"Elizabeth Haydon - Rhapsody 5 - Elegy for a Lost Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haydon Elizabeth)

into the tiniest of waves, was too shallow to mark.
The earth, the element from which her kind had sprung, pressed down
on her, squeezing the air from her, sending horrific scenes of suffocation
through her foggy mind.
And then, after what seemed to her endless time in the clutches of
horror, into this chaos of thought and confused sensation a beacon
shone, the clear, pure light of her innate dragon sense. Hidden deep in the
rivers of her ancient blood, old as she was old, the inner awareness that
had been her weapon and her bane all of her forgotten life began to rise,
clearing away the conundrum, settling the panic, cell by cell, nerve by
nerve, bringing clarity in tiny moments, like pieces of an enormous puzzle
coming together, or a picture that was slowly gaining focus.
And with the approaching clarity came a guarded calm.
The dragon willed herself to breathe easier, and in willing it, caused it to
happen.
She still did not comprehend her form. In her sleep-tangled mind she
was a woman still, of human flesh and shape, not wyrm, not beast, not
serpentine, and so she was baffled by her girth, her heft, the inability of
her arms and legs to function, to push against the ground as they once
had. Her confusion was compounded by this disconnection between
mind, body, and memory, a dark stage on which no players had yet come
to appear. All she could recall in her limited consciousness was the sense
of falling endlessly in fire that had struck her from above, and blazed
below her as she fell.
Hot, she thought hazily. Burning. I'm burning.
But of course she was not. The blast of flame that had taken her from
the sky had been quenched more than three years before, had sizzled into
smoky ash covering the thick coalbed that lined her tomb, baking it hard
and dry in its dying.
Fighting her disorientation, the dragon waited, letting her inner sense
sort through the jumble, inhaling a bit more deeply with each breath,
remaining motionless, letting the days pass, marking time only by the heat
she could feel through the earth when the sun was high above her tomb,
and the cooling of night, which lasted only a short while before the
warmth returned.
Must be summer's end, she mused, the only cognizant thought to take
hold.
Until another image made its way onto the dark stage.
It was a place of stark white, a frozen land of jagged peaks and all but
endless winter. In the tight containment of the tomb the memory of
ex-pansiveness returned; she recalled staring up at a night sky blanketed
with cold stars, the human form she had once inhabited, and still inhabited
in her mind, tiny and insignificant in the vastness of the snowy mountains
all around her.
A single word formed in her mind.
Home.
With the word came the will.
As the puzzle solidified, as the picture became clearer, her dragon sense
was able to ascertain direction, even beneath the ground. With each new
breath the dragon turned herself by inches until, after time uncounted, she