Action & Adventure
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Battle Ground (Dresden Files)
THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET SERIOUS FOR HARRY DRESDEN, CHICAGO'S ONLY PROFESSIONAL WIZARD, in the next entry in the #1 New York Times bestselling Dresden Files.
Harry has faced terrible odds before. He has a long history of fighting enemies above his weight class. The Red Court of vampires. The fallen angels of the Order of the Blackened Denarius. The Outsiders.
But this time it's different. A being more powerful and dangerous on an order of magnitude beyond what the world has seen in a millennium is coming. And she's bringing an army. The Last Titan has declared war on the city of Chicago, and has come to subjugate humanity, obliterating any who stand in her way.
Harry's mission is simple but impossible: Save the city by killing a Titan. And the attempt will change Harry's life, Chicago, and the mortal world forever.
Harry has faced terrible odds before. He has a long history of fighting enemies above his weight class. The Red Court of vampires. The fallen angels of the Order of the Blackened Denarius. The Outsiders.
But this time it's different. A being more powerful and dangerous on an order of magnitude beyond what the world has seen in a millennium is coming. And she's bringing an army. The Last Titan has declared war on the city of Chicago, and has come to subjugate humanity, obliterating any who stand in her way.
Harry's mission is simple but impossible: Save the city by killing a Titan. And the attempt will change Harry's life, Chicago, and the mortal world forever.
Editorial Reviews
"Just when you think he can't take it up a notch, Butcher proves once more that he is freaking amazing. Wicked cool."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Patricia Briggs
"Urban fantasy at its best, combining spectacular magic and deeply explored character."-Publishers Weekly (starred review)
"The arc begun in Peace Talks comes to a deadly, destructive finish in the 17th 'Dresden Files' book-and nothing will be the same again."-Library Journal (starred review)
Praise for Jim Butcher and The Dresden Files
"Harry Dresden is a wholly original character in a wholly original world. Every book in the series is a great adventure."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris
"I've been reading the Dresden Files for more than a decade, and somehow, every book gets better. It's my favorite kind of story: delightful, deep, complicated, rare, and wonderful."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Patrick Rothfuss
"Jim Butcher has long proven he can juggle multiple threads of political intrigue, personal drama, and threat with a masterful use of action and tension. . . . Harry's hard-earned grit keeps his head above the magical waters and me on the edge of my seat."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Kim Harrison
"Think Buffy the Vampire Slayer starring Philip Marlowe."-Entertainment Weekly
"One of the most enjoyable marriages of the fantasy and mystery genres on the shelves."-Cinescape
"Takes the best elements of urban fantasy, mixes it with some good old-fashioned noir mystery, tosses in a dash of romance and a lot of high-octane action, shakes, stirs, and serves."-SF Site
"Urban fantasy at its best, combining spectacular magic and deeply explored character."-Publishers Weekly (starred review)
"The arc begun in Peace Talks comes to a deadly, destructive finish in the 17th 'Dresden Files' book-and nothing will be the same again."-Library Journal (starred review)
Praise for Jim Butcher and The Dresden Files
"Harry Dresden is a wholly original character in a wholly original world. Every book in the series is a great adventure."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris
"I've been reading the Dresden Files for more than a decade, and somehow, every book gets better. It's my favorite kind of story: delightful, deep, complicated, rare, and wonderful."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Patrick Rothfuss
"Jim Butcher has long proven he can juggle multiple threads of political intrigue, personal drama, and threat with a masterful use of action and tension. . . . Harry's hard-earned grit keeps his head above the magical waters and me on the edge of my seat."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Kim Harrison
"Think Buffy the Vampire Slayer starring Philip Marlowe."-Entertainment Weekly
"One of the most enjoyable marriages of the fantasy and mystery genres on the shelves."-Cinescape
"Takes the best elements of urban fantasy, mixes it with some good old-fashioned noir mystery, tosses in a dash of romance and a lot of high-octane action, shakes, stirs, and serves."-SF Site
Readers Top Reviews
Dee
After the con of splitting Peace Talks into two books so the publisher could charge double, my hopes were already a bit cynical going into reading this. Peace Talks itself didn't actually feel to have much of a story, really just being the build up to Battle Ground - then instead of having 3-4 chapters of high octane action at the end of a book we had a whole book of 'level 11'. If I compare this to a movie, it's like a 1 hour 20 minutes build up to a big action scene, then 20 minutes of all out action. Except in this case the all out action runs for chapter after chapter after chapter. I lost cound of the amount of time an impossible foe just popped up, was dismissed, replaced by an impossible foe and so on. All told, not a bad story, just overlong and cynically marketed. Hopefully the next books will come within a decade and we can get a more even cadence to the writing.....
