"Michael Jan Friedman - The Seekers and the Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman Michael Jan)

agenda?

But when Vidar came face to face with Ygg, he discov-
ered that the destroyer was Odin himself. Odin, who had
been seen to perish in the last battle with the hrimthursar.
And he was mad, scarred horribly in both body and soul,
so that he only wanted to crush ail he had made.

Vali, lord of Asgard now and Vidar*s half brother, man-
aged to strangle Odin's uprising. But when Vali's armies
overran his father's strongholdтАФa city of thursar priests-
Odin was gone. He had passed through a hidden gate from
world to world.

They had followedтАФVidar and Vali and Hoenir, their
uncle, along with the armies of Asaheim and UtgardтАФbut
their forces had been divided. The gate had sent them to
two different worlds. Vali and Modi and half their troops
were missing when Vidar and Hoenir found themselves in
this cavern overlooking Asgard.

Which way had Odin gone? Hoenir had found the mask
that Odin wore as YggтАФhere, in the cave. And if Odin had

The Seekers and the Sword

come this way, he must have had some cache of power
here, ready to be claimed by him alone.

Asgard looked peaceful from this perch in the moun-
tains. But who within its walls might have long ago sworn
allegiance to OdinтАФthe Lord of the Ravens, who built
Asgard in the first, slow strokes of time?

Indeed, who lived down there now? The descendants of
those Vidar had known and abandoned to live in Midgard.
Descendants twenty times removed from his brothers and
their sons. Strange faces, for whom Vidar the Jawbreaker
must be a name tinged with cowardice. Vali would have
done little to make Asgard see him any other way.

"Vidar?" Again that voice. "Answer me, damn it!"
cried Eric, and Vidar smiled grimly as his eyes focused on
the boy's face, half in sunlight and half in gray cave-
shadow. Ah, yes, Eric. Even in this strange, pleasant haze,
Vidar saw how Eric had changed since they'd first met in
Skatalund, when Vidar was unaware that Eric was
Skatalund's prince. He'd been through war and magic,
captivity and wonder, and he'd grown older beneath the
crack of those whips. It was no wide-eyed stripling that