Wit'ch Gate (The Banned and the Banished, Book 4)
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In a spectacular feat of daring and magic, Elena and her army of outlaws and rebels have defeated evil's minions and released the mystic secrets of the Blood Diary. But the malevolent Dark Lord has unleashed the Weirgates-black wells of ferocious energy that are his greatest source of power. Now Elena's bravest allies are sent to find and destroy the Gates, as windships carry the fight north to the frigid woodlands, south to the burning desert sands, and east to the blasted regions of dread Gul'gotha.
Along the way, they will face their own personal demons as well. The twin brothers Mogweed and Fardale race against time to break the curse that has stolen their shapechanging birthright, and Elena's brother Joach must evade the desert sandsharks if he is to master his own elemental power. The trail will lead them even to the fabulous el'vin homeland of Stormhaven. None of the rebels will come back unscathed, some never returning at all . . .
And Elena herself must journey to Gulgotha. Daring the enemy's own lair, she must emerge victorious if she is to reveal the secret of the Dark Lord's frightening identity-and the shocking nature of his vast powers.
stirred. “But I promised you a story, didn’t I?” Tol’chuk merely waved his spoon, too busy to speak. The d’warf crossed his arms. “Do you know where heartstone first came from?” His mouth full, Tol’chuk grunted his ignorance and shook his head. “Well, the first piece of heartstone ever discovered was found by a d’warf—a fellow named Mimblywad Treedle. He was mining his claim off in the hinterlands of Gul’gotha, in a mountain named Gy’hallmanti. In the old tongue, this translates to ‘the Peak
his feet. “It… it’s just me! I’ve found Fardale.” He moved forward as if he had just arrived. “I thought you’d like to know.” Pushing aside a branch, he found Mycelle already dressed in her linen underclothes. She nodded to him, eyes exhausted, then turned to her piled garments. “It’s good to see you again, Fardale.” The treewolf growled in acknowledgment, then crossed to the stream and drank heartily. Mycelle and Mogweed shared a glance. Both had noted Fardale’s lack of mental greetings. He
clouds and stray winds around him, tying them into a tighter weaving. He pulled and drew upon this energy, creating a conduit for power. Come to me, he thought urgently. Then, like a push at his back, he felt the first tug upon his ship. Overhead, the sails slowly stretched, ropes strained. Fresh winds whistled past his ears, past the hull. Quicker and quicker, the Stormwing surged ahead. Meric adjusted the magick in the ship itself. Like a striking hawk, the ship dove down and across the
from blooms elsewhere, siphoning power to fill this void, like roots moving water up a trunk.” “Mother above…” Joach’s stomach tightened. “Once it reaches here, the blooms will be able to attack again. We’ll be snared.” Joach dropped the spyglass and swung around. By now, they were thick in the fields. It was too late to swing the ship and retreat. Turning back forward, Joach stared. Distantly, across the fields, the fiery display slowly died away. Sy-wen and Ragnar’k must have reached the
the significance.” “Most dreamweavers are just passive bystanders, reading the writing on the wall, watching things happen from a distance. But you, Joach, have the ability to do so much more. The dream plane is your canvas. Rather than be a passive player, you can be a participant. You can be a dream sculptor, someone with the ability to craft elements from the land of dreams and bring them into the real world.” Joach made a scoffing noise. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” “Because you’re