{"product_id":"sword-in-the-storm-isbn-9780345432346","title":"Sword in the Storm","description":"Fierce and proud, the Rigante dwell deep in the green mountain lands, worshiping the gods of air and water, and the spirits of the earth.  Among them lives a warrior who bears the mark of fate. Born of the storm that slew his father, he is Connavar, and tales of his courage spread like wildfire. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Seidh--a magical race as old as time--take note of the young warrior and cast a malignant shadow across his life. For soon a merciless army will cross the water, destroying forever the timeless rhythms of life among the Rigante.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSwearing to protect his people, Connavar embarks on a quest that will take him into the heart of the enemy. Along the way, he receives a gift: a sword as powerful and deadly as the Seidh who forged it. Thus he receives a name that will strike fear into the hearts of friend and foe alike--a name proclaiming a glorious and bitter destiny . . . \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDemonblade.David Gemmell was born in London, England, in the summer of 1948. Expelled from school at sixteen, he became a bouncer, working at nightclubs in Soho. Born with a silver tongue, Gemmell rarely needed to bounce customers, relying on his gift of gab to talk his way out of trouble. This talent eventually led to a job as freelancer for the London Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, and Daily Express. His first novel, Legend, was published in 1984 and has remained in print ever since. He became a full-time writer in 1986.On the night of the great man's birth a fierce storm was moving in from\u003cbr\u003ethe far north, but the lowering black clouds still were hidden behind\u003cbr\u003ethe craggy, snow-capped peaks of the Druagh mountains. The night air\u003cbr\u003eoutside the birthing hut was calm and still and heavy. The bright stars\u003cbr\u003eof Caer Gwydion glittered in the sky, and the full moon was shining like\u003cbr\u003ea lantern over the tribal lands of the Rigante.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll was quiet inside the lamp-lit hut as Varaconn, the soft-eyed horse\u003cbr\u003ehunter, knelt at his wife's side, holding to her hand. Meria, the pain\u003cbr\u003esubsiding for a moment, smiled up at him. \"You must not worry,\" she\u003cbr\u003ewhispered. \"Vorna says the boy will be strong.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe blond-haired young man cast his gaze across the small, round hut to\u003cbr\u003ewhere the witch woman was crouched by an iron brazier. She was breaking\u003cbr\u003ethe seals on three clay pots and measuring out amounts of dark powder.\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn shivered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It is time for his soul-name,\" Vorna said without turning from her\u003cbr\u003etask.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn reluctantly released his wife's hand. He did not like the\u003cbr\u003estick-thin witch, but then, no one did. It was difficult to like that\u003cbr\u003ewhich one feared, and black-haired Vorna was a fey creature with bright\u003cbr\u003eblue button eyes that never seemed to blink. How was it, Varaconn\u003cbr\u003ewondered, that an aging spinster with no personal knowledge of sex or\u003cbr\u003echildbirth could be so adept at midwifery?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVorna rose and turned, fixing him with a baleful glare. \"This is not the\u003cbr\u003etime to consider questions born of stupidity,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn jerked. Had he asked the question aloud? Surely not.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The soul-name,\" said Vorna. \"Go now.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTaking his wife's hand once more, he raised it to his lips. Meria\u003cbr\u003esmiled, then a fresh spasm of pain crossed her face. Varaconn backed\u003cbr\u003eaway to the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"All will be well,\" Vorna told him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn swirled his blue and green checkered cloak around his slender\u003cbr\u003eshoulders and stepped out into the night.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was warm, the air cloying, and yet, for a moment at least, it was\u003cbr\u003ecooler than the hut and he filled his lungs with fresh air. The smell of\u003cbr\u003emountain grass and pine was strong there, away from the settlement, and\u003cbr\u003emixed with it he could detect the subtle scent of honeysuckle. As he\u003cbr\u003egrew accustomed to the warmth of the summer night, he removed his cloak\u003cbr\u003eand laid it over the bench seat set around the trunk of the old willow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTime for the soul-name, Vorna had said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn that moment, alone under the stars, Varaconn felt like an adult for\u003cbr\u003ethe first time in his nineteen years. He was about to find the soul-name\u003cbr\u003efor his son.