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The Tournament at Gorlan (Ranger's Apprentice: the Early Years, 1) - Hardcover
Buch 1 von 2: Ranger's Apprentice: The Early Years
Inhaltsangabe
From John Flanagan, author of the worldwide bestselling Ranger's Apprentice—the first in a new prequel series featuring one of our favorite Rangers, Halt!
When Halt and Crowley discover that the ambitious Morgarath has been infiltrating the Rangers in order to corrupt the Corps, the young Rangers travel north to find Prince Duncan, seeking a royal warrant to stop Morgarath before it is too late. By weakening the Rangers, the most powerful force in support of the King, Morgarath plans to steal the throne.
Yet when Halt and Crowley arrive in Gorlan, they discover just how close Morgarath’s scheme is to success. Morgarath has a plan to discredit the Prince and alienate him from his father. At the same time, the Baron of Gorlan has been conspiring to win the trust and admiration of the Council of Barons to further his plan. If the young Rangers are to prevent the coup from succeeding, they will have to tread a dangerous path, which leads them to a thrilling climax at the annual tournament at Gorlan, where a series of bitter duels must be fought and won.
This origin story brings readers to a time before Will was an apprentice, and lays the groundwork for the epic battles that will culminate with The Ruins of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge—Books 1 and 2 of the Ranger’s Apprentice series.
Praise for the New York Times bestselling Tournament at Gorlan
* "Action and intrigue, great characters, and a properly scary villain make this book an absolute necessity for any library. With appeal for both boys and girls, libraries can anticipate a waiting list for this title and great anticipation for the sequel."–School Library Connection, starred review
"Flanagan’s familiar mix of action, humor, and cliff-hanger endings will have fans and newbies hooked."–School Library Journal
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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren
John Flanagan grew up in Sydney, Australia, hoping to be a writer, and after a successful career in advertising and television, he began writing a series of short stories for his son, Michael, in order to encourage him to read. Those stories would eventually become The Ruins of Gorlan, Book 1 of the Ranger’s Apprentice epic. Now with his companion series, Brotherband Chronicles, the novels of John Flanagan have sold millions of copies and made readers of kids the world over. Mr. Flanagan lives in the suburb of Manly, Australia, with his wife. In addition to their son, they have two grown daughters and four grandsons.
You can visit John Flanagan at
www.RangersApprentice.com
www.BrotherbandChronicles.com
John Flanagan grew up in Sydney, Australia, hoping to be a writer, and after a successful career in advertising and television, he began writing a series of short stories for his son, Michael, in order to encourage him to read. Those stories would eventually become The Ruins of Gorlan, Book 1 of the Ranger’s Apprentice epic. Together with his companion series, Brotherband Chronicles, the novels of John Flanagan have sold millions of copies and made readers of kids the world over. Mr. Flanagan lives in the suburb of Manly, Australia, with his wife. In addition to their son, they have two grown daughters and four grandsons.
You can visit John Flanagan at
www.RangersApprentice.com
www.BrotherbandChronicles.com
Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
The Tournament at Gorlan
By John FlanaganPenguin Young Readers Group
Copyright © 2015 John Flanagan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-399-16361-6All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
It had been raining for a week.
Not heavy rain, but a steady, persistent, soaking rain that finally overcame the protective oil in their woolen cloaks and worked its way into the fabric itself, making it heavy and sodden.
And cold.
As they had done for the previous few nights, Halt and Crowley were camping out in the woods. Halt suggested that they should avoid towns and villages until they were sure they were clear of Morgarath’s sphere of influence, and Crowley initially agreed. Halt, after all, had more experience of traveling as a fugitive than he did. Now, however, he wasn’t quite so sure about the decision.
They were sitting under a rectangular oilskin sheet that they had spread between four trees, with the lower side angled so that the rain would run off it. The ground beneath them was saturated and they had constructed low cots from tree branches to keep them off the wet earth. Each cot consisted of a rectangular frame, with a series of short crosspieces, and leafy boughs laid across it to form a rough mattress. Each day, they would disassemble the frames and carry the longer timber pieces with them, lashed in a bundle.
A few meters away, their horses were tethered. The animals huddled together, sharing their body warmth and keeping their hindquarters turned to the wind and rain.
