The Way of Kings: Book One of the Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson (Engli

Description: The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson A "New York Times" bestseller--a richly imagined epic by the author chosen to complete Robert Jordans Wheel of Time, set in a world relentlessly blasted by awesome tempests, where emotions take physical form, and terrible secrets hide deep within the rocky landscape. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description From #1 New York Times bestselling author Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings, Book One of the Stormlight Archive, begins an incredible new saga of epic proportion. Roshar is a world of stone and storms. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter. It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them. One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable. Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies. Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity. Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinars niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallans motives are less than pure. As she plans a daring theft, her research for Jasnah hints at secrets of the Knights Radiant and the true cause of the war. The result of over ten years of planning, writing, and world-building, The Way of Kings is but the opening movement of the Stormlight Archive, a bold masterpiece in the making. Speak again the ancient oaths: Life before death.Strength before weakness.Journey before Destination. and return to men the Shards they once bore. The Knights Radiant must stand again. Other Tor books by Brandon Sanderson The CosmereThe Stormlight Archive— The Way of Kings— Words of Radiance— Edgedancer (novella)— Oathbringer— Dawnshard (novella)— Rhythm of War The Mistborn SagaThe Original Trilogy— Mistborn— The Well of Ascension— The Hero of Ages Wax and Wayne— The Alloy of Law— Shadows of Self— The Bands of Mourning— The Lost Metal Other Cosmere novels— Elantris— Warbreaker— Tress of the Emerald Sea— Yumi and the Nightmare Painter— The Sunlit Man Collection— Arcanum Unbounded: The Cosmere Collection The Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series— Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians— The Scriveners Bones— The Knights of Crystallia— The Shattered Lens— The Dark Talent— Bastille vs. the Evil Librarians (with Janci Patterson) Other novels— The Rithmatist— Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds— The Frugal Wizards Handbook for Surviving Medieval England Other books by Brandon Sanderson The Reckoners— Steelheart— Firefight— Calamity Skyward— Skyward— Starsight— Cytonic— Skyward Flight (with Janci Patterson)— Defiant Author Biography Brandon Sanderson grew up in Lincoln, Nebraska. He lives in Utah with his wife and children and teaches creative writing at Brigham Young University. His bestsellers have sold 32 million copies worldwide and include the Mistborn saga; the Stormlight Archive novels; and other novels, including The Rithmatist, Steelheart, and Skyward. He won a Hugo Award for The Emperors Soul, a novella set in the world of his acclaimed first novel, Elantris. Additionally, he completed Robert Jordans The Wheel of Time(R). Visit his website for behind-the-scenes information on all his books. Review Praise for Brandon Sanderson and the Stormlight Archive Over 10 million Stormlight Archive books sold! "One of the genres most beloved authors."--TIME "Sanderson raises the genre stakes... A fan favorite."--The New York Times "[Sanderson] is not a brilliant writer of epic fantasy, hes simply a brilliant writer. Period."--Patrick Rothfuss, #1 New York Times bestselling author "The genres most popular writer... easily one of the most successful and prolific fantasy writers of the century so far."--Esquire "Epic in every sense."--The Guardian on The Way of Kings "Sanderson is a master of many aspects of the fantasy genre: epic world-building, coherent systems of magic and unforgettable character development. All those are in peak form in his masterwork, The Way of Kings."--Paste Magazine, "The 50 Best Fantasy Books of the 21st Century (So Far)" "Absolutely revels in its fantasy world, one of actual gods, bizarre magic, knights with superpowers, spirits and sorcery, monsters, demons, and magic sword[s] called Shardblades. It embraces the fantastic, and does so with an astonishing amount of creativity . . . Words of Radiance is a must-read."--io9 on Words of Radiance "Excellent . . . cranks up the level of intrigue to dizzying extremes...Sandersons experiment is working, and he gets better with every book. The journey will be worth it. Yes, you should buy this book. Yes, this is a series worth following to the end."