By Glen Cook
As soon as a amazing state reigned, yet now all is chaos. within the titanic reaches of the wilderness, a tender heretic escapes yes dying and embarks on a challenge of insanity and glory. he's El Murid - the Disciple - who vows to convey order, prosperity, and righteousness to the desolate tract humans of Hammad al Nakir. After 4 lengthy centuries, El Murid is the savior who's destined to construct a brand new empire from the blood his enemies. yet all isn't because it turns out, and the sinister forces pulling the strings of empire come into the sunshine. Who and what lies in the back of El Murid's imaginative and prescient of a wasteland empire?
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Additional info for A Fortress in Shadow
He said that an angel had showed him the wide earth. " A shadow crossed the abbot's face. That kind of talk distressed him. "Maybe he did see an angel," someone suggested. "Don't be silly," the abbot countered. "He's alive," al Assad reminded him. " "The bandits fled across the Sahel. " "An angel. " "Of course I do," the abbot replied hastily. "I just don't think they reveal themselves to salt merchants' sons. It's the desert madness talking through him. " The abbot looked around. He was not pleased.
It meant weeks lost in the already hopeless task of training the Wahlig's brats. They had come damned near three hundred miles, from el Aswad all the way to Al Rhemish, for a festival and prayer. Foolish. True, some important political business would take place behind the scenes. The scholars of Hellin Daimiel were notorious skeptics. They labeled all faith as farce or fraud. Megelin Radetic was more skeptical then most. His attitude had generated some bitter arguments with his employer, Yousif, the Wahlig of el Aswad.
The abbot kept his temper with difficulty. " "Consecrate him. " "He's nothing to me. " There were hard feelings. It had been but two days since Mustaf had petitioned the abbot for permission to draw water from the Shrine's spring. The abbot had denied him. Al Assad, cunningly, had brought the chieftain up by way of the Shrine's gardens, where lush flowerbeds in careful arrangements glorified God. Mustaf was in no mood to be charitable. The abbot was in the jaws of a merciless trap. The laws of good works were the high laws of the Shrine.
A Fortress in Shadow by Glen Cook