"Bailey-GiantsInTheEarth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bailey Dale)

Burns did not want to look into the darkness at the center of the room. He liked
his face. He did not want it to change. And yet he knew that if he did not move
or speak, did not take action, the ice that was creeping slowly into his throat
would fill up his mouth and paralyze him. He would be forever unable to move
beyond this time and place, this moment.

He looked into the room.

In the flickering shaft of his cap light there lay a creature of such simple and
inevitable beauty that Bums knew that for him the significance of that concept
had been forever altered; it could never again be applied to mere human
loveliness. Burns felt as if he had been swept up in a current of swift-running
water, and in the grip of that current, he took a step forward, stunned by the
apprehension of such beauty, unadulterated by any trace of pettiness, or
ugliness, or mere humanity. He thought his heart might burst free of his chest.
He had not known such creatures existed in the world.

And then, through that veil of terrible beauty, there penetrated to him the
particular details of what he had seen; he came abruptly to a stop as that
paralyzing ice of awe and fear at last rose into his mouth.

This is what he saw:

A being, like a man, but different, ten feet long, or twelve feet, curled naked
in the heart of the mountain.

Wings, white rapturous wings, that swept up and around it like a cloak of molten
feathers.

And in its breast, the rhythmic pulse of life.

Giants in the earth, he thought, and then -- because he knew that if he did not
look away, the lines of his face would be erased and he would lose forever some
essential part of himself -- Burns turned to look at Moore, who still sat
against the wall. His gaunt face hung slack; tears glistened on his cheeks.

"I couldn't bear it," he said.

"We have to tell someone," Burns said.

"But who?"

"Someone who can do something."

"Who?"

Burns thought furiously. For a moment he thought he heard the rustle of feathers
in the darkness behind him, and half-fearful, he turned to face the creature,
but it had not moved. They could not be responsible for this, Burns thought --
and the word responsible was like a gift, for suddenly he knew.