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Raven's Shadow Book One: Blood Song (Raven's Shadow 1) (English Edition)
 
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Raven's Shadow Book One: Blood Song (Raven's Shadow 1) (English Edition) [Format Kindle]

Anthony Ryan
4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (7 commentaires client)

Prix conseillé : EUR 5,61 De quoi s'agit-il ?
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Extrait

The mist sat thick on the ground the morning Vaelin’s father took him to the House of the Sixth Order. He rode in front, his hands grasping the saddle’s pommel, enjoying the treat. His father rarely took him riding.

“Where do we go, my lord?” he had asked as his father led him to the stable.

The tall man said nothing but there was the briefest pause before he hoisted the saddle onto one of his chargers. Accustomed to his father’s failure to respond to most questions, Vaelin thought nothing of it.

They rode away from the house, the charger’s iron shoes clattering on the cobbles. After a while they passed through the north gate, where the bodies hung in cages from the gibbet and stained the air with the sick stench of decay. He had learned not to ask what they had done to earn such punishment, it was one of the few questions his father had always been willing to answer and the stories he told would leave Vaelin sweating and tearful in the night, whimpering at every noise beyond the window, wondering if the thieves or rebels or Dark-afflicted Deniers were coming for him.

The cobbles soon gave way to the turf beyond the walls, his father spurring the charger to a canter then a gallop, Vaelin laughing with excitement. He felt a momentary shame at his enjoyment. His mother had passed just two months previously and his father’s sorrow was a black cloud that sat over the whole household, making servants fearful and callers rare. But Vaelin was only ten years old and had a child’s view of death: he missed his mother but her passing was a mystery, the ultimate secret of the adult world, and although he cried, he didn’t know why, and he still stole pastries from the cook and played with his wooden swords in the yard.

They galloped for several minutes before his father reined in, although to Vaelin it was all too brief, he wanted to gallop forever. They had stopped before a large, iron gate. The railings were tall, taller than three men set end to end, each topped with a wicked spike. At the apex of the gate’s arch stood a figure made of iron, a warrior, sword held in front of his chest, pointing downwards, the face a withered skull. The walls on either side were almost as tall as the gate. To the left a brass bell hung from a wooden crossbeam.

Vaelin’s father dismounted then lifted him from the saddle.

“What is this place, my lord?” he asked. His voice felt as loud as a shout although he spoke in a whisper. The silence and the mist made him uneasy, he didn’t like the gate and the figure that sat atop it. He knew with a child’s certainty that the blank eye sockets were a lie, a trick. It was watching them, waiting.

His father didn’t reply, walking over to the bell, he took his dagger from his belt and struck it with the pommel. The noise seemed like an outrage in the silence. Vaelin put his hands over his ears until it died away. When he looked up his father was standing over him.

“Vaelin,” he said in his coarse, warrior’s voice. “Do you remember the motto I taught you? Our family creed.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tell me.”

“‘Loyalty is our strength.’”

“Yes. Loyalty is our strength. Remember it. Remember that you are my son and that I want you to stay here. In this place you will learn many things, you will become a brother of the Sixth Order. But you will always be my son, and you will honour my wishes.”

There was a scrape of gravel beyond the gate and Vaelin started, seeing a tall, cloaked figure standing behind the railings. He had been waiting for them. His face was hidden by the mist but Vaelin squirmed in the knowledge of being studied, appraised. He looked up at his father, seeing a large, strong-featured man with a greying beard and deep lines in his face and forehead. There was something new in his expression, something Vaelin had never seen before and couldn’t name. In later years he would see it in the faces of a thousand men and know it as an old friend: fear. It struck him that his father’s eyes were unusually dark, much darker than his mother’s. This was how he would remember him throughout his life. To others he was the Battle Lord, First Sword of the Realm, the hero of Beltrian, King’s saviour and father of a famous son. To Vaelin he would always be a fearful man abandoning his son at the gate to the House of the Sixth Order.

He felt his father’s large hand pressing against his back. “Go now Vaelin. Go to him. He will not hurt you.”

Liar! Vaelin thought fiercely, his feet dragging on the soil as he was pushed towards the gate. The cloaked figure’s face became clearer as they neared, long and narrow with thin lips and pale blue eyes. Vaelin found himself staring into them. The long-faced man stared back, ignoring his father.

“What is your name, boy?” The voice was soft, a sigh in the mist.

Why his voice didn’t tremble Vaelin never knew. “Vaelin, my lord. Vaelin Al Sorna.”

