The Wizard Lord (Annals of the Chosen Series #1) [NOOK Book]

Overview


The Wizard Lord’s duty is to keep the world in its delicate balance. He must govern lightly to protect his domain from power-hungry interlopers, such as certain wizards who previously fought to rule the world…But if the Wizard Lord himself strays from the way of the just, then it is up to the Chosen to intercede.

The Chosen ones are the Leader, the Seer, the Swordsman, the Beauty, the Thief, the Scholar, the Archer, and the Speaker. Each are ...
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The Wizard Lord (Annals of the Chosen Series #1)

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Overview


The Wizard Lord’s duty is to keep the world in its delicate balance. He must govern lightly to protect his domain from power-hungry interlopers, such as certain wizards who previously fought to rule the world…But if the Wizard Lord himself strays from the way of the just, then it is up to the Chosen to intercede.

The Chosen ones are the Leader, the Seer, the Swordsman, the Beauty, the Thief, the Scholar, the Archer, and the Speaker. Each are magically-infused mortal individuals who, for the term of their service, have only one function--to be available to remove an errant Wizard Lord, whether by persuasion or by stronger means.

Breaker, a young man of ambition, has taken the mantle of Swordsman from its former bearer who wished to retire. Never did he realize that he would be called to duty so quickly, or that the balance of power in his world would be so precarious.

He had a duty to perform.  A world to save.

So why does he still have doubts…not just about himself, but about the entire balance of power?


At the publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied.


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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Watt-Evans, author of the Obsidian Chronicles (Dragon Venom, etc.), depicts a fantasy world built on a system of checks and balances with real bite in the solid first of a new series. Barokan is ruled by the Wizard Lord, a wizard imbued with the combined magic of many wizards in order to keep them from running roughshod over the land. And to prevent the Wizard Lord from turning evil, there are eight Chosen Heroes imbued with aspects of the Wizard Lord's power so that working together they could defeat a rogue Wizard Lord. Breaker, a youth in the village of Mad Oak, assumes the mantle of the Chosen Swordsman as part of an effort to remove the current Wizard Lord. This is straightforward, old-fashioned sword and sorcery, though a little more philosophical than most. (Mar.) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
VOYA
Breaker was an ordinary young man until the Swordsman showed up looking for a replacement. Breaker volunteered, and after months of training and beating the Swordsman in a duel, he became one of the Chosen. The entire world is governed by the Wizard Lord, who commands the weather and elements to preserve a peaceful life in Barokan. His main duty is to keep rogue wizards in check. The Chosen have sworn to keep the Wizard Lord controlled, and to kill him if he turns mad or evil. It has been more than one hundred years since a Wizard Lord has turned evil, so Breaker never thought that he would really have to fight the Wizard Lord. Along with the other seven Chosen, he travels through torrential storms, battling possessed animals until he reaches the Wizard Lord's tower and defeats him there. In the process, he matures and emerges as a leader among the Chosen. Watt-Evans creates a fascinating world in his new trilogy, The Annals of the Chosen, where magic rules and reluctant heroes keep the common man safe. His heroes are complex beings that struggle with the need to do their duty, even though they have sworn to remove the Dark Lord. It is not all glory, and some fail in their duty, but justice is served in the end. Fans of sword-and-sorcery fantasy will enjoy this first volume. They will be eager to read the further adventures of the Chosen. VOYA CODES: 4Q 3P S A/YA (Better than most, marred only by occasional lapses; Will appeal with pushing; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to 12; Adult-marketed book recommended for Young Adults). 2006, Tor, 336p., Ages 15 to Adult.
—Deborah L. Dubois
Library Journal
The world of Barokan enjoys prosperity under the benevolent rule of the Wizard Lord, who was answerable only to a group of eight otherwise normal people blessed as "The Chosen" by the elemental spirits. When a country boy named Breaker accepts the opportunity to train with and replace the legendary Swordsman, one of the Chosen, he believes that he need only remain ready to go into action-until the day comes when he must remove a corrupt Wizard Lord. Veteran fantasy author Watt-Evans ("Obsidian Chronicles"; the "Ethshar" series) begins a new series dealing in legendary archetypes and great magics and featuring an ordinary man transformed into a hero by the courage of his convictions and the loyalty of his companions. A good choice for most fantasy and YA collections, this fantasy epic is recommended for most libraries. Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
First of a new fantasy series from Watt-Evans (Dragon Venom, 2003, etc.). Barokan is a land of magic spirits, or ler, with whom humans must reach an accommodation, while wizards might use magic to command or enslave them. Mistrusting one another, the wizards select a Wizard Lord to rule them and all Barokan. To constrain the Wizard Lord, the wizards appoint eight Chosen (a Swordsman, an Archer, a Scholar, a Leader, etc.), immune to the Wizard Lord's magic, whose job is to kill evil or mad Wizard Lords. Now old and tired, the Swordsman wishes to appoint his successor, so he comes with some wizards to the bucolic hamlet of Mad Oak. Young barley farmer Breaker volunteers; he's not so sure about the killing part of the job, but reflects that more than a hundred years have passed since a wizard Lord needed killing. As the new Swordsman, Breaker decides to travel. He meets up with the Seer and the Scholar, who bear ominous tidings. The three Chosen journey to the remote village of Stoneslope, where the Wizard Lord spent his childhood, finding the inhabitants-women, infants, everyone-slaughtered. Speaking through the agency of animals, the Wizard Lord cheerfully admits responsibility, his justification being revenge for the vicious bullying and cruelty meted out to him by the villagers. Horrified, the three Chosen decide to consult the rest of their number, and draw up plans to slay the Wizard Lord. Breaker, however, remains unconvinced, and has a pervasive feeling that things are not as they seem. Well handled, with low-key surprises: weighing in somewhere between solid and stolid, without ambition to be anything more.
From the Publisher
"This fast-paced novel, full of magical people and mysterious forces, goes beyond pure entertainment to confront many real issues. The characters grapple with prejudice, fear, and the ideas of personal and societal responsibilities."—VOYA on Night of Madness