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis son!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn's heart swelled with the thought.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFollowing the old goat trail, he stepped out onto the green flanks of\u003cbr\u003eCaer Druagh, the Elder Mountain, and began to climb. As he journeyed\u003cbr\u003ehigh above the valley, his thoughts were many. He recalled his own\u003cbr\u003efather and wondered what he had been thinking as he had climbed this\u003cbr\u003eslope nineteen years before. What dreams had he nurtured for the infant\u003cbr\u003eabout to be born? He had died from wounds taken in a fight with the\u003cbr\u003ePannones when Varaconn was six. His mother had passed over the Dark\u003cbr\u003eWater a year later. Varaconn's last memories of her were of a skeletal\u003cbr\u003ewoman, hollow-eyed, coughing up blood and phlegm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe orphan Varaconn had been raised by an irascible uncle who had never\u003cbr\u003emarried and loathed the company of people. A kind old man, he had tried\u003cbr\u003ehard to be a good father to the boy but had managed--among many good\u003cbr\u003elessons--to pass on to his ward his own wariness of fellowship. As a\u003cbr\u003eresult Varaconn never courted popularity and found intimacy difficult.\u003cbr\u003eHe was neither popular nor unpopular with the other young men of the\u003cbr\u003eRigante, and his life had been largely undistinguished except for two\u003cbr\u003ethings: his friendship with Ruathain the First Warrior and his marriage\u003cbr\u003eto the beautiful Meria.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn paused in his climb and stared down at Three Streams settlement\u003cbr\u003efar below. Most of the houses were dark, for it was almost midnight and\u003cbr\u003ethe Rigante were a farming community whose people rose before the dawn.\u003cbr\u003eBut lamplight was flickering in some of the windows. Banouin the\u003cbr\u003eForeigner would be checking his tallies and preparing his next journey\u003cbr\u003eto the sea, and Cassia Earth Maiden would be entertaining a guest,\u003cbr\u003einitiating some young blood in the night-blessed joys of union.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn walked on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis marriage to Meria had surprised many, for her father had entertained\u003cbr\u003ea score of young men seeking her hand--even Ruathain. Meria had rejected\u003cbr\u003ethem all. Varaconn had not been one of the suitors. A modest man, he had\u003cbr\u003econsidered her far above him in every way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen one day, as he was gentling a mare in the high meadow paddock, she\u003cbr\u003ehad come to see him. That day was bathed in glory in the hall of his\u003cbr\u003efondest memories. Meria had leaned on the fence rail as Varaconn had\u003cbr\u003emoved around the paddock. At first he had not known she was there, so\u003cbr\u003eintent was he on the bond with the mare. He loved horses and spent much\u003cbr\u003eof his early life observing them. He had noticed that herd leaders were\u003cbr\u003ealways female and that they disciplined errant colts by driving them\u003cbr\u003eaway from the safety of the herd. Alone, the colt would become fearful,\u003cbr\u003efor predators would soon descend on a single pony. After a while the\u003cbr\u003emare would allow the recalcitrant beast back into the fold. Thus\u003cbr\u003echastened, it would then remain obedient. Varaconn used a similar\u003cbr\u003etechnique in training ponies. He would isolate a wild horse in his\u003cbr\u003ecircular paddock, then, with a snap of his rope, set it running around\u003cbr\u003ethe inner perimeter of the fence. The instinct of a horse was always to\u003cbr\u003erun from danger and only when it was safe to look back to see what had\u003cbr\u003ecaused its fear. Varaconn kept the pony running for a while; then, not\u003cbr\u003eknowing Meria was watching him, he dipped his shoulder and turned away\u003cbr\u003efrom the mare. The pony dropped her head and moved in close to him.\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn continued to walk, slowly changing direction. The mare followed\u003cbr\u003ehis every move. As he moved, he spoke to the mare in a soft voice and\u003cbr\u003efinally turned to face her, rubbing her brow and stroking her sleek\u003cbr\u003eneck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You talk to horses more easily than you talk to women,\" said Meria.