"David Farland - Runelords 5 - Sons of the Oak" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farland David)

endowments of brawn or of speed or of anything else, and though he had the
respect of the other guards, he was the weakest of them all. Why he had not
taken new attributes was a mystery that Fal┬мlion had not been able to unravel.
Fallion knew that there were dangers in taking endow┬мments, of course. Take
the brawn from a man, and you be┬мcome strong, but he becomes so weak that
perhaps his heart will fail. Take the grace from a woman, and suddenly you are
limber, but maybe her lungs won't unclench. Take the wit from a man, and you
have use of his memory, but you leave an idiot in your wake.
It was a horrible thing to do, taking an attribute from an┬мother human being.
Fallion's mother and father had ab┬мhorred the deed, and he felt their
reluctance. But why had Borenson turned away from it?
Borenson wasn't a real guard in Fallion's mind. He acted more like a father
than a guard.
Waggit said softly, "The shaping of men is aтАФ"
There was an odd series of percussive booms, as if in the distance up the
mountain, lightning struck a dozen times in

rapid succession. The sound was not so much heard as felt, a jarring in the
marrow.
Waggit fell silent. He'd been about to offer more praise for the Earth King.
But he often worried about praising Fal-lion's father in front of the boys.
Gaborn Val Orden was the first Earth King in two thousand years, and most
likely the last that mankind would see for another two thousand. He cast a
shadow that covered the whole world, and despite Fal-lion's virtues, Waggit
knew that the boy could never come close to filling his father's boots.
Waggit had an odd sensation, glanced up the hill. Almost, he expected to see
the Earth King there, Gaborn Val Orden, stepping out from among the shadow of
the trees, like a ner┬мvous bear into the night. He could nearly taste Gaborn's
scent, as rich as freshly turned soil. Nearby, a cricket began to sing its
nightly song of decay.
Borenson drew a deep breath, and raised his nose like a hound that has caught
a familiar scent. "I don't know about evil, but I smell death. There are
corpses in the forest."
He turned his horse, and with a leap it was over the hedge and rushing up
toward the pines. Waggit and Daymorra looked at each other, as if wondering
whether they should follow, and Fallion made up their minds for diem. He
spurred his horse above the hedge and gave chase.
In moments, they thundered over the green grass up the hill, leapt another
stone fence, and found themselves under a dark canopy. The pine needles lay
thick on the ground, wet and full of mold, muffling die footfalls of the
horses. Still, with each step, twigs would break, like the sound of small
bones snapping in a bird.
It seemed unnaturally bleak under the trees to Sir Boren┬мson. He'd been in
many forests. The clouds above and the setting sun had both muted the light,
but the black pine boughs seemed to hurry the coming of the night.
In the solemn forest, mist rose from the ground, creating a
haze, like an empty songhouse once the candles have been
snuffed out, after the last aria of the evening. I

They rode through deep woods for nearly half a mile be┬мfore Borenson found the