"Remarkably inventive."—Kirkus on Dragon Weather

"Combines swashbuckling fantasy with serious themes of self-sacrifice and personal courage in an adventure that belongs in most libraries."—Library Journal on The Dragon Society

"Watt-Evans is a veteran tale spinner who has created an epic tale in a world that is as multi-faceted as the scales on a dragon's back. With every step that Arlian takes, Watt-Evans leaves his readers wanting to know what will happen next."—Tulsa World on Dragon Weather

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781429915175
  • Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
  • Publication date: 4/1/2007
  • Series: Annals of the Chosen , #1
  • Sold by: Macmillan
  • Format: eBook
  • Edition description: First Edition
  • Edition number: 1
  • Pages: 336
  • Sales rank: 332,727
  • File size: 2 MB

Meet the Author


Born and raised in Massachusetts, Lawrence Watt-Evans has been a full-time writer and editor for more than twenty years. The author of more than thirty novels, over one hundred short stories, and more than one hundred and fifty published articles, Watt-Evans writes primarily in the fields of science fiction, fantasy, horror, and comic books. His short fiction has won the Hugo Award as well as twice winning the Asimov's Readers Award. His fiction has been published in England, Germany, Italy, Japan, Spain, Poland, France, Hungary, and Russia
He served as president of the Horror Writers Association from 1994 to 1996 and after leaving that office was the recipient of HWA's first service award ever. He is also a member of Novelists Inc., and the Science Fiction Writers of America. Married with two children, he lives in Maryland.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

The youth leaned over the wooden rail, one hand on the shutters, looking down into the valley.

