Download Banewreaker by Jacqueline Carey PDF
By Jacqueline Carey
Once, the Seven Shapers dwelled in accord. First-born between them used to be Haomane, Lord-of-Thought and together with his brother and sister gods, the Seven drew upon of the ability of the Souma, claimed a race of beings for his or her personal and started Shaping the area to their will.
But Haomane observed the methods of this new global and used to be displeased. For in his more youthful brother Satoris, as soon as referred to as the Sower, Haomane concept too prideful and in his present, the quickening of the flesh too freely to the races...and to that of guy particularly. Haomane requested Satoris to withdraw his present from males yet he refused. And so begun the Shapers' warfare.
Eons have handed. The battle that ensued Sundered the very international. Haomane and his siblings lay to 1 finish of an unlimited ocean not able to the touch their creations, Satoris and the races of the area at the different. Satoris has been damaged and left adrift one of the peoples of the realm and is reviled, with many of the races believing that it used to be he by myself who prompted the rift and depriving them of the balm of the Seven. He sits in Darkhaven, controlling his personal dominion--seeking now not victory yet neither vengeance.
But nonetheless Haomane isn't really content material. via Haomane's whispers within the minds and hearts of the races of the realm come a prophecy that if Satoris have been defeated, the area might be made entire and all may take pleasure in the sunshine of the Souma back. And the few who remain by means of Satoris are considered because the final evil. And so the races come jointly to defeat Satoris, a being who helped engender all of them yet who's stuck in his elder brother's warp.
Strong storytelling with evocative, compelling, and unforgettable characters, Banewrecker finally asks the query:
If all that's thought of strong considers you evil, are you?
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Sample text
I am one of those things, he thought, turning the Helm in his hands. Broken beyond repair. Abandoned and bereft, cast out by those who once loved me. And so thinking, he set about tuning its darkness to his own despair. In it he placed his abiding frustration at his Elder Brother's stubborn pride, and his own hatred of the role he had been condemned to play. He placed into it his anguish at his siblings' betrayal, shaded with profound sorrow and honed keen with rage—for they had all betrayed him, all of them.
It extended in a straight line from the place where agony flared, where the shining, leaf-pointed blade was buried in his side. And at the other end, both hands locked fast on the haft, was the last Counselor; Malthus, his brother's final emissary. It had hurt, a hurt second only to one, as he tore himself loose, a gaffed fish fighting the hook. Such indignity! It was almost worth it to see the Counselor's dumbstruck face. There was only one weapon capable of killing Satoris. Godslayer. They had both reached for it at once.
The Ellyl blade that struck him from behind had cut deep, severing the tendons behind his knee. It had surprised him, that; so much so that he had dropped the dagger. And without Godslayer, he was—what? A Shaper, but powerless. Sundered. There had been his Gift, once. He smiled with bitter irony as he healed himself, drawing on the power of Godslayer to splice his sinews and knit his flesh. Even if it had not been stripped from him, his Gift would have availed him nothing in this struggle. That time had come and gone in ages past, vanished in an eyeblink.