--Reactor on Words of Radiance Review Quote Sanderson is a master of hooking the reader in the first few pages, and once again he doesnt disappoint. Fans and lovers of epic fantasy will find the ending satisfying, yet will eagerly await the next volume. Excerpt from Book Prologue "The love of men is a frigid thing, a mountain stream only three steps from the ice. We are his. Oh Stormfather . . . we are his. It is but a thousand days, and the Everstorm comes." -Collected on the first day of the week Palah of the month Shash of the year 1171, thirty-one seconds before death. Subject was a darkeyed pregnant woman of middle years. The child did not survive. 4500 YEARS LATER Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king. The white clothing was a Parshendi tradition, foreign to him. But he did as his masters required and did not ask for an explanation. He sat in a large stone room, baked by enormous firepits that cast a garish light upon the revelers, causing beads of sweat to form on their skin as they danced, and drank, and yelled, and sang, and clapped. Some fell to the ground red-faced, the revelry too much for them, their stomachs proving to be inferior wineskins. They looked as if they were dead, at least until their friends carried them out of the feast hall to waiting beds. Szeth did not sway to the drums, drink the sapphire wine, or stand to dance. He sat on a bench at the back, a still servant in white robes. Few at the treaty-signing celebration noticed him. He was just a servant, and Shin were easy to ignore. Most out here in the East thought Szeths kind were docile and harmless. They were generally right. The drummers began a new rhythm. The beats shook Szeth like a quartet of thumping hearts, pumping waves of invisible blood through the room. Szeths masters-who were dismissed as savages by those in more civilized kingdoms-sat at their own tables. They were men with skin of black marbled with red. Parshendi, they were named-cousins to the more docile servant peoples known as parshmen in most of the world. An oddity. They did not call themselves Parshendi; this was the Alethi name for them. It meant, roughly, "parshmen who can think." Neither side seemed to see that as an insult. The Parshendi had brought the musicians. At first, the Alethi lighteyes had been hesitant. To them, drums were base instruments of the common, darkeyed people. But wine was the great assassin of both tradition and propriety, and now the Alethi elite danced with abandon. Szeth stood and began to pick his way through the room. The revelry had lasted long; even the king had retired hours ago. But many still celebrated. As he walked, Szeth was forced to step around Dalinar Kholin-the kings own brother-who slumped drunken at a small table. The aging but powerfully built man kept waving away those who tried to encourage him to bed. Where was Jasnah, the kings daughter? Elhokar, the kings son and heir, sat at the high table, ruling the feast in his fathers absence. He was in conversation with two men, a dark-skinned Azish man who had an odd patch of pale skin on his cheek and a thinner, Alethi-looking man who kept glancing over his shoulder. The heirs feasting companions were unimportant. Szeth stayed far from the heir, skirting the sides of the room, passing the drummers. Musicspren zipped through the air around them, the tiny spirits taking the form of spinning translucent ribbons. As Szeth passed the drummers, they noted him. They would withdraw soon, along with all of the other Parshendi. They did not seem offended. They did not seem angry. And yet they were going to break their treaty of only a few hours. It made no sense. But Szeth did not ask questions. At the edge of the room, he passed rows of unwavering azure lights that bulged out where wall met floor. They held sapphires infused with Stormlight. Profane. How could the men of these lands use something so sacred for mere illumination? Worse, the Alethi scholars were said to be close to creating new Shardblades. Szeth hoped that was just wishful boasting. For if it did happen, the world would be changed. Likely in a way that ended with people in all countries-from distant Thaylenah to towering Jah Keved-speaking Alethi to their children. They were a grand people, these Alethi. Even drunk, there was a natural nobility to them. Tall and well made, the men dressed in dark silk coats that buttoned down the sides of the chest and were elaborately embroidered in silver or gold. Each one looked a general on the field. The women were even more splendid. They wore grand silk dresses, tightly fitted, the bright colors a contrast to the dark tones favored by the men. The left sleeve of each dress was longer than the right one, covering the hand. Alethi had an odd sense of propriety. Their pure black hair was pinned up atop their heads, either in intricate weavings of braids or in loose piles. It was often woven with gold ribbons or ornaments, along with gems that glowed with Stormlight. Beautiful. Profane, but beautiful. Szeth left the feasting chamber behind. Just outside, he passed the doorway into the Beggars Feast. It was an Alethi tradition, a room where some of the poorest men and women in the city were given a feast complementing that of the king and his guests. A man with a long grey