The sun had dropped below the western ridge, plunging fields and groves into shadow, and an evening mist was thickening, further obscuring the still-green trees below the pavilion. Sparkles of colored light flickered through the mist and the leaves as some of the ler went about their mysterious business, bright and sharp against the blue-green dimness.

The sky above was still ablaze with color, orange in the west, indigo above the distant cliffs in the east, in stark contrast to the mist-shrouded depths. The pavilion seemed suspended between two worlds, the clear emptiness above, the soft thicknesses below. It was beautiful, and the youth gave the ler and the Wizard Lord silent thanks for such fine weather.

"Hey, Breaker!" someone called from somewhere in the pavilion behind him, breaking the spell. "If you aren't going to drink your share of the beer, I will!"

"Oh, no, you won't," the youth said, turning. "I'd rather leave it for the ler than waste it on the likes of you!"

That got a laugh from the dozen young men clustered around the village brewmaster, and a path opened for Breaker to stride up and take his heavy mug of ale from the old man's hand. He took a swig, swallowed, and looked around to see whether anyone else was still waiting a turn.

He had apparently been the last; he gulped more beer, then stepped away to leave room for anyone who needed a refill.

Inside the pavilion was neither the misty dimness of the valley nor the vivid color of the sky, but a third world, a world of wood and stone and candlelight. The air was clear, but daylight was fading, shadows beginning to appear despite the yellow glow of a hundred lanterns set on the handful of tables and hung from the beams overhead. The familiar faces of his friends and fellow villagers surrounded him; close at hand, clustered around the brewmaster, were the young men who had just finished bringing in the barley harvest--a job of which he had done his share and more. Over in the back of the big room a few other villagers, his elder sister among them, were tuning their instruments for the evening's planned entertainment. Three old women sat in rockers by the big central hearth, talking quietly.

Most of the rest of the local population would probably stop in later to help celebrate the harvest--and not incidentally, to drink up the few remaining kegs of last summer's stock of beer and make room in the cellars for the new batch that would see them through the coming winter. For now, though, most of the pavilion's hall stood open and empty beneath the lantern-hung beams, tables folded and benches stacked against the stone wall at the back.

Five people were sitting on a bench at the far end of the terrace rail, Breaker noticed, by the door to the outside road. One was the village's elder priestess, the sigil of office glowing faintly upon her forehead, while the other four were cloaked, and three of them were elaborately adorned with protective ara feathers. Breaker was fairly sure he recognized one of the feathered ones as the Greenwater Guide, the man who worked the southwestern road out of Mad Oak, past the eponymous tree itself, but the others were unfamiliar--presumably travelers the guide had led, probably on their way to Ashgrove and perhaps beyond, since Breaker could think of no reason strangers would be stopping in Mad Oak.

Or perhaps they had just come from Ashgrove and were bound for Greenwater. That was actually a little more likely; from Greenwater one could travel on to the Midlands and the southern hills and all the wide world to the south of Longvale, while beyond Ashgrove were just half a dozen towns in Longvale and Shadowvale before the safe routes ended.

Whatever their destination they clearly were travelers, since two of them wore ara feathers, and even cloaked, Breaker doubted there was a man in Mad Oak he wouldn't have recognized. He wondered why the travelers weren't claiming their share of the beer; they were certainly watching the harvesters drink, and Elder Priestess would have let them know they were welcome to share in the land's bounty.

And why did one traveler not have ara plumes on his cloak to ward off the hostile magic of the wilds between towns?

"Hey, Breaker!" called one of the young man's companions. "If you keep staring at those people, we may just have to throw you over the rail to the ler to apologize for your rudeness!"

The other young men laughed as Breaker turned around angrily. "I wasn't staring!" he said. "At least, no more than they were staring at us."

"All the same, you don't seem to be paying attention to the rest of us--or to the beer, and that's an insult to all the work we did today to earn it. Maybe we should heave you over just on general principles."

"You think you could throw me over the rail, Joker?" Breaker demanded.

"Oh, not by myself," Joker retorted. "But I'm sure some of these other fine fellows would be happy to help."

