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By Howard Andrew Jones, Sarah Newton et al. All-new sword-and-sorcery fiction, each one with at least one full page illustration. Seven stories, eight artists, plus a cover by Sanjulian. These stories are the real thing, crammed with sword-swinging action, dark sorceries, dread, and ferocious monsters — and they hurtle forward at a headlong pace. Joseph Goodman, 2019.

 

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All-new sword-and-sorcery fiction, each one with at least one full page illustration. Seven stories, eight artists, plus a cover by Sanjulian. These stories are the real thing, crammed with sword-swinging action, dark sorceries, dread, and ferocious monsters — and they hurtle forward at a headlong pace.

The Face That Fits His Mask, by William King: He could change in mid-spring, tear out the man’s throat, feast on his bones, drink his blood. The beast of the change gibbered in the back of his mind, begging to be unleashed. His fingers splayed, his nails began to lengthen….

By That Much, by Joseph A. McCullough: “You claim not to know me, and that is probably best for you, but do me a last service. If you can, gather what remains of my body and give it a suitable place to rest.”

Tyrant’s Bane, by John C. Hocking: Someone in the garb of a royal guardsman came out of the stairwell.  His blue armor was covered with blood and there was a fist-sized hole in his cuirass through which Benhus could see the wall behind him.  There was a sword in each hand and, as he advanced, the dead man lifted both weapons.

Five Deaths, by James Enge: The heavy stone door moved easily upon its hinges; Morlock pulled it open and stepped through cautiously. Lernaion was about to follow when there was a sudden bodiless screaming and the door slammed shut.

The Forger’s Art, by Violette Malan: His head wore a surprised look when it landed a few feet away. The body slumped to the ground, pumping out blood onto the grass.

“Why do people always talk too much?” Parno wiped his sword clean on the dead stranger’s tunic.

The Second Death of Hanuvar, by Howard Andrew Jones: Hanuvar twisted, parried a blow that would have caved in his skull, and lost his balance. He saw the pit yawning, and the flame more than twenty feet below.

The Wizard of Rememberance, by Sarah Newton: The memnovore towered over him, its mouth distending into a translucent sleeve of slime. Acid burned Suven’s flesh, and he screamed. In the demon’s larval embrace, he prayed for oblivion.

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