Informationen zum Autor Michael A. Stackpole is an award-winning game and computer designer who now is also an award-winning author (His novel Ghost War was chosen the Best Long-form Fiction by the Academy of Gaming Arts and Design for 2002.) By the time you're reading this, he'll be fully recovered from the rotator cuff injury that slowed his work on this book (Yes, it was indoor soccer. Just because I'd knocked the guy down earlier in the game was no reason he should have taken me into a wall later. He was having a bad day and, shucks, just decided to share.) Also, by the time you're reading this, he'll have finished The Secret Atlas , the first in a new trilogy of fantasy novels (He'll have finished, or Anne Groell will be tearing her hair out yet again.) Mike spends way too much time on airplanes, playing with his iPod, playing indoor soccer, reading, and trying to figure out why he alternates between first and third person in biographies like this. Klappentext From the "New York Times" bestselling author comes the incredible conclusion to his epic DragonCrown War Cycle. "(F)antasy on the most epic of scales! with plenty of blood conflict and treacherous double-dealing."--"Publishers Weekly."

Klappentext

From the "New York Times" bestselling author comes the incredible conclusion to his epic DragonCrown War Cycle. "(F)antasy on the most epic of scales, with plenty of blood conflict and treacherous double-dealing."--"Publishers Weekly."

Leseprobe
CHAPTER 1

Princess Alexia of Okrannel raised a gloved hand to shade her eyes as the green dragon upon which she rode dipped his right wing and began a lazy circle. Below lay Narriz, dusted in snow and spread out in several concentric semicircles emanating from the crescent harbor to the west. King Fidelius' castle stood on the highest hill, with a clutch of cylindrical white towers that soared toward the sky. The brightly colored flags and pennants flapping away added an element of reality that banished any hope that she was dreaming.

Beneath her the dragon's flesh undulated as powerful muscles drove its wings. Though the air so high was quite frigid, the heat from the green dragon's body made the space beneath a long red cloak quite warm, and she gladly shared that warmth with Crow. She pressed herself against his side, then turned and kissed his scarred right cheek.

He smiled and his brown eyes sparkled. "What was that for?"

"To make sure you don't forget that I love you. And that I support you, no matter what happens below."

He tightened his arm around her shoulder. "Thank you."

The dragon turned his head back toward them. "Perrine is circling the castle's courtyard. We are welcome."

Resolute, a Vorquelf with sharpened elven features, pointed ears, and eyes of pure silver, curled his lip in a sneer. "Hardly welcome, Dravothrak. We will be tolerated until we deliver our news, then we will be reviled. We bring them word that hope has died, and few will have the heart to continue on past that."

Prince Erlestoke of Oriosa adjusted the black mask he wore. "They know they cannot stop you from landing, Dravothrak, so they accept with feigned grace what they cannot prevent."

The prince's words came in grim tones that nearly matched those Alyx had gotten accustomed to hearing from Resolute. The Vorquelf had been fighting over a century and a quarter to free his homeland from Chytrine, with no success. Will Norrington had been the key to her defeat and his death at Vael seemed to seal the fate of the Southlands' free nations. Arriving at the gathering of world leaders to tell them hope was indeed dead was something she had never anticipated.

She looked again at Crow. "I do wish you would let me be the one to address the council."

Erlestoke nodded in agreement. "Or me. They will accept it better from either of us."

Crow shook his head and his beard brushed against Alyx's cheek. "First and foremost, Will was my charge. I should have kept him safe. And while I agree with everyone that he chose his time of passing, and chose nobly and well, the burden of his death bears most heavily on me. Second, and you all know this is true, King Scrainwood would blame me even if Will's ghost appeared, absolved me of responsibility, and cursed Scrainwood for an idiot. Short of you throttling your father and replacing him, there is nothing that can be done to prevent the blame from falling on me."

The prince's hazel eyes blazed. "Who says throttling him is not an option?"

Crow's chin came up. "I do. The third reason I have to deliver the message is simply that we know that whoever delivers it will be reviled and never trusted again. None of the rest of you can afford to be moved out of the way given the discussions that must take place. Alexia and you, Highness, have the military expertise that will stop Chytrine's troops."

Resolute's sneer melted into a mirthless smile. "You make no case as to why I should not address their august majesties, my friend."

"You mean, aside from the fact that you openly hold them and their councils in contempt?" Crow laughed quickly. "This is a council of humans, Resolute, and they will not take well to being lectured to by one old enough to have known their great-grandpa