The thin lips formed a smile. “I am not a lord, boy. I am Gainyl Arlyn, Aspect of the Sixth Order.”

Vaelin recalled his mother’s many lessons in etiquette. “My apologies, Aspect.”

There was a snort behind him. Vaelin turned to see his father riding away, the charger quickly swallowed by the mist, hooves drumming on the soft earth, fading to silence.

“He will not be coming back, Vaelin,” said the long-faced man, the Aspect, his smile gone. “You know why he brought you here?”

“To learn many things and be a brother of the Sixth Order.”

“Yes. But no-one may enter except by his own choice, be he man or boy.”

A sudden desire to run, to escape into the mist. He would run away. He would find a band of outlaws to take him in, he would live in the forest, have many grand adventures and pretend himself an orphan . . . Loyalty is our strength.

The Aspect’s gaze was impassive but Vaelin knew he could read every thought in his boy’s head. He wondered later how many boys, dragged or tricked there by treacherous fathers, did run away, and if so, if they ever regretted it.

Loyalty is our strength.

“I wish to come in, please,” he told the Aspect. There were tears in his eyes but he blinked them away. “I wish to learn many things.”

The Aspect reached out to unlock the gate. Vaelin noticed his hands bore many scars. He beckoned Vaelin inside as the gate swung open. “Come, little Hawk. You are our brother now.”

 

Vaelin quickly realised that the House of the Sixth Order was not truly a house, it was a fortress. Granite walls rose like cliffs above him as the Aspect led him to the main gate. Dark figures patrolled the battlements, strongbows in hand, glancing down at him with blank, mist-shrouded eyes. The entrance was an arched doorway, portcullis raised to allow them entry, the two spearmen on guard, both senior students of seventeen, bowed in profound respect as the Aspect passed through. He barely acknowledged them, leading Vaelin through the courtyard, where other students swept straw from the cobbles and the ring of hammer on metal came from the blacksmith’s shop. Vaelin had seen castles before, his father and mother had taken him to the King’s palace once, trussed into his best clothes and wriggling in boredom as the Aspect of the First Order droned on about the greatness of the King’s heart. But the King’s palace was a brightly lit maze of statues and tapestries and clean, polished marble and soldiers with breastplates you could see your face in. This King’s palace didn’t smell of dung and smoke and have a hundred shadowed doorways, all no doubt harbouring dark secrets a boy shouldn’t know.

“Tell me what you know of this Order, Vaelin,” the Aspect instructed, leading him on towards the main keep.

Vaelin recited from his mother’s lessons: “The Sixth Order wields the sword of justice and smites the enemies of the Faith and the Realm.”

“Very good.” The Aspect sounded surprised. “You are well taught. But what is it that we do that the other Orders do not?”

Vaelin struggled for an answer until they passed into the keep and saw two boys, both about twelve, fighting with wooden swords, ash cracking together in a rapid exchange of thrust, parry and slash. The boys fought within a circle of white chalk, every time their struggle brought them close to the edge of the circle the instructor, a skeletal shaven-headed man, would lash them with a cane. They barely flinched from the blows, intent on their contest. One boy overextended a lunge and took a blow to the head. He reeled back, blood streaming from the wound, falling heavily across the circle to draw another blow from the instructor’s cane.

“You fight,” Vaelin told the Aspect, the violence and the blood making his heart hammer in his chest.

“Yes.” The Aspect halted and looked down at him. “We fight. We kill. We storm castle walls braving arrows and fire. We stand against the charge of horse and lance. We cut our way through the hedge of pike and spear to claim the standard of our enemy. The Sixth Order fights, but what does it fight for?”

“For the Realm.”

The Aspect crouched until their faces were level. “Yes, the Realm, but what is more than the Realm?”

“The Faith?”

“You sound uncertain, little Hawk. Perhaps you are not as well taught as I believed.”

<...

Revue de presse

"Ryan hits all the high notes of epic fantasy--a gritty setting, ancien magics, ruthless intrigue, divided loyalties and bloody action."—Publishers Weekly

“Just impossible to put down…I had to read it ASAP and to reread it immediately on finishing, as I could not part from the wonderful universe the author created.”—Fantasy Book Critic 

“Anthony Ryan is a new fantasy author destined to make his mark on the genre. His debut novel, Blood Song, certainly has it all: great coming of age tale, compelling character, and a fast-paced plot. If his first book is any indication of things to come, then all fantasy readers should rejoice, as a new master storyteller has hit the scene.”—Michael J. Sullivan, author of the Riyria Revelations series

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 1054 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 592 pages
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B0070NSPCU
  • Synthèse vocale : Activée
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  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (7 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°7.531 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Par Kallisthène TOP 500 COMMENTATEURS
Format:Format Kindle
Ceci une histoire qu'on a lu cent fois : celle d'un jeune garçon, pas encore pré-adolescent, livré à un Ordre combattant pour qu'ils en fassent une machine de guerre.

