By C. S. Friedman
Greater than a millennium after the human race forges an uneasy stalemate opposed to the demonic human-psyche feeders often called the fae, a pain-hungry demon known as Calesta pronounces battle on all dwelling beings. Reprint.
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Extra resources for Crown of Shadows (Coldfire Trilogy, Book 3)
By the sounds the machine was making, and the way its frame shuddered, the High Warlock could tell that the engineer had made several errors in the fine adjustments necessary for the machine to function properly. Even with an intact example for them to consult, the underlings were proving woefully incapable of duplicating the machinery correctly. Gnawlitch strode forward, the bodyguard hurrying after him. The scavenging assistants squealed in fright as they saw their master approach, leaping out of his path.
He should have expected as much. The man-thing had studied the dwarfs enough to repair one of their machines; it only made sense that he should become just as stubborn as a dwarf. But there was a way to break even the toughest dwarfs will. Gnawlitch suspected that Maeckler would be no less susceptible to such methods. “You do not seem talkative today, Stefan-man,” Gnawlitch hissed. ” The High Warlock let the threat linger in the air, detecting fear in the man’s scent before stalking from Skreezel’s chamber of horrors.
Their keen sense of smell told them the humans were coming, and clawed hands lifted notched blades to defend themselves. But, without vision to guide them, they were easy prey for their attackers. Bastian was shouting a battlefield chant once recited by the holy warriors of Ulric as he fell upon the stunned ratmen. The youth swung his blade in a two-handed stroke that chopped into the midsection of the first skaven he came upon. The creature shrieked in agony, its jaws snapping blindly, its notched sword swinging sloppily at the boy’s head.