Mahlia Ettison thought she had left terror behind. But the quiet community she thinks of as sanctuary hides an ancient evil – voodoo magic that steals lives and souls from the most innocent: children.
The bones rise from their mud-clogged grave, bringing visions of horror and death: Mahlia’s children are to be the next sacrifice.
And all her witchcraft may not be enough to save them.
Wondrous beings inhabit these woods – creatures born of mythic fable and the mortal subconscious: a snow woman beckons; a scientist succumbs to an age-old madness, tale-tellers weave extraordinary yarns of terrifying primal power. Explore a dark and secret place where daemons roam, where conjurers work their awesome pagan magic in eight stunning short stories of exhilarating imagination by the acclaimed author of Lavondyss and the World Fantasy Award-winning classic Mythago Wood.
When Fergus Reith agrees to act as tour guide for the famed palaeontologist Dr Aristide Marot, little does he realise that the search for the elusive Ozymandias will uncover spectacular riches, ruthless adversaries – and his former wife, the seductive Dr. Alicia Dyckman! Caught in a bloody civil was, the three adventurers must fight or face death by boiling in the Cauldron of Repentance! The secrets of the planet Krishna continue to unfold in L. Sprague de Camp’s latest tale of mystery, treachery and romance.
The Bones of Zora is the sixth of L. Sprague de Camp’s Krishna book – interplanetary romance in the tradition of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Martian Tales.
Eager to graduate from the school on the hill, Phelan Cle chose Bone Plain, oft immortalised by poets and debated by scholars, for his final paper because he thought it would be an easy topic. It was commonly accepted – even at a school steeped in bardic tradition – that Bone Plain, with its three trials, three terrors and three treasures, was nothing more than a legend, a metaphor. But as his research leads him to the life of Nairn, the Wandering Bard, the Unforgiven, Phelan starts to wonder if there are any easy answers…
She distrusted him at first, not least because she knew his words were lies. “Call me Grey,” he said, but that was not his name. Fear gripped her like a hand.
No one but the priestess could look upon the relics: the Ring, the Jewel and the Bone. It was for the bone that this grey stranger had come. He was like a thief, but she realized with a sinking heart that he was armed with as much magic as herself, and maybe more.
It was no place for man to be. Men were tissue, blood, bone, nerve. This place was not made for them. It was made for force and radiation. Go home, men.
But I can’t, thought Jay Birrel. Not yet…I have to go on into this place where a human being looks as pathetic as an insect in a furnace.
When the Colonnaders plucked him from a life of misery and their surgeons rebuilt his twisted body with silicon bones, Joachim Boaz renamed himself after THE PILLARS OF ETERNITY. Now he seeks Meirjaihn the Wanderer, a planet that plots its own course between stars: for on its surface lies a gem that offers mastery over time itself . . .
Mahali’s rulers for generations were the water witches, who could feel the ebb and flow of precious water in their very bones. Then there was a coup, and control of Mahali’s water passed to an impersonal computer network.
It was Deza’s father who hit upon the scheme. Dressing his daughter in ceremonial garb, he passed her off as the last surviving member of the royal house. With tricks and illusions she and her father moved toward the centres of power.
But it’s the nature of a con artist to go too far . . .
When she was a young girl Lucky belonged to a space-going mining commune which came upon an asteroid whose caves concealed the bones of serpentine aliens and humanoids. It was Lucky who discovered that the rock was an Ukko, a mysterious entity which would respond to stories told to it.
Centuries later Lucky, altered by the Ukko, is still alive, though capricious and sometimes crazy. By mating with her, her consort Bertel has had his life prolonged for centuries, as will the men who first bed her daughters – Lucky’s harvest.
I saw her, hanging in the sky like a flake of the moon. A woman, her face masked by a black shireen, her body by a black shift, but her white arms spread, and her white, white, bone-white hair blowing all around her like a flame composed of smoke. Recognition was immediate. It was my mother. I shouted at her. It was crystal clear to me, what he had meant for me, my father, Vazkor, what she had robbed me of. And I drew from my belt my hunting knife and threw it at her heart.