By Krista Walsh
Writer Jeff Powell wakes as much as locate the very unlikely has occurred. he's inside of his personal novel—summoned into the fictitious global of Feldall’s continue by way of a spell he didn't write. One the home enchantress hasn't discovered tips to reverse.
When the villain he's been suffering to write down unearths himself, unleashing waves of terror and chaos, Jeff needs to use greater than his mind's eye to save lots of the characters he created—and the girl he loves.
Trapped inside an international of his personal production, he needs to step open air the boundaries of his narrative to aid his characters defeat an evil not anyone expected, no matter if he needs to sacrifice his maximum present. in spite of everything, he has to invite: are novels particularly fiction, or home windows into different worlds?
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Extra info for Evensong (Meratis Trilogy, Book 1)
On the other it said PERSECUTED. Dor had to laugh, ruefully. “I guess I fell for it! ” He put the button against his shirt, where it stuck magically, PERSECUTED side out. Then he picked up the Jack, put him back in the box, closed the lid, set the works back inside the plaque’s chamber, and closed that. “Well played, plaque,” he said. “Yeah,” the plaque agreed, mollified. They returned their attention to the moat. “No substitute for my own ingenuity,” Dor said. “But this diversion has given me a notion.
Yet his seat seemed secure. The material of the carpet seemed to hold him firmly yet comfortably, so that he did not slide off even when it tilted. Wonderful magic! Now the carpet banked, circling for a landing—but it didn’t land. It plunged at frightening speed directly toward a deep crevasse in the ground. ” Dor cried, alarmed. ” Grundy replied. ” He pointed ahead, and for once he seemed less than cocksure. ” the rug agreed, still accelerating. It was indeed a big tangle tree—one not even an ogre could cow.
Lucky it was a wet day, raining in fact, so my heat only cooked its outer layers some instead of setting the whole thing on fire. I’m sorry I did that; I really think that needle in the back was an accident. Something that just slipped out. ” He rounded the curve in the passage, so that he was no longer in view of the needler. Then he leaned against the wall, feeling faint. Grundy’s translation came to an end. “You’re the best liar I’ve ever seen,” he said admiringly. ” “Well, I guess it takes practice.