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn blushed deep red. \"I'm . . . not a talker,\" he said. Trying to\u003cbr\u003eignore her, he continued to work with the pony and within an hour was\u003cbr\u003eriding it slowly around the paddock. Occasionally he would glance toward\u003cbr\u003eMeria. She had not moved. Finally he dismounted, took a deep breath, and\u003cbr\u003ewalked to where she waited. Shy and insular, he did not look into her\u003cbr\u003eeyes. Even so, he saw enough to fill his heart with longing. She was\u003cbr\u003ewearing a long green dress and a wide belt edged with gold thread. Her\u003cbr\u003elong dark hair, except for a top braid, was hanging loose to her\u003cbr\u003eshoulders, and her feet were bare.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You want to buy a pony?\" he asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Perhaps. Why did the mare suddenly start to obey you?\" she asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"She was frightened. I made her run, but she didn't know what the danger\u003cbr\u003ewas. Did you see her snapping her mouth as she ran?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes. She looked very angry.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That was not anger. Foals do that. She was reverting to infant\u003cbr\u003ebehavior. She was saying to me, 'I need help. Please be my leader.' So I\u003cbr\u003edropped my shoulder and gently turned away. Then she came to me and\u003cbr\u003ejoined my herd.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So you are her stallion now?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"In truth that would make me the lead mare. Stallions do the fighting,\u003cbr\u003ebut a mare will command the herd.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ruathain says you are a great fighter and a good man.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis surprised him, and he glanced briefly at her face to see if she was\u003cbr\u003emocking him. Her eyes were green. Large eyes. So beautiful. Not the\u003cbr\u003egreen of grass or summer leaves but the bright, eternal green of\u003cbr\u003eprecious stones. Yet they were not cold . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Now you are staring at me,\" she chided.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn blinked and looked away guiltily. She spoke again. \"Ruathain\u003cbr\u003esaid you stood beside him against the Pannones and broke their charge.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He is too kind. He knows I was too frightened to run,\" he admitted.\u003cbr\u003e\"Ruathain was like a rock--the only safe place in a stormy sea. I've\u003cbr\u003enever known anyone quite like him. The battle was chaotic: screaming\u003cbr\u003emen, clashing swords. It was all so fast and furious. But Ruathain was\u003cbr\u003ecalm. He was like a god. You could not imagine him being hurt.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe seemed annoyed, though he did not know why. \"Yes, yes, yes,\" she\u003cbr\u003esaid. \"Everyone knows Ruathain is a hero. He wanted to marry me. I said\u003cbr\u003eno.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Why would you say no? He is a wonderful man.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Can you really be so foolish, Varaconn?\" she said, then turned and\u003cbr\u003estrode away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTotally confused, he carried the problem to Ruathain. The powerful\u003cbr\u003eblond-haired young warrior had been out with three of his herdsmen,\u003cbr\u003ebuilding a rock wall across the mouth of a gully in the high north\u003cbr\u003evalley.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Every damn winter,\" said Ruathain, heaving a large slab into place,\u003cbr\u003e\"some of my cattle get trapped here. Not anymore.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn dismounted and helped the men for several hours. Then, during a\u003cbr\u003erest break, Ruathain took him by the arm and led him to a nearby stream.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You didn't come all the way up here to build a wall. What is on your\u003cbr\u003emind, my friend?\" Not waiting for an answer, he stripped off his shirt,\u003cbr\u003eleggings, and boots and clambered out into the middle of the stream. \"By\u003cbr\u003eTaranis, it is cold,\" he said. The water was no more than a few inches\u003cbr\u003edeep, flowing over white, rounded pebbles. Ruathain lay down, allowing\u003cbr\u003ethe water to rush over his body. \"Man, this is refreshing,\" he shouted,\u003cbr\u003erolling to his belly. Varaconn sat by the stream and watched his friend.