Bloodhoney (Wyrmeweald, Book 2)

Bloodhoney (Wyrmeweald, Book 2)

Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell

Language: English

Pages: 186

ISBN: 0385617410

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


From the creators of the Edge Chronicles comes the second installment in the fantastic tale of Wyrmeweald!

Winter is a dangerous time in the wyrmeweald. Once a magnificent wilderness, the home of the dragon-like wyrmes has become an icy wasteland. Brutal battles rage between the evil kith, intent on ravaging all that they can, and the wyrme-friendly kin. Young Micah is safe in a winter den, sheltered from the intense cold, with kin Eli and the beautiful, dangerous wryme-rider Thrace. Thrace aches to leave the den and fly through the skies on her whitewyrme, but Micah knows they are safer indoors. Meanwhile, a brutal assassin approaches, fueled by the invigorating liquor known as bloodhoney and seeking vengeance. Micah and his friends are being hunted—and nowhere in the wyrmeweald is truly safe.

Over the Edge: The True Story of the Kidnap and Escape of Four Climbers in Central Asia

Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt, Book 21)

The Screaming Staircase (Lockwood & Co., Book 1)

Fablehaven (Fablehaven, Book 1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

across the sky like dogworried sheep. Micah watched the cloudcast shadows skitting over the snowfields before him – then screwed his face up in surprise when some of them seemed to come to a halt. He looked up. The clouds were still moving, and when he looked back at the plains he realized that the motionless grey shapes were not shadows at all. ‘Greywyrmes,’ said Eli, following Micah’s gaze. ‘And having a hard time by the looks of it.’ The great creatures were bone-thin, their skin hanging in

after all, and he blushed at that. ‘Bring me over them dirty things when you’re done,’ Eli told him. Micah observed Eli’s back tense and flex as he scrubbed away at a stubborn patch of burnt grease on the roasting pan. Time in the winter den was measured out with minor chores – potwalloping, knifegrinding and suchlike – and Eli filled his days with them. When he wasn’t cleaning or repairing kit, like as not he’d be planning and preparing their meals, meticulously eking out the �provisions in

into the darkness and bitterchill of a swirling bank of snowdense cloud. They kept wingtip to wingtip, their eyes fixed on the swishing tails of the whitewyrme ahead. They did not waver … Many weeks had passed since Alsasse had led the colony out into the brooding skies of the weald, his eyes set on the horizon to the west. They had abandoned the magnificent wyrme galleries which had been home to their kind for countless centuries, and set off into the unknown. It was a heavy responsibility,

show it, Eli. In your own way. And I’m grateful.’ ‘There ain’t no need to be grateful. It comes from you, Micah. From the inside. I take no credit for it. Whatever hardships and privations you endured as a child, something went right …’ ‘You think so?’ ‘I know so … Micah, I intend to check on the weather every day, and if it improves then I shall leave Deephome, fullwinter or no fullwinter, and should you decide to leave with me, I would be glad of your company. But should you decide not to,

prophet was standing in the doorway. Forty-Four Kilian looked down at Micah and Eli, who were kneeling on the floor in front of the woman. The two keld guards stood behind them, gripping the ends of the leashes. ‘Oh, Carafine,’ he said. ‘Not the whip. Please …’ Kilian reached out a hand to Eli and helped him to his feet. Then did the same for Micah. ‘I’m so sorry it had to come to this,’ he began, his eyes full of sorrow and �compassion, ‘but you left me no choice …’ ‘Keld,’ said Eli quietly.

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