"Holly Lisle - Secret Texts 3 - Courage Of Falcons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lisle Holly)

"I don't want to think. ..."
Another glass, another view. Through the eyes of someone running, a long, dark corridor illuminated by the runner's coldlampтАФ
shadows dancing back, then leaping forward, fantastic shapes crawling up the walls and resolving into mundane objects. The only sound at the moment was the runner's harsh breathing. Whoever he was, he'd been down four branches of the corridor already, asking the first guard he came to if anyone carrying anything had passed that way.
A dozen more glasses showed groups of people standing or sitting and talking, or revealed fountains, or gardens, or books or papers being slowly perused. Several glasses were temporarily darkтАФtheir sources asleep, or possibly dead. A hundred more glasses were lined to one side, these never activated. With Kait and Ry gone, they probably never would be, but Alarista kept them nearby because doing so was the procedure that Dughall and Hasmal had worked out. More than once in the past several days a glass had come suddenly to life, and Dughall or Hasmal had learned something valuable. Until all hope was gone, she would cling to that procedure.
Hasmal had been gone, she estimated, half a stationтАФsnatched bodily from the tent by some unimagined Dragon magic and taken . . . somewhere. So far, not one of the viewing glasses had revealed the view she soughtтАФa glimpse of Hasmal. She whispered an unending prayer to Vodor Imrish, asking that if he still listened and he still loved her he would give Hasmal back. If she could see him, just for an instant, just to know that he was still alive, she would be able to breathe again.
Hands pulled apart the tent flaps and Yanth slipped between them. He dropped to the tent floor beside Jaim, who had been sitting quietly behind Alarista, offering support simply with his presence. "The healer is on the way," Yanth told Jaim. "Any sign of Hasmal?"
Jaim's voice was soft. "She hasn't moved, so I don't think so."
Alarista summoned the energy to answer them, just to let them know she could hear them and that she was still aware of the world around her, if only marginally. "No sign yet."
"I'm sorry. Is there something I can do to help?"
"Stay close," she said. "If anything changes, I might need both of you."
The healer came through the flaps a moment later, dragging her kit. She knelt beside Dughall and unrolled it. The woman was one of Dughall's peopleтАФpart of the army he'd built months earlier. She was a Falcon, older and well trained in the healing magics, and calm enough, considering the circumstances. If he had any chance of getting better, the healer would make the most of it.
Guards knelt quietly along the tent walls, swords in hand; they hadn't laughed or joked since Hasmal vanished in a scream and a flash of light. They watched, tense and scared. It had been their responsibility to kill Dughall or Hasmal if a Dragon soul, drawn through but not successfully locked into one of the miniature soul-mirrors, possessed either of them. Now Dughall lay unresponsive on one of the mats, and Hasmal was gone, and Alarista had already told them she didn't have either the strength or the magical skills that had let Dughall and Hasmal successfully capture so many Dragon souls. They knew that if she took on a Dragon, they were likely to have to kill her.
A hand gripped her shoulder, and she jumped. "Look!" Yanth whispered, and pointed at one of the viewing glasses that had until that instant been dark.
She turned to the sudden light, to the quickly resolving image, and she gasped. Hasmal's face was suddenly very close to her own; it had been cut across both cheeks and over both eyelids, and blood caked the wounds. Always pale, his skin had taken on the color of bleached bone. She could count the beads of sweat that rolled across his forehead and marked his upper lip. "We found a way to make our own Mirror of Souls," he whispered.
The image danced down to a long, bloody knife, and to a thumb that tested the edge of it. "Really? Tell me more."
"I'll . . . I'll tell you anything you want to know. Anything."
She heard a soft chuckle that raised the hair on the back of her
neck and made her stomach churn. "I know you will. First tell me how you made it. We'll get to how you used it soon enough."
Alarista gripped Yanth's hand and squeezed. "He's torturing him."
"I know."
"Oh, gods! Oh, Hasmal! We have to help him."
"I know. But how?"
Alarista couldn't turn her eyes away from the nightmare in front of her. "I'll have to draw the Dragon's soul to me. I'll have to capture it."
"You couldn't do it before," Jaim said quietly.
"I'll just have to do it this time."
"And if you fail, we lose Hasmal and you. We're going to need you."
She turned to Jaim, snarling. "I can't sit here and watch him die!"
Jaim jumped back. "I wasn't suggesting that you watch him die."
"Then what?"
Jaim looked over at the healer working on the unconscious Dughall. "Dughali could beat the Dragon if he had his strength."
"As could I, if I had his skills."
"Dughall said you had as much control of magic as he did, only in other areas. Could you use your magic to help the healer heal him?"
Alarista stared at Jaim. She wasn't a healer, and just healing Dughall wouldn't do her any good. Even healed, he would be drained of energy and incapable of besting the soul of a rested, powerful Dragon. But where the healer could make him well, she could give him strength. Her strength. The price she would pay . . .
She chose not to think about the price she would pay.
She asked the healer, "Namele, are you nearly finished?"
"I've done all I canтАФhe hasn't woken up yet, but now he's merely sleeping. A few days' rest and he should be able to sit up again. He's very frailтАФwhatever happened nearly killed him." "But he's healed." Namele looked over at her, eyes wary. "As much as magic can heal
him, yes. He's old, he's worn out, and simple healing can't fix that. He won't be able to do any more Dragon fighting."
Alarista turned to Yanth and Jaim. In a low voice, she said, "Drag him over here. Then sit by meтАФwhen I finish what I have to do, I'll need you to catch me. FinallyтАФand this is the most important thingтАФwhen Dughall wakes, the very instant he wakes, show him Hasmal. Don't let him waste time on me. Tell him he has to stop the Dragon before he kills Hasmal."
Yanth said, "What do you plan on doing?"
"The only thing I can. He needs youth and strength to fight the Dragons. I'm going to give him youth. And strength."
She heard the healer gasp. "You can'tтАФ"
"Shut up. I can." She glared at Yanth. "You'll take care of this?"
He nodded. "I will."
They dragged Dughall to her, assisted by two guards and impeded by the protesting healer, and propped him across from her in a sitting position. Then, while the guards held him upright, Yanth moved to Alarista's left shoulder, and Jaim to her right. She heard Hasmal scream once, and she shuddered.
Hold on, Has, she thought. Hold on. Help is coming.
She summoned all her courage, and rested her hands on Dughall's shoulders. Then she lifted her chin, and stared toward the heavens where Vodor Imrish held his court, and in a loud, clear voice, she commanded:
"From my strength, From my blood, From my flesh, From my life, I offer all that I am, All that I have,
All that Dughall Draclas needs To make him whole.
Take from me to give to him,
Strength and blood,