\u003cbr\u003eDespite the awesome power of the man, his broad flat face, and his\u003cbr\u003edrooping blond mustache, there was something wonderfully childlike about\u003cbr\u003eRuathain: a seemingly infinite capacity to draw the maximum joy from any\u003cbr\u003eactivity. The warrior splashed water to his face, ran his wet fingers\u003cbr\u003ethrough his hair, then rose and strode to the water's edge. He grinned\u003cbr\u003eat Varaconn. \"You should have joined me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I need your advice, Ru.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Are you in trouble?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I do not believe so. I am merely confused.\" He told him about Meria's\u003cbr\u003evisit. As he spoke, he saw the young warrior's expression harden, only\u003cbr\u003eto be replaced by a look of sadness. Varaconn cursed himself for a fool.\u003cbr\u003eRuathain had asked Meria to marry him. He obviously loved her, too! \"I\u003cbr\u003eam sorry, Ru. I am an idiot,\" he said. \"Forgive me for troubling you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRuathain forced a smile. \"Yes, you are an idiot. But you are also my\u003cbr\u003efriend. She obviously doesn't want me, but I think she is in love with\u003cbr\u003eyou. Go see her father.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"How could she love me?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Damned if I know,\" Ruathain said, sadly. \"Women are a mystery to me.\u003cbr\u003eWhen we were all children, she always used to follow us around. You\u003cbr\u003eremember? We used to throw sticks at her and shout for her to go away.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I never threw sticks,\" said Varaconn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Then maybe that's why she loves you. Now go and make yourself look\u003cbr\u003ehandsome. Cefir will not tolerate a shabby suitor. Best cloak and\u003cbr\u003eleggings.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I couldn't do that,\" said Varaconn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut he had. The marriage took place three weeks later on the first day\u003cbr\u003eof summer, at the Feast of Beltine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd so had followed the finest year of his life. Meria was a constant\u003cbr\u003ejoy, and Varaconn could scarcely believe his good fortune. During the\u003cbr\u003espring and the following summer Varaconn caught and gentled sixty-two\u003cbr\u003eponies. Sixteen of them had been of high quality, and most of these had\u003cbr\u003ebeen sold as cavalry mounts to the nobles who followed the Long Laird.\u003cbr\u003eThe profit had been high, and Varaconn was determined to buy an iron\u003cbr\u003esword like the borrowed blade he now wore.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe patted the hilt, drawing strength from it. Even so a touch of fear\u003cbr\u003ereturned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe next day the Rigantes were to march in battle against the Sea\u003cbr\u003eRaiders, who were camped beyond the Seidh River. Varaconn hated violence\u003cbr\u003eand was not skilled with sword or lance. What he had told Meria was\u003cbr\u003etrue. When the Pannones had charged, he had stood frozen beside the\u003cbr\u003epowerful Ruathain. Yes, he had fought, swinging his bronze blade with\u003cbr\u003ethe fury of terror, and the Pannones had fled. Ruathain had wounded\u003cbr\u003ethree and killed one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn had prayed never again to be drawn into a battle. That fear had\u003cbr\u003eturned to terror five days before, when he had killed the raven. He was\u003cbr\u003eriding a wild pony, galloping over the hills. As he topped a rise, the\u003cbr\u003eraven flew up from the long grass. Startled, the pony reared, lashing\u003cbr\u003eout with its hooves. The raven fell dead to the ground. Varaconn had\u003cbr\u003ebeen horrified. His birth geasa had prophesied that he would die within\u003cbr\u003ea week of killing such a bird.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe had confided those fears to Ruathain. \"The horse killed it,\" said\u003cbr\u003eRuathain. \"You have not broken your geasa. Do not concern yourself. Stay\u003cbr\u003eclose by me, Cousin, and you will live through the battle.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Varaconn was not comforted. \"I was riding the pony. It was in my\u003cbr\u003econtrol.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo great was Varaconn's panic that in the end Ruathain drew his sword,\u003cbr\u003ewhich was of iron and cunningly crafted. \"Take this,\" he said. \"It is\u003cbr\u003eblessed with four great Druid spells. No one carrying it in battle will\u003cbr\u003esuffer death.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn knew he should have refused at once. The blade was priceless.