Halt shivered and pulled his cloak more tightly around him. As he moved, a runnel of water ran off the cowl and landed on his nose, continuing its downward passage to drip off the end. Seeing it, Crowley laughed.
Halt turned an accusing eye on him. “What do you find so amusing?” he asked coldly.
Crowley, also huddled inside his cloak, nodded his head toward his friend. “You sitting there, hunched over and dripping, like an old man with a runny nose,” he said. Unfortunately, the shrugging movement dislodged a stream of water from his own cowl and the drops ran down his nose. He sniffed, the smile dying on his face.
“You find it amusing that I’m soaked to the skin and dying of cold?” Halt asked.
Crowley made as if to shrug, then realized that such a movement would send more water running, and restrained himself. “Not amusing, perhaps. But certainly diverting.”
Halt turned, very carefully, to face him. “And from what does this sight divert you?” he asked, with careful attention to his grammar. When Halt was in a bad mood, he invariably paid careful attention to his grammar.
“From the fact that I’m also sitting here with water running off my nose, cold, wet and miserable,” Crowley said.
Halt considered that. “You’re uncomfortable?”
Crowley nodded, sending more water cascading. “Totally,” he said.
“Some Ranger you turned out to be,” Halt told him. “I thought Rangers could face the worst discomfort in the line of duty with a smile on their lips and a song in their heart. I didn’t realize they would sit around whining and complaining.”
“Facing discomfort doesn’t mean I’m not entitled to whine and complain about it. Besides, only a few minutes ago, I was laughing and cheerful.” Crowley shivered, and pulled his cloak tighter. More water ran off it. “These cloaks are good up to a point. But once the water has soaked into them, they’re worse than nothing.”
“If you were sitting here wrapped in nothing you’d soon see the difference,” Halt replied. Crowley grunted, and a brief silence fell over the campsite, broken only by the persistent patter of rain on the leaves and the occasional stomp of one of the horses’ hooves.
They were faced with another cold supper. The air was so moisture laden that getting a spark to take from Halt’s flint and steel to ignite a handful of tinder would be beyond his capabilities. And even if he could manage that, there was no dry firewood. Usually, they traveled with an emergency supply of tinder and kindling, but they had run out of both two days previously.
Pity, Halt thought. Even a small fire would have provided some warmth, and the flames would have given them a psychological boost as well. He reached for the pack on the cot beside him and found a piece of beef jerky. He bit some off and began to chew methodically, his jaws working on the tough, flinty meat. Maybe the exercise of chewing the jerky would warm him, he thought. The meat was certainly tough enough to require considerable effort from his jaws. Slowly, the smoked meat flavor began to release from the jerky and fill his mouth. Then, of course, he realized how very hungry he really was, and how little opportunity he would have to relieve that hunger.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Being cold and hungry was miserable. Being wet was equally so. Being all three was well nigh unbearable.
“I’ve been thinking . . . ,” Crowley began, leaving the sentence hanging for a few seconds.
Halt shook his head. “And here am I without pencil or parchment to record this momentous event.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow in his direction. At least, he thought, that didn’t send water cascading down his face. He raised his other eyebrow as well, just to make sure. No cascade, so he relaxed them both.
“I think we might have crossed the border out of Gorlan Fief,” he continued. Halt grunted, a noncommittal sound.
Crowley took that as a signal to expound on his theory. “That river we crossed late this afternoon, I think that might have been the Crowsfoot River, and that’s the border between Gorlan and Keramon Fiefs.”
“Equally,” said Halt, “it might have been the Salmon River, and as I recall from the map, that’s still kilometers inside Gorlan.”
But Crowley shook his head. “The Salmon is much narrower—much faster running. And it’s farther west, closer to Redmont. So unless our navigation is well off the mark, we wouldn’t have come close to it.”
“Well, you were the one doing the navigating,” Halt said.
Crowley gave him a hurt look. “My map reading and sense of direction aren’t wonderful. But I’m rarely twenty or thirty kilometers offline.”
“Rarely, of course, implies that sometimes you are,” Halt pointed out. But Crowley stuck to his point.
“Not this time. And as I say, the Salmon is narrower and faster running.”
Halt decided to concede. “So, if you are right, what point are you making?”
Crowley shifted as cold water ran down inside his cloak. Halt was right, he thought, it might feel miserable sitting huddled in a soaking cloak, but at least it still kept most of the water out—and it did allow some body heat to be retained, damp as it might be.
