"James Lowder - The Harpers 05 - The Ring of Winter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowder James)

They circled each other now. Arms outstretched, claws and dagger raised, they looked for all the world
like two young hoodlums dueling in a back alley in Suzail or Waterdeep or any other large city in Faerun.
Artus gave up hope that the creature might be intelligent enough to reason with when it started repeating
the words "none the worse for it" using his own voice. It was most unsettling.
Artus edged toward the door, hoping to catch another glimpse of his friend. He kept the dagger held
before him in much the same way a good priest presents a holy symbol to the forces of darkness.
This ploy was too much for the creature. To its limited intellect, it was obvious that the meal with the
glowing weapon was going to pilfer its food. Desperate at losing both victims, it let its hunger override its
fear. The cry the beast made as it lunged possessed no fragment of mimicked human speech, only bestial
outrage and fury.
Artus, too, made an inhuman noise as he choked back a shout of surprise. When the beast charged
forward, he planted one hand atop its head, breaking its momentum. With the other he planted his dagger up
to the hilt in the creature's chest. The force of the blow lifted the beast off the ground. Artus expected it to
shriek in pain or, perhaps, topple over. It did neither. It remained stock-still for an instant and looked at the
weapon embedded in its flesh, almost as if it, too, was surprised that the attack had done little except spill
some bluish gray blood.
Weaponless, Artus backed away, wishing he had struck at its stomach. The creature knew now it had
little to fear, and it grabbed one of Artus's arms with its long fingers. Dirt-encrusted claws tore five holes in
the explorer's thick winter coat and five bloody gouges in the skin below. With the flat of his palm, Artus
struck the beast in the forehead. Far from being blinded by the attack, the creature growled in anger. Its
eyes seemed as immune to damage as its chest. Teeth dripping with saliva, it opened its mouth-wide,
widerтАФand moved toward Artus.
"See here, you damned nuisance," Pontifax mumbled from the doorway. A glowing ball of light appeared
near the ceiling, illuminating the entire room.
The creature turned its head just in time to see an azure bolt flash from the mage's stubby fingers. The
blast of arcane energy did not strike the beast and paralyze it, as Pontifax had intended. No, the bolt
swerved violently around its target and struck Artus in the chest. But it did not paralyze him either.
With a shudder, Artus began to grow.
In moments, he was twice his normal six feet. In an instant more, three times that height. He had to drop
to his side to avoid the roof, and still he continued to grow.
Needless to say, the creature was suitably flustered. Its viselike grip broken by Artus's rapid change in
size, the beast tried to clamp its jaws down on him. All it got for the attempt was a mouthful of wool-lined
leather. Gagging, for Artus's clothing also continued to expand, the creature rolled about the floor. At last it
spit out the shredded garment. Without pause, it clambered over Artus's legs and dashed past Pontifax. The
magical dagger, dislodged by the creature's haste, clattered to the floor.
"Make me stop before I bring the roof down," Artus shouted, his voice rumbling through the room. His
head was propped uncomfortably against one wall, his feet just short of the other. He stopped growing just
before his heels touched stone.
"Thanks," the explorer murmured. "Now, can you see about getting me down to normal height before
that thing comes back with its friends and family?"
"I didn't stop your growth, Artus, just as I didn't cause it. The spell I cast was aimed at the beastie, not
you, and it should have frozen him in his tracks. This shouldn't have happened." Pontifax rubbed his chin, a
frown on his jowl-heavy face. "Let me come around and take a look at you."
The mage squeezed through the space between Artus's feet and the wall. His frown was matched by
the one on the younger man's face, though Artus's was four times larger. Hydel walked slowly from one
end of the room to the other, studying the unfortunate giant. "Ah, there's the culprit, I would imagine."
He pointed at the gaping hole in the front of Artus's coat, where the creature had bitten through. There,
dangling on a fine silver chain, was a medallion emblazoned with the image of a bald, four-armed man. The
silver disk gave off a wan white radiance, even in the direct glare of Pontifax's conjured globe of light. "You
touched that Mulhorandi statue, didn't you?"