The Realms of the Gods (The Immortals)
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Daine controls the fate of Tortall in this thrilling conclusion to the Immortals series, featuring an updated cover for longtime fans and fresh converts alike, and including an all-new afterword from Tamora Pierce.
During a dire battle against the fearsome Skinners, Daine and her mage teacher, Numair, are swept into the Divine Realms. Although they are happy to be alive, they are not where they want to be. They are desperately needed back home where their old enemy, Ozorne, and his army of strange creatures are waging war against Tortall.
While trapped in the perilous realms of the gods, Daine discovers her mysterious parentage. But as the secrets of her past are revealed, so is the treacherous way back to Tortall. And so Daine and Numair embark on an extraordinary journey home, where the fate of all Tortall rests with Daine and her wild magic.
things that did not. Pincers grew on a cheetah’s forequarters; a cow’s head and a man’s legs were attached. Just to look at the changing thing made Daine’s stomach roll. The creature lurched to the side, diving for the opening between the Wave Walker and the Black God; white fire appeared, to form a dome between gods and their captive. Half lion, half crone, she dropped and crawled for the gap between the Thief and the Smith, only to retreat howling after she touched the barrier. “Why don’t
darking that had deserted the hurrok remained inside her shirt, clinging to her waist, enduring without complaint the cold water that dripped onto it. The darking that had protected her arrows helped the man to gather firewood. The third darking remained in Daine’s belt purse. She ignored its bumping as she dipped water and poured it over her aching head. The badger hunted for his supper among the ground-squirrel, snake, and mice gods nearby. By the time he returned, the fire was burning well,
two-legger gods from seemingly empty air, carrying each to the Chaos queens jaws. She ate, and ate, and ate. Blood of all colors streamed over her chin and body and was soaked up, to add its colors to the muck in which she stood. The last two struggling figures she raised to her lips were Sarra and the badger. With a gasp, Daine sat up, eyes open. Her curls and skin were dripping sweat. Sometime in the night she had thrown off the cover. It lay beneath her, dragged into folds and ridges. Her
darkings wanted her to stay out. Rather than listen, she went to the pool to clean up. It took her longer than usual; she was trembling with rage, and dropped things. The sky in the east was just turning pink. “Did you hear me?” Numair stood on the rise near their camp, wearing only his breeches, hair tousled. “It’s how our enemies seem to know every move!” Daine rubbed her face with her hands. “I didn’t hear.” “It’s the darkings. They’re the answer.” She felt a powerful urge to yank him into
Valmar—if you think perhaps to take your fleet and slip away tonight, or tomorrow, or ever, know this.” From a childhood spent too close to that harsh land for comfort, Daine recognized a Scanran voice. “Every skin of liquid fire that you possess will burn, should I touch it with my Gift. If you throw them overboard, our allies among the merfolk will fasten those skins to your hulls, and I will burn them then. We will not have the Copper Islanders act as they have so often, and forget their vows