{"product_id":"fallen-gods-isbn-9780857667113","title":"Fallen Gods","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe gods are angry\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eand only one man can fend off their apocalypse\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003ein the brutal sequel to \u003ci\u003eThe Last Sacrifice\u003c\/i\u003e, from “the new prince of grimdark fantasy” (Christopher Golden, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e–bestselling author)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Brogan McTyre and his compatriots are wanted, dead or alive. Preferably alive, so they can be sacrificed to the raging gods. All they can do is hire more mercenaries and turn them into a fearsome army. But warriors aren’t enough when the gods bring Armageddon to the world, unleashing storms and madness, and ceaseless attacks on Brogan’s men by increasingly demonic foes.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Deep in the heart of the Broken Blades Mountains lies a sword containing the heart of a god slain in immortal combat, the one thing that might give Brogan an edge against the gods, but finding it isn't going to be easy . . .\u003cp\u003e“Seriously, what a phenomenal second book! Everything that was so delightfully dark about \u003ci\u003eThe Last Sacrifice\u003c\/i\u003e, James just wraps those thorny vines tighter around the plot. He proceeds to deepen it to a gripping degree throwing in mindbogglingly twisted horror elements.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Smorgasbord Fantasia\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“A wild adventure with plenty of action and bloodshed and just as with the first book, we have a conflict on a grand scale—mortal men against the gods—which keeps the stakes high and exciting.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Looking for a Good Book\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“The novel once again demonstrates why James A Moore is at the forefront of the modern masters of sword and sorcery.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Book Wraiths\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Moore’s creativity shines through with a new world, new pantheon, new monsters, new nations and continents. The characters live and breathe and pop from the page—often with swords swinging.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Paul’s Scribblings\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe Last Sacrifice\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Gripping, horrific, and unique, James Moore continues to be a winner, whatever genre he's writing in. Well worth your time.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003eSeanan McGuire, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e–\u003c\/b\u003ebestselling author of the InCryptid and Toby Daye series\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Moore has laid the groundwork for a trilogy that promises to be loaded with terrifically grim fantasy storytelling. I might even call it epic. There is a\u003ci\u003e lot\u003c\/i\u003e of swift, merciless violence in this book, mingled with an undercurrent of very welcome, if very dark, humor. All of it together takes me back to what made me giddy about epic fantasy way back when. I’d say I’m happy to be back, but I’m not sure that’s quite the right word for a book packed with this much violent incident. Let’s say instead that I’m bloody satisfied.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003eRich Rosell for the \u003ci\u003eB\u0026amp;N Sci-Fi \u0026amp; Fantasy Blog\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003eJames A Moore is the award-winning, bestselling author of over forty novels, thrillers, dark fantasy and horror alike, including the critically acclaimed \u003ci\u003eFireworks\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eUnder the Overtree\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eBlood Red\u003c\/i\u003e, the Serenity Falls trilogy and his most recent \u003ci\u003eSeven Forges\u003c\/i\u003e series. Along with Jonathan Maberry and Christopher Golden, he hosts the popular Three Guys With Beards podcast.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003egenrefied.blogspot.com \u003cbr\u003e twitter.com\/jamesamoore\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eAuthor hometown: \u003c\/i\u003eBradford MA, USAChapter One  Sunrise\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Brogan McTyre   \u003cbr\u003e Brogan McTyre knew he was sleeping. It was only in his dreams that he had time to grieve.\u003cbr\u003e When the He-Kisshi came and took his family, stole them away to appease the appetites of the gods, he followed and sought to stop them. He failed, and his world changed.\u003cbr\u003e In his dream he had time to think, to consider the world around him without feeling the pressure of keeping his allies alive and trying to stop the gods from destroying the world in a retaliatory tantrum.\u003cbr\u003e Long enough then to lower his head and remember his beloved Nora’s laugh, her kiss, the feeling of her breath when they embraced. Leidhe and Sherla, laughing at a secret jest between them, the sort it seemed that only twins could share. Time enough to mourn his son, Braghe, who would never grow old enough to shave, or ride a horse, or sharpen a knife.\u003cbr\u003e He understood that what he saw was not real, could not be real, and did not match with his last memory of slipping into a fitful slumber along the rocky edge of the Broken Swords, amidst chunks of rough crystal the size of his head.\u003cbr\u003e The fact that he knew it was a dream changed nothing. In that moment, everything he experienced was his reality.\u003cbr\u003e He stood along the spine of the mountains, facing north. To the south the range continued on almost to the sea. To the east the black, raging storm clouds hid half the land away and shattered the peace with a thousand tongues of lightning. To the west the lands were clear and pristine, but foreign to him: Mentath, the country he’d fought against in his youth, was a place he never wanted to see again.\u003cbr\u003e The female voice that spoke to him came from Mentath and spoke with barely suppressed hatred. “You are hunted, Brogan McTyre. You, who have enslaved a people and angered the gods.”\u003cbr\u003e “It was enslave them or kill them. They deserved worse than they got.” In the real world he might have felt guilt over the words, but not in his dream.\u003cbr\u003e “The gods do not agree.” The voice trembled with rage and the storms lashed out to the west, mirroring that fury.