By Glen Cook
Across the mountains known as the Dragon's tooth, past the chilliness succeed in of the Werewind and the fires of the world's starting, above the partitions of the fortress Fangdred, stands Windtower. From this lonely maintain the megastar Rider calls forth the struggle that even wizards dread, fought for a woman's hundred-lifetime love. a girl referred to as Nepanthe, princess to the Stormkings…
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Additional info for A Shadow of All Night Falling (Dread Empire)
His final remark was almost hysterically excited. " This Horn, the Horn of the Star Rider, the Wind-mjirnerhorn, was reputed to be a horn of plenty. The man who could wrest it from its owner and master it would want for nothing, could create the wealth to buy anything. These five had fantasies of restoring an empire raped away from their ancestors. Time had passed that imperium by. There was no more niche it could fill. The fantasies were nothing more. And that most of these men realized. Yet they persisted, motivated by tradition, the challenge, and the fervor of the two doing the talking.
All month. Except one night last week he flew the horse somewhere back east. " "I haven't been any closer. " "Okay. We'd better start now. " "Spread out and come at him from every direction. Jerrad, whatever you do, don't let him get to the Horn. " It was past midnight when they attacked the old man, and could have been later still had there been no moon. The Star Rider wakened to a footfall, bolted toward the Horn with stunning speed. Jerrad got there first, gutting knife in hand. The old man changed course in midstride, made an astounding leap onto the back of his winged horse.
Aren't the taxes lower? Don't I care for the poor? Haven't I replaced a corrupt, lazy, indifferent government with an incorrupt, efficient, responsive one? " She shuddered, remembering ranks of heads on pikes above the city gates. " "All true, but such things don't mean much to fools, Milady. I know. I was raised here. Your reforms have won support among the small merchants, the artisans, especially the furriers, the guildsmen, and the more thoughtful laborers. All the worst victims of the old government and syndicates.
A Shadow of All Night Falling (Dread Empire) by Glen Cook