"Clayton Emery - Netheril 03 - Mortal Consequences" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

Mortal Consequences
Book 3 of the Netheril Trilogy
By Clayton Emery
Ebook version 1.0
 Heat belched all around him. Brimstone bubbled just under his nose. He was afire. His smock
ignited, as did the skin on his elbows and knees. He screamed at the sudden pain, and forced his eyes
open to see this new attack, to get away.
The water was gone. Instead, the creek bed roiled with black, sticky tar. Huge gas pockets burped
sulfur. Things charred and long dead floated on the surface. The tar was near boiling, and Candlemas
was elbow-and hock-deep in it. It stuck to his face and neck, and burned where it touched. He wailed
with fright and agony as he plucked himself free and grabbed for the shore.
The monster was there to meet him....
The Netheril Trilogy
Clayton Emery

Sword Play
Dangerous Games
Mortal Consequences
Clayton Emery
 Chapter 1
"Watch it! It's aтАФ"
The land around the pair extended for miles in all directions, flat as a white tabletop. Yet the part
they'd trodden on suddenly erupted upward like a snapped rug, then twisted and curled high as a man's
shoulder to engulf them.
Sunbright Steelshanks, barbarian, grabbed his much-smaller companion Knucklebones, part-elven
thief, by one arm, and hurled her a dozen feet to plow into powdery snow. By the time the thief had
rebounded to her feet and whipped snow from her eyes, the barbarian was gone.
Not gone, she realized, gulped down. Entrapped.
Some monster like a wide, flat rug, diamond-shaped like a manta ray from the ocean, had whirled
upward from the tundra floor to snare Sunbright, then slammed itself and its prey hard against the
ground.
The leathery thing was a dozen feet across, big as a tent, and strong as a yoke of bulls. Though hard
to see against snow and winter-white sky, Sunbright was wrapped like a mummy in white folds so
tight that Knucklebones could see knobs marking his belt buckle, back scabbard, and the iron rings of
his moosehide boots.
She didn't look for long. Whipping out a dark-bladed elven knife, she pelted toward the monster,
powdery snow flying from her boots, and drove the slim blade into the creature's hide directly above
Sunbright's head. As the creature jerked, she sliced sideways, fearful of scalping Sunbright. The hide
was tough as a boot sole, and stiff with white hair sharp enough to pierce her hand. She heaved and
sawed with her blade, parted flesh, but drew no blood, only a white ichor that froze instantly in the
chilly air.
Her carving was rewarded by a brief glimpse of Sunbright's topknot and trailing horsetail, hair so
blonde it was almost white, giving him his name. His face was dangerously blue from suffocating.
Sucking air as if drowning, he gasped, "My sword! Cut out myтАФ"
The vision was whisked away. Astonished, Knucklebones saw the wound seal as if by magic. A
white-on-white line glowed, then the hide was as smooth and tough as before. As impervious to harm.
Inside the rolled-up carpet-beast, Sunbright kicked, kneed, flexed, bit, tussled; all to no avail. Even
his brawny arms, pinned alongside his head, could only shove the living walls away a hair. He was
locked in a white chamber tighter than a coffin, lungs and stomach constricted. He would have blacked
out already had not Knucklebones let in fresh air with her knife. The monster healed instantly, and