"Robert Jordan - The Wheel of Time 02 - The Great Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

dead heroes of the ages.

And it is stolen.

Rand al'Thor, the farmboy who is thought to be the Dragon RebornтАФthe leader long prophesied who
will save the world, but in the saving destroy it; the savior who will run mad and kill all those dearest to
himтАФrefuses to accept his fate. Even facing the dreaded Amrylin, the leader of the Aes Sedai who may
intend to "gentle" him, Rand fiercely denies his Power. He will have none of itтАФno matter what
Myrddraal and Trollocs, Aes Sedai and dreams stand in his way.

But with the Horn another object is stolen: a dagger from the terrible ruins of Shadar Logoth. Unless the
dagger is recovered, Mat Cauthon's life will end. And Mat is Rand's oldest friend. Unwillingly, distrusting
everyone, Rand is drawn into the Hunt.

As Egwene, the innkeeper's lovely daughter, and Nynaeve, the young village Wisdom, set out for Tar
Valon's White Tower, seat of the Aes Sedai, Rand and the ogier Loial, accompanied by Perrin Aybara,
the Wolfbrother who was once a blacksmith, track the Horn and dagger through ShienarтАФand enter a
world stranger than time itself. But Rand cannot escape his Power. The Dark One is stirring in Shayol
Ghul. The Dark One wants the Horn. The Dark One wants Rand.




Chapter 1




The Flame of Tar Valon

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass leaving memories that become legend, then fade to
myth, and are long forgot when that Age comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age
yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Dhoom. The wind was not the beginning.
There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

Born among black, knife-edged peaks, where death roamed the high passes yet hid from things still
more dangerous, the wind blew south across the tangled forest of the Great Blight, a forest tainted and
twisted by the touch of the Dark One. The sickly sweet smell of corruption faded by the time the wind
crossed that invisible line men called the border of Shienar, where spring flowers hung thick in the trees.
It should have been summer by now, but spring had been late in coming, and the land had run wild to
catch up. New-come pale green bristled on every bush, and red new growth tipped every tree branch.
The wind rippled farmers' fields like verdant ponds, solid with crops that almost seemed to creep upward
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visibly.

The smell of death was all but gone long before the wind reached the stone-walled town of Fal Dara on