"The Paths of Darkness 1 - The Silent Blade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Paths of Darkness)

in this, his favorite torturing technique, Bizmatec pressed
oh so subtly on Wulfgar's throat, took away the air, then
gave it back, over and over, leaving the man weak in the
legs, gasping and gasping as minutes, then hours, slipped
past.
Wulfgar sat up straight in his bed, clutching at his
throat, clawing a scratch down one side of it before he
realized that the demon was not there, that he was safe in
his bed in the land he called home, surrounded by his
friends.
Friends . . .
What did that word mean? What could they know of his
torment? How could they help him chase away the enduring
nightmare that was Errtu?
The haunted man did not sleep the rest of the night, and
when Drizzt came to rouse him, well before the dawn, the dark
elf found Wulfgar already dressed for the road. They were to
leave this day, all five, bearing the artifact Crenshinibon
far, far to the south and west. They were bound for Caradoon
on the banks of Impresk Lake, and then into the Snowflake
Mountains to a great monastery called Spirit Soaring where a
priest named Cadderly would destroy the wicked relic.
Crenshinibon. Drizzt had it with him when he came to get
Wulfgar that morning. The drow didn't wear it openly, but
Wulfgar knew it was there. He could sense it, could feel its
vile presence. For Crenshinibon remained linked to its last
master, the demon Errtu. It tingled with the energy of the
demon, and because Drizzt had it on him and was standing so
close, Errtu, too, remained close to Wulfgar.
"A fine day for the road," the drow remarked light-
heartedly, but his tone was strained, condescending, Wulfgar
noted. With more than a little difficulty, Wulfgar resisted
the urge to punch Drizzt in the face.
Instead, he grunted in reply and strode past the
deceptively small dark elf. Drizzt was but a few inches over
five feet, while Wulfgar towered closer to seven feet than to
six, and carried fully twice the weight of the drow. The
barbarian's thigh was thicker than Drizzt's waist, and yet,
if it came to blows between them, wise bettors would favor
the drow.
"I have not yet wakened Catti-brie," Drizzt explained.
Wulfgar turned fast at the mention of the name. He stared
hard into the drow's lavender eyes, his own blue orbs
matching the intensity that always seemed to be there.
"But Regis is already awake and at his morning meal-he is
hoping to get two or three breakfasts in before we leave, no
doubt," Drizzt added with a chuckle, one that Wulfgar did not
share. "And Bruenor will meet us on the field beyond Bryn
Shander's eastern gate. He is with his own folk, preparing
the priestess Stumpet to lead the clan in his absence."