"Laurell K. Hamilton - Ravenloft - Death of a Darklord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

His eyes flicked to his desk and the waiting skull. He felt he should apologize to the bones of his friend
for forcing them to watch his fall. He had fought the land his entire life, but finally it had offered him
something too precious to refuse. He wanted to live. And he was willing to pay the price, even if that
price was another personтАЩs blood. Even if someday he paid with his soul. For a second chance, even that
seemed a small price to pay.




┬л^┬╗

TWO



Elaine Claim knelt in front of the huge kitchen fireplace. The children crowded close to the fire, not for
the heat, but so they would not miss any movement of ElaineтАЩs hands.

Her small, slender hands passed in front of the flames. Fingertips fanned wide, so close to the flames that
heat wavered round her skin. She stared into the leaping fire, the backs of her fingers touched together.
Her wrists rolled outward like flower petals unfolding. From the tips of her fingers images leapt. A tiny,
perfect man walked in the flames. It was as if the fire were a wavering mirror on which the man moved.

He wore a white fur cloak, hood thrown back to reveal shoulder-length yellow hair. The hair was the
same pale gold as the winter sunshine. He strode through knee-deep snow, surrounded by black,
winter-bare trees. Elaine whispered, тАЬElaine.тАЭ

A second man walked with him, wearing a three-cornered hat tied round his head by a multicolored
scarf. The grip of a great two-handed sword showed at his coat collar. тАЬThordin.тАЭ

The two men passed under a tall tree. It was the great tree. It towered over the rest of the forest like a
giant among dwarves. Lightning had killed it two years ago, but its dead, bare branches were still a
landmark for miles around. The branches twitched, swaying above the men. A branch began to move
downward, a slow creaking effort that had nothing to do with wind. The skeletal bough reached for
Elaine, icy twigs like daggers.

Elaine screamed, тАЬElaine!тАЭ She plunged her hands into the flames, as if she could grab him to safety.
Flames licked at the sleeves of her robe. Her hands touched the back of the fireplace, flames flaring
around her shoulders, her face.

Hands jerked her backward. тАЬElaine!тАЭ A blanket was wrapped around her smoking clothes, smothering
the flames. Her skin was untouched, protected by her magic. The cloth was not so lucky. тАЬElaine, can
you see me? Can you hear me?тАЭ She blinked upward; a bearded face came into focus. The smell of stew
hung thick and heavy in the air. Fresh-baked bread was cooling nearby. Elaine lay in the familiar clatters
and smells of the kitchen and knew she was safe. But others werenтАЩt. тАЬJonathan, help them... .тАЭ

тАЬHelp whom?тАЭ

тАЬElaine, Thordin.тАЭ