"Simon Hawke - Wizard 2 - The Wizard of Whitechapel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

He had known since childhood that he was descended from the Old Ones, but he
had
never truly known just what that meant until his first century had passed and
he
still looked like the wild young boy who had brought down a long. He had aged
since then, although extremely slowly. Now, within two hundred years of his
second millennium, he looked like a man of forty. There were streaks of gray
in
his blond hair and beard. The tinted, gold-rimmed glasses were an eccentric
touch. He didn't really need them, but they gave him a clerical, antiquarian
look that was often usefully deceptive. His body was lean and well muscled,
his
reflexes and instincts as sharp and quick as ever.

His grandmother, Igraine, had been a human, as was his paternal grandfather,
Uther. As a result, when Uther raped Igraine, the issueтАФArthurтАФwas a normal
human child. But his maternal grandfather, Gorlois, the Duke of Cornwall, was
of
the Old Race, and Modred's mother had inherited the genes and eldritch powers
of
the Old Ones. Morgan Le Fay had been a half-breed, as was Merlin. They both
had
the same blood running through their veins. Neither of them was completely
human.

Morgana herself did not know what she was till she met Merlin and he became
her
teacher. Merlin had told her the secret of her past and instructed her in the
mystic arts of thaumaturgy, but he never suspected her true purpose. Her
boundless ambition and her lust for vengeance had consumed her and
contaminated
everything she touched. She seduced her own half brother, Arthur, and gave
birth
to Modred. Through him she had brought down Arthur's kingdom, but when it was
over, she had been left with nothing. She could take no satisfaction in the
bitter irony of Arthur being destroyed by his own son. The spoils of her
vengeance were denied her. There had been no kingdom she could rule through
Modred, because without Arthur, the kingdom fell apart and there was no
Modred
to try to hold it all together.

With Arthur dead, the poison had gone out of Modred. He remembered Lucas and
Bedivere standing over him as he lay upon the battlefield, impaled on his
father's spear, and he heard Bedivere saying flatly, "He is done." Then they
had
left him lying mere and went to help their king, but Arthur did not survive
his
wounds. Modred had been certain that he would die of his as well. At that
moment