March 4, 2014

Day of Radiance

The second book in Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight series is out today, in some formats such as ebook. Paperback editions will most likely follow about a year from now. Actually, speaking of paperback, the first book, Way of Kings, got released in an attractive larger-trim paperback today also. In addition to the massive sampling I did a while ago (collected all the sample chapters that were released into one blog post, linked below), here are all the "Glimpses of Radiance" released up to the book's launch as a tease. I believe that this series will be among the next big epic fantasy series. Enjoy!

All the samples:

"Thirty-eight days," Renarin read. "The end of all nations."

She felt and heard the storm approach. The ground shook, the air roared. Bits of leaves swept across her in a chill gust, like scouts before an oncoming army that charged behind, the howling wind its battle cry.

In places, it flashed with light from behind, revealing movement and shadows within. Like the skeleton of a hand when light illuminated the flesh, there was something inside that wall of destruction.

Of fires that burned and yet they were gone. Of heat he could feel when others felt not. Of screams his own that nobody heard. Of torture sublime, for life it meant.

Have you given up on the gemstone, now that it is dead? And do you no longer hide behind the name of your old master? 

He thinks you're a god. You shouldn't encourage him." 
"Why not? I am a god."


"It's not a big deal. Dalinar Kholin is friends with one of the worst murderers I've ever met. So? Dalinar is lighteyed. He's probably friends with a lot of murderers."

The woman's skin had hardened to something like stone, smooth, with fine cracks. It was as if the person were a living statue.

"What do you do if the hand is festering, threatening the entire body? Do you wait and hope it gets better, or do you act?"

Dalinar knelt beneath a fracturing sky, holding his son.

"Prince Renarin, would you kindly slay this rock for me?"

"Stupid move, putting yourself in my hands. Everyone knows I like to set things on fire and watch them burn."

The souls of the people he had murdered lurked in the shadows. They whispered to him. If he drew close, they screamed.

Pattern buzzed, speaking with a new voice, interpreting the sphere's words. "I am a stick," he said. He sounded satisfied.

"I knew it. When we have this figured out, the king of all Herdaz, he will say to me, 'Lopen, you are glowing, and this is impressive. But you can also fly. For this, you may marry my daughter.'"

As if the darkness itself had come alive, something wrapped around her.
It pulled her farther into the deep.

Adolin screamed something raw, a sound that echoed in his helm. He ignored the shouts of soldiers, the sound of rain, the sudden and unnatural crack behind him. He ran to the body on the ground.

He had his wrist wrapped, and the bruises on his face were starting to purple. They made him look slightly less intoxicatingly handsome, though there was a rugged "I punched a lot of people today" quality to that, which was fetching in its own right.

This would be a sad place to die. A place away from the wind.

You must become king. Of Everything.

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