Showing results for "Chris Ryan" in Science Fiction & Fantasy

Long ago some of our ancestors were marked by gods. These mythological kings are found in lists all over the world. The Sumerian Kings list. The Egyptian Kings List. The Biblical Kings List.

Hey, there! Name's Jerek. I'm not very fast, not very strong, and my best friend is a dragon with a bit of a gut. We're underachievers, but somehow we've become some of the best relic hunters in the galaxy. At least I have a bit of fire magic, so I'm not totally useless. From failing to save my world from imploding (oops), to waking up super powerful ancient starships, if you need someone to make a bad situation worse, then I'm your man.

In the realm of Imphallion, there once was a nightmare - a living nightmare known only as the Terror of the East. Nigh invulnerable in his magical black armor and aided by unholy minions, he laid waste to all in his path on his all-consuming quest to bring order to the land. His order. Then, at what should have been his moment of triumph, his will failed. And his army fell. Taking a young noblewoman as hostage, he escaped, vanishing into darkest memory.

I saw it in a memory. I know how crazy that sounds. There were ten kingdoms of Atlantis, as Plato taught us, each ruled by one of the sons of the legendary Poseidon. I know where they all are. We are not the first advanced civilization. We aren't even the second. Others existed, and they left behind clues to help their descendants. To help us. I found those clues, including a device used by the ancients that allows me to relive their memories.

Things have never look so bleak. Saghir is on the run from the Avatar of Xakava, a city-sized demon that has already crippled the Spider-Mountain itself. Calmora is besieged by Totarius's endless legions, and more defenders fall daily. Li's only hope is marrying Lord Indra to seal the Celestial Mountain. She must sacrifice our future together to ensure the survival of her people. As for me? All I have to do is kill the eldest demon prince, my older and stronger brother, knowing that if he wounds me even slightly I will die. His wounds always kill.

LIDAR scans of the area beneath the Great Pyramids have revealed something astonishing. An entire city lies beneath the sands, hidden for countless millennia, remembered only by the ancient priests of the early dynastic Egyptians. Thoth left behind the Emerald Tablets to explain what lies within the Halls of Amenti, a place that transcends life and death. There he met 32 immortal sages, and became the 33rd so that he could pass the knowledge onto the Egyptians.

Join us, or die and join anyway. I hate necromancers. They're sneaky, and underhanded, and...damned effective. My father's ghost is going to be reshaped into an assassin sent to kill my mother unless I dance for Necrotis, an unliving goddess and ruler of the Maker's Wrath. A storm rages across the void, with winds upwards of 2,000 kilometers a second in some places, the Catalyst known as Sanctuary. Necrotis wants me to fly inside, find a city that predates the Great Cycle, and find a way inside when no one ever has before.

The Unliving are implacable. Unreasonable. No one knows what they want, beyond souls, and bone for their war machines and ships. Now they've set their sights on the Inurans, and hey, I couldn't wish an army of necromancers on a better target. There's just one problem. I'm trapped on the Inuran Trade Moon, and the necromancers are attacking. Even if I can get the minister back to her ship we'll still need to find a way to fight their flagship. That's going to be tough to do without enough magic to power the Word of Xal.

In the late 2020s and early '30s, corporations managed to render the major governments of the world obsolete. The big corporations owned most of the territories as well as the majority of the world's wealth. While many of the old traditions were still observed in various parts of the world, the true power was with the corporations. In the late '30s, what would be known as the Corporate Wars began as larger companies initiated hostile takeovers in a whole new fashion. Employees, armed with corporate weapons, warred for dominance. On May 1st, 2067, it all ended in a nuclear fire.

We've discovered Terra, but the cost is bitter. All that remains is the Vagrant Fleet, carrying the refugees from every world. Earth is our only hope, but their leaders don't even believe in magic. We also have to convince the Earth flight protecting them that we're not hostiles. Did I mention the dread fleet is right behind us led by a dark god who seems to have a real hate-boner for Xal'Aran? If we're going to win, then we must harness the most powerful Catalyst in existence, the Eye of Om.

