This book is one in a series of books featuring the People's hero Black Arick (aka "the Spritely One") and his adventures across Amalur.
Chapter VII. The Caeled Coast
The two warriors faced each other beneath the verdant boughs of the Green Coast-- two dark shades in a vast oean of shadow-- as the tips of their war flames curled up to snap at the starts like hatchlings yearning for their mother's feed. Around and round the figures turned, blades aglow in the firelight, eyes white with mutual contempt, until the roar for the Red Beast split asunder the silence of the twilight, as the cries of a wee babe drives its mother to fear. The ground shuddered beneath the weight of Chernobog's anger as he set forth on a path to strike down Our Hero and demand his death in good order, for there was no surrender in the eye of the bolgan, and their victories are washed only in the sweet red tang of blood.
The Spritely One froze in his stance, shield raised to meet the approaching fiend. There was not time for escape, or even for the most hushed of utterance to flee his quivering lips-- for the beast was upon him. In all the minutes of his lifetime, never had Our Hero considered the prospect of defeat -- nay, such judgement was folly -- but as the mighty beast descended on as the storm clouds hang endlessly above the sodden soldier, it seemed that the end of Black Arick had finally come.
Or had it? for beyond the veil of mistake and regret, and far greater than any ..