The Warded Man
(Sprache: Englisch)
As darkness falls after sunset, the corelings rise demons who possess supernatural powers and burn with a consuming hatred of humanity.
For hundreds of years the demons have terrorized the night, slowly culling the human herd that shelters behind...
For hundreds of years the demons have terrorized the night, slowly culling the human herd that shelters behind...
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As darkness falls after sunset, the corelings rise demons who possess supernatural powers and burn with a consuming hatred of humanity. For hundreds of years the demons have terrorized the night, slowly culling the human herd that shelters behind magical wards symbols of power whose origins are lost in myth and whose protection is terrifyingly fragile. It was not always this way. Once, men and women battled the corelings on equal terms, but those days are gone. Night by night the demons grow stronger, while human numbers dwindle under their relentless assault. Now, with hope for the future fading, three young survivors of vicious demon attacks will dare the impossible, stepping beyond the crumbling safety of the wards to risk everything in a desperate quest to regain the secrets of the past. Together, they will stand against the night.
Look for Peter V. Brett s complete Demon Cycle:
THE WARDED MAN | THE DESERT SPEAR | THE DAYLIGHT WAR | THE SKULL THRONE | THE CORE
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Chapter OneAFTERMATH
319 ar
the great horn sounded.
Arlen paused in his work, looking up at the lavender wash of the dawn sky. Mist still clung to the air, bringing with it a damp, acrid taste that was all too familiar. A quiet dread built in his gut as he waited in the morning stillness, hoping that it had been his imagination. He was eleven years old.
There was a pause, and then the horn blew twice in rapid succession. One long and two short meant south and east. The Cluster by the Woods. His father had friends among the cutters. Behind Arlen, the door to the house opened, and he knew his mother would be there, covering her mouth with both hands.
Arlen returned to his work, not needing to be told to hurry. Some chores could wait a day, but the stock still needed to be fed and the cows milked. He left the animals in the barns and opened the hay stores, slopped the pigs, and ran to fetch a wooden milk bucket. His mother was already squatting beneath the first of the cows. He snatched the spare stool and they found cadence in their work, the sound of milk striking wood drumming a funeral march.
As they moved to the next pair down the line, Arlen saw his father begin hitching their strongest horse, a five-year-old chestnut-colored mare named Missy, to the cart. His face was grim as he worked.
What would they find this time?
Before long, they were in the cart, trundling toward the small cluster of houses by the woods. It was dangerous there, over an hour's run to the nearest warded structure, but the lumber was needed. Arlen's mother, wrapped in her worn shawl, held him tightly as they rode.
"I'm a big boy, Mam," Arlen complained. "I don't need you to hold me like a baby. I'm not scared." It wasn't entirely true, but it would not do for the other children to see him clinging to his mother as they rode in. They made mock of him enough as it was.
"I'm scared," his mother said. "What if it's me who needs to be held?"
Feeling suddenly
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proud, Arlen pulled close to his mother again as they traveled down the road. She could never fool him, but she always knew what to say just the same.
A pillar of greasy smoke told them more than they wanted to know long before they reached their destination. They were burning the dead. And starting the fires this early, without waiting for others to arrive and pray, meant there were a great many. Too many to pray over each one, if the work was to be complete before dusk.
It was more than five miles from Arlen's father's farm to the Cluster by the Woods. By the time they arrived, the few remaining cabin fires had been put out, though in truth there was little left to burn. Fifteen houses, all reduced to rubble and ash.
"The woodpiles, too," Arlen's father said, spitting over the side of the cart. He gestured with his chin toward the blackened ruin that remained of a season's cutting. Arlen grimaced at the thought of how the rickety fence that penned the animals would have to last another year, and immediately felt guilty. It was only wood, after all.
The town Speaker approached their cart as it pulled up. Selia, whom Arlen's mother sometimes called Selia the Barren, was a hard woman, tall and thin, with skin like tough leather. Her long gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she wore her shawl like a badge of office. She brooked no nonsense, as Arlen had learned more than once at the end of her stick, but today he was comforted by her presence. Like Arlen's father, something about Selia made him feel safe. Though she had never had children of her own, Selia acted as a parent to everyone in Tibbet's Brook. Few could match her wisdom, and fewer still her stubbornness. When you were on Selia's good side, it felt like the safest place in the world.