The war in Hasra is over. A monstrous puppet sits upon the throne. Valys has fallen, and the Praetor rots in prison while his daughter remains a public hostage. Calmora is under Khonsu's rule, the dragonflight's plaything. Worse, my aunt and the other demon princes have fostered a new religion, which is sweeping the west. Our only choice was to flee to Olivantia, where we huddle with the dreadlords, who are under assault by the Tree of Blood and its armies of consumed. Things have never looked so grim. I have no more tombs. No more miracles from friendly gods.

A pyramid predating all known cultures appears without warning. Its discovery throws into question everything we know about the origins of mankind. Inside lies incredible technology, proof of a culture far more advanced than our own. Something dark lurks within, eager to resume a war as old as mankind. When it is unleashed, it heralds the end of our species' reign.

Our world is tumbling into the sun. The quakes have leveled cities. Soon the continents themselves will break apart. The ships are gone. There's no way off. But I'm not giving up. I'm a Relic Hunter...an archaeologist with a gun, and I have a plan. Our people arrived on Kemet thousands of years ago in the wake of a terrible space battle. The Great Ships are still up there, ancient derelict hulks powered by a combination of technology and magic, created by gods we no longer remember or understand. If I can get one of those ships active, maybe I can save myself.

Necrotis has raised an armada to make our sector tremble. Hundreds of warships have begun to overwhelm the Confederacy, and we don't have nearly enough magic or ships to defend every world. Our only real hope is resurrecting the Vagrant Fleet. We have the Spellship, and our demon allies control the Earthmother's Bulwark. I'm the captain of the Word of Xal, our most powerful offensive ship in the fleet. We're strong, but Necrotis is stronger, and the gap is growing.

The Ganog have arrived. Their fleets are endless. Their will implacable. They cannot use magic, but that isn't stopping them from wiping out mages. Behind them lurks a worse foe, the Gorthians, those holding the Ganog's leash. They have devoured countless galaxies, harvesting them over and over to create more monstrosities.

They sent me into the blasted lands to die. I refused. I lived. And now...I return to the empire that discarded me. A god, rich with worship. I don't know what has become of Hasra, or the war with the Fomori. I don't know where Li is, or if her homeland is still dealing with the wyrm Khonsu. My sister and mother were freed—the reward for my blood price— but I have no idea what has become of them. It is time to go home. Time to right old wrongs, and to find the legacy left behind by my former incarnation. Three tombs remain. Once I am certain my family is safe I will seek them.

I am the reincarnation of a dark god. I cannot escape that now. The prince of demons come again. And I am hunted. The Fomori have a prophecy about my return, and have been so kind as to dispatch the Morrigan herself to slay me. She's even forging a special divine sword. Their armies of beastmen and giants march upon Hasra, and the ailing empire is in no shape to hold. They need new troops. They need us. My friends and I are being sent off to the other Catalysts we control to gain more magic so that we can resist the Fomori advance.

I have been sentenced to death for the crime of being born; of winning the Hasran's war for them. But my death has purchased the freedom of my people, and so I go to it gladly, ready for whatever final torture they might have in mind. The Imperator has decreed that I will be sacrificed in the Great Games, a sacred ritual that will magically empower the Gateway Arena. It requires five god-souled, the reincarnations of gods, divine shards that can be fed to the Arena, and used to increase its size. It means my life has narrowed to one purpose: live.

Guilt wracked and vengeful, Lad scours Twailin for the killer who destroyed his life. With the Assassins Guild at his beck and call, the search should be straightforward. However, cryptic clues lead to one dead end after another, thwarting his obsession. Forced to trust a traitor and keep secrets from those closest to him, Lad’s only hope is to find Kiesha, a woman caught between worlds. Is she a thief, an assassin, or a pawn of the very powers that control the Empire? Unfortunately, Lad’s not the only one hunting her.

The Void Wraith are not yet ready to begin their war against the Milky Way. Experiments must be conducted. DNA mapped. Slaves created. They move cautiously, their agents infiltrating the governments of every major race. But every invasion leaves clues - clues that one OFI officer has stumbled across. Stations are disappearing. Whole populations gone seemingly overnight. Commander Nolan convinces the Office of Fleet Intelligence to dispatch him to investigate. He discovers something far more sinister and far reaching than he imagined.