By Christie Golden
The ebook global of Warcraft lovers were clamoring for—the precise tale in the back of one of many Warcraft universe’s such a lot terrifying villains, Arthas the Lich King. writer Christie Golden does for Arthas what she as soon as did for the Orc Lord Thrall within the bestselling Warcraft: Lord of the Clans, in one other epic exploration of 1 of the most important characters from the eleven-million subscriber hugely multiplayer on-line role-playing online game.
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Additional info for Arthas: Rise of the Lich King (World of Warcraft, Book 6)
No, he blamed me for letting Willem Darry steal away Viserys and the babe, as if I could have stopped it. I sat on his council for fifteen years, helping Jon Arryn rule his realm while Robert drank and whored, but when Jon died, did my brother name me his Hand? No, he went galloping off to his dear friend Ned Stark, and offered him the honor. ” “Be that as it may, my lord,” Maester Cressen said gently. “Great wrongs have been done you, but the past is dust. The future may yet be won if you join with the Starks.
He must hurry, for his sake. The maester found the crystals where he had left them, and scooped them off the parchment. Cressen owned no hollow rings, such as the poisoners of Lys were said to favor, but a myriad of pockets great and small were sewn inside the loose sleeves of his robe. He secreted the strangler seeds in one of them, threw open his door, and called, “Pylos? ” When he heard no reply, he called again, louder. ” Still there came no answer. That was queer; the young maester had his cell only a half turn down the stair, within easy earshot.
The three of them watched the sky together with foreboding. The maester did not believe in omens. . old as he was, Cressen had never seen a comet half so bright, nor yet that color, that terrible color, the color of blood and flame and sunsets. He wondered if his gargoyles had ever seen its like. They had been here so much longer than he had, and would still be here long after he was gone. . Such folly. He leaned against the battlement, the sea crashing beneath him, the black stone rough beneath his fingers.