A time traveler passes through thousands of years to rescue a magical race from doom.
Morgan ab Kynan is a handsome rogue—and a thief. Captured by wily monks while attempting to steal a priceless religious artifact, he expects to meet his death within the walls of their monastery. Instead, he's brought to the desert palace of the White Ladies of Claerwen, the Priestesses of the Bones. These women—and the men they barely tolerate—are descendants through time immemorial of the Quicken-tree folk (The Chalice and the Blade, 1997), and it is to their own Lady Avallyn that Morgan is presented. Avallyn knows by a scar he bears and the white lock in his hair that Morgan is none other than the prophesied Prince of Time come to rescue her people, the Ilmarryn. But first she must cure him of his addiction to the potent Carillion wine, a psychosis-inducing brew; and she does so by binding him to her with magical bracelets as he heals. Despite her autocratic mother's stern warnings, the pair fall inexorably into a passionate sexual relationship, even though the Ilmarryn’s time is running out. The half-mad warlord Corvus plots their doom with Vishab, a vicious crone with a grudge against the Ilmarryn. Together they call upon the powers of Dharkkum—a gigantic, formless entity of evil—leading to a glorious, apocalyptic finale that rounds off this conclusion to McReynolds's three-part saga. The mixture of Welsh folklore, Norse myths and tales of the Aesir, Icelandic sagas, Indian and Tibetan traditions, and ingenious Star Wars–style gadgetry all hangs together somehow, mostly because the author hews strictly to the first commandment of fantasy plotting—Thou Shalt Not Stop Moving—and the second—Thou Shalt Add Sex. The pace is breathtaking, and the swashbuckling and general portentousness are interspersed with some dazzlingly sensual scenes.
Heady fantasy, guaranteed to wow.