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The Emperor's Blades: Chronicle of the Unhewn Throne, Book I Kindle Edition
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In The Emperor's Blades by Brian Staveley, the emperor of Annur is dead, slain by enemies unknown. His daughter and two sons, scattered across the world, do what they must to stay alive and unmask the assassins. But each of them also has a life-path on which their father set them, destinies entangled with both ancient enemies and inscrutable gods.
Kaden, the heir to the Unhewn Throne, has spent eight years sequestered in a remote mountain monastery, learning the enigmatic discipline of monks devoted to the Blank God. Their rituals hold the key to an ancient power he must master before it's too late.
An ocean away, Valyn endures the brutal training of the Kettral, elite soldiers who fly into battle on gigantic black hawks. But before he can set out to save Kaden, Valyn must survive one horrific final test.
At the heart of the empire, Minister Adare, elevated to her station by one of the emperor's final acts, is determined to prove herself to her people. But Adare also believes she knows who murdered her father, and she will stop at nothing—and risk everything—to see that justice is meted out.
Chronicle of the Unhewn Throne
The Emperor's Blades
The Providence of Fire
The Last Mortal Bond
Other books in the world of the Unhewn Throne
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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The sun hung just over the peaks, a silent, furious ember drenching the granite cliffs in a bloody red, when Kaden found the shattered carcass of the goat.
He’d been dogging the creature over the tortuous mountain trails for hours, scanning for track where the ground was soft enough, making guesses when he came to bare rock, doubling back when he guessed wrong. It was slow work and tedious, the kind of task the older monks delighted in assigning to their pupils. As the sun sank and the eastern sky purpled to a vicious bruise, he started to wonder if he would be spending the night in the high peaks with only his roughspun robe for comfort. Spring had arrived weeks earlier according to the Annurian calendar, but the monks didn’t pay any heed to the calendar and neither did the weather, which remained hard and grudging. Scraps of dirty snow lingered in the long shadows, cold seeped from the stones, and the needles of the few gnarled junipers were still more gray than green.
“Come on, you old bastard,” he muttered, checking another track. “You don’t want to sleep out here any more than I do.”
The mountains comprised a maze of cuts and canyons, washed-out gullies and rubble-strewn ledges. Kaden had already crossed three streams gorged with snowmelt, frothing at the hard walls that hemmed them in, and his robe was damp with spray. It would freeze when the sun dropped. How the goat had made its way past the rushing water, he had no idea.
“If you drag me around these peaks much longer…,” he began, but the words died on his lips as he spotted his quarry at last—thirty paces distant, wedged in a narrow defile, only the hindquarters visible.
Although he couldn’t get a good look at the thing—it seemed to have trapped itself between a large boulder and the canyon wall—he could tell at once that something was wrong. The creature was still, too still, and there was an unnaturalness to the angle of the haunches, the stiffness in the legs.
“Come on, goat,” he murmured as he approached, hoping the animal hadn’t managed to hurt itself too badly. The Shin monks were not rich, and they relied on their flocks for milk and meat. If Kaden returned with an animal that was injured, or worse, dead, his umial would impose a severe penance.
“Come on, old fellow,” he said, working his way slowly up the canyon. The goat appeared stuck, but if it could run, he didn’t want to end up chasing it all over the Bone Mountains. “Better grazing down below. We’ll walk back together.”
The evening shadows hid the blood until he was nearly standing in it, the pool wide and dark and still. Something had gutted the animal, hacked a savage slice across the haunch and into the stomach, cleaving muscle and driving into the viscera. As Kaden watched, the last lingering drops of blood trickled out, turning the soft belly hair into a sodden, ropy mess, running down the stiff legs like urine.