Joe Murray
Brilliant book, the excitement and action just keep coming as we watch Chicago's No. 1 wizard go to War for friends, family and the citizens of Chicago. I reread the whole series of the Dresden files before this book and you can see how the different characters from each book change for good or bad as Harry battles old enemy's or creates alliance's with others. I'm not going to say anymore about this book other than read it for yourself and I bet it will make you laugh and cry as we see Harry's life and friends change forever. It's amazing how Jim Butcher keeps us all on our toes with the different characters in the Dresden files as we enter that world for however long it takes to read these brilliant magnificent books. We all need a way out of our own lives for a while especially with this horrible pandemic all around our world goes on. Thanks for giving is a magnificent series of book to read Jim and I hope you your family and friends are all safe. Thanks again !!
ChrisSean EmbryHenry
This was a really disappointing follow up to Peace Talks. I think I'm done with the series. Something went wrong around the time that Butcher started levelling Harry up every book. All the charm is gone. Dialogue is repetitive. The relationships are stupid. A significant number of characters are there just to be there - no real purpose. I was bored and had to struggle to finish.
Short Excerpt Teaser
One
Apocalypses always kick off at the witching hour.
That's something you know now.
It makes sense, if you think about it. An apocalypse, by its nature, is kind of doomy and gloomy. The best time for gathering energy for that kind of working is when you're in the deepest, darkest, coldest part of the night. That time of stillness between, oh, two in the morning and dawn. There're a lot of names for that time of night. The witching hour. The hour of the wolf. The dead of night. I could go on and on, because we all have names for it.
But they're all talking about the same time. The hour when you sit up in bed, sweating from nightmares. The hour when you awaken for no reason but to fear the future. The hour when you stare at the clock, willing yourself to sleep, knowing it isn't going to happen, and weariness and despair beat upon the doors to the vaults of your mind with leaden clubs.
That's where an apocalypse begins: the witching hour.
And I was charging straight into one as fast as I could.
My brother's old boat, the Water Beetle, a seedy, beat-up twin to the Orca in Jaws, was too dumpy to skip over the waves of Lake Michigan as we headed for the blacked-out city of Chicago, but it bulldogged its way through them nonetheless.
An Enemy, capital E, was coming for my city, and the small portion of forces that the Accorded nations could gather in time was all that stood between the unknown power of the Fomor nation, led by a mad goddess bearing a supernatural superweapon, and about eight million powerless people with very little means of defending themselves.
I tried to give the boat's old engine a little more gas, and it started making a weird moaning noise. I gritted my teeth and eased off. I wouldn't protect anybody if the engine blew up on me and left us bobbing in the lake like a Styrofoam cup.
Murphy came limping up the stairway from belowdecks and eased into the wheelhouse with me. I was about six eight or six nine, depending on my shoes, and Murph had to wear thick socks to break five feet even, so I took up a little more space than she did.
But even so, she slipped up next to me and pressed herself against my side.
I put my arm around her and closed my eyes for a second and focused on nothing but the feel of her against me. Granted, the battle harness and the P90 she carried (illegally, if that mattered at this point) made her a little lumpier and pointier than the dictates of romance typically mandated for a love interest, but all things considered, I didn't mind. She was also warm and soft and tense and alert beside me.
I trusted her. Whatever was coming, she'd have my back, and she was tough and smart.
(And wounded, whispered some doubting part of me. And vulnerable.)
Shut up, me.
"How much longer?" Murphy asked.
"If any of the lights were on, we'd be able to see the skyline by now," I said. "How are our guests?"
"Worried," she said.
"Good," I said. "They should be." I looked down at her and said, "If anything happens, it will be near shore," I said. "Makes the most sense for the enemy to post their people or whatever there. Better tell everyone to be ready."
Murphy frowned at me and nodded. "You expecting trouble? I thought this Titan lady-"
"Ethniu," I supplied.
"Ethniu," she continued, without perturbation, "said she wasn't showing up until the witching hour. But it's after midnight."
"For practitioners, the witching hour is between two and three in the morning. And besides. I think a revenge-obsessed goddess might not make the most reliable newspaper or clock," I said. "I think the Fomor are an aquatic nation. I think if she's really bringing an army in, she'll have scouts and troublemakers already in position. And I think that even taken off their guard, without their armies, there are beings in this town that only a fool would fight fair against."
