With the knowing eye and fiery voice of an accomplished storyteller, Alice Borchardt takes us back to the amazing world of a re-envisioned Camelot in the continuing Tales of Guinevere. Remarkably strong, magically talented, a match for friend and foe alike, Guinevere has come into womanhood—and faces a new relationship with Lancelot that will lead to the sharp-edged triangle of legend. . . .
Born of the Highlands, along Pictish shores washed by the icy North Sea, Guinevere, Queen of the Dragon People, has become a woman. She has taken the power offered to her by the Dragon Throne. Now there is no turning back. In order to protect her beloved homeland from the obscene greed of the Saxon raiders, Guinevere knows she must launch an attack. The sub-chiefs refuse to fall in line with her plans (because what does this young thing, barely a woman, know of warfare?) and give her an army of the useless, the outcast, the weakest of their young boys and girls. But the war party must proceed. If it fails, the command of both land and sea will fall to the enemy.
Facing her first battle against the pirates on foreign shores, and backed only by a meager band of ill-equipped fighters, Guinevere calls upon the spirits of the dead to aid her in the attack. Diving into the dark, morbid depths, Guinevere suddenly understands more of hate, love, anger, and revenge than she has ever wanted to. But the power the dead provide comes at a severe price. If she makes it through the raid, she will be a changed woman, in more ways than she can possibly imagine.
Further south, Black Leg, her childhood companion, sets out on his own. It is a quest to become a man—a man, he hopes, who will be worthy of the newly crowned Guinevere. A shapeshifter and the son of Guinevere’s adoptive man-wolf father, Black Leg (soon to be Lancelot) feels he has much to learn—and even more to prove. He discovers both his inner strength and an unmitigated passion when he meets the Lady of the Lake. But the trials of his journey— both mental and physical—turn out to be more perilous with each step. And when Lancelot and Guinevere are finally reunited, the consequences of both their ordeals will unleash a torrent of anguish and desire.
With familiar names brilliantly repositioned for a new generation of Arthurian fans—evil Merlin, conniving Igrane, complex Lancelot, tainted Arthur, and of course, warrior Guinevere—Alice Borchardt’s creation stands as a testament to the power of imagination.
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|Title of Fantasy eBook: The Raven Warrior||Series: Tales of Guinevere, , #2|
|Release Date: 07-01-2003|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||The Raven Warrior|
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|Note||ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it.|
The Raven Warrior
AS I SUSPECTED, STEALING FROM PROFESSIONAL thieves takes some skill and a lot of hard work. We took shifts at the oars once we were out of the territory of the Painted People and didn’t, as was more usual among peaceful mariners, go ashore to sleep.
She—the ship—was decked only lightly, boards nailed over her ribs and hide bottom. We were drenched by squalls and frozen by the icy spring seas breaking over our bows. But, Lord, she was fast! Small and light, propelled by ten at the oars by day and six by night. We all took rowing duty, as I said, the ones not pulling at the sweeps eating, then sleeping on the narrow deck between the rowing benches. Or we slept when we could.
At times we would row into an icy rain squall. Then the sleepers had to rouse themselves and bail like mad, not to keep her from sinking but so as not to slow those of us plying the oars. She wouldn’t sink, but if her forward progress were slowed, heavy seas might break her up. Whereas, more or less empty of water, she was able to ride the combers like a floating cork, and in calmer waters, skim along as might a bird.
We had no sail, since we wished to announce neither our passage nor arrival to any watching coastal people. And watch they do, being as they are used to trouble coming by sea.
I don’t like to remember the start of our voyage or our first few days aboard. We were all seasick and none too sure of ourselves at the oars. But Dugald, who is my Druid, gave me medicine for seasickness. True, it tasted like the floor of a town midden pit and stank worse than a herd of goats, but withal—it worked. And most of us recovered well eno