The Great Bazaar & Brayan's Gold
Peter V Brett
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Humanity has barely survived a demonic onslaught by using magical wards that protect their cities and homes. Only a handful of mercenaries and explorers risk traveling after the sun sets. Arlen, seeking adventure and fortune, is barely protected by the warded armor upon which he has inscribed intricate defensive runes. From a journey ferrying a wagonload of dynamite to a mountain stronghold, to a dangerous mission to recover desert treasures, Arlen faces friends and enemies with a strong arm and a cunning wit.
see a coreling again so long as I live. Tell my kids and grandkids to do the same.’ ‘Honest word,’ Arlen agreed. ‘Will you teach me the snow wards?’ ‘Ay, I’ve some slate and chalk over there,’ Derek said, pointing. He tapped out his pipe as Arlen fetched the items, handing them to Derek and looking on eagerly as he drew. He was surprised to see that the basic ward of forbidding for snow demons was an alteration of the water demon ward – lines flowing out to make the ward look almost like a
popped the seal on the tube and took out the manifest, his eyes running across the lines listing every item on the cart, down to the last letter and personal package. There was a personal letter from the count included in the tube, but Arlen was not privy to its contents. The baron stuffed the unopened envelope in his jacket pocket. They came to the stable, where boys were unhitching Dawn Runner as the guards unloaded the cart. Arlen moved to help, but Talor put out a hand to hold him back.
to the stables. His saddlebags were already packed with supplies, and in them, Arlen found a small box of thundersticks packed in straw, along with a sealed envelope addressed to Derek in flowing script. As the Baron had promised, it was far easier going down the trail than coming up. He made it to the first wardpost early in the day and pressed on, making the station well before dusk. Derek came out to meet him. ‘I’ve a special letter for you,’ Arlen said, handing him the envelope. The
it was going down smoother. ‘If I believed in such nonsense, I would, Par’chin,’ Abban said, ‘so it is well that I don’t.’ Arlen sipped at the next cup, his throat numb to the burn now. He savored the taste of the cinnamon, amazed that he hadn’t noticed it before. He felt as if his body were floating above the embroidered silk pillows he rested upon. Abban seemed similarly relaxed, and by the time the small bottle was empty, they were laughing at nothing and slapping one another on the back.
tough, flexible armor that can turn any spearpoint or arrowhead. That resilient substance stretches thin out from their sides and along the underside of their arm bones to form the tough membrane of their wings, which often span three times their height, jointed with wicked hooked talons that can cleanly sever a man’s head when they dive. Clumsy and slow on land, wind demons have tremendous power in the sky, and can dive, attack, and reverse direction before hitting the ground, taking their prey