Breaker's momentary annoyance was already spent; he smiled. "Now, why would they want to help you, Joker? There isn't a one of us you haven't tormented this summer!"

"But at least I do the beer justice!" He turned and held out his mug. "Brewer, another round!" The brewmaster obliged him, opening the tap as Joker thrust the mug into position.

"They are staring at us, aren't they?" remarked Elbows, another of the group, looking past Breaker at the strangers.

Breaker turned again. He was almost beginning to get dizzy, looking around at everything like this, and he frowned at himself. This was supposed to be a celebration with his friends--it had been a good year and a good harvest, thanks to the ler and the Wizard Lord and plenty of hard work, and they had the summer beer to drink up to make room for the brewer's next batch. In an hour or so they would be dancing with the village girls, begging kisses and maybe something more than kisses, and here he was looking at the sky and the ler and the travelers and everywhere but at his companions and the beer. He felt somehow detached from his surroundings, as if he were a mere observer rather than a participant, and he didn't know why; it certainly wasn't a common sensation for him. It was as if the ler were trying to tell him something, but he couldn't imagine what.

He gulped the rest of his mug, but did not immediately turn back to refill it.

The strangers really were watching the harvesters with an intensity that seemed out of place.

"If you want some beer, come ahead," Breaker called to them. "We can spare you a few pints."

The travelers glanced at one another, exchanged a few words Breaker could not hear; the priestess leaned over and whispered something equally inaudible. The guide--Breaker was sure now that that man was the guide who worked the roads to Ashgrove and Greenwater--threw up his hands, rose from the bench, and stepped away, clearly dissociating himself from whatever the others were discussing.

Then the strangers rose, all three of them, and began walking toward the party of harvesters. The priestess hesitated, then arose and followed them.

Breaker watched their approach with interest. He set his empty mug down on the nearer of the two tables the brewmaster had set up, and put his hands on his hips.

The two of the strangers who wore feathers, a man and a woman, also carried staves--not simple walking sticks, but elaborately carved and decorated things as tall as their bearers, with assorted trinkets dangling from them here and there. The third figure was a big man, bigger than Breaker himself, and as he walked his featherless cloak fell open to reveal a heavy leather belt with a scabbard and hilt slung on one hip--a large scabbard, though the cloak still hid its actual length, and an unusually large and fine hilt.

And all three of them, Breaker saw now that their faces sometimes caught the lanternlight as they moved, were old, easily as old as the grandmothers chattering by the hearth. That was odd; travel was usually considered too dangerous for the elderly.

But then, Breaker was already fairly certain these three weren't just traders or wanderers; he had a thought or two as to who they might be, though it was hard to believe. He stepped aside, to let them at the keg of beer, but the old man with the staff spoke.

"We didn't come here for beer, I'm afraid."

"Though we do appreciate the offer," the old woman added hastily. She glanced around. "We are grateful to the ler of this place for making us welcome, and would not spurn any hospitality they might see fit to give us."

"If you want to talk to the ler, you want to talk to the priestess," said one of Breaker's companions, with a nod at the woman behind them. "We're just honest working men with beer to drink up."

"And it's honest men we seek," said the man with the scabbard.

Breaker and his fellows glanced at one another.

"If you're looking for workers, we've already done our share," Brokenose said. "Filled the storehouses to the rafters, we did."

"And how do you propose to tell whether we're honest?" Joker asked. "Take our word for it?"

The man with the staff held up a hand. "We aren't looking for workers--not the sort you mean, at any rate. We just need one man, in all Barokan."

Joker grinned. "Is your granddaughter that ugly, old man, that you need to go searching from town to town to find her a man?"

"Why don't you keep your wit to yourself, lackbeard?" the man with the scabbard replied. "It's not as if you have much to spare."

That got a better laugh than either of Joker's sallies, to the local youth's annoyance. Breaker smiled, but did not actually laugh; instead he said, "Why don't you save us all some time, and just tell us what you want of us?"