\u003cbr\u003e Not to be outdone, Brogan raised his axe above his head and roared back, “The gods took my family from me! They deserve nothing but death and destruction!”\u003cbr\u003e “Blasphemy!”\u003cbr\u003e To the west something twisted within the cloudbanks. A great, hunched shape that slithered through the storms and hid itself in the corner of the eye. Below that form the ocean surged over the land devouring all that it touched, threatening to reach all the way to the mountains.\u003cbr\u003e Winds roared across the plains and reached out, whipping his hair in a frenzy. His clothes rippled in the charnel gale, and the scent of carrion forced itself on him.\u003cbr\u003e Brogan was not afraid. He should have been. He knew that, dream or not, he had actually angered the gods. He understood that their rage would end the world.\u003cbr\u003e “Tell your gods I’m coming for them! Tell your gods that I’ll see them dead for what they did!”\u003cbr\u003e “You who end the world would make threats? The gods will have you one way or another, Brogan McTyre. We prepare for you. We will cut your heart out and offer it to the gods. If they are merciful they will let us live. If not, in whatever comes after this world, we will find you, and make you suffer.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The wind woke him. It blew across his face and pelted him with a fine, gritty hail.\u003cbr\u003e Brogan rolled over and pulled his cloak closer around his broad shoulders. There was absolutely nothing glorious about sleeping in the mountains as winter crept closer.\u003cbr\u003e For one moment he was at peace, and then the truth rushed in as brutally as the tide in his fading dream.\u003cbr\u003e Nora. Braghe, Leidhe and Sherla. Their loss was a weight on his chest that would likely never leave him.\u003cbr\u003e It was also a hot blade that burned inside, a glowing ember that wanted to ignite and burn the world.\u003cbr\u003e He opened his eyes as the wind shifted and he felt a warm breath touch his flesh. Warm enough that it was something other than the wind.\u003cbr\u003e His hand clenched around his axe’s grip and he looked up toward the source of that warmth.\u003cbr\u003e Harper Ruttket smiled at him. It was not a pleasant expression. The glint in the eyes and the curl of his lip, reminded Brogan far too much of a predatory animal.\u003cbr\u003e He tried moving the axe, but Harper was wiser than that. The man’s foot pressed down on the blade and kept it pinned there.\u003cbr\u003e Sometimes he forgot that Harper was his best friend.\u003cbr\u003e “It’s morning soon. The sun is climbing and soon enough we’ll be discovered if we’re not on our way.” If Harper was at all worried about the way Brogan tried to move his blade he hid it well behind that predatory smirk.\u003cbr\u003e “I hate you, Harper.”\u003cbr\u003e “Of course you do. That’s why you put me on the last watch of the night. Get up, you bastard.”\u003cbr\u003e The dream was gone but the reality remained. He was a wanted man. He and his friends were being hunted down for offending the gods. They had done so by interrupting the ritual sacrifice of all four members of Brogan’s family. His family died, but the rituals demanded were not completed and, as they soon learned, the world was ending as a result of their actions.\u003cbr\u003e The Grakhul were a people who served the gods, preparing the sacrifices and committing the ritual acts. Brogan and his companions had killed a great number of Grakhul, mostly men, and sold the rest into slavery, making them wealthy beyond measure. But they couldn’t spend a coin without getting themselves burned at the stake or worse. They’d angered the gods and that was bad enough, but they’d also offended the Slavers Union by selling them the remaining pale-skinned people and lying about where they came from. The Grakhul were under the protection of the very gods Brogan had already offended. The messengers of the gods, the He-Kisshi, had, according to the rumors they’d heard, destroyed the home of the Slavers Union to show the dissatisfaction of the gods. The slavers would doubtless like a refund.\u003cbr\u003e Brogan wasn’t much in a mood to negotiate with the slavers, as he was already a condemned man in all five kingdoms. He was going to need that money to muster an army sufficient for his needs.\u003cbr\u003e The only good news was that Brogan was a mercenary. He understood how mercenaries felt and worked. They would be loyal as long as the coin held out. They would also be loyal to their own before they’d be fair with the slavers. At least until the slavers offered more money.\u003cbr\u003e He rose and looked down toward the east and the gathering storms that swept across the plains of Arthorne, hiding half the known world from view.\u003cbr\u003e The winds howled. The rains drenched the plains and left a vast watery surface where once had been desert. To the south, where the land was higher, the waters had not completely taken over, but rivers and streams all flowed over their banks, lakes were larger than they should have been, and in some places the heavy caul of storm clouds obscured what should have been easily seen.\u003cbr\u003e The day was only just beginning and there was so much to do. He had to gather an army. He had to plan how to fend off several armies that wanted them captured and offered to the gods of the Grakhul.\u003cbr\u003e He had to leave behind his friends, if only for a time, and find the best possible answer for how to kill a pantheon of gods.\u003cbr\u003e There was a voice in his head that told him his tasks were too great. He thought of Nora and his children, and crushed the doubts behind a veil of hatred. Fuck the gods. They’d pay for what they’d done.\u003cbr\u003e If he could save the world in the process, he’d do so. If he could not, he’d be content to slay the gods.\u003cbr\u003e To the east the sun broke the horizon. The northern areas were buried in storm clouds and lightning. The southern areas were bright and clear. Beneath his feet the Broken Blades – where once upon a time gods, or giants, had fought and died – held the light at bay.\u003cbr\u003e To the northeast the darkness continued, save where tongues of lightning shattered the peace and stabbed into the heart of the land again and again in an endless fury.\u003cbr\u003e The gods were angry and they wanted blood.\u003cbr\u003e He knew just how they felt.","brand":"Angry Robot","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300765028581,"sku":"NP9780857667113","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780857667113.jpg?v=1767726679","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/fallen-gods-isbn-9780857667113","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}