The Raven’s Knot

The Raven’s Knot
Robin Jarvis

Timely reissue of the classic fantasy trilogy by Robin Jarvis, following on from the landmark publication of DANCING JAX, his first novel in a decade.In a grimy alley in the East End of London stands the Wyrd Museum, cared for by the strange Webster sisters – the scene of even stranger events.Brought out of the past, elfin-like Edie Dorkins must now help the Websters to protect their age-old secret. For outside the museum’s enchanted walls, a nightmarish army is gathering in the mystical town of Glastonbury, bent on destroying the sisters and their ancient power once and for all…Revisit the chilling, fantastical world of the Wyrd Museum in this sequel to The Woven Path.

THE RAVEN’S KNOT

Robin Jarvis

Dedication

Tales from the Wyrd Museum Trilogy

The Woven Path The Raven’s Knot The Fatal Strand

For Young Adult readers:

Dancing Jax

Contents

Cover (#u75f343ae-6b07-548b-82c1-fca3362763a4)

Title Page (#u1fbe25ac-ec05-565e-99a0-603f59009b8c)

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Out of the Blackout

Chapter 2 - The Chamber of Nirinel

Chapter 3 - Thought and Memory

Chapter 4 - The Lord of the Dance

Chapter 5 - Jam and Pancakes

Chapter 6 - The Crow Doll

Chapter 7 - In the Shadow of the Enemy

Chapter 8 - Aidan

Chapter 9 - Spectres and Aliens

Chapter 10 - Valediction

Chapter 11 - Deceit and Larceny

Chapter 12 - Riding the Night

Chapter 13 - Memory Forgotten

Chapter 14 - Missing the Dawn

Chapter 15 - Drowning in Legends

Chapter 16 - Two Lost Souls

Chapter 17 - Skögul

Chapter 18 - Charred Embers

Chapter 19 - Verdandi

Chapter 20 - The Crimson Weft

Chapter 21 - Hlökk

Chapter 22 - The Tomb of the Hermit

Chapter 23 - The Gathering

Chapter 24 - Within the Frozen Pool

Chapter 25 - Battle of the Thorn

Chapter 26 - Dejected and Downcast

Chapter 27 - The Property of Longinus

Chapter 28 - Blood on the Tor

Epilogue

Copyright

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue

Five miles outside Glastonbury

2.58 am

Brindled with bitter, biting frost, the plough-churned soil of the Somerset levels was bare and black. Hammered upon winter’s icy forge, the earthen furrows were iron hard – unyielding as the great cold which flooded the moonless dark.

Deep and chill were the silent shadows that filled those expansive fields. As sombre lakes of brooding gloom they appeared, pressing and pushing against the bordering hedgerows. Through those twisted, naked branches the unrelenting hoary darkness spilled and the night was drowned in a black, freezing murk that no glimmer of star could penetrate.