Time is running out. Nalenyr is besieged on all sides by those who would save the fabled land—and those who would enslave it. Soon the realm will be ravaged by the scourge of magical warfare—overrun by terrifying forces created by an ancient enemy, and soaked in the blood of champions and gods. It is the moment of final conflict, and the grandchildren of the Royal Cartographer are at the center of the climactic struggle. Keles Anturasi will race across the world, fleeing assassins, seeking control over powers he can barely understand. His brother, Jorim, having ascended to godhood, now finds himself pitted against an elder god—the very god who once created the entire pantheon and now seeks its destruction. And their sister, Nirati, embarks on a treacherous crusade with a dead hero to wage war on hell itself! As the final battle lines are drawn, they will gather the land’s newly awakened defenders of the ancient past. But can this small band of champions, mystics, and magicians stand against an evil that threatens to sweep reality itself into an unending dark age of nightmare and oblivion? This volume concludes the Age of Discovery trilogy, begun in A Secret Atlas (2005) and continued in Cartomancy (2006), which plays out in a fantastic version of the age of European exploration, in which maps were considered treasured secrets if not magical talismans. The three siblings battling evil come to the end of their perilous quest, with Keles on the run for his life while trying to master terrible powers, Jorim contending not with human pursuers but with an angry and destructive god, and sister Nirati harrowing Hell, with the spirit of a dead and not necessarily trustworthy warrior as her only companion. The whole trilogy has been distinguished by Stackpole's affinity for the Renaissance, and it isn't outrageous to suggest that when the roster of his work is complete, the Age of Discovery may be deemed his finest fantasy. Green, Roland Michael A. Stackpole is an award-winning author, editor, game and computer game designer. As always, he spends his spare time playing indoor soccer and now has a new hobby, podcasting. Mike will publish A New World , the sequel to Cartomancy , this July, and is currently at work on ideas for a half-dozen other novels. To learn more about Mike's podcasting, please visit www.tsfpn.com (the website of The SciFi Podcast Network). Chapter One 4th day, Month of the Hawk, Year of the Rat Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron's Court 163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty 737th Year since the Cataclysm Voraxan Ciras Dejote sighed and wished that the peace of Voraxan might once again infect him. Instead he wandered the empty onyx streets, passing between buildings carved from ruby and emerald, topaz, lapis, and citrine, and felt nothing. The architecture reminded him of the grand palaces of the Empire—relics of a time when heroes walked and epic tales were born. He had grown up listening to such stories and had dreamed of someday becoming a hero. He knew the path to such immortality would require achieving jaedun —the magic that transformed an ordinary warrior into a Mystic. Through diligent study and practice, he could become a superior swordsman. But as a Mystic, he would be supernaturally gifted. He had set out with his master, Moraven Tolo, on a quest into the Wastes, where wild magic still warped the land. Then his mission had changed. He and the inventor, Borosan Gryst, had set off deep into Ixyll, to find Voraxan, the resting place of the Sleeping Empress. They were to awaken her and bring her army back to the very Empire she had sundered over seven centuries before. Ciras paused beside a small emerald building. He ran his fingers over the characters gently carved into the lintel: Shan Tsiendao . Within the building he could see her recumbent form, sleeping, dreaming, waiting to be summoned once again to war. Though he felt drawn back to the Nine Principalities, he regretted the necessity of awakening any of these warriors. His quest to be a hero had brought him to this grand city of the dead, with tombs carved of gems, styled to be homes. It was not, however, a place of misery and remorse. The streets and buildings all combined instead to make it into a peaceful haven. Given that the warriors resting therein had fought the greatest battle in the history of the world, it seemed appropriate. Ciras walked on, wending his way back toward the onyx courtyard of the ruby palace that had been the Empress' resting place. Trapped between the palace and a diamond fountain, Borosan Gryst sat tinkering with one of his magical machines. Despite the hardship of their journey together, the man remained overweight. He wore no sword and had neither martial skill nor sense. In Ciras' world, those deficiencies would have made the dark-haired man beneath contempt. And yet, on the journey, Borosan had proven himself clever. Almost too clever . Ciras' shadow fell over Borosan. "I cannot beli