The Rose of Sarifal

The Rose of Sarifal
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The Rose of Sarifal is a novel set in the Moonshae Isles written by Paulina Claiborne. Cloaked in mist and layered in magic, the denizens of Moonshae Isles move in secret circles as capricious rulers vie for power. High Lady Ordalf wanted her niece, the princess known as the Rose. The Rose of Sarifal book. Read 6 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Cloaked in mist and layered in magic, the denizens of.

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… it just has to sound plausible

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More stumbled down the hillside, dark silhouettes against the fiery clouds. Amaranth pulled the hood back from her face and shook her red hair free. Sirs, she said, calling out to the approaching soldiers. I ve missed the entire midsummer festival because of these idiots. It s not fair. I m hungry and I want to go home.

The wind shifted, and the pony shied in terror from the harsh scent. These were no eladrin or elf guards, Valeanne saw as they approached. In the half-light, she could see their black faces and white hair. Drow, said Shamasar. He yanked on the bridle of his dragonspawn mount. The creature turned its wicked beak and raised one clawed foot from the stones. Shamasar drew his sword. Haroon, Gesh, he shouted. Fall back. They were caught. Below them, among the ash and linden trees, more of the drow had massed along the path, bold in the failing light, shaking their spears.

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Among them and farther back, Valeanne could see larger creatures from the Underdark, come up from Myrloch cyclops guardsmen in steel armor, their axes as tall as men, their single eyes shining yellow. Above her, up the slope, a drow soldier scampered through the rocks, snarling and gesticulating, her skin and armor black, her hair as white as ash.

Her nose and the ridges of her eyes were pierced with iron rings. She laughed and showed her sharpened teeth, and reached for the pony s head. But Lady Amaranth stood on her stirrups, and with her riding whip she struck the drow across the face.


Stevens November 1, at pm. Length: 11 hrs and 35 mins. The Companions have gone their separate ways, each vowing to return with news of the growing darkness in Ansalon. What baffles me is that Lolth's attempt to take over the Weave and her subsequent defeat by adventurers wasn't even novelized. Cowed, the drow fell back, while at the same time the remaining two dragonborn cantered up away from the path, while Valeanne and Amaranth fell in behind them. Details if other :. Buy As Gift.

The drow were beautiful, elves of the black night, eladrin of the shadows. What alliance had brought them out of their bottomless cities and into Myrloch Vale? What had Lady Ordalf promised them, that they did her bidding? One of them had climbed to the top of a boulder above Valeanne, a drow priestess of the Spider Queen, and out of her, as if conjured from her hands, webs and tendrils of a fog of darkness spread into the air, obscuring the new stars.

Valeanne pulled a crossbow from its scabbard and shot a quarrel through the drow s chest.

All Those Vanished Engines, Paul Park

Then she spurred upward beside Amaranth as the dragonborn divided ranks, three behind them to block the way, three to ride with them up the slope. The ones behind, Valeanne knew she could depend on them not to run, turn, flinch, take a single step backward, or do anything except die fighting, even against these odds twenty, thirty to one, it looked like. Already Valeanne could hear the hawking, whistling grunts as the two males, Haroon and Gesh, drew air into their bodies through the gills behind their cheeks, distending the sacs of poison or burning acid that would soon spray from their jaws to turn the slope below them into a cyclone of fire.

In the middle, the female Valeanne hadn t known her name had freed her mount s barbed head.

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She sat easy in the saddle, a bastard sword in either hand, ignoring the arrows that had begun to fall. She raised her head, and for a moment Valeanne could hear the bitter, skirling, hissing death-chant of her race, before it was lost among the screaming drow. Madam, said Shamasar, polite as always. He had ridden up ahead, his greatsword in one hand, a hammer in the other. Valeanne watched, awestruck, as his mount reared onto its hind legs, while at the same time Shamasar unfurled the scaly wings from behind his back.

Stretching high above him, twenty feet from tip to tip, the wings provided balance as he goaded his mount forward step by step. I like that everything in a work of genre fiction can be Googled, that the elements used within a story have this extra dimension provided by the real world, a richness that cannot be contained within the pages of a short story, novella or novel.

This past summer I had the pleasure of hearing Paul Park read the opening. He highlighted the swooshes in the narrative. He is an excellent performer, in addition to be an astounding writer. I met him in at the Worldcon in Glasgow, and heard him read from, I think, the second book of the Princess of Roumania series.

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Yes, he reads his prose well. Yes, hearing Paul read this really supercharges the experience of it. He read parts of it various Readercons of the last several years. This is a great review, Ian; I think you really get to what makes this book engaging. You say that its richness should be increased by a deepening familiarity of his canon, but if you come to it with none..?

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And it certainly works as a novel for readers unfamiliar with his stories and novels. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Google account. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email.