Midnight Over Sanctaphrax (The Edge Chronicles)

Midnight Over Sanctaphrax (The Edge Chronicles)

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: 0307285898

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Midnight Over Sanctaphrax is a magnificent read.

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‘Cowlquape, what are you saying?’ ‘I've said too much.’ Cowlquape stumbled over the words. ‘The professor told me not to talk to you about your former life. He said that it would only upset you …’ ‘Upset me? Of course it upsets me!’ Twig stormed. ‘If I thought for an instant that any of them were still alive, I'd leave this place right now and find them, whatever it took.’ Cowlquape nodded. ‘I think that's what the professor is afraid of,’ said Cowlquape. ‘Forget I spoke, Twig.’ ‘Forget!’

them once looked back at their fallen comrade. ‘Sky above,’ Cowlquape muttered. He held out the hammerhead's knife to Twig. Twig smiled. ‘Keep it,’ he said. ‘You earned it. That was excellent, Cowlquape,’ he said. ‘I didn't know you had it in you.’ Cowlquape lowered his head bashfully, and slid the knife down behind his belt. Neither did he. ‘Not exactly known for their loyalty to one another, hammerhead goblins,’ Motley chuckled, as he hung the club back on the wall. He turned to Twig and

‘Wuh-wuh!’ Goom agreed. Wingnut Sleet lowered his head and shuffled around awkwardly. ‘We have already come a long way together,’ Twig continued. ‘Now we are about to be tested to the limit. Sky willing, we will find Cloud Wolf and return to the Edge,’ he said. ‘But if …’ He paused. ‘If we fail, then I swear that so long as you are members of my crew, come what may, I will never abandon you. Never! As captain of the Edgedancer, I give you my word.’ Tarp Hammelherd looked up. ‘I can't speak for

‘What's that?’ he said. ‘Barkmoss,’ said Spooler, between blows. ‘Excellent tinder. Usually’ He blew some more. His face was red and gleaming. ‘The accursed stuff's damp though.’ He blew harder still. Abruptly, the moss burst into flames. Spooler placed it gently down on a flat rock and turned to Cowlquape. ‘Get me some small twigs,’ he said. ‘Dry ones.’ Cowlquape leapt to the pile and returned with a handful. He handed them to Spooler, who arranged them in a pyramid-shape above the flames.

formidable task. Yet when the sky brightened and the warm sun burst through the canopy, their moods improved. Cowlquape breathed in the rich smells of the surrounding woodland: the dark, loamy soil, the juicy foliage, the fragrant fruit. It was all so different to the stale, smoky odour which tainted everything in Undertown. ‘How's it going?’ Twig asked him. ‘It's all so beautiful,’ Cowlquape said, with a sweep of his arm. ‘Especially now the sun's shining.’ ‘Beautiful but deadly,’ said Twig

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