title: A Dream of Storms: In the Shadow of the Black Sun: Book 1
author: William J. Kenney
description: "The authenticity of this book really astounded me. Everything just seemed flawlessly believable, and the dialogue especially added to this. It just seemed to flow effortlessly, the language suited the text and the storyline perfectly, things that I appreciate in a fantasy novel."<br /><br />"The one thing I enjoyed about this book; the originality. It deals with the good versus evil theme but there are some characters introduced who are not all that they seem, and I do enjoy reading about complicated characters. "<br /><br />"There are many things to keep going in any fantasy genre to suspend your belief for a few moments here and there and William does it like a pro. This novel is on par with anything in the genre for sale today in my opinion. His characters have depth, emotion, and motivations and the journey is worth it."<br /><br />"Mr. Kenney is comparable to early Tolkien! I enjoyed this book, his characters are likeable and believable, the story is active and interesting. It kept me involved and was, unfortunately, over before I was ready for it to be."<br /><br />"There's a lot to like here. The characters are all interesting, and the way they interact with each other makes for some fun reading. It definitely reminds me of Tolkien, but with a darker flavor. My only complaint is that it wasn't longer."
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  ##### www.blackmask.com
  
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  # Philip Vasilyevich's Story
  
  
  ### Maxim Gorky
  
  
  This page copyright © 2001 Blackmask Online.
  
  
  http://www.blackmask.com  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  I WAS sitting in the town park on a bench under the trees, the wind shook
  angrily the black, wet branches over my head and, tearing off the last leaves,
  carried them away down the hill to the wide, turbid river, and the river
  exhaled damp, [illustration omitted] cold breaths toward the sky.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Beyond the river, in the yellow velvet of withered grass, a small lake was
  glimmering; the dull autumn sky reflected itself in it mournfully; the pale
  disk of the moon was wasting away in the sky. The sun had long set behind the
  dark wall of the distant forest and the purple strip of the setting sun,
  amidst the thick, dark-blue clouds, seemed like a stream of fire in the
  mountain straits.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Listen!" said some one, softly, near me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I turned around; a tall, poorly dressed young man stood near m