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

vanished. And that was as it should beтАФfor what was a mere man, no matter
how puissant, compared to the might of One who was both World and
WorldтАЩs Creator?
All the while, the Hierarch was carefully counting his footsteps, trying to
retain some notion of how far he had come; preternaturally aware, every
moment, of the measureless, lethal drop that waited scant inches to either
side of his unseen feet. He was weary from distance and strain and suspense
when he finally became aware, perhaps through some subtle change in the
surface beneath his feet, perhaps through instinct alone, that he had reached
his goal.
Confidently, he reached his hand out into the darkness and encountered a
plinth of a smooth, unknown material whose curves felt neither warm nor
cold to his touch. Running his fingers over the slanted top, Zavahl found the
oval, recessed area he had been seeking, and placed his hand flat against the
surface. There was a loud click as the HierarchтАЩs ring of
officeтАФtraditionally worn with the red stone turned inward on the palm
instead of outward on the back of the handтАФclicked, like a key in a lock,
into the small hollow that had clearly been crafted to accommodate the gem.
A low, thrumming vibration broke the silence, like the sough of some
gigantic indrawn breath. A soft, almost imperceptible glow awakened with
the soundтАФthe kindling of a deep red light that formed the shape of a
gigantic circle, set on its edge and suspended high in the darkness in front of
the hopeful priest. The center of the circle, ringed by the low red light,
remained as dark as the surrounding voidтАФa hole into eternity, the pupil of
the Eye.
The deep rushing expanded to fill the chamber, sounding like all the winds
in the world exhaling in one vast sigh. The waxing ring of smoke-red light
changed color, brightening to crimson then scarlet; copper then gleaming
gold like the fierce white glare of a blacksmithтАЩs forge. Then the sound
changed, throbbing with a slow, majestic rhythm like a giantтАЩs heartbeat.
With each beat, the ring of white flame pulsed and flared like a living thing,
so that Zavahl, half-blinded by the splendor, found himself pinned like an
insect beneath the fierce stare of the God. As the ferocious glare died away,
the fiery circle splintered and sparked, dissolving into a ring of rainbow


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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

flashes like the many-hued glitter of a diamond in the sun. Silence fell.
Zavahl held his breath, hoping, prayingтАж
This was the moment when the darkness in the center of the Eye should lift
and break apart to show him wonders: images of the past and present, the
state of his realm, and the mundane lives of the people in his sway. The
mighty Voice of Myrial should speak to his servant; answering queries,
handing down advice, instruction or orders, and informing the Hierarch of
his will. In a quaking voice, Zavahl implored his God. тАЬO Great OneтАФhear
thy servantтАЩs plea!тАЭ
O Myrial, help me now.
Zavahl waited, not breathing, so tense that his whole body vibrated like the