By T. A. Barron
In the past, the good wizard Merlin planted the seed that might develop into the peaceable global of Avalon. Now, notwithstanding, Avalon is being affected by mysterious droughts. Then the very stars start to lose their gentle, and apparently the girl of the Lake's dire predictions are approximately to return real. The destiny of Avalon now rests with Tamwyn, a wandering desert consultant; Elli, an apprentice priestess; and Scree, a tender eagleman. certainly one of them is the genuine inheritor of Merlin, the single one that can keep Avalon . . . and one in every of them is the scary baby of the darkish Prophecy, fated to ruin it.
As in his acclaimed epic The misplaced Years of Merlin, T. A. Barron has created a radiant, richly imagined global, choked with excessive event and un-forgettable characters.
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Extra info for Child of the Dark Prophecy (The Great Tree of Avalon, Book 1)
What made you come here, anyway? ” Elli frowned, not believing that for an instant. But she knew that Nuic wasn’t about to tell her more. Why he came to the Society of the Whole was a secret known only to him—and perhaps to High Priestess Coerria, who for some reason had assigned him to Elli. She sighed glumly. We both have our secrets, don’t we? At least nobody knew hers—just where she’d spent the past nine years. And with whom! Until, at last, she’d escaped. No, not even the High Priestess knew about all that.
Leave this village, you horrible hooligan. And never, ever come back, do you hear? ” Tamwyn swallowed, then stepped slowly away. As he disappeared into the deepening night, he heard himself sigh. And then he heard something else—something like raucous laughter from the shadows. 3 • A Pa l e H a n d B ec k o n s H IDDEN BY THE SHADOW OF THE GREAT stone tower, a lone ﬁgure prowled. His hooded cloak blended so completely into the darkness, he seemed just a layer of black upon black, no more visible than a raven against a starless sky.
Again, his color darkened to brown. “Hmmmpff. ” Elli’s eyes narrowed. ” “For one thing,” grumbled the sprite, “I’m at least six or seven centuries older than she is. So she isn’t my elder. Not even close! And you, who are just sixteen, should appreciate that. ” He lowered his voice to a whisper. ” Elli started to laugh, when a pair of priestesses, deep in conversation, walked by the cart of vegetables. Each of them carried a beeswax candle, shielding it from breezes with an open hand. Behind one priestess glided an owl, gray wings ﬂuttering with every swoop; behind the other shambled a medium-size brown bear.