"Elrod, P N - I, Strahd 2 - War Against Azalin e-txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

be exploited to help me escape my prison.
One portion of the pattern had to do with the occasional trespassers who entered
the country at irregular intervals. As the newcomers were universally a bad lot,
I used to kill them as I found them, but I'd since learned the wisdom of taking
them alive so that I might closely question my prisoners on their lives beyond
the Mists, trying to build a picture of the lands and peoples there. This was
oftentimes easier said than done. Occasionally such trespassers spoke a similar
tongue to my ownЧoften startlingly similarЧand communication was relatively
easy. Other times trespassers had languages so unintelligible that I was forced
to cast an appropriate spell in order to communicate even the most basic
questions. By these interrogations I learned of many wonders, adding each piece
of information to my index, though some of it was contradictory.
Two prisoners had arrived separately at different times, butЧand this had not
happened beforeЧthey were apparently from the same country. They each claimed it
to be the same year as time was reckoned there, but each acknowledged a
completely different liege lord ruling the place. By this I could deduce that
there might be far more worlds out there than I had ever imagined, perhaps piled
on top of one another in some manner that left them unaware of their nearly
identical neighbors. It was intriguing to think on, though I was not quite ready
to believe it yet, not until I obtained more proof than the word of two
argumentative murderers, but perhaps there were multiple worlds beyond my
borders. I wanted to reach those worlds, break through the Mists to the other
side. Perhaps if these other worlds did indeed exist, then it was not
inconceivable that in one of those worlds my dear Tatyana yet lived. The Barovia
I knew had come about because of my own violent acts, the imprisoning Mists
rising high and spreading far from its center at Castle Ravenloft. How then was
I to reverse it and escape? Commit something unutterably altruistic and
self-sacrificing and hope for the best?
I doubted it would be that simple.
Magical books were far too few, though, and none, save one, appeared to have any
information in regard to my plight. The exception was the book Alek Gwilym, my
long dead second-in-command, brought me that final year before everything
changed. He had never approved of my studies in the Art, probably a wise
foresight of his since it had later indirectly led to his death at my hands.
In that book I'd finally found what I had been searching so long for: A Spell
For Obtaining the Heart's Desire. IdealЧexcept I wasn't far enough along in my
studies to be able to read it. That had come to me when Death, summoned by my
anger, frustration, and despair, made its visitation and offer, and we sealed
our hellish pact. I'd gotten everything I'd wanted, but each desire had its own
terrible price.
Age ceased to be a problem for meЧthough I often had to feed off gutter leavings
and luckless peasants to stay alive. Sergei ceased to be my rivalЧafter I had
murdered him with the blade of a Ba'al Verzi assassin. And Tatyana became
mineЧfor a few moments of bliss until sheЕ
It is indeed true that one should be very careful with one's wishes, as they are
likely to manifest themselves in a most unpleasant manner.
Since then I hadn't opened that particular book.
Common sense told me it was now no different from any of the other magic books
in my possession; it had only been used as a tool to lure me into this
velvet-barred cage. I was a prisoner with nothing left to offer Death. Possibly