"Dragonlance - Deathgate Cycle 07 - The Seventh Gate - uc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Deathgate Cycle)

And there it was. The sign.

Marit cursed herself. She'd been so preoccupied, she had almost missed what she'd been searching for. Kneeling down, she carefully picked up an object, held it out for Hugh the Hand to see.

It was a green, glittering scale. One of several scales Чgreen and goldЧlying on the ground.

Surrounding it were large dollops of fresh blood.

CHAPTER 2

THE LABYRINTH

"ACCORDING TO VASU, THE LAST TIME HE SAW ALFREDЧTHE dragon AlfredЧhe was falling from the skies. Wounded, bleeding." Mark turned the green scale over and over in her hand.

"There were lots of dragons fighting," Hugh protested.

"But the Labyrinth dragons are red-scaled. Not green. No, this has to be Alfred."

"Whatever you say, lady. I don't believe it myself. A man changing himself into a dragon!" He snorted.

"The same man who brought you back from the dead," Marit said crisply. "Let's go."

The trail of bloodЧpitiably easy to followЧled into the forest. Marit found glimmering drops on the grass and splattered on the leaves of the trees. Occasionally she and Hugh were forced to make a detour around some impassable tangle of bramble bushes or thick undergrowth, but they could always pick the trail up easily; too easily. The dragon had lost a lot of blood.

"If the dragon was Alfred, he was flying away from the city," Hugh the Hand observed, crawling over a fallen log. "I wonder why? If he was hurt this badly, you'd think he would have come back to the city for help."

THE SEVENTH GATE

*13*

"In the Labyrinth, a mother will often run away from safety to lure the enemy from her child. I think that's what Alfred was doing. That's why he didn't fly toward the city. He was being pursued and so he deliberately led his enemy away from us. Careful. Don't go near that!"

Marit caught hold of Hugh, stopped him from stepping into an innocent-looking tangle of green leaves. "That's a choke vine. It'll tighten around your ankle, cut right through the bone. You won't have a foot left."

"Nice place you've got here, lady," Hugh muttered, falling back. "The damn weed is all over! There's no way around it."

"We'll have to climb." Marit pulled herself up into a tree, began crawling from branch to branch.

Hugh the Hand followed more clumsily and more slowly, his dangling feet barely clearing the choke vine. Its green leaves and tiny white blossoms stirred and rustled beneath him.

Marit pointed grimly to streaks of blood running down the tree trunk. Hugh grunted, said nothing.

Across the vine-patch, Marit slid back down to the ground. She scratched at her skin. The sigla had begun to itch and glow faintly, warning her of danger. Apparently, not all their enemies had rushed to do battle at the Final Gate. She pushed forward with greater urgency, greater caution.

Emerging from a dense thicket, she stepped suddenly and unexpectedly into a cleared space.

"Would you look at this!" Hugh the Hand gave a low whistle.

Marit stared, amazed.