“’Shael take it,” he cursed, vaulting over the wedged boulder. It wasn’t so unusual for a crag cat to take a goat, but now he’d have to carry the carcass back to the monastery across his shoulders. “You had to go wandering,” he said. “You had…”
The words trailed off, and his spine stiffened as he got a good look at the animal for the first time. A quick cold fear blazed over his skin. He took a breath, then extinguished the emotion. Shin training wasn’t good for much, but after eight years, he had managed to tame his feelings; fear, envy, anger, exuberance—he still felt them, but they did not penetrate so deeply as they once had. Even within the fortress of his calm, however, he couldn’t help but stare.
Whatever had gutted the goat did not stop there. Some creature—Kaden struggled in vain to think of what—had hacked the animal’s head from its shoulders, severing the strong sinew and muscle with sharp, brutal strokes until only the stump of the neck remained. Crag cats would take the occasional flagging member of a herd, but not like this. These wounds were vicious, unnecessary, lacking the quotidian economy of other kills he had seen in the wild. The animal had not simply been slaughtered; it had been destroyed.
Kaden cast about, searching for the rest of the carcass. Stones and branches had washed down with the early spring floods and lodged at the choke point of the defile in a weed-matted mess of silt and skeletal wooden fingers, sun-bleached and grasping. So much detritus clogged the canyon that it took him a while to locate the head, which lay tossed on its side a few paces distant. Much of the hair had been torn away and the bone split open. The brain was gone, scooped from the trencher of the skull as though with a spoon.
Kaden’s first thought was to flee. Blood still dripped from the goat’s gory coat, more black than red in the fading light, and whatever had mauled it could still be in the rocks, guarding its kill. None of the local predators would be likely to attack Kaden—he was tall for his seventeen years, lean and strong from half a lifetime of labor—but then, none of the local predators would have hacked the head from the goat and eaten its brain either.
He turned toward the canyon mouth. The sun had settled below the steppe, leaving just a burnt smudge above the grasslands to the west. Already night filled the canyon like oil seeping into a bowl. Even if he left immediately, even if he ran at his fastest lope, he’d be covering the last few miles to the monastery in full dark. Though he thought he had long outgrown his fear of night in the mountains, he didn’t relish the idea of stumbling along the rock-strewn path, an unknown predator following in the darkness.
He took a step away from the shattered creature, then hesitated.
“Heng’s going to want a painting of this,” he muttered, forcing himself to turn back to the carnage.
Anyone with a brush and a scrap of parchment could make a painting, but the Shin expected rather more of their novices and acolytes. Painting was the product of seeing, and the monks had their own way of seeing. Saama’an, they called it: “the carved mind.” It was only an exercise, of course, a step on the long path leading to the ultimate liberation of vaniate, but it had its meager uses. During his eight years in the mountains, Kaden had learned to see, to really see the world as it was: the track of a brindled bear, the serration of a forksleaf petal, the crenellations of a distant peak. He had spent countless hours, weeks, years looking, seeing, memorizing. He could paint any of a thousand plants or animals down to the last finial feather, and he could internalize a new scene in heartbeats.
He took two slow breaths, clearing a space in his head, a blank slate on which to carve each minute particular. The fear remained, but the fear was an impediment, and he pared it down, focusing on the task at hand. With the slate prepared, he set to work. It took only a few breaths to etch the severed head, the pools of dark blood, the mangled carcass of the animal. The lines were sure and certain, finer than any brushstroke, and unlike normal memory, the process left him with a sharp, vivid image, durable as the stones on which he stood, one he would be able to recall and scrutinize at will. He finished the saama’an and let out a long, careful breath.
Fear is blindness, he muttered, repeating the old Shin aphorism. Calmness, sight.
The words provided cold comfort in the face of the bloody scene, but now that he had the carving, he could leave. He glanced once over his shoulder, searching the cliffs for some sign of the predator, then turned toward the opening of the defile. As the night’s dark fog rolled over the peaks, he raced the darkness down the treacherous trails, sandaled feet darting past the downed limbs and ankle-breaking rocks. His legs, chill and stiff after so many hours creeping after the goat, warmed to the motion while his heart settled into a steady tempo.
You’re not running away, he told himself, just heading home.
