"Maggie Furey - Shadowleague 1 - The Heart of Myrial" - читать интересную книгу автора (Furey Maggie)

her partner, fighting in vain for breath as her mouth and nose clogged with
wet, sticky mud. A vast roaring darkness swept Veldan away, hurling and
tumbling her like a rag doll. Instinctively, she tried to curl herself up tightly
to reduce the risk of broken limbs, and tried vainly to protect her head with
her arms. There was nothing else she could doтАФapart from one final,
desperate gamble.
Through the midst of the pain and panic, Veldan arrowed a single,
concentrated ray of thought toward her home: Gendival, the Valley of Two
Lakes, that was the heart of the Shadowleague. It was all she could hope to
project at such a tremendous distanceтАФa single, desperate cry for help. It
was the only thing she could doтАФand the last. Unconsciousness, when it
came, was almost a blessing.


About a league back down the mountain trail from the Snaketail Pass, the
faint vibration of the earthslide passed unnoticed in the city of Tiarond.
People there had far too many problems of their own to care about natureтАЩs
vagaries in the world outside.
Within the Temple of Myrial, shadows stalked the immense and lofty
chamber, gathering between the pools of lamplight that played on gold and
glittering gems torn from the heart of the surrounding mountains. Zavahl
crept forward down the long, pillared aisle, feeling dwarfed, for the first
time in his life, by the size and splendor of the building that was rightfully
his home. He despised himself for his weakness. When had he ever been
afraid of his God? After all, what had he to fear? He had been born into the
role of Hierarch, Priest-King of Callisiora, and had put on his powers and
responsibilities with his swaddling clothes. He was MyrialтАЩs representative
on earth, the most powerful man in the realm; but now, as he approached the
heart of the Temple and the Holy of Holies, he found himself quaking, as
weak-kneed as the most superstitious peasant as he paused for a moment
before the great screen of silver latticework that concealed the Sanctorium of
the Eye.
Through the intricate lacework of the screen, Zavahl could see the shadowed
entrance to the Holy of Holies, where the great Eye of Myrial communicated


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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

the GodтАЩs wishes to his Hierarch. Once, by looking into it, the Priest-King
could have seen everything that was happening in his land. Now it remained
dark and dead to himтАФanother guilty secret of his heart. Only the Hierarch
himself was permitted to enter the mystical presence of the Eye. So far, no
one else was aware that it would no longer awake to his touch. But how
much longer could he keep his failure hidden?
Zavahl was at his witsтАЩ endтАФand becoming increasingly afraid. For more
than half a year, the sun had failed to penetrate the heavy layer of dark cloud
that shrouded the dying city and the lands beyond. For months it had rained
without ceasing. Rivers had burst their banks, and most low-lying areas of
Callisiora were lost beneath floodwaters that had swept away crops, houses,