"C. S. Friedman - Coldfire 1 - Black Sun Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

have been hidden from her sight before, for she had never noticed it. Into a
natural cavern that water had eroded from the rock of the castleтАЩs foundation,
leaving only a narrow bridge of glistening stone to vault across its depths. This
they followed, his muttered words binding sufficient fae to steady their feet as
they crossed. Beneath them - far beneath, in the lightless depths - she sensed
water, and occasionally a drop could be heard as it fell from the ceiling to that
unseen lake far, far below.
Give it up, my husband! Throw the darkness off and come back to us - your
wife, the children, your church. Take up your dreams again, and the sword of
your faith, and come back into the light of day . . . But true night reigned below,
as it did above; the shadows of the underworld gave way only grudgingly to the
light of the NeocountтАЩs lamp, and closed behind them as soon as they had
passed.
The water-carved bridge ended in a broad ledge of rock. There he stepped
aside and indicated that she should precede him, through a narrow archway
barely wide enough to let her pass. She did so, trembling. Whatever he had
found in these depths, it was here. Waiting for her. That knowledge must have
been faeborn, it was so absolute.
And then he entered, bearing the lamp, and she saw.
тАЬOh, my God! . . . Tory? . . . Alix?тАЭ
They were huddled against the far wall, behind the bulk of a rough stone
slab that dominated the small cavernтАЩs interior. Both of them, pale as ice, glassy
eyes staring into nothingness. She walked slowly to where they lay, not wanting
to believe. Wake me up, she begged silently, make it all be a dream, stop this
from happening . . . Her children. Dead. His children. She looked up at him, into
eyes so cold that she wondered if they had ever been human.
She could barely find her voice, but at last whispered, тАЬWhy?тАЭ
тАЬI need time,тАЭ he told her. There was pain in his voice-deep-rooted pain, and
possibly fear. But no doubt, she noted. And no regret. None of the things that
her former husband would have felt, standing in this cold strangerтАЩs shoes.
тАЬTime, Almea. And thereтАЩs no other way to have it.тАЭ
тАЬYou loved them!тАЭ
He nodded slowly, and shut his eyes. For an instant - just an instant - the
ghost of his former self seemed to hover about him. тАЬI loved them,тАЭ he agreed.
тАЬAs I love you.тАЭ He opened his eyes again, and the ghost vanished. Looked at
her. тАЬIf I didnтАЩt, this would have no power.тАЭ
She wanted to scream, but the sound was trapped within her. A nightmare,
she begged herself. ThatтАЩs all it is, so wake up. Wake up! Wake up . . .
He handled her gently but forcefully, sitting her down on the rough stone
slab. Lowering her slowly down onto it, until she lay full length upon its abrasive
surface. Numb with shock, she felt him bind her limbs down tightly, until it was
impossible for her to move. Protests arose within her - promises, reasoning,
desperate pleas - but her voice was somehow lost to her. She could only stare at
him in horror as he shut his eyes, could only watch in utter silence as he worked
to bind the wild fae to his purpose . . . in preparation for the primal Pattern of
Erna. Sacrifice.
At last his eyes opened. They glistened wetly as he looked at her; she
wondered if there were tears.
тАЬI love you,тАЭ he told her. тАЬMore than everything, save life itself. And I would
have surrendered even that for you, in its proper time. But not now. Not when