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

events had faded, so that now it was only a legend, the Dark Master had sought
to seize control of all creation, had sought to bind all that existed to her.
But her efforts had failed, the master rune itself was broken, and at that
time, the One True World had shattered, splintering into a thousand thousand
shadow worlds, each but a dim reflec┬мtion of the perfect world that had been.
With its destruction, the knowledge of the master rune was lost. Long had
Asgaroth believed that reality was like a shattered crystal, each shadow world
a shard of what had been. And one of those shards would still know the shape
of the master rune.
Now, they had found that shard. And with the knowledge, the master rune could
be rebuilt. The shadow worlds could be bound in one, all worlds colliding to
make a perfect whole.
"He will seek to bind the worlds," Shadoath said.

Both Shadoath and Asgaroth had amassed a wealth of knowledge about magic. But
neither knew the key to binding the worlds, to bringing forth the restoration.
"Then we must make sure that he is under our sway," As┬мgaroth said. "After his
birth, it will take time before he fully awakens to his power. The
torch-bearer will be vulnerable."
"Then we should plant the seeds of his destruction now," Shadoath said. "You
know what to do. Open a gate to his world, and I will bring my armies and join
you."
Asgaroth smiled. Shadoath's resources were unbounded, her cunning unsurpassed,
her cruelty inspired. Compared to her, the monster Scathain who had lost
against the Earth King was but a worm. She had defeated the torch-bearer
countless times before. She would defeat him one last time, in this the most
desperate of contests. For this time it was not a single world that hung in
the balance, it was all creation.
"An open gate awaits you," Asgaroth said, and he showed her a vision of a tiny
village, burned to slag there among the woods. Chimneys of blackened stone
were all mat was left of the houses. On a patch of ashes, among ash-covered
bones, green flames glowed, creeping along the ground.
At that moment, the Earth King Gaborn Val Orden was taking a late meal. He set
down his wine goblet and felt vaguely disturbed. He tilted his head as if
listening. He felt
something A keen sense of danger that prickled the hair
on his scalp. But it was distant, in the future. And it was not targeted at a
certain person. It was diffuse, and vast It was an evil large enough to lay
waste to an entire world. ;

1
PERFECTING THE DARKNESS
No one can truly be called a man so long as he basks in the light of his
father and mother. For until we are forced to stand alone, we never know the
measure of strength that abides within us. And once a boy's father dies, he
cannot be called a child any longer.
тАФThe Wizard Binnesman
This was the face of the Earth King: Skin the shade of dark green oak leaves,
fading in the fall. Old man's hair of silver webs. A sorrowful face as full of
furrows as the rind of a rot┬мting apple. And green-black eyes that were wild,