By Barbara Hambly
A murderous strength threatens a distant magical global, and a regular Californian is drawn into the conflict to avoid wasting mankind
As a pupil of medieval historical past, Gil Patterson is a lady conversant in darkish tales. She is familiar with good the Crusades, the Black dying, and the opposite horrors of the center a long time, however it is one other type of atrocity that has all started to hang-out her goals. She sees forces of evil assaulting a beleaguered nation, whose type everyone is close to annihilation, and awakes every one morning in a chilly sweat. Gil dismisses the goals till a wizard appears to be like in her condo. He has crossed into her measurement, passing throughout the fraying textile of the universe, to invite her support. For mankind to outlive he needs to shield an child prince, whom he plans to conceal in Gil's international. the scholar of background is set to get a lot in the direction of evil than she ever imagined. This book positive factors an illustrated biography of Barbara Hambly, together with infrequent pictures and never-before-seen records from the author’s own collection.
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Additional resources for The Time of the Dark (Darwath Trilogy, Book 1)
Good. ” “What made me say ‘Thirty-three’? I ain’t thirty-three. I’m fifteen. ’ It’s me saying it, all right. ” “Yeah,” I whispered. ” I realized I was breathing too hard. I pulled myself together. ” “Look,” he told me. “This head-shrinking business, as you called it a while back, isn’t what most people think. When I go with you into the world of your mind—or when you go yourself, for that matter—what we find isn’t so very different from the so-called real world. It seems so at first, because the patient comes out with all sorts of fantasies and irrationalities and weird experiences.
I just kept my arms over my face and head and lay there with my eyes closed. For some reason I stopped crying. I think people only cry when there’s a chance of getting help from somewhere. When nothing happened, I opened my eyes and shifted my forearms a little so I could see up. There was a man standing over me and he was a mile high. He had on faded dungarees and an old Eisenhower jacket with deep sweat-stains under the arms. His face was shaggy, like the guys who can’t grow what you could call a beard, but still don’t shave.
I might have the sight of a light in the night. Maybe the baby. Maybe the sight of the baby at night because of the light... There was night after night when I lay on that blanket, and a lot of nights I didn’t. Something was going on all the time in Lone’s house. Sometimes I slept in the daytime. I guess the only time everybody slept at once was when someone was sick, like me the first time I arrived there. It was always sort of dark in the room, the same night and day, the fire going, the two old bulbs hanging yellow by their wires from the battery.