The man with the staff glanced at the old woman, but before either of them could speak the man with the scabbard said, "All right, then--how would one of you like to be the world's greatest swordsman?"

The laughter stopped abruptly, and smiles faded. The young men all stared at the old fellow with the scabbard--with, as Breaker had already realized, the sword. That wasn't just a big knife on his belt; it was a sword.

And those staves--the other strangers weren't just travelers carrying protective charms, were they? If this was the Swordsman, then these two were probably either others of the Chosen, or they were wizards--and the staves implied wizards. Breaker had never seen a wizard before. Oh, he had heard stories, but so far as he knew, no wizard had set foot in Mad Oak in more than fifty years.

Not that anyone particularly wanted a wizard here--wizards usually meant trouble. The one who had passed through when his grandparents were children had been harmless enough, but there was still a dead patch at the north edge of town where nothing would grow, and where anyone who set foot felt chills and nausea, that was said to be a relic of where a Wizard Lord had slain a rogue wizard centuries ago, rescuing three kidnapped maidens in the process. Wizards brought plague and fire--or at least, the stories said they had in the old days, before the Wizard Lords tamed them.

"Are you serious?" Brokenose asked, breaking the silence.

Elbows looked past the three strangers and asked Elder Priestess, "Is he really the Swordsman?"

She held up empty hands. "It could be illusions and trickery, but so far as I know, they are what they claim to be."

The Swordsman opened his cloak and pulled it back to display the entire scabbard he wore. The sheath was almost three feet long, and if the blade matched, then the weapon he bore was unquestionably a sword.

Breaker had never seen a real sword before. He and his friends had fought duels with sticks as children, of course, despite maternal demands that they not do anything so dangerous as waving sharp sticks near each other's eyes, but the longest steel blade he had ever seen was Skinner's knife, the length of his forearm. He stared at the brass-and-leather hilt.

"I am indeed the Chosen Swordsman," the Swordsman said, "and I have come here to find my successor. So, does any of you care to claim the title?"

The little crowd fell silent once again; Breaker sensed his friends moving away from the strangers, backing off from this outrageous intrusion on their celebration. He glanced around.

Brewer had stepped behind the table that held the beer kegs, separating himself from the entire conversation. The musicians on the far side of the pavilion were staring; the grandmothers had stopped rocking their chairs to watch. The harvesters had formed up into a tight group, a closed barrier against the strangers.

And Breaker had somehow wound up a little to one side, outside the group.

Joker was front and center, with Brokenose and Elbows on his left, Spitter and Digger at his right, and the rest of the party behind, while Breaker stood off to the left, toward the rail overlooking the valley.

That odd sense of detachment, of being separate from the others, welled up again, and again Breaker wondered whether it might be a message from some ler. None had ever taken any interest in him before, and no one had ever suggested he might have any priestly talents, but they were everywhere, and saw everything, and guided the townsfolk's lives; perhaps one was trying to guide him now.

And whether a ler was involved or not, the idea of spending the rest of his life here in Mad Oak in Longvale, growing barley and beans and watching the seasons wheel around until his soul finally fled into the night, never seeing what lay beyond the horizon, suddenly seemed horrific beyond imagining.

And surely, if he were the Chosen Swordsman, one of the eight designated heroes, he could travel wherever in Barokan he pleased, and do more than tend crops until he died. He could go anywhere, speak to anyone, even the Wizard Lord himself.

"I'll do it," he said.

For a moment the pavilion fell silent, as a smile spread across the Swordsman's face and the two wizards glanced at one another. Then a familiar voice muttered, "And they call me 'Joker'!"

Breaker half-turned and growled, "And they call me 'Breaker.' Shall I demonstrate why?"

"Now, there's no need for that," the male wizard said quickly.

"But he's never even seen a sword before!" Joker protested.

