By David Gemmell
With mythic sweep and epic scope, David Gemmell’s bestselling novels of magic and experience characteristic brooding heroes who struggle to maintain all that's stable and honorable in themselves and within the worlds by which they stride like lonely giants. In occasions of terror and depression, theirs are the swords that carve a shining course, inspiring others to persist with. Even after their deaths, their names live to tell the tale. . . .
A thousand years once they fell in conflict, heroes—Druss and Skilgannon—are respected in the course of the war-torn lands of the Drenai. but women and men reside in abject worry of the Joinings, abominable meldings of guy and beast, and in their mistress, the darkish sorceress often called the everlasting. None can stave off those ruthless foes.
But what if the soul of 1 such hero should be referred to as again from the void, his bones housed back in flesh? An historical prophecy foretold that Skilgannon might go back in his people’s darkest hour. To so much, it is a silly wish. yet no longer in an effort to Landis Kan. For years, because the energy of the everlasting grew, Kan sought for the tomb of Skilgannon the Damned. and eventually, he stumbled on it, amassing up the bones and acting the mystic ritual.
But the reborn hero is an enigma: a tender guy whose warrior abilities are blunted and whose stories are fragmented. This Skilgannon is a guy out of time, marooned in a global as unusual to him as a dream, distant from all he knew and loved.
Or nearly all. sooner than bringing Skilgannon again, Landis Kan experimented upon different bone fragments present in the hero’s tomb. That ritual led to a surly huge who possessed remarkable energy, yet no thoughts. To Kan, he used to be a deadly failure. yet to Skilgannon, this monstrous represented their final wish. For because the ageless evil of the everlasting threatens to drown the Drenai lands in blood, mythical heroes will once more prepared the ground to freedom.
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Additional info for The Swords of Night and Day: A Novel of Druss the Legend and Skilgannon the Damned (Drenai Saga: The Damned)
Corvin raised his saber in mock salute. “Ah, you want to duel with me? ” he requested the slender guy. “No, I shall basically kill you. ” Corvin smiled. there has been that common vanity back. He glanced on the curved sword the fellow carried. It was once comparable fit to Decado’s valuable guns. certainly, the fellow additionally wore a scabbard throughout his shoulders. Corvin may perhaps see the ivory hilt of a moment sword contained in it. i'll be the envy of the regiment while I go back with those, he idea. Stepping ahead, he slashed the air to left and correct, loosening the muscular tissues of his shoulder. His opponent stepped in. Corvin knew he may still end the duel speedily after which kill the clumsy axman, yet such moments have been too candy to hurry. He regarded into the sapphire eyes of his opponent and questioned how they might glance whilst the sunshine light from them. Their swords touched. Corvin stepped again. “Show me what you have,” acknowledged the swordsman. Corvin introduced a cautious assault, trying out the talents of his opponent. the fellow had pace and strong stability. He blocked and parried comfortably, and provided no counterattack that will open him as much as a riposte. Corvin elevated the pace, his blade slashing, plunging, and slicing with bewildering velocity. back all his makes an attempt have been blocked. two times extra he attacked, utilizing thoughts that had received for him long ago. the fellow purely parried them, or stepped easily apart. Corvin leapt again and reached for his dagger. He stopped. If he drew it then his opponent might carry his moment sword into play. the guy smiled. “Pull your blade,” he acknowledged. “I want to see how good you utilize it. ” Corvin drew the dagger. faraway from expanding his self assurance, the recent weapon looked as if it would leach it away. The swordsman was once ready lightly. “I don't have it! ” acknowledged Corvin, hurling the dagger apart. “You definitely desire greater than you have,” responded the swordsman. Corvin swallowed demanding. a feeling of unreality gripped him. this couldn't be taking place. He was once Corvin, the good duelist. He attacked back, taking a growing number of hazards, coming nearer and in the direction of the demise blow. One lunge neglected the man’s throat via a hairbreadth. quite a few moments extra and victory will be his. Their blades clashed. a pointy soreness erupted in his groin. Corvin sprang again. And staggered. He had no longer learned he used to be so weary. All energy fading from him. His correct leg felt hot and rainy. He appeared down. His darkish leggings have been stained. Corvin’s legs gave manner and he fell to his knees. there has been a deep lower within the textile over his groin. shedding his sword, he pulled open the fabric. Blood pumped over his arms. The femoral artery were severed. Pushing his hand opposed to the wound, he struggled vainly to stem the circulation. “Help me,” he begged his killer. “Please support me. ” the guy gazed round the burning cost. “Men like us are past help,” he stated. “We are the Damned. I worry you won't take pleasure in some time within the Void. ” operating used to be now not an job Stavut loved, yet then leisure used to be the farthest inspiration from his brain as he sprinted after the long-legged huntress.