"Simon R. Green - Haven 06 - Bones of Haven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

"What do you mean, 'something'?" Hawk hefted his axe and peered through the thickening smoke but
couldn't see anything. The flames pressed closer.

Storm's hands clenched into fists. Stray magic sputtered on the air before him. "Them. They've found
us. The Pale Men."

They came out of the darkness and into the light, shifting forms that hovered on the edge of meaning
and recognition. Smoke drifted around and through them, like ghostly ectoplasm. Hawk slowly
lowered his axe as it grew too heavy for him. His vision grayed in and out, and the roar and heat of the
fire seemed far away and unimportant. The world rolled back upon itself, back into yesterday and
beyond.

Memories surged through him, of all the people he'd been, some so strange to him now he hardly
recognized them. Some smiled sadly at what he'd become, while others pointed accusing fingers or
turned their heads away. His mind began to drift apart, fragmenting into forgotten dreams and hopes
and might-have-beens. He screamed soundlessly, a long, wordless howl of denial, and his thoughts
slowly began to clear. He was who he was because of all the people he'd been, and even if he didn't
always like that person very much, he knew he couldn't go back. He'd paid too high a price for the
lessons he'd learned to turn his back on them now. He concentrated on his memories, hugging them to
him jealously, and the ghosts of his past faded away and were gone. He was Hawk, and no one was
going to take that away from him. Not even himself.

The world lurched and he was back in the narrow stone corridor again, choking on the thick smoke and
flinching away from the roaring flames as they closed in around him. The rest of the team were
standing still as statues, eyes vague and far away. Some of them were already beginning to look frayed
and uncertain, their features growing indistinct as the Pale Men leeched the pasts out of them. Hawk
glared briefly at the shifting figures shining brightly through the smoke and grabbed Storm's shoulder.
For a moment his fingers seemed to sink into the sorcerer's flesh, and then it suddenly hardened and
became solid, as though Hawk's touch had reaffirmed its reality. Shape and meaning flooded back into
Storm's face, and he shook his head sharply, as though waking from a nagging dream. He looked at
Hawk, and then at the Pale Men, and his face darkened.

"Get out of the way, you bastards!"

He thrust one outstretched hand at the drifting figures, and a blast of raw magic exploded in the
corridor. It beat on the air like a captured wild bird, and the Pale Men were suddenly gone, as though
they'd never been there at all. Hawk looked questioningly at Storm.

"Is that it? Wave your hand and they disappear?"

"Of course," said Storm. "They're only as real as you allow them to be. Now help me get the others out
of here."

Hawk nodded quickly, and started pushing the others down the corridor. Their faces were already
clearing as they shook off their yesterdays. Smoke filled the corridor, and a wave of roaring flame
came rushing towards them. Storm howled a Word of Power, and gestured sharply with his hand, and a
solid steel door was suddenly floating on the air before them. It swung open, and the SWAT team
plunged through. They fell into the corridor beyond, and the door slammed shut behind him.