\u003cbr\u003eMost warriors had bronze weapons, but Ruathain had journeyed to the\u003cbr\u003ecoast with his cattle and had returned to the Rigantes with this sword\u003cbr\u003etwo years earlier. The young men of the tribe would gather around him at\u003cbr\u003ethe Feast of Samia and beg him to let them touch the gray blade.\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn felt the onset of shame, for he reached out and took the blade,\u003cbr\u003eperhaps condemning Ruathain to death in his place. He could not look his\u003cbr\u003efriend in the eye.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Vorna says your child will be a son,\" said Ruathain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Aye, a son,\" Varaconn agreed, glad of the change of subject.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey sat in silence for a while, and the shame grew. Finally Varaconn\u003cbr\u003ehefted the sword and offered it back to the warrior. \"I cannot take it,\"\u003cbr\u003ehe said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Whisht, man, of course you can. I'll not die tomorrow. I have not\u003cbr\u003ebroken my geasa. Hold the sword and return it to me after the battle.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It is a great comfort to me,\" admitted Varaconn. They sat in silence\u003cbr\u003efor a moment, then the frightened young man spoke again. \"I know you\u003cbr\u003elove Meria,\" he said, not looking at his friend. \"I see it every time\u003cbr\u003eyou look at her. And I have never known why she chose me over you. It\u003cbr\u003emakes no sense even now. But I ask you--as my dearest friend--to be a\u003cbr\u003estrength to her if I do . . . die.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRuathain gripped Varaconn's shoulder. \"Now you listen to me. Let the\u003cbr\u003ewords burn themselves into your soul. I will not let you die. Stay close\u003cbr\u003eto me, Cousin. I will guard your back when the battle begins. That is\u003cbr\u003eall you have to do. Stay close to me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlone on the mountainside, Varaconn curled his hand around the hilt of\u003cbr\u003eRuathain's iron sword. The touch of the leather binding and the firmness\u003cbr\u003eof the grip eased his fears once more, and he sat upon a boulder and\u003cbr\u003eprayed to Samia for an omen so that he could give his son a good\u003cbr\u003esoul-name. The boy's Rigante name would be Connavar, Conn son of Var.\u003cbr\u003eThis would be the name to earn honor among his people. But the soul-name\u003cbr\u003ewould bond him to the land and carry with it the magic of the night.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn prayed to see an eagle. Eagle in the Moonlight would be a good\u003cbr\u003esoul-name, he thought. He glanced at the sky, but there was no eagle. He\u003cbr\u003eprayed again. A distant rumble of thunder sounded from the north, and he\u003cbr\u003esaw the advancing clouds snuffing out the stars. Lightning flashed\u003cbr\u003ealmost overhead, lighting up the mountain. A fierce wind blew up.\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn rose from the boulder, ready to seek shelter. The sword brushed\u003cbr\u003eagainst his leg.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe iron sword!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFearful that the lightning would strike him, Varaconn drew the blade and\u003cbr\u003ehurled it from him. The three-foot sword spun in the air, then lanced\u003cbr\u003einto the earth, where it stood quivering.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt that moment the lightning flashed again, striking the sword and\u003cbr\u003eshattering it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen the rain fell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVaraconn sat slumped by the boulder, staring at the broken shards of\u003cbr\u003eblackened iron.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen he rose and began the long walk back to the birth- ing hut.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs he came closer, he heard the thin, piping cries of his newborn son\u003cbr\u003eechoing above the storm winds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe door of the hut opened, and Vorna, witch and midwife, stepped out to\u003cbr\u003egreet him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You have the name,\" she said. It was not a question. He nodded dumbly.\u003cbr\u003e\"Speak it aloud,\" she ordered him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He will be Connavar, the Sword in the Storm.\"Bestselling author of Hero in the Shadows","brand":"Del Rey","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302307582181,"sku":"NP9780345432346","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345432346.jpg?v=1767737687","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/sword-in-the-storm-isbn-9780345432346","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}