Still, he breathed a small sigh of relief a mile down the path when he rounded a tower of rock—the Talon, the monks called it—and could make out Ashk’lan in the distance. Thousands of feet below him, the scant stone buildings perched on a narrow ledge as though huddled away from the abyss. Warm lights glowed in some of the windows. There would be a fire in the refectory kitchen, lamps kindled in the meditation hall, the quiet hum of the Shin going about their evening ablutions and rituals. Safe. The word rose unbidden to his mind. It was safe down there, and despite his resolve, Kaden increased his pace, running toward those few, faint lights, fleeing whatever prowled the unknown darkness behind him.
Copyright © 2013 by Brian Staveley--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
“A complex and richly detailed world filled with elite soldier-assassins, mystic warrior monks, serpentine politics, and ancient secrets. Readers of Sara Douglass's Wayfarer novels and George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series should enjoy this opener.” ―Library Journal, starred review
“Will hold your attention until the last page. This intense novel is impossible to put down.” ―RT Book Reviews
“Staveley puts his protagonists to the test and is wise enough to allow them shortcomings even as they develop extraordinary abilities.” ―Publishers Weekly
“Filled to the brim with history, lore and potential…a modern epic fantasy mixed in with a nice dose of Lovecraftian weirdness.” ―io9
“Familiar ingredients come to life in the hands of a promising new master chef.” ―Locus
“Staveley creates a richly layered world that melds together elements of ancient magic, religion, political intrigue and battles large and small. The suspense is relentless and the moral compromises the protagonists confront, often accompanied by violence, are wrenching.” ―Shelf Awareness
“An enchanting union of old and new, Staveley's debut will keep you turning pages late into the night.” ―Pierce Brown, New York Times bestselling author of Red Rising
“A spectacular adventure, by turns elegant and brutal, and one I couldn't put down. The Emperor’s Bladesis expertly crafted and wickedly sharp.” ― V.E. Schwab, New York Times bestselling author of A Gathering of Shadows
“The Emperor’s Blades is a complex and fast-moving fantasy set in a world where treachery and intrigue are everywhere, accomplished through ferocious brutality and subtle intrigues, and everything in between, and where no one is what he or she seems, including the three children of the slain emperor of Annur, who seek who is behind the assassination – if they can even survive a world where powers of all sorts, some dating back millennia, if not longer, seek their own ends, and where everyone’s motives are anything but obvious.”
―L. E. Modesitt, Jr., New York Times bestselling author of the Imager Portfolio
“Brian Staveley introduces himself to the field of epic fantasy as a storyteller to watch with an exciting first salvo involving Machiavellian politics on multiple levels, an intriguing world of magic,and three protagonists whose personal journeys after the murder of their father - the emperor - may not only save or destroy everything they hold dear but will also keep the reader impatiently waiting for the next book!”
―Richard A. Knaak, New York Times Bestselling author for The Legend of Huma
“Come for the intrigue, assassination, death priests, black-ops bird riders, and giant poisonous hive-lizards. Stay for Staveley's characters, his language, and his way-cool fantasy Zen.” ―Max Gladstone, author of the Craft Sequence
“Intricate characters, complex relationships, and plots within plots... these are the hallmarks of great fantasy and Staveley succeeds across the board. A brilliant debut!” ―Jason Hough, New York Times bestselling author of The Darwin Elevator
“Takes a story of family, loss, conspiracy and revenge and gives it new legs. It's epic fantasy with a sharp, jagged edge to it, a modern sensibility, prose as tight as the leather wrapped around a sword's hilt, and characters that you can relate to and give a damn about. I look forward to the next installment of Staveley's chronicle.” ―R. S. Belcher, author of The Six-Gun Tarot
“Staveley brings together a richly imagined world and vibrant characters, and serves them up with monks and monsters, tension and treachery--an exhilarating adventure.” ―Elspeth Cooper, author of Songs of the Earth
“A vividly imagined story of conspiracy and empire.” ―Col Buchanan, author of Farlander
“Here, Staveley has delivered on what this reader seeks; an embracing of what is enjoyable about the genre in a fun, very engaging debut and launch book for Chronicles of the Unhewn Throne.”―SFFWorld.com
“This is epic fantasy for a new generation, gritty and grim at times, but never losing sight of the awe and the wonder.”―Beauty in Ruins
- ASIN : B00FCQQCX6
- Publisher : Tor Books; First edition (Jan. 14 2014)
- Language : English
- File size : 3561 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 593 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #148,754 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
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Top reviews from Canada
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This is not a coming of age book. It’s a well written story focusing on the lives and training of the two sons and things are escalated due to the murder of their father the Emperor. I loved both characters and the supporting cast around them. There are many side characters that are interesting and pivotal to the story. There are also a number of mysteries in the book with the largest surrounding the Emperor’s death. They push the story along and hooked me in.
