"Dark Rising 4 - The Grey King" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cooper Susan)The Grey King
By Susan Cooper Book 4 of 5 in "The Dark is Rising" series ************************************************ On the day of the dead, when the year too dies, Must the youngest open the oldest hills Through the door of the birds, where the breeze breaks. There fire shall fly from the raven boy, And the silver eyes that see the wind, And the Light shall have the harp of gold. By the pleasant lake the Sleepers lie, On Cadfan's Way where the kestrels call; Though grim from the Grey King shadows fall, Yet singing the golden harp shall guide To break their sleep and bid them ride. When light from the lost land shall return, And where the midsummer tree grows tall By Pendragon's sword the Dark shall fall. Y maent yr mynyddoedd yn canu, ac y mae'r arglwyddes yn dod. Prologue 'Are you awake, Will? Will? Wake up, it's time for your medicine, love...' The face swung like a pendulum to and fro; rose high up in a pink blur; dropped again; divided into six pink blurs, all of them spinning madly like wheels. He closed his eyes. He could feel sweat cold on his forehead, panic cold in his mind. I've lost it. I've forgotten! Even in darkness the world spun round. There was a great buzzing in his head like rushing water, until for a moment the voice broke through it again. 'Will! Just for a moment, wake up...' It was his mother's voice. He knew, but could not focus. The darkness whirled and roared. I've lost something. It's gone. What was it? It was terribly important, I must remember it, I must!. He began to struggle, reaching for consciousness, and a long way off heard himself groan. 'Here we go.' Another voice. The doctor. A firm arm, propping his shoulders; cold metal at his lips, a liquid tipped deftly down his throat. Automatically he swallowed. The world wildly spun. Panic came flooding again. A few faint words flashed through his mind and away like a snatch of music; his memory clutched, grasping - 'On the day of the dead -' Mrs Stanton stared down anxiously at the white face, the dark-smudged closed eyes, the damp hair. 'What did he say?' |
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