"Neither have you," Breaker retorted. "Neither has any of us. What's that have to do with it? It's magic, isn't it?"

"That doesn't mean there's no effort involved," the male wizard said hastily.

"What, you need to talk to the ler?" Brokenose asked.

"Oh, a little more than that," the male wizard replied. "After all . . ."

"You have to practice every day," the Swordsman interrupted. "One hour every day, rain or shine, summer or winter, sick or well. If you don't have a sword, you practice the movements without it. If you're too sick to move, you review it in your head, moving whatever you can, even if it's just your eyes. And you do it every day, or the ler won't let you sleep, or eat, until you do." He frowned. "I'm an old man, and I'm sick of it--I want some rest. That's why I'm offering you a chance to replace me."

"I never heard that, about daily exercise," Spitter said.

"Why would you?" the Swordsman said. He glanced at the male wizard. "You think the Council of Immortals goes about spreading every little detail of their methods to any farmer who might ask?"

"What happens if you just fast for a day, and don't sleep, and wait it out?" Digger asked.

The Swordsman grimaced, but before he could speak the wizard said, "You really wouldn't want to do that."

"That would break the Swordsman's oath to the Council of Immortals," the female wizard added.

"An oath that binds some very powerful ler," her companion confirmed.

"I was never fool enough to try it," the Swordsman said. "I had enough problems without angering wizards and spirits."

"What of it?" Breaker asked. "Practice every day--that's no problem. We haul water every day, tend the crops every day . . ."

"Not in winter," Spitter interjected.

"We do some sort of work every day of our lives; this wouldn't be so different. I'll do it--or is there more to it?"

"Well, of course there's the whole bargain," the male wizard said. "The whole reason the Chosen are Chosen."

"To kill the Wizard Lord," Breaker said. He looked the Swordsman in the eye. "How many Wizard Lords have you killed?"

"None," the Swordsman snapped. "Even here, you must know that! I've been the Chosen Swordsman for forty-four years, since I wasn't much older than you are, and I've seen three Wizard Lords hold power, and they've all served honorably and well so far--the weather has been good, the wizards well-behaved, criminals captured, the beasts held at bay. No one needed to remove them. And the Swordsman before me served for thirty-eight years and was never called, and the man before him . . . well . . ."

"The man before him slew the Dark Lord of Goln Vleys," the male wizard said. "But he lived happily for another twenty years afterward."

"So it's been a hundred years or more since the Swordsman was summoned to kill a Wizard Lord," Breaker said. "I don't think I need to worry so very much about that part of the job."

"But the whole purpose of the magic is to defend against a corrupted Wizard Lord," the female wizard reminded him. "You mustn't forget that."

"Breaker, are you seriously considering this?" Joker asked quietly, all humor gone from his voice.

Breaker turned. "What if I am?" he asked.

"I think you should take your time about anything this important," Joker said, still utterly serious. "Talk it over with your parents, with people you trust. Talk to the priestess, maybe consult some ler. This is . . . If this is true, if these people are who they claim to be, this is big, the biggest thing to ever happen here. Don't let them ruin your life by dragging you into things too big for you."

"Too big for me?" Breaker snorted. "You think I can't handle it?" But then he calmed, and said, "But you're right--I don't need to rush into it."

"You couldn't rush into it in any case," the male wizard said. "There's a great deal to be done before the title can be handed on--you must be trained and prepared, the ler summoned and constrained, a sword found for you. And it may be you won't be able to take the role; it requires natural ability, as well as magic, to be chosen as the world's greatest swordsman."

"But you look like you're capable enough," the Swordsman said. "Don't let old Islander here put you off."

Breaker looked at the Swordsman, then at the two wizards, and finally turned to Elder Priestess, who had been standing silently throughout the discussion. He half-expected her to tell him why he could not consider the strangers' offer.

"It's your decision," she said.

"Then I'll think about it," Breaker said. "And I'll have another beer." He turned and held his mug out toward Brewer, who obliged.

