The blade itself

The old order is crumbling, and the fate of the world rests in the hands of a few unlikely heroes… The Union has never seemed larger or more powerful, yet in truth the ancient empire is weakening, and its enemies – hungry for blood and spoils – are massing on its borders. Under the guidance of the wizard Bayaz, figures destined to play an irreplaceable role in the First of the Magi’s grand game are making their way to the capital city of Adua. What part will they ultimately play in his mysterious plans? Logen, called the Ninefingered, a seasoned Northman warrior who speaks to spirits; the dreaded Inquisitor Sand dan Glokta, a former fencing champion left crippled in body and soul by war; and Captain Jezal dan Luthar, a hot-headed, bohemian officer of the King’s Own. While the threat of invasion grows in both the north and south of the kingdom, the greatest danger to its people might just be the magic-wielding puppeteer pursuing his own, unsuspected interests… This is the opening volume of the acclaimed First Law fantasy series, nominated twice for the prestigious Locus Award – in 2007 for Best First Novel and in 2012 for Best Fantasy Novel of the 21st Century. “Abercrombie writes fantasy like no one else.” – The Guardian “New, fresh and exciting.” – The Independent “The First Law is an incredibly readable saga.” – Sarden.cz “A dense and gloomy atmosphere, no heroes in shining armour, and a harsh, unforgiving world. The author has written a great start to the series, introducing the main and supporting characters, and has clearly put a lot of care into all of their personalities. The same goes for the world itself.” – from a reader review on Databazeknih.cz “The Blade Itself will undoubtedly become a fantasy classic.” – from a reader review on Goodreads.com “I suspect you didn't much enjoy that last half-hour, Rews. I suspect you didn't enjoy it at all. Possibly the worst half-hour of your life, I don't know. But I'm thinking about what we've got in store for you, and the sad fact is… it isn't going to get any better. That's the way of things, in the higher stations.” Glokta leaned forward until his nose was a few inches from the bloody mess that Rews’ had become. “Practical Frost is a little girl, compared to me,” he whispered. “He is a kitten. Once I get started on you, Rews, you will look back on him with nostalgia. You will beg me to let you have half an hour with the Practical. Do you understand?” Rews was silent, but for the wheezing of air through his broken nose as he breathed. “Show him the tools,” said Glokta, quietly. Frost stepped closer, and opened the polished case with a theatrical flourish. It was a masterpiece. As the lid was raised, the shelves inside lifted and slid out sideways. Glokta's tools were displayed in all their terrible finery. There were knives of every size and shape, needles round and straight, phials of oil and acid, spikes and screws, clamps and pliers, saws, hammers, chisels. The metal, wood and glass gleamed in the bright light, all polished to a mirror shine, all murderously sharp. Rews couldn't get his left eye open for the swelling, but his right one flickered over the tools: horrified, fascinated. The functions of some were terrifyingly obvious. The functions of others were terrifyingly obscure. – an excerpt from the book