By Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman
Born with out magic, Joram was once one of many useless, denied the throne of Merilon. For years, he lived among outlaws, surviving through wit and sleight-of-hand. Now, wielding the robust, magic absorbing Darksword, Joram retums to the enchanted country that once used to be his domestic to win revenge and declare his birthright. the following he'll attempt Bishop Vanya and his fierce military of Duuk-tsarith in a conflict not like any their global has recognized. Joined via the scholarly catalyst Saryon, the younger mage Mosiah, and the trickster Simkin, Jorma confronts the shattering secret of his earlier and discovers the traditional prophecy that places the destiny of the realm in his hands--the arms that cast the Darksword.
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Additional info for Doom of the Darksword (The Darksword Trilogy, Book 2)
She spied a pot of paste, presumed it was soap, and was secretly delighted to discover that it wasn't made purely from goat or camel fat as she'd expected, but was lightly fragranced with cinnamon and rose water. It was mixed with sand and dried petals and they acted to slough her dried skin. She couldn't help but feel pampered again as she applied the low-lathering paste, smoothing the gritty substance across her swollen belly, enjoying the tautness as its precious cargo began to make room for itself.
If he lays a hand on a single hair of hers or the baby's, I shall tear him limb from limb, I will raze his fortress to the dust of the desert, I shall--" "Well, you can't do anything lying in bed. You need to--" Pez stopped talking suddenly, cocking his head to one side. "Hush, I hear something. " He waddled over to the window, opening the shutters slightly to sneak a look. He returned to Lazar's side, his large mouth in a lopsided grin. "You're not going to believe who has just arrived. I must hide.
Yes, I'm aware of your story. It wasn't just any day, though, Ana. It was midsummer's day. " "They are not idle. It is the boundary of sunlight and shadow, when the night is no longer than day. " She nodded, distant memories surfacing. " "The edge of worlds," Arafanz said, his voice heavy with portent. Then his tone lightened and he swept a hand in a wide arc. " "I have craved freedom, this is true," she said with care, tearing her gaze from the sweltering landscape to focus on the narrow, softly lined face of her captor.