A priori aucun intérêt sauf si c'est bien fait, sauf si on y croit, sauf si on en emporté par l'histoire et qu'on ressent de l'empathie pour le Héros, sauf si les Ordres obéissent à d'autres maîtres que les pouvoirs temporels.

Et de Héros il s'agit car les auteurs des romans auto-édités suivent leurs inclinaisons et sont moins sensibles aux modes éditoriales. Vaelin est donc un garçon empathique, aimable même, qui traversera les nombreuses épreuves que lui réserve le monde sans plier indûment devant lui.

Il fera l'expérience d'amitiés d'airain forgées dans les épreuves de cette dure enfance ainsi que de la douceur douce-amère d'un amour condamné. Mais surtout, Vaelin est destiné à être un Héros un jour.

Difficile de résumer ce riche roman de la vie variée et légendaire de Vaelin, sachez juste qu'il emporte le lecteur avec lui grâce à des personnages secondaires superbes et à des relations qui tombent tellement juste qu'on dirait qu'on a affaire à un vieux routier de l'écriture.

Ce livre est raconté de la même façon que Chronique du Tueur de Roi - Première Journée, tome 1 : Le Nom du vent, avec lequel il partage beaucoup d’éléments, en effet c’est un Vaelin adulte et captif qui raconte son histoire à un scribe qui le méprise.
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2 internautes sur 2 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Impossible à lacher - J'ai adoré 18 juin 2013
Par Petrus L. VOIX VINE
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Suivant la recommandation d'internautes aux goûts surs j'ai fait l'emplette numérique des aventures de Vaelin. J'en attendais beaucoup puisque les commentaires allaient de l'admiratif au dythirambique. Tout cela est amplement mérité !
Je ne me risquerai pas aux comparaisons littéraires. Certes de nombreuses oeuvres de Fantasy et de SF viennent à l'esprit mais n'est-ce pas le cas dès qu'on lit un roman qui frappe ?
Bref je ne referai pas les commentaires de mes petits camarades je dirai juste au lecteur qui me fait le plaisir de prêter attention à mes conseils: Ami lecteur de Fantasy, si tu aimes ces romans qui ne te lachent pas, ces romans qui te font éteindre tard, ces histoires qui te passionnent, ces univers qui te font réféchir, ces personnages qui te parlent et en quelques lignes t'aggrippent, alors n'hésite pas un instant: Vaelin et ses frères seront comme les tiens !

A lire de toute urgence
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 blood song 16 septembre 2014
Par Sam
Format:Poche
Exellent livre, voire le meilleur de tous avec un auteur des plus remarquables.
Suite attendue avec impatience.
Merci Anthony ryan !
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1 internautes sur 2 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Par Guinea Pig VOIX VINE
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
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Il est difficile de louer ce livre, pourtant exceptionnel, que je viens de relire pour la deuxième fois avec le même plaisir et la même émotion. Le thème de départ sonne comme un classique et rien d’ébouriffant ne vient frapper le lecteur dans ce récit de fantasy, lent sans lenteur, profond sans fioriture et passionnant sans esbroufe.
De plus, s'il m'avait été succinctement présenté, comme l'apprentissage d'un guerrier dans un monde de fantasy classique et plutôt impitoyable, je n'aurais sans doute pas été tentée de le lire.
Par chance, je l'ai lu "en aveugle", suite à une recommandation, et cette lecture a été directement propulsée en haut de mon best off, tous genres confondus, évènement qui m'a confortée dans ma conviction qu'un livre peut toujours nous surprendre !

Les premiers notes de ce livre ne peuvent manquer d'évoquer Le Nom du vent de Rothfuss. Pourtant, il serait dommage de comparer les deux romans, ou alors peut-être comme un exercice développé par deux élèves tout deux brillants mais très différents. Bien sûr, Blood Song n'a pas le panache, la verve et l'insolence du Nom du Vent, mais sous des dehors plus sobres, ce roman possède des qualités intrinsèques de justesse, d'humanité et d'authenticité remarquables.
Le Nom du Vent m'a charmée, mais Blood Song m'a émue...
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