"Raymond E. Feist - Darkwar 1 - Flight Of The Nighthawks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

long. Westward, over the sea, dark thunderheads were forming above the black
outline of the Six Sisters, the small islands on the horizon. The roiling, surging
clouds, with rain trailing below like some sooty veil, heralded another of the sudden
storms common to this part of the coast in early summer. The winds drove the clouds
with unnatural fury and distant thunder grew louder by the moment.
Pug turned and looked in all directions. Something was terribly wrong. He knew he
had been here many times before, but. . . He had been here before! Not just in this
place, but living this moment!
To the south, the high bluffs of Sailor's Grief reared up against the sky, as waves
crashed against the base of that rocky pinnacle. Whitecaps started to form behind the
breakers, a sure sign the storm would quickly strike. Pug knew he was in danger, for
the storms of summer could drown anyone on the beaches, or if severe enough, on the
low ground beyond. He picked up his sack and started north, towards the castle. As he
moved among the pools, he felt the coolness in the wind turn to a deeper, wetter cold.
The day began to be broken by a patchwork of shadows as the first clouds passed
before the sun, bright colours fading to shades of grey. Out to sea, lightning flashed
against the blackness of the clouds, and the boom of onrushing thunder rode over the
noise of the waves. Pug picked up speed when he came to the first stretch of open
beach.
The storm was coming in faster than he would have thought possible, driving the
rising tide before it. By the time he reached the second stretch of tide pools, there was
barely ten feet of dry sand between water's edge and cliffs. Pug hurried as fast as was
safe across the rocks, twice nearly catching his foot. As he reached the next expanse
of sand, he mistimed his jump from the last rock and landed . . . poorly. He had
twisted his ankle!
He had been here before, and when he had jumped he had twisted his ankle and a
moment later the waves had washed over him.
Pug turned to look at the sea and instead of the surge of water that would wash over
him, the water was pulling back! The sea gathered in on itself and as it pulled away, it
climbed higher and higher: a wall of water reaching angrily to the heavens. An
explosion of thunder erupted over his head and he ducked, crouching to avoid the
threat from above. Pug risked an upwards glance and wondered how the clouds had
gathered so quickly. Where had the sun gone?
The roiling breakers continued to mount the sky, and as Pug watched in dread, he
could see figures moving within the liquid wall. It resembled a barrier of sea-green
glass, clouded with sandy imperfections and explosions of bubbles, but transparent
enough to make out the shapes moving within it.
Armed creatures stood in ranks, poised and waiting to invade Crydee, and a word
came to Pug's mind: Dasati.
He turned, letting go of the sack in his hand as he attempted to reach higher ground.
He must warn Duke Borric! He would know what to do! But the Duke is dead, over a
century now.
Panic-stricken, the boy clambered up the low rise, his hands unable to find a firm
grip, his feet denied solid purchase. He felt tears of frustration rise in his eyes and he
glanced over his shoulder.
The black figures stirred within the mounting wall of water. As they stepped
forward the wave rose to impossible height, blackening out the already storm-grey
skies. Above and behind the massive wave a thing of dark anger revealed itself - a
murk without form and feature, yet coherent - a powerful presence with purpose and
mind. From it poured pure evil, a miasma of malevolence so vast that it caused the