"The Reader's Companion Series 01 - The Odyssey of Gilthanas - Douglas Niles & Steve Miller & Stan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragonlance)

The haughty Silvanesti stepped back from the door. Gilthanas didn't want to go with him, but the prospect of even a few minutes outside the constricting cell was enough to overcome his loathing for the one who had imprisoned him. He ignored Konnal and held his head high as he passed through the door, and past the dirt-walled jailroom beyond.
One of the guards preceded him and the other followed as the little procession advanced up the stairs and through a narrow doorway that emerged onto a sloping field beneath the open, sunlit sky. Gilthanas was blinded by the brilliance, squeezing his eyes shut because of the mind-numbing brightness that overloaded his senses and threatened to shut down his brain. At the same time, he exhilarated in the vastness of his surroundings, by drawing fresh air through his nostrils and delighting in the odors of trees and grass, of fresh air and a warm, dry breeze.
"Move!" One of the guards pushed him roughly from behind, and by opening his eyes to slits he could see at least the ground beneath his feet. He sensed that they were moving uphill, and by the time they had gone a hundred paces, his eyes had become attuned enough that he could open them and look around.
Together with Konnal and the two staff-wielding elven warriors, he stood atop a high, rounded hill. The sculpted forests of Silvanesti spread to the far horizons, though the elevation itself was smooth and grassy. Around him were several columns of white marble, and the crest was paved in similar alabaster stones.
"Do you recognize this place?" asked Konnal.
"No."
"I'm not surprised. You Qualinesti are indeed ignorant savages, with little knowledge of our race's proud heritage. This is the Hill of Sol-Fallon."
"The place where the first Sinthal-Elish met and formed the pact of elves that created Silvanesti." Gilthanas felt a perverse pleasure in demonstrating some awareness of elven history.
"Precisely. Your cell is a small cave that has been excavated into the hillside below."
"Perhaps it is fitting that, in your hate and prejudice, you have imprisoned an elf from a different realm here. How like you, Konnal, to debase a place that should be hallowed."
The military governor of Silvanesti just laughed. "Enjoy your chances for bluster, 'Prince.' This will be your last opportunity to speak such words, or any others."
"You're going to kill me." Gilthanas stated the fact, unsurprised-but also, with a tingle of energy, unaccepting. He tried to think, to imagine some means of escape, resolving that his life would not end easily.
"Yes. Right here, in honor of the sacrifices made by our ancestor Silvanos and his fellows, who left us such a legacy-"
"Legacy of hatred and blindness!" snapped the prince of Qualinesti. "Yes, I suppose my blood will be a fitting offering to your dark furies."
Konnal's eyes narrowed and his hand went to the longsword at his waist. Then he shrugged. "I can't expect a fool such as yourself to understand."
"Why kill me now?" Gilthanas asked. "I have been a prisoner for... how long? Ten years?"
"Twelve. They have been years of dramatic changes across Krynn, though you might not know about that."
In truth, the prince didn't, except for one case. Shortly after his capture, he had noticed the failure of his magical abilities. It was as though during the familiar ritual of spellcasting he had been trying to drink from an empty vessel- his words, his arcane gestures, had called forth nothing at all. The practice of magic might as well have been the gibbering discourse of an infant, for all the effect it had produced.
He didn't want to admit his ignorance, yet he had to do something, if only to stall for time. "What are these changes of which you speak?"
"Our world has entered a new age ... an Age of Mortals. The gods have abandoned us and taken their powers with them, leaving elves and dwarves and humans to make their way on their own. But Krynn is beset by new threats, as well... creatures of chaos that would destroy our lands from within. There are stories, too, of great dragons-massive creatures, beyond the ken of previous knowledge-who threaten to claim all the world from without."
"And so you decided to kill me?" Gilthanas retorted wryly. "I'm not sure I follow your logic."
"The only reason I have kept you alive this long is that I wondered if, at some point in the future, your life might be useful to us... a bargaining chip, so to speak, in such interactions as the Qualinesti forced upon us. But now, as of tomorrow, to be precise, there will be no interactions between Silvanesti and Qualinesti-or, indeed, between Silvanesti and the rest of the world."
The prince was curious in spite of himself. "How are you going to achieve this?"
Konnal laughed, and there was a hint of madness in the sound. Even the two guards, Gilthanas noticed, looked warily at their leader.
"Tomorrow we will raise a barrier around our land-a fence of magic that will sever all ties between Silvanesti and the rest of the world. The Qualinesti will never learn of your fate, because after the barrier is raised neither they, nor anyone else, will know anything that happens within our realm."
"You're insane!" Gilthanas spat out, reacting by reflex. "You would cut yourself off from everything else in the world? Think of the cost, of the loss to yourselves!"
Konnal sneered. "We have everything we need. Indeed, we have much that is coveted by others. The barrier will see that our possessions remain intact and that none may interfere with the hallowed lives within this forest."
"This 'forest' is a tamed garden! Think of it, you fool-all your children will grow up knowing nothing more of life!"
"All they need to know they will find right here," Konnal shot back. The pure conviction rang in his voice, and Gilthanas was aware that this deranged elf actually thought he might convince his prisoner of the rightness of his actions. "We have the world's highest levels of art, and a true sense of our own history-of our own rightful dominance in the story of Krynn. And with the barrier, we will ensure that this status remains unchanged and secure throughout the rest of time."
As he listened to Konnal, Gilthanas had been looking around, wondering about his chances for escape. He might get away from Konnal and these two guards with a quick dash, but he saw more elves in the red tunics of House Protector gathered in knots about the base of the hill. And he had no illusions about his stamina after twelve years of languishing in prison. Perhaps he could take the governor hostage, use him to compel the guards to stay back....
Even as Gilthanas had the thought, Konnal stepped back and his two attendants moved to block the prince's path. Staffs raised, they stood ready to prevent him from attacking Konnal.
It was then that Gilthanas caught the first glimpse of wings overhead-of proud creatures gliding lazily through the skies. He looked up to see griffins, a dozen or more of them, circling over the top of the hill. The mighty fliers had long served as aerial mounts for elven warriors, and for just a moment he longed for the speed that might carry him away.
"You see that even the griffins await your execution," Konnal declared with a laugh. "They know of our plans for the barrier, and you might be surprised to learn that they fully support it."
The shadow of wings grew broader across the hilltop, and the governor raised his arms to the sky, crying out in glee. "Come, my feathered allies . . . watch the demise of our enemy!" With a flourish he drew his sword, while the two guards advanced to flank Gilthanas.
The first griffin flew over, and with a contemptuous flick of his taloned foreclaws, it knocked Konnal to the ground, drawing a startled oath. Gilthanas saw that two more had pushed the guards away, while another grasped his shoulders firmly. He felt his feet rise from the ground, and though the claws supporting him pressed painfully into his skin, he laughed aloud at the fury on his former captor's face. Konnal brandished his weapon wildly, but already the griffins were twenty feet overhead, gliding away from the hilltop.
Another of the graceful fliers glided underneath him, and the griffin supporting Gilthanas let go, dropping the elf onto the broad back. He looked at the white-feathered wings stroking the air, carrying him westward, and watched as the Hill of Sol-Fallon and the gardened forest of Silvanesti surrounding it receded below.
"Perhaps not all of your clan wants to stay within the new fence of Silvanesti?" the prince murmured, looking into the wise, yellow eye of griffin flying beside him.
The creature merely nodded his head, and then the flight spread through the skies, angling toward the border of the ancient elven realm, and to all the world beyond.