“My point is, if we’ve moved out of Gorlan Fief, we might be able to look for an inn in a village and spend a few nights.”
“You think Morgarath would stop at the border between the two fiefs?” asked Halt.
Crowley stuck out his bottom lip. “Perhaps not Morgarath himself,” he admitted. “But if he had sent some of his men after us—and we don’t even know for sure that he has—they might well decide to turn back once they...
It had been raining for a week.
Not heavy rain, but a steady, persistent, soaking rain that finally overcame the protective oil in their woolen cloaks and worked its way into the fabric itself, making it heavy and sodden.
And cold.
As they had done for the previous few nights, Halt and Crowley were camping out in the woods. Halt suggested that they should avoid towns and villages until they were sure they were clear of Morgarath’s sphere of influence, and Crowley initially agreed. Halt, after all, had more experience of traveling as a fugitive than he did. Now, however, he wasn’t quite so sure about the decision.
They were sitting under a rectangular oilskin sheet that they had spread between four trees, with the lower side angled so that the rain would run off it. The ground beneath them was saturated and they had constructed low cots from tree branches to keep them off the wet earth. Each cot consisted of a rectangular frame, with a series of short crosspieces, and leafy boughs laid across it to form a rough mattress. Each day, they would disassemble the frames and carry the longer timber pieces with them, lashed in a bundle.
A few meters away, their horses were tethered. The animals huddled together, sharing their body warmth and keeping their hindquarters turned to the wind and rain.
Halt shivered and pulled his cloak more tightly around him. As he moved, a runnel of water ran off the cowl and landed on his nose, continuing its downward passage to drip off the end. Seeing it, Crowley laughed.
Halt turned an accusing eye on him. “What do you find so amusing?” he asked coldly.
Crowley, also huddled inside his cloak, nodded his head toward his friend. “You sitting there, hunched over and dripping, like an old man with a runny nose,” he said. Unfortunately, the shrugging movement dislodged a stream of water from his own cowl and the drops ran down his nose. He sniffed, the smile dying on his face.
“You find it amusing that I’m soaked to the skin and dying of cold?” Halt asked.
Crowley made as if to shrug, then realized that such a movement would send more water running, and restrained himself. “Not amusing, perhaps. But certainly diverting.”
Halt turned, very carefully, to face him. “And from what does this sight divert you?” he asked, with careful attention to his grammar. When Halt was in a bad mood, he invariably paid careful attention to his grammar.
“From the fact that I’m also sitting here with water running off my nose, cold, wet and miserable,” Crowley said.
Halt considered that. “You’re uncomfortable?”
Crowley nodded, sending more water cascading. “Totally,” he said.
“Some Ranger you turned out to be,” Halt told him. “I thought Rangers could face the worst discomfort in the line of duty with a smile on their lips and a song in their heart. I didn’t realize they would sit around whining and complaining.”
“Facing discomfort doesn’t mean I’m not entitled to whine and complain about it. Besides, only a few minutes ago, I was laughing and cheerful.” Crowley shivered, and pulled his cloak tighter. More water ran off it. “These cloaks are good up to a point. But once the water has soaked into them, they’re worse than nothing.”
“If you were sitting here wrapped in nothing you’d soon see the difference,” Halt replied. Crowley grunted, and a brief silence fell over the campsite, broken only by the persistent patter of rain on the leaves and the occasional stomp of one of the horses’ hooves.
They were faced with another cold supper. The air was so moisture laden that getting a spark to take from Halt’s flint and steel to ignite a handful of tinder would be beyond his capabilities. And even if he could manage that, there was no dry firewood. Usually, they traveled with an emergency supply of tinder and kindling, but they had run out of both two days previously.
Pity, Halt thought. Even a small fire would have provided some warmth, and the flames would have given them a psychological boost as well. He reached for the pack on the cot beside him and found a piece of beef jerky. He bit some off and began to chew methodically, his jaws working on the tough, flinty meat. Maybe the exercise of chewing the jerky would warm him, he thought. The meat was certainly tough enough to require considerable effort from his jaws. Slowly, the smoked meat flavor began to release from the jerky and fill his mouth. Then, of course, he realized how very hungry he really was, and how little opportunity he would have to relieve that hunger.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Being cold and hungry was miserable. Being wet was equally so. Being all three was well nigh unbearable.