"It's good that you've come, Jeph," Selia told Arlen's father. "Silvy and young Arlen, too," she said, nodding to them. "We need
A pillar of greasy smoke told them more than they wanted to know long before they reached their destination. They were burning the dead. And starting the fires this early, without waiting for others to arrive and pray, meant there were a great many. Too many to pray over each one, if the work was to be complete before dusk.
It was more than five miles from Arlen's father's farm to the Cluster by the Woods. By the time they arrived, the few remaining cabin fires had been put out, though in truth there was little left to burn. Fifteen houses, all reduced to rubble and ash.
"The woodpiles, too," Arlen's father said, spitting over the side of the cart. He gestured with his chin toward the blackened ruin that remained of a season's cutting. Arlen grimaced at the thought of how the rickety fence that penned the animals would have to last another year, and immediately felt guilty. It was only wood, after all.
The town Speaker approached their cart as it pulled up. Selia, whom Arlen's mother sometimes called Selia the Barren, was a hard woman, tall and thin, with skin like tough leather. Her long gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she wore her shawl like a badge of office. She brooked no nonsense, as Arlen had learned more than once at the end of her stick, but today he was comforted by her presence. Like Arlen's father, something about Selia made him feel safe. Though she had never had children of her own, Selia acted as a parent to everyone in Tibbet's Brook. Few could match her wisdom, and fewer still her stubbornness. When you were on Selia's good side, it felt like the safest place in the world.
"It's good that you've come, Jeph," Selia told Arlen's father. "Silvy and young Arlen, too," she said, nodding to them. "We need
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Peter V. Brett
Peter V. Brett is the internationally bestselling author of the Demon Cycle series, which has sold more than 2.5 million copies in twenty-five languages worldwide. The novels in the series are The Warded Man, The Desert Spear, The Daylight War, The Skull Throne, and The Core. He spends too much time on the Internet, but occasionally unplugs to practice kickboxing and dad fu. He lives in Manhattan.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Peter V. Brett
- 2010, 480 Seiten, Maße: 17,399 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Ballantine
- ISBN-10: 0345518705
- ISBN-13: 9780345518705
- Erscheinungsdatum: 26.08.2011
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Brett s custom blend of action and suspense, stirred into a unique magic system, has been justifiably a fan favorite for fifteen years. Robin Hobb, New York Times bestselling author of The Farseer TrilogyThe Warded Man works not only as a great adventure novel but also as a reflection on the nature of heroism. Charlaine Harris
I enjoyed The Warded Man immensely. There is much to admire in Peter Brett s writing, and his concept is brilliant. There s action and suspense all the way, plus he made me care about his characters and want to know what s going to happen next. Terry Brooks
As a genre, fantasy promises so much, and in The Warded Man, Peter V. Brett delivers in spectacular fashion. Books like this are why we read fiction, and most of us spend an entire lifetime searching for a story as good as this one. Read it, and there'll forever be a divide: life before The Warded Man and life after it. That s how good it is. Evan Winter, author of The Rage of Dragons
There are fantasy books that are all about the plot, fantasy books that are all about the characters, and fantasy books that are all about the world building. The Warded Man manages to be about all of that. A compelling read, inventive, fascinating, and demons . . . so many demons. Mark Lawrence, internationally bestselling author of The Book That Wouldn t Burn
Brett's debut builds slowly and grimly on a classic high fantasy framework of black-and-white morality and bloodshed. . . . With its nameless enemies that exist only to kill, Brett s gritty tale will appeal to those who tire of sympathetic villains and long for old-school orc massacres. Publishers Weekly
An absolute masterpiece . . . The novel [is] literally unputdownable, and certainly deserves to be the next Big Thing in dark fantasy. HorrorScope
A very accomplished debut fantasy, broad in its scope. SFRevu
A fabulous
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new fantasy series . . . that is likely to become a classic. Excellent fantasy literature. The Cairns Post, Queensland, Australia
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