Download Broken Blade (Fallen Blade, Book 1) by Kelly McCullough PDF

By Kelly McCullough

ISBN-10: 1101552387

ISBN-13: 9781101552384

As soon as a fabled Blade of Namara, Aral Kingslayer fought for justice and his goddess along his regular, a dwelling shadow known as Triss. Now with their goddess murdered and her temple destroyed, they're one of the final in their type. Surviving at the fringes of society, Aral turns into a drunken, damaged, and sought after guy, operating no matter what shadowy deal comes his approach. till a mysterious lady hires him to convey a mystery message-one that could both redeem him or doom him.

ASIN: B005ERIRZY

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Extra resources for Broken Blade (Fallen Blade, Book 1)

Example text

But the figure wasn’t going away. It was getting more defined with every step. Oh, Circle! Not a vision this time. She reached for her rifle, but the Brown Bess was no longer there. Amelia couldn’t even remember having discarded the weight of the cheap but reliable weapon. She had kept her knife though, for the stalking snakes that slid towards her at night, drawn by her body-heat. But the knife seemed so heavy now as well, a steel burden she could not pull free from her belt. The part of Amelia’s brain that had not yet shut down recognized what she saw coming out of the heat shimmer before her.

But with you, they have no reference points. You make yourself the richest man in Middlesteel and then you give your fortune away every year to the poor. They try and destroy you at every turn, yet it is always you that seems to end up taking over their bankrupted commercial concerns. You treat the greatest nation in the world as if it is a mere hand of cards, its sole purpose to serve as the source of your amusement. ’ ‘A little mischief,’ said Quest. ‘I just need a little mischief to keep my mind fresh, to keep the black dog at bay.

I’m not paying you extra for your poor sense of humour, Macanalie. ’ They walked into the burial chamber. With its rough, jagged walls, it might almost have been mistaken for a natural cavern were it not for the statues holding up the vaulted roof – squat totem-poles of granite carved with smirking goblin faces. Mombiko’s gas spike was barely powerful enough to reveal the eight-wheeled carriage that rose on a dais in the centre of the chamber, spiral lines of gold rivets studding its armoured sides and exhaust stacks.

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