable characters who grapple with quests for strength, human frailty, and the eager for wisdom that has been made taboo. Mark Tompkins has crafted a striking tale—a feat of world-building that poses fantastic and resonant solutions to epic questions.
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Additional info for The Last Days of Magic: A Novel
The entire drudgery and anticipation of coaching, via the tedious trip to eire with the English, had eventually given solution to the 1st morning of conflict. occasions of feasting and fucking have by no means introduced such fierce ecstasy as days of carnage, Jordan inspiration. the texture of bloodlust emerging scorching with the cry of conflict horns. the hoop of sharpened iron opposed to iron as each one guy desperately seeks to be the 1st to discover that weak point within the other’s protection. The cries of “Help me! ” from nobleman and peasant alike as they try to drag themselves from the sector with out their severed limbs. the short prayer snatched from the slit throat of the pious. The thunder of riderless horses, crazed from their wounds. The distinctively candy scent of blood combined with sweat at the victors, the stench of guts spilling from the losers because the cry of havoc is going up. this is often what i've got craved. dealing with one other guy, understanding that just one people will live on the following few heartbeats, feeling his existence flee as I push my blade into his body—that’s while I’ve felt so much alive. Like an opium addict continually drawn again to the poppy, he were attracted to killing. till at the present time. till I arrived right here. A gust of wind despatched yellow leaves cascading down approximately him. Jordan dropped the reins and held out his palms, every one leaf tingling because it brushed throughout his dermis. He closed his eyes, spurred his horse right into a trot, then a canter, then a gallop. He didn't retake the reins. the sensation had begun along with his first step from the send and had equipped ever considering. The power on the center of the world—Ardor—flowed via this land as he had by no means felt ahead of, eclipsing even the push of a lifestyles ended at his hand. It was once as though he’d been trying to find this sense at any time when he’d killed. Now he swam in Ardor. He saved his eyes closed and palms prolonged as timber and boulders flashed via. He knew the place they have been with no need to work out them. His horse directions with no his giving them. Jordan eventually, actually understood why the Roman Church had attempted to maintain humans out of eire, why they have been made up our minds to spoil its Ardor now. How might they be the unique voice with and for God whilst God was once so sincerely in all places right here? How may perhaps kings declare divine choice whilst rather a lot divinity was once in every body and every thing? Jordan halted his horse, opened his eyes, and collected up the unfastened, swaying reins. He discovered himself sitting simply within a wide clearing, dealing with a hoop of status stones round a low mound with a stone-rimmed beginning. He sensed instead of observed antagonistic reason. He pulled at the reins, inflicting his horse to again into the tree line. Turning, he steered his horse right into a respectful trot towards Waterford back. He felt not anything stick to. while he left Waterford that morning, the day after the English landed, lots of the ships were unloaded. by way of this time Jordan was once yes moment flotilla will be soaring off the bay, watching for its chance to dock. those smaller vessels, chartered through retailers, blacksmiths, and tailors, could have services and products to promote, at a top class rate, to the English squaddies and, in the event that they slipped out and in quietly sufficient, to the Irish.