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Ari Marmell amerikai

1974. március 22. (New York, Egyesült Államok) –

KatalógusnévMarmell, Ari
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Könyvei 8

Ari Marmell: Darksiders
Ari Marmell: Thief's Covenant
Ari Marmell: False Covenant
Elizabeth Hand – Carin Bissett – Keith Baker – Natania Barron – Jesse Heinig – Rhiannon Louve – Ari Marmell – Malcolm Sheppard – C. A. Suleiman: The Lost Citadel Roleplaying Game
Ari Marmell: Litanei der Träume
Ari Marmell: Litany of Dreams
Ari Marmell: Lost Covenant
Ari Marmell: Covenant's End

Kapcsolódó sorozatok: Widdershins Adventures angol · Összes sorozat »

Antológiák 1

Charlotte Llewelyn-Wells (szerk.): The Devourer Below

Népszerű idézetek

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“I am Death,” he said simply, without pomp or vanity, “and Harvester is bound to me. Whatever tools I require to serve my function, it can emulate. Hello, Panoptos.”
“You’ve heard of me! I’m flattered.”
The dusky figure that finally materialized was peculiar even by the Horseman’s standards. Gaunt, almost spindly, humanoid from the waist up, tapering off into semi-solid vapors below. Its arms and fingers were stretched and distended, its wings serrated and broad. Its oblong face, like Death’s mask, lacked anything resembling a mouth, though this didn’t stop it from speaking. Instead, it boasted an array of emerald eyes, shifting and flowing across a vaguely gelatinous surface. Nine of them, usually; though between the constant motion, and the fact that one or two would occasionally disappear, only to sprout anew, the number varied moment by moment.
“Don’t be. The Charred Council told me about you,” Death said. “My brothers told me more about you. Care to guess who I’m most likely to believe?”
“Aww …” The creature sniggered softly. “Surely you know better than to listen to rumor and gossip!”
“Depends who’s spreading the rumors.” Death allowed Harvester to return to its innate form, that of the single great scythe, and leaned it against the partial wall of bone. At his silent command, the ghouls resumed their labors.
“So,” Panoptos said, flitting this way and that, untouched by the wailing winds. “Welcome back. Such a lovely home you’ve chosen. Very … you.” Already concealed beneath the newer walls of bone, the older, inner structure had apparently escaped his notice.
It wasn’t an oversight Death felt compelled to correct. “I enjoy the view.”
“Heh. Strife said you were a sarcastic bastard.”
“What do you want, Panoptos?”
Clearly, the creature had no interest in answering Death’s question, at least not yet. “Where have you been these past centuries, anyway?”
“I wouldn’t tell the Charred Council when they asked. What makes you think I’ll tell you?”
Again that irritating little laugh. “Why, as a gesture of friendship! I so want us to be friends.”
“It’s good to have goals. Keeps us motivated,” Death told him. “But I wouldn’t wager anything you can’t do without, were I you.”
“How unkind! We’ve only just met!”
“And I already despise you. Imagine how much greater my loathing will become when I have gotten to know you.”
Panoptos might have had a retort for that, or not, but Dust chose that moment to decide the newcomer was safe after all. He dropped from above to settle comfortably on Death’s shoulder, puffing out his feathers and shaking off the worst of the soot.
Every one of Panoptos’s eyes blinked in unison. “Where did the bird come from?” he screeched.
“His name is Dust,” the Horseman said.
“That is not what I asked!”
“And yet, it’s the answer you got. The universe works in mysterious ways.”
“Hmph!” Panoptos darted upward, apparently for no other reason than so he could look down on Death.

CHAPTER ONE

Ari Marmell: Darksiders The Abomination Vault

>!

The angel coughed once, and died by the time the sound had faded.
Death yanked back on the spear—only it was no longer a spear, but a scythe once more. The crescent edge sliced through the upper curve of the last angel’s wing, just as he was heaving the branch off his back. He cried out, dropping to his knees. Not a lethal wound, by any means, but he wouldn’t be flying anytime soon.
“Now can we discuss this?” Death asked politely.
“You bastard!” The epithet squeezed through gritted teeth, carried on a spray of enraged spittle. “You just killed two of my brothers!”
“You did attack me first, remember?” Then, “I wouldn’t recommend it. You’re not nearly fast enough.”
The angel jerked back, tearing his eyes away from the cannon lying just out of reach. He huddled down on his knees, fists clenched, his wounded wing drooping. “You were defiling Sarasael’s body! I couldn’t allow that!”
“Defiling? I was only asking him a few questions!”
“Necromancy!” The angel spat. “Defilement enough! And how am I to know you aren’t responsible for the attack on us in the first place?”
Death actually blinked. “If I were responsible, why in Creation would I be questioning the dead about what happened?”
“It could be a trick,” the angel muttered, his tone obstinate beneath the overt pain.
“A trick. To fool observing angels that I couldn’t even see were here? Apparently, you think me so cunning that I even outsmarted logic and sense.”
“Maybe—”
“Is there someone in command I can speak to? Someone with a brain, if that’s not asking too much?”
“No. I’m alone.”
Death shook his head. “Stupid and a bad liar.

CHAPTER THREE

Ari Marmell: Darksiders The Abomination Vault

>!

“Azrael,” he said in greeting. If Abaddon managed to drag him away from his libraries and the Well of Souls, this must be even worse than the Council suspected …
“Death,” the angel replied.
“Your soldiers attacked me, Azrael, not the other way around. And in answer to your question … All of you.”
“I suppose you might have tried, at that.” The angel touched down a few paces from the Horseman. His robes, despite their previous length, now hung only to the ankles of his supple boots. “Fortunate for you we were some distance away when this little skirmish began. Had we reached you while you were still in battle, I doubt I could have prevented my friends here from attacking you instantly.”
“Someone was fortunate, anyway,” Death retorted. “You’re welcome to believe it was me if that makes you feel better.” He gestured vaguely in the direction from which the soldiers of the White City had appeared. “Your work?”
“Of course. The sorceries I’ve mastered in my millennia would surprise even the Charred Council’s vaunted Riders. If such a time should come, Creator forbid, that I should have need to surprise you.”
“I’ve never heard of angels hiding behind figments and phantasms before.”

CHAPTER THREE

Ari Marmell: Darksiders The Abomination Vault