By Graham McNeill
Ulthuan is a land on the verge of destruction. At Lothern, a fell military marches opposed to the elven defenders of Prince Imrik and Prince Tyrion. In Averlorn, brothers struggle for forgiveness and their correct to protect their humans. yet at Tor Elyr, the clash might be misplaced and gained. The druchii military, led by way of Morathi and Issyk Kul, battles the collected could of the excessive elves in an enormous, harmful clash. yet Morathi has even grander plans than this – to ruin the vortex that holds Ulthuan jointly, plunging the island right into a nightmare area of Chaos. The noble elves needs to triumph over their darkish cousins, otherwise face the tip in their race.
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Extra info for Sons of Ellyrion
Sample text
He sent a shaft into the breast of one of the flying creatures, sending it tumbling down to the floor of the pass, where druchii beastmasters goaded even more terrible creatures into battle. Chained draconic things with a multitude of roaring heads sprayed the wall with caustic fire and bellowed in pain at their master’s tridents. Beside them, mindless abominations with elastic limbs and forms so abhorrent they resembled no creature known to the Loremasters of Hoeth, clawed and howled as they smote the reinforced gateway.
He reached for another shaft, but his hands closed on empty air. His quiver was spent. “Here,” said Alanrias, tossing him a full quiver of black leather. “My thanks,” said Alathenar, drawing an arrow from the quiver. It was lighter than he was used to, fashioned from some withered tree of Nagarythe, and the iron tip was barbed to make it next to impossible to remove. Its length was spiked with tiny thorns that would cause ghastly torment to any victim as they writhed in pain. Alathenar said nothing, but nocked the arrow to his bow.
But you did not stop it,” said the Handmaiden with midnight tresses. She removed her helm, setting it down on a moss-covered rock carved with spiralling vines. He face was beautiful, but with its angular lines and narrowed eyes, her beauty took on a twilit aspect that chilled Eldain’s blood. ” “And he’s only getting farther away,” pointed out Yvraine. ” “Your deeds are known to me, Yvraine Hawkblade,” said the Handmaiden, “so I will not take you to task for your youthful impudence. ” “Every moment we tarry here, Caelir slips beyond our grasp,” pressed Yvraine.