and black beard slumped in the doorway, smiling foolishly-though whether from wine or a weak mind, Szeth could not tell. "Have you seen me?" the man asked with slurred speech. He laughed, then began to speak in gibberish, reaching for a wineskin. So it was drink after all. Szeth brushed by, continuing past a line of statues depicting the Ten Heralds from ancient Vorin theology. Jezerezeh, Ishi, Kelek, Talenelat. He counted off each one, and realized there were only nine here. One was conspicuously missing. Why had Shalashs statue been removed? King Gavilar was said to be very devout in his Vorin worship. Too devout, by some peoples standards. The hallway here curved to the right, running around the perimeter of the domed palace. They were on the kings floor, two levels up, surrounded by rock walls, ceiling, and floor. That was profane. Stone was not to be trod upon. But what was he to do? He was Truthless. He did as his masters demanded. Today, that included wearing white. Loose white trousers tied at the waist with a rope, and over them a filmy shirt with long sleeves, open at the front. White clothing for a killer was a tradition among the Parshendi. Although Szeth had not asked, his masters had explained why. White to be bold. White to not blend into the night. White to give warning. For if you were going to assassinate a man, he was entitled to see you coming. Szeth turned right, taking the hallway directly toward the kings chambers. Torches burned on the walls, their light unsatisfying to him, a meal of thin broth after a long fast. Tiny flamespren danced around them, like insects made solely of congealed light. The torches were useless to him. He reached for his pouch and the spheres it contained, but then hesitated when he saw more of the blue lights ahead: a pair of Stormlight lamps hanging on the wall, brilliant sapphires glowing at their hearts. Szeth walked up to one of these, holding out his hand to cup it around the glass-shrouded gemstone. "You there!" a voice called in Alethi. There were two guards at the intersection. Double guard, for there were savages abroad in Kholinar this night. True, those savages were supposed to be allies now. But alliances could be shallow things indeed. This one wouldnt last the hour. Szeth looked as the two guards approached. They carried spears; they werent lighteyes, and were therefore forbidden the sword. Their painted red breastplates were ornate, however, as were their helms. They might be darkeyed, but they were high-ranking citizens with honored positions in the royal guard. Stopping a few feet away, the guard at the front gestured with his spear. "Go on, now. This is no place for you." He had tan Alethi skin and a thin mustache that ran all the way around his mouth, becoming a beard at the bottom. Szeth didnt move. "Well?" the guard said. "What are you waiting for?" Szeth breathed in deeply, drawing forth the Stormlight. It streamed into him, siphoned from the twin sapphire lamps on the walls, sucked in as if by his deep inhalation. The Stormlight raged inside of him, and the hallway suddenly grew darker, falling into shade like a hilltop cut off from the sun by a transient cloud. Szeth could feel the Lights warmth, its fury, like a tempest that had been injected directly into his veins. The power of it was invigorating but dangerous. It pushed him to act. To move. To strike. Holding his breath, he clung to the Stormlight. He could still feel it leaking out. Stormlight could be held for only a short time, a few minutes at most. It leaked away, the human body too porous a container. He had heard that the Voidbringers could hold it in perfectly. But, then, did they even exist? His punishment declared that they didnt. His honor demanded that they did. Afire with holy energy, Szeth turned to the guards. They could see that he was leaking Stormlight, wisps of it curling from his skin like luminescent smoke. The lead guard squinted, frowning. Szeth was sure the man had never seen anything like it before. As far as he knew, Szeth had killed every stonewalker who had ever seen what he could do. "What . . . what are you?" The guards voice had lost its certainty. "Spirit or man?" "What am I?" Szeth whispered, a bit of Light leaking from his lips as he looked past the man down the long hallway. "Im . . . sorry." Details ISBN0765365278 Short Title WAY OF KINGS Language English ISBN-10 0765365278 ISBN-13 9780765365279 Media Book Audience Age 14-18 DEWEY 813.6 Year 2011 Series Stormlight Archive Series Number 01 Residence Orem, UT, US Imprint Tor Books Subtitle Book One of the Stormlight Archive UK Release Date 2011-05-24 Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2011-05-24 NZ Release Date 2011-05-24 Pages 1280 Publisher St Martins Press Format Paperback Illustrations Maps; Line drawings, black and white Audience General Publication Date 2011-05-24 US Release Date 2011-05-24 Author Brandon Sanderson We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:43670321;

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