“I’ve been thinking . . . ,” Crowley began, leaving the sentence hanging for a few seconds.
Halt shook his head. “And here am I without pencil or parchment to record this momentous event.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow in his direction. At least, he thought, that didn’t send water cascading down his face. He raised his other eyebrow as well, just to make sure. No cascade, so he relaxed them both.
“I think we might have crossed the border out of Gorlan Fief,” he continued. Halt grunted, a noncommittal sound.
Crowley took that as a signal to expound on his theory. “That river we crossed late this afternoon, I think that might have been the Crowsfoot River, and that’s the border between Gorlan and Keramon Fiefs.”
“Equally,” said Halt, “it might have been the Salmon River, and as I recall from the map, that’s still kilometers inside Gorlan.”
But Crowley shook his head. “The Salmon is much narrower—much faster running. And it’s farther west, closer to Redmont. So unless our navigation is well off the mark, we wouldn’t have come close to it.”
“Well, you were the one doing the navigating,” Halt said.
Crowley gave him a hurt look. “My map reading and sense of direction aren’t wonderful. But I’m rarely twenty or thirty kilometers offline.”
“Rarely, of course, implies that sometimes you are,” Halt pointed out. But Crowley stuck to his point.
“Not this time. And as I say, the Salmon is narrower and faster running.”
Halt decided to concede. “So, if you are right, what point are you making?”
Crowley shifted as cold water ran down inside his cloak. Halt was right, he thought, it might feel miserable sitting huddled in a soaking cloak, but at least it still kept most of the water out—and it did allow some body heat to be retained, damp as it might be.
“My point is, if we’ve moved out of Gorlan Fief, we might be able to look for an inn in a village and spend a few nights.”
“You think Morgarath would stop at the border between the two fiefs?” asked Halt.
Crowley stuck out his bottom lip. “Perhaps not Morgarath himself,” he admitted. “But if he had sent some of his men after us—and we don’t even know for sure that he has—they might well decide to turn back once they...
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The Tournament at Gorlan (Ranger's Apprentice: The Early Years)
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Viking Books for Young Readers, 2015
ISBN 10: 0399163611
ISBN 13: 9780399163616
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The Tournament at Gorlan
Anbieter: World of Books (was SecondSale), Montgomery, IL, USA
Verkäuferbewertung 5 von 5 Sternen
Hardback. Zustand: Good. The first in a new prequel series featuring one of our favorite Rangers, Halt, comes from John Flanagan, author of the worldwide bestseller Ranger's Apprentice.When Halt and Crowley discover that the ambitious Morgarath has infiltrated the Rangers in order to corrupt the Corps, the young Rangers journey north to find Prince Duncan in order to obtain a royal warrant to stop Morgarath before it is too late. Morgarath aims to usurp the throne by weakening the Rangers, the King's most formidable unit of support.As Halt and Crowley arrive in Gorlan, they learn exactly how close Morgarath's plot is to succeedMorgarath has devised a scheme to discredit the Prince and separate him from his fatherAt the same time, the Baron of Gorlan has been plotting to gain the trust and admiration of the Council of Barons in order to further his planIf the young Rangers are to prevent the coup from succeeding, they will have to treason.The Ruins of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge, Books 1 and 2 of the Ranger's Apprentice series, take readers back to a period before Will was an apprentice, laying the basis for the epic fights that would culminate with The Ruins of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge, Books 1 and 2 of the Ranger's Apprentice series.The New York Times bestsellingTournament at Gorlan has received a lot of praise.* This book is an absolute must-have for any library, with action and intrigue, terrific characters, and a properly terrifying villain. With appeal for both boys and girls, libraries can expect a waiting list for this title and high anticipation for the sequelSchool Library Connection, starred reviewFans and newcomers alike will be enthralled by Flanagan's signature mix of action, humor, and cliffhanger endings. Bestandsnummer des Verkäufers CIN0399163611G
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Beispielbild für diese ISBN
The Tournament at Gorlan
Anbieter: World of Books (was SecondSale), Montgomery, IL, USA
Verkäuferbewertung 5 von 5 Sternen
