Krondor: The Betrayal (The Riftwar Legacy, Book 1) by Raymond E. Feist

By Raymond E. Feist

The RiftWar is finished. yet a fearsome military of trolls and renegade people, emboldened by means of the drug of destruction, has risen in power from the ashes of defeat. there's one, besides the fact that, who defies the decision to battle... ny occasions bestselling fantasist Raymond E. Feist returns to a beleaguered realm of wonders and magic-where conflict is an everlasting legacy; the place blood swells the rivers and nourishes the land. Attend to this hitherto untold bankruptcy within the violent historical past of Midkemia -- a towering saga of serious conflicts, courageous acts and insidious intrigues. it's the tale of a traitor who rejects the brutality of his warlike variety and casts his lot with the human ambitions in their fierce aggression. It tells of mysterious deaths and sinister machinations -- and indicators of a time whilst the destiny of many civilizations rested within the capable, unfaltering arms of RiftWar veterans Squire Locklear and crafty their-turned-squire Jimmy the Hand. It chronicles the robust awakening of Owyn -- apprentice magician of untried strengths -- and celebrates the selfless achievements of Pug, the nice sorcerer of 2 worlds. Welcome now to spectacular new corners of an international you haven't but totally explored-and arrange to event real pleasure, blood chilling terror...and the triumph born from the doom geared toward the thrashing center of a nation.

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Extra info for Krondor: The Betrayal (The Riftwar Legacy, Book 1)

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They are in the pool? " "Of course. Do you think they want to wait in the regular realm, getting older every moment? " "She does? What's wrong with getting older? " This time Mentia's right side shrugged in one direction, and her left side in the other direction. Gary did find that interesting, especially when her eyes passed each other on the return trip, overshooting the mark. "But Iris is ninety-three years old. " "Ninety-seven, technically. But he was youthened to about twenty-five last year, and is now one handsome hunk of human.

He couldn't bound very well underwater, but he made sufficient progress by slowly flapping his wings instead. He climbed out, shook his body and wings dry, and turned back to thank her, but she was gone. The surface of the moat was rippling as the storm eased; the fish were already into their playoffs. He bounded to the inner side of the drawbridge, and to the castle gate. It opened as he got there, admitting him. A human young woman of about twenty stood there. "Hello," she said, looking past him.

This must relate. But what did it mean? He looked around-and spied another mountain, with another boulder. More balancing. But he still didn't know how any of this could help. He bounded between the two mountains, hoping for some clue. He saw that the sunlight fell across this region in a checkered pattern, interrupted by the shadows of the mountains and stones. Halfway between the balanced rocks was a square that seemed to have been etched into the ground by the pattern of sunbeam and shadow. He wasn't sure how it had happened, because normally shadows did not stay still very long.

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