The fantasy elements themselves in this book are low key. There are many different gods and there is an underlying belief that they may affect things but for the most part this is a tale without god interference, without dragons (although a few non-earthly creatures exist) and largely without magic.
At the end of the day if you love fantasy fiction I can’t imagine you not loving this book.
The world he paints is a vivid one - a world once ruled by immortals who could craft creatures to do their bidding; giant birds with a wingspan of seventy feet that are ridden by black op-soldiers; monks and an Empire at the mercy of it's enemies. Only the Emperor's children can preserve what their predacessors have built.
The story follows the viewpoint of three characters; each unique in it's own way. The Emperor's heir is in the mountains; his brother is training to become a Kettral soldier; bird riding teams of raiders, and the sister is engaged heavily in the politics of their capital. THe writing itself is crisp and clear and leaves little to be desired.
The characters develop delightfully; no two characters tackle a problem the same way. There we also quite a few Red Herrings and surprises along the way.
Top reviews from other countries
I will not spoil any of the addictive plot lines or character traits, all I will say is I’m moving on to book two right now and I have found an author to rival George R R Martin and a World that is as captivating as Westeros!
Best fantasy I have read since `storm of swords ' It's original, complex and intriguing throughout. Somehow this book has managed to capture so many of my favourite elements from previous fantasy I have read and combine them to make this fantastic story. It delivers on so many levels, the short fast paced chapters work really well always ending with a hanger that just makes you turn the next page. The story is complex but the author delivers it in such a simple way, writing from 3 characters pov throughout all in the present tense (which is a refreshing change.) and despite it being the first in a trilogy (it's 2nd Jan 15,cannot wait.) the story is wrapped up beautifully, yes with hangers but you are not left frustrated.
Highly recommended for fans of 'Raven's Shadow', 'Kingkiller Chronicles', 'Magician' and 'A Song of Ice and Fire.'
More than this though, there are no massive exposition dumps near the start of the story, with it instead being spread at a very comfortable rate. There is perhaps one section near the middle of the book where there is a lot history in one go, but it had already been hinted at throughout, and really served to confirm my own thoughts and theories. Perhaps my favourite sections of the book were Valyn’s chapters. The group of characters at the Kettral are fantastic, and I look forward to reading more about them.
It reads like a coming of age story, but also enjoys the benefits of multiple perspectives, as well as a number of dark sub-plots. It remains twist-filled, with a good number of unexpected deaths and betrayals, as well as feeling somewhat more mature than a typical ‘coming of age’ novel. While the ending did not tie everything up, I found the ending far more satisfying than I usually do the first in a trilogy.
I will certainly recommend this book to anyone and everyone, and can’t wait to get started on Providence of Fire.
‘The Emperor’s Blades’, by Brian Staveley is the first in the Chronicles of the Unhewn Throne.
Maybe I could have pushed through if the pacing hadn't been so odd. Prince finds out his fathers been murdered and stays on an island to finish his special forces hunger games. It didn't ring true to me and it slowed the pace down to a crawl.