Copyright © 2006 by Lawrence Watt-Evans

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Table of Contents

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 12 )
Rating Distribution

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Sort by: Showing all of 12 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 25, 2012

    The story of an epic adventure... without much in the way of adventure.

    The story of an epic adventure... without much in the way of adventure. The main character himself points out on a few occasions that the journey our heroes are on isn't like the tales told of the grand adventures of the previous time when the worlds chosen heroes were gathered to fight a mad wizard lord.

    In fact, let me see if I can sum up the cycle of the story's plot:

    The Chosen: We're walking. We're walking. Stay together people.
    *Evil magic is encountered*
    The Chosen: This shouldn't be. This must be the Wizard Lords fault. We must end stop him.
    The Wizard Lord: I've possessed this small woodland creature to talk to you Chosen and convince you that you don't need to come and try to kill me.
    The Chosen: But... look... Evil.
    The Wizard Lord: I wouldn't be doing evil if you weren't trying to come kill me.
    The Chosen: But we wouldn't be trying to come kill you if you would just resign your position.
    The Wizard Lord: But I don't want to retire. So you give up.
    The Chosen: No, you give up.
    The Wizard Lord: No, you give up.
    The Chosen: No you.
    The Wizard Lord: You.
    The Chosen: We won't give up until our assignment is completed.
    The Wizard Lord: Fine. See you tomorrow.
    The Chosen: Alright, lets get back to walking while we discuss how the Wizard Lord's magic works and how we can counter it.
    Repeat.

    By the time the main character thinks of how repetative and annoying this pattern is, this reader had been at that conclusion for a little while.

    I liked the world. I liked the magic system. I liked the characters. It's just the plot is repetative and dull.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted December 24, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    First book on the nook i read!

    I really enjoyed this book and look forward to the next in the series. The author takes the time to establish the characters and has a nice twist at the end. if you like magic and swordplay this is a great read.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted December 27, 2008

    The Wizard Lord

    read it twice through, loved it both times...Lawrence Watt-Evans' style of writing is amazing

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 21, 2008

    Slick Tale!

    This story set in a Vibrant, original world, Is SLick & Very Engrosing, its settign the stage for an epic story, & you find yourself drawn into Evans' Skillfully created Web. Well worth the Read, an Excellent Work

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 27, 2008

    A reviewer

    Really good book. It keeps you reading for hours. Very suspenseful. Many all nighters!

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    Aterrific but typical sword and sorcery tale

    The Wizard Lord rules over Barokan, but his powers are kept somewhat in check by The Chosen Ones (the Leader, the Seer, the Swordsman, the Beauty, the Thief, the Scholar, the Archer, and the Speaker) who can combine into a group to defeat an evil ruler. In turn he keeps them from forming a dictatorial oligopoly by using their individual talents when he deems necessary. Together the nine make up the ruling supreme court of Barokan with the key mission to keep wizardry under control.----- Shockingly, a young villager Breaker becomes the Swordsman when the current office holder retires. Breaker assumes he will have some time to learn his duties and to become acquainted with his now seven peers, who seem so supreme to him. However, he has no time for on the job training as he soon finds he has to save the realm as a switch in the checks and balances have occurred a rogue wizard is ready to take absolute power while Breaker doubts he is prepared for the mission and wonders if his people might be better off under a more centralized magically controlled economic system.----- THE WIZARD LORD, Volume One of the Annals of the Chosen, is a terrific but typical sword and sorcery tale that is somewhat refreshed by the checks and balances of power that in many ways parallels the American government. However, the philosophical sharing of rule is more an underlying theme as the prime plot is the coming of age quest of the newest Chosen One. Fantasy fans, especially the S&S crowd, will take pleasure from Lawrence Watt-Evans¿ invigorating tale.----- Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 20, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 14, 2012

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 29, 2012

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 13, 2010

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 25, 2011

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 20, 2009

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