Hardback. Zustand: Fair. The first in a new prequel series featuring one of our favorite Rangers, Halt, comes from John Flanagan, author of the worldwide bestseller Ranger's Apprentice.When Halt and Crowley discover that the ambitious Morgarath has infiltrated the Rangers in order to corrupt the Corps, the young Rangers journey north to find Prince Duncan in order to obtain a royal warrant to stop Morgarath before it is too late. Morgarath aims to usurp the throne by weakening the Rangers, the King's most formidable unit of support.As Halt and Crowley arrive in Gorlan, they learn exactly how close Morgarath's plot is to succeedMorgarath has devised a scheme to discredit the Prince and separate him from his fatherAt the same time, the Baron of Gorlan has been plotting to gain the trust and admiration of the Council of Barons in order to further his planIf the young Rangers are to prevent the coup from succeeding, they will have to treason.The Ruins of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge, Books 1 and 2 of the Ranger's Apprentice series, take readers back to a period before Will was an apprentice, laying the basis for the epic fights that would culminate with The Ruins of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge, Books 1 and 2 of the Ranger's Apprentice series.The New York Times bestsellingTournament at Gorlan has received a lot of praise.* This book is an absolute must-have for any library, with action and intrigue, terrific characters, and a properly terrifying villain. With appeal for both boys and girls, libraries can expect a waiting list for this title and high anticipation for the sequelSchool Library Connection, starred reviewFans and newcomers alike will be enthralled by Flanagan's signature mix of action, humor, and cliffhanger endings. Bestandsnummer des Verkäufers 00102742414
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Beispielbild für diese ISBN
The Tournament at Gorlan
Anbieter: World of Books (was SecondSale), Montgomery, IL, USA
Verkäuferbewertung 5 von 5 Sternen
Hardback. Zustand: Very Good. The first in a new prequel series featuring one of our favorite Rangers, Halt, comes from John Flanagan, author of the worldwide bestseller Ranger's Apprentice.When Halt and Crowley discover that the ambitious Morgarath has infiltrated the Rangers in order to corrupt the Corps, the young Rangers journey north to find Prince Duncan in order to obtain a royal warrant to stop Morgarath before it is too late. Morgarath aims to usurp the throne by weakening the Rangers, the King's most formidable unit of support.As Halt and Crowley arrive in Gorlan, they learn exactly how close Morgarath's plot is to succeedMorgarath has devised a scheme to discredit the Prince and separate him from his fatherAt the same time, the Baron of Gorlan has been plotting to gain the trust and admiration of the Council of Barons in order to further his planIf the young Rangers are to prevent the coup from succeeding, they will have to treason.The Ruins of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge, Books 1 and 2 of the Ranger's Apprentice series, take readers back to a period before Will was an apprentice, laying the basis for the epic fights that would culminate with The Ruins of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge, Books 1 and 2 of the Ranger's Apprentice series.The New York Times bestsellingTournament at Gorlan has received a lot of praise.* This book is an absolute must-have for any library, with action and intrigue, terrific characters, and a properly terrifying villain. With appeal for both boys and girls, libraries can expect a waiting list for this title and high anticipation for the sequelSchool Library Connection, starred reviewFans and newcomers alike will be enthralled by Flanagan's signature mix of action, humor, and cliffhanger endings. Bestandsnummer des Verkäufers CIN0399163611VG
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The Tournament at Gorlan (Ranger's Apprentice: The Early Years)
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Viking Books for Young Readers, 2015
ISBN 10: 0399163611
ISBN 13: 9780399163616
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Viking Books for Young Readers, 2015
ISBN 10: 0399163611
ISBN 13: 9780399163616
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Hardcover. Zustand: Fair. No Jacket. Former library book; Readable copy. Pages may have considerable notes/highlighting. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less. Bestandsnummer des Verkäufers G0399163611I5N10
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Viking Books for Young Readers, 2015
ISBN 10: 0399163611
ISBN 13: 9780399163616
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Viking Books for Young Readers, 2015
ISBN 10: 0399163611
ISBN 13: 9780399163616
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Hardcover. Zustand: Good. No Jacket. Missing dust jacket; Pages can have notes/highlighting. Spine may show signs of wear. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less. Bestandsnummer des Verkäufers G0399163611I3N01
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Viking Books for Young Readers, 2015
ISBN 10: 0399163611
ISBN 13: 9780399163616
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