Shadow of the Mind: The Missing City, 11sc

Her name is Mala-well, that's what I call her, anyway. She's never corrected me, so I guess it doesn't bother her. But then nothing I do seems to bother her in the slightest. I walk with Mala to the well every morning as she fetches water for her family. We never talk. I'm not even sure she knows I'm there-I usually stay a few yards behind her, or I run ahead and just watch her pass by. It's a comfort just to be near her.
I've never seen such a beautiful woman in all my life. Not just physical beauty either (though I've never met anyone else whose merest smile caused my heart to ache); her spirit is just as beautiful as her face. Mala has rejected a handful of suitors because she can't leave her parents all alone.
Sometimes her sisters come to visit in their husbands' carriages; servants drive them down from the Garden District. They bring extravagances like fruit from Silvanesti, and they coddle and fawn over their aging parents, but they never do any real work around the house. And before night falls (usually long before), they climb into their carriages and ride back to their mansions, leaving behind the squalid home they escaped by finding rich merchants to marry. They leave Mala to do all the chores, to sit up with their mother when the cold night makes her joints ache, and to help their father do nearly everything-a brain seizure has left the poor old man unable to walk or take care of himself (though he's still quite practiced at berating Mala when he doesn't get his way quickly enough).
So life just passes Mala by. Her future days will be nothing but the same routine of chores until the work bends her back and the worry wrinkles her face. She'll wake up one morning to find herself transformed from a fair maiden to a venerable spinster virtually overnight. Her youth will disappear. Her looks will disappear, too. But she will still have me. Mala always will have me.
The trouble is, she'll never know.
I think about this as I follow her on the morning trip to the well. We live in two different worlds. There is no future for us, no hope that the passion in my heart, my love for Mala, will overcome the boundaries that keep us apart-they are too great. I can only walk along in the periphery of her world and take what joy I can from watching her and silently sharing her days and nights.
You'd think such thoughts would sour my disposition and lead me to despair. But Mala is smiling that hopeful grin she sometimes gets, and that wipes away all the sadness from my heart. What is she thinking? What makes her hum happily as she walks to the well? Something has happened. In the time between now and when I last saw her, just before I blew out my candle last night, something has occurred-some news has been delivered, or a revelation has been reached. Mala has hope, and I am delirious.
As we round the corner, Mala's gait speeds up. She fairly skips to the water, but I come to a dead stop. There's something lying at the foot of the well. At first it seems to be a bundle of rags, but then I notice a hand and a strand of hair.
It's a person!