"01 - Canticle - R A Salvatore 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cleric Quintet)

"Intoxicant?" came a sarcastic query from across the room.

Drawn away by the screams of "Ragnor!" Aballister didn't bother to answer the imp. The wizard rushed out, not wanting to miss the coming spectacle, and soon found Us two colleagues as they made their way through the halls.

"It is Haverly, the young fighter," said Dorigen, the only female wizard in the castle. Aballister's evil smile stopped her and her companion in their tracks.

"The potion is completed?" Dorigen asked hopefully, her amber eyes sparkling as she tossed her long black hair back over her shoulder.

"Chaos curse," Aballister confirmed as he led them on. When they arrived at the complex's large dining hall, they found that the fighting had already begun. Several tables had been flung about and a hundred startled men and ores, and even a few giants, lined the room's perimeter, watching in amazement. Ragnor and Haverly stood facing each other in the center of the room, swords drawn.

"The fighters will need a new third in their ruling council," Dorigen remarked. "Surely either Ragnor or Haverly will fall this day, leaving only two."

"Ragnor!" Haverly proclaimed loudly. "Today I take my place as leader of the fighters!"

The other warrior, a powerfully built ogrillon, having ancestors both ogre and ore, and carrying the scars of a thousand battles, hardly seemed impressed. "Today you take your place among your ancestors," he chided.

Haverly charged, his foolishly straightforward attack costing him so deep a gash on one shoulder that his arm was nearly severed. The crazed fighter didn't even grimace, didn't even notice the wound or the pain.

Though plainly amazed that the vicious wound had not slowed his opponent, Ragnor still managed to deflect Haverly's sword and get in close to the man. He caught Haverly's sword arm with his free hand and tried to position his own weapon for a strike.

Gasps of astonishment arose throughout the gathering as Haverly somehow managed to lift his brutally torn arm and similarly block Ragnor's strike.

Haverly was almost as tall as Ragnor, but many pounds lighter and not nearly as strong. Still, and despite the wicked wound, he held Ragnor at bay for many moments.

"You are stronger than you seem," Ragnor admitted, somewhat impressed, but showing no concern; on the few occasions that his incredible strength had failed him, the ogrillon had always found a way to improvise. He pressed a disguised button on his sword hilt, and a second blade, a long, slender dirk, appeared, protruding straight down from the sword hilt, right in line with Haverly's unhelmeted head.

Haverly was too engrossed to even notice. "Ragnor!" he screamed again, hysterically, his face contorted. He slammed his forehead into Ragnor's face, squashing the ogrillon's nose. Haverly's head came crashing in again, but Ragnor managed to ignore the pain and keep his concentration on the more lethal attack.

Haverly's head came back in line a third time. Ragnor, tasting his own blood, savagely twisted his sword arm free and plunged straight down, impaling the dirk deeply into Haverly's skull.



* * * * *



The three priests of the ruling triumvirate entered the room then, led by Barjin, who was obviously not pleased by the combat.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded of Aballister, understanding that the wizard had played a role here.

"A matter for the fighters to explain, it would seem," Aballister replied with a shrug. Seeing that the priest was about to intervene in the continuing battle, Aballister bent over and whispered, "The chaos curse," in Barjin's ear.

Barjin's face brightened immediately and he watched the bloody battle with sudden enthusiasm.



* * * * *