By David Dalglish
From USA this present day bestselling writer David Dalglish
[b]"Prove that you should stand opposed to the darkness and live."
In publication #4 of the Shadowdance sequence, Haern is the King's Watcher, born an murderer in basic terms to turn into town of Veldaren's protector opposed to the thief guilds.
When Lord Victor Kane assaults the town, decided to stamp out all corruption, international gangs pour in amidst the chaos in an try and overthrow the present lords of the underworld.
And whilst a mysterious killer often called the Widow starts off mutilating thieves, paranoia engulfs town. Haern is familiar with somebody is in the back of the turmoil, pulling strings. If he doesn't discover who -- and shortly -- his loved urban will burn.
Light or darkness: the place will the road be drawn?
Fantasy writer David Dalglish spins a story of retribution and darkness, and an underworld attaining for final strength during this fourth novel of the Shadowdance sequence, formerly published as Blood of the Underworld.
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Extra info for A Dance of Shadows (Shadowdance, Book 4)
Glim, missing an arm; Glim, headless; Glim bound in chains and about to be thrown overboard … Something rattled at her door, and her heart actually skipped a beat. She‟d always thought that was just an expression. She stood, fingers knotted in fists she didn‟t really know how to use, waiting. The door opened, a snout appeared, and large reptilian eyes that sagged deep in their wrinkled sockets. “Captain,” she said, making her voice as cold as possible. “We‟re in deep water,” he grated. “Don‟t be foolish and try to swim for it.
I think it bit me,” she said. “No,” he said, squatting to examine her. “If it had, you wouldn‟t have a leg. ” She brushed her eyes and looked around. They weren‟t on land—at least, not the mainland. Instead they rested on a tiny island hardly more than a few inches above the water. Indeed, at high tide it would certainly be below water. “She‟s too big to follow us in here,” he said. ” “Yes, well at least I‟m bleeding,” Annaïg managed to quip. “Yah. ” But if there were sharks around, they didn‟t fancy the taste of Breton blood, because they made it to the shore without incident.
Vague, gibbering cries, unholy shrieks of agony and fear, babbling in languages she did not know. It sent scorpions down her back. ” She strained at the jungle floor below the island, where the sounds seemed to be coming from, but couldn‟t make anything out through morning haze, distance, and thick vegetation. She turned her attention back to the island, to the glowing strands it trailed. They might have been spider silk spun from lightning, some flashing briefly brighter than others. She realized they weren‟t trailing, but dropping down from the center of the base, vanishing into the treetops, flashing white and then withdrawn into the island‟s belly.
A Dance of Shadows (Shadowdance, Book 4) by David Dalglish