"I guess there's no honor among demigods," she quipped.
I didn't say anything.
That got her attention. I saw her study my face and then ask, "How bad does it have to be for you not to be making jokes?"
I shook my head. "It's not just what's happening tonight. It's what it means. A supernatural legion is coming to murder everyone in the city. Whether Chicago stands or falls, it doesn't stay the same. It can't. This is going to be too big, too violent. The mortal world isn't going to be able to ignore it this time. No matter what happens tonight, the world. Changes. Period."
She considered that seriously for a moment. Then she said, "The...
Apocalypses always kick off at the witching hour.
That's something you know now.
It makes sense, if you think about it. An apocalypse, by its nature, is kind of doomy and gloomy. The best time for gathering energy for that kind of working is when you're in the deepest, darkest, coldest part of the night. That time of stillness between, oh, two in the morning and dawn. There're a lot of names for that time of night. The witching hour. The hour of the wolf. The dead of night. I could go on and on, because we all have names for it.
But they're all talking about the same time. The hour when you sit up in bed, sweating from nightmares. The hour when you awaken for no reason but to fear the future. The hour when you stare at the clock, willing yourself to sleep, knowing it isn't going to happen, and weariness and despair beat upon the doors to the vaults of your mind with leaden clubs.
That's where an apocalypse begins: the witching hour.
And I was charging straight into one as fast as I could.
My brother's old boat, the Water Beetle, a seedy, beat-up twin to the Orca in Jaws, was too dumpy to skip over the waves of Lake Michigan as we headed for the blacked-out city of Chicago, but it bulldogged its way through them nonetheless.
An Enemy, capital E, was coming for my city, and the small portion of forces that the Accorded nations could gather in time was all that stood between the unknown power of the Fomor nation, led by a mad goddess bearing a supernatural superweapon, and about eight million powerless people with very little means of defending themselves.
I tried to give the boat's old engine a little more gas, and it started making a weird moaning noise. I gritted my teeth and eased off. I wouldn't protect anybody if the engine blew up on me and left us bobbing in the lake like a Styrofoam cup.
Murphy came limping up the stairway from belowdecks and eased into the wheelhouse with me. I was about six eight or six nine, depending on my shoes, and Murph had to wear thick socks to break five feet even, so I took up a little more space than she did.
But even so, she slipped up next to me and pressed herself against my side.
I put my arm around her and closed my eyes for a second and focused on nothing but the feel of her against me. Granted, the battle harness and the P90 she carried (illegally, if that mattered at this point) made her a little lumpier and pointier than the dictates of romance typically mandated for a love interest, but all things considered, I didn't mind. She was also warm and soft and tense and alert beside me.
I trusted her. Whatever was coming, she'd have my back, and she was tough and smart.
(And wounded, whispered some doubting part of me. And vulnerable.)
Shut up, me.
"How much longer?" Murphy asked.
"If any of the lights were on, we'd be able to see the skyline by now," I said. "How are our guests?"
"Worried," she said.
"Good," I said. "They should be." I looked down at her and said, "If anything happens, it will be near shore," I said. "Makes the most sense for the enemy to post their people or whatever there. Better tell everyone to be ready."
Murphy frowned at me and nodded. "You expecting trouble? I thought this Titan lady-"
"Ethniu," I supplied.
"Ethniu," she continued, without perturbation, "said she wasn't showing up until the witching hour. But it's after midnight."
"For practitioners, the witching hour is between two and three in the morning. And besides. I think a revenge-obsessed goddess might not make the most reliable newspaper or clock," I said. "I think the Fomor are an aquatic nation. I think if she's really bringing an army in, she'll have scouts and troublemakers already in position. And I think that even taken off their guard, without their armies, there are beings in this town that only a fool would fight fair against."
"I guess there's no honor among demigods," she quipped.
I didn't say anything.
That got her attention. I saw her study my face and then ask, "How bad does it have to be for you not to be making jokes?"
I shook my head. "It's not just what's happening tonight. It's what it means. A supernatural legion is coming to murder everyone in the city. Whether Chicago stands or falls, it doesn't stay the same. It can't. This is going to be too big, too violent. The mortal world isn't going to be able to ignore it this time. No matter what happens tonight, the world. Changes. Period."
She considered that seriously for a moment. Then she said, "The...
