A Sword Named Truth by Sherwood Smith

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A Sword Named Truth

A Sword Named Truth by Sherwood Smith (Rise of the Alliance #1)
English | 2019 | Fantasy | ePUB | 2.1 Mb

A Sword Named Truth : Untested young rulers must cooperate to protect their world from the magical threat of the mysterious kingdom of Norsunder in a new epic fantasy trilogy set in the same world as the popular Inda series.

The first installment of a trilogy, A Sword Named Truth launches readers into a story of non-stop action, politics, and magical threats leading to Norsunder’s return. Our heroes span continents and cultures, ambitions and desires, but share one characteristic: they are young leaders. Many are rulers of unstable nations, growing into their power and their identities, but they seek ways to trust and bind themselves together–and find the strength to defend against a host that has crushed entire worlds: Norsunder.

With incredible powers only hinted at and enigmatic characters who appear in strange circumstances, the magical empire of Norsunder has loomed as the ultimate villain in Sartorias-deles, portending a battle to come, with the very highest of stakes.

Set in the complex world of Sartorias-deles, Sherwood Smith returns readers to the enthralling saga begun with the military action of the Inda series and continuing in the magic-based cultural drama of Banner of the Damned, bringing together deadly high politics, engaging worldbuilding, and nuanced examinations of power, love, and betrayal.

“No,” Ndarga said slowly.

“Then take off your coat. We’re two people, and we’re going to scrap.”

“Rules?” Ndarga said in a goading voice.

Senrid exulted, in spite of his hammering heartbeat. I’ve got him.

He didn’t pause to reflect on how. Who cared? He might not last until the next watch change, but at least he’d go out fighting, a fitting finish to the shortest reign in Marloven history . . . “Anything goes,” Senrid said recklessly.

The low whistles and whispered comments from the perimeter were testament not only to how many had gathered on the walls and at the windows, but to what they thought.

“Oh, for certain,” Ndarga sneered. “If I kill you, nothing happens to me?”

“Something is certain to happen, but it won’t be by my command,” Senrid retorted, and breathed out when he heard a ripple of laughter from the spectators. “Seeing as I’d be dead,” he added, in case there were some a little short on logic.

Senrid dared not look around to see the reactions. With an effort he kept his gaze steadily on Ndarga’s dark eyes.

“Kill him,” a senior called from a safe vantage behind.

And as Senrid had hoped, Ndarga’s upper lip curled in disgust. From that same direction behind came a fast, whispered exchange from the crowd:


“I didn’t see you walking out there when he called his challenge.”

“And have the guard land on me for my pains?”

“He’s not here as king.”

“He’s always king,” someone else said.

“What’s the matter, afraid of an untrained scrub?”



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