"Rawn, Melanie - Dragon Star 2 - Dragon Token" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

Elidi was back, wings spread and talons extended as if she were another sire challenging Azhdeen to combat. Her tail lashed and she reached out to cuff the larger dragon, snarling at him. Azhdeen bore it with amazing aplomb; he neither hit back nor snapped, nor so much as growled. Elidi cried out again, with a pleading note in her voice this time. And all at once Pol understood. She had looked for Morwenna and had not found her. Now she was demanding that Azhdeen explain.

The implications throttled thought. All he could do

was push himself to his feet and stand there gaping at the two dragons. When Azhdeen surrounded him in color and picture and emotion, he responded helplessly.

Morwenna. Stronghold. Fear. Sorrow. Rage. Fire. Death-Each word called into his mind brought a flashing picture with it. Azhdeen released him and again he lost his footing. Blind and mute, he dug his fingers into gritty ash and cringed as Elidi screamed, mourning her dead. "My lord? Can you hear?" "Pol! Look at me!" "PolЧoh, my lord, pleaseЧ"

Somebody helped him upright; somebody else wrapped damp cold cloths around his hands. His knees wilted for a moment before he consciously locked them. "Open your mouth and drink this." He recognized Feylin's voiceЧFeylin, who was scared of dragons. He didn't know whether to be amused that she'd conquered her fear to come to himЧso close to a dragonЧor alarmed that she'd felt it necessary.

Strong wine spilled down his throat, burning a path to his empty belly. He coughed and shook his head, staggering against the strong arm gripping his shoulders.

"There, that's better," Feylin said. Pol saw her then, a hazy outline that swiftly solidified in the late afternoon sun. "Talk to me," she ordered.

"You'd like a speech?" he rasped. "Goddess! What in all Hells was that?"

"If you mean the wine, it's a little something Kazand-er's people brew from cactus juice. If you mean about the dragonsЧ"

Turning his head, he saw that it was Kazander holding him steady. "My thanks to youЧI think." He ran his tongue around his teeth; his whole mouth felt burned.

A grin appeared below the black mustache. "Cures everything from battle wounds to a broken heart. Are you sound now, my lord? Can you walk?"

"Let's not be too hasty." He looked down at his hands. They had been bound in soft blue lace, for all the world like that of a lady's undertunic.

"You cut your hands up pretty badly," Feylin remarked, stoppering the wineskin and handing it back to Kazander.

"AhЧyes, I remember. What happened to the dragons?"

"After Azhdeen backed up enough for us to get near and take care of you, he led them all off into the hills. Gone hunting, I suspect. They didn't drink much, which means they didn't want to get too water-heavy to fly. It's a long way from the Catha Hills and they looked hungry."

"I meant what happened with Elidi."

"Morwenna's little blue-gray? She flew south."

"To Stronghold," Pol murmured.

"Sioned's dragon is still here."

He followed her gesture to a most incredible sight. Sioned and Meath were walking slowly around the lake toward the keep, alone but for the dragon that kept quiet pace with them.

"Your Azhdeen called to her several times, but she wouldn't leave Sioned's side." Feylin shrugged. "I hope the others bring something back for her. She looks exhausted, poor thing."

"My lord? Pol?"

He glanced around and for the first time noticed his wife. If Feylin was afraid of dragons, Meiglan was terrified of them. Yet she too had come to him, and near Azhdeen. His heart turned over and he felt his throat tighten. She was pale and big-eyed and looked perhaps fifteen years old, her clothes rumpled where she had pulled the shirt from her belt. Belatedly he recognized the color and pattern of the lace that bandaged his hands.

"I'm perfectly all right, my darling," he told her, and put his arms around her. "Don't worry."

"Azhdeen wouldn't let us near you until Meiglan came with us," Feylin said.