Ren Garcia Livres

Three books in one: The Dead Held Hands The Machine The Temple of the Exploding Head Starfarers and explorers, the League settled on Kana thousands of years ago. They found it to be a paradise, a perfect, virtually uninhabited planet waiting just for them in the cradle of space. Lovely Kana ... it was too good to be true ... But, all was not as it seemed. Simmering beneath the ground was a demented god who had soaked Kana in blood for untold ages, luring in victims, lying to them, and rejoicing in their suffering as they died at the hands of his dark angels. And there will be blood again ... From his Temple in the ground, the Horned God stirs. When Lord Kabyl of Blanchefort, a young man troubled by the weight of the world, dares give his heart to a girl from a mysterious ancient household, one that pre-dates the League itself, he comes to know the shadows of the past that hover over her. He comes to know of the Horned God, and for love he is destined to face him. All roads lead to the Temple of the Exploding Head, a place of evil and death, rooted in the ancient past, but also tied to the distant future. "We were evil once," she said, "and the gods are still punishing us..."

Lord Belmont's life ended in Clovis, in the impenetrable darkness beneath the ground where forbidden rites were once held. Lady Gwendolyn was his love, body, and soul, and the Demon in Blue Light killed her. Every year, on the anniversary of Gwen's death, he returns to Clovis to stand in the cold desolation, hearing the wind moan through the lonely passes, feeling her loss all over again. On this anniversary, he wasn't alone in Clovis. He hears the noises rustling in the brush. He smells the raw river of Shadow tech. Then he sees it: The claws ... The flicking tail ... The maniacal, glittering eyes fixed on him ... "I've been waiting for you," it says in a grating voice as it attacks. * * * * * Far away, across the cosmos in a city of wondrous crystal towers, two people watch in horror as the desperate scene at Clovis unfolds. They had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, even argued for it before the gods. They convinced the gods they were right, that they knew best, and everything would go well. But, things weren't going well at Clovis. If this situation turns out poorly, then ages worth of work would be lost, and, just possibly, the universe itself might come to an end.

In 1992 an aimless young man decided to serve his country and joined the Air National Guard. To complete his training, he was sent to venerable Chanute Air Force Base in the flats of Illinois to learn how to turn wrenches on jet engines. It was a place brimming with history, a place he soon grew to love. Soon thereafter, Chanute closed its doors forever, becoming a modern ruin in the years that followed, taking the young man's heart with it. This humorous, witty and occasionally ribald memoir details the experience of one of the last Airmen to pass through the hallowed gates of Chanute Air Force Base, and how the experience haunts him to this very day.

Mysterious and elusive, Lady Chrysania of Bloodstein calls from the ruins of her castle. She dwells in the dark, hiding her face, ravaged by an ancient curse. The only way to break the curse is to win a game called Perlamum. If she loses, she dies. She looks to her Vith kin in the west, begging for help acquiring the all-important pieces she needs to play the game. Lord Kabyl of Blanchefort, his Ne-Countess Sammidoran, and his cousins answer her call. However, collecting the Perlamum pieces for Lady Bloodstein is a deadly game. They must face a host of perils: -The terrible Black Hat in the city of Waam who knows their every move. -A hated rival on the planet Xandarr and the bewildering labyrinth of Gods Temple. -The man from Shook who cannot be killed. -A family of vile bravos from the south. -The diabolical Dead Men of Mare, nigh invincible creatures straight from an insane nightmare. To even the odds, Kay and Sam turn to a forgotten graveyard deep in the Telmus Grove, and the great eminence resting there. Can Lady Chrysania of Bloodstein be helped, or, for that matter . . . . . . can she be trusted?