"Invasion Cycle - 03 - Apocalypse" - читать интересную книгу автора (McGough Scott)

"I want only Hanna. Return her to life. I don't want her
on a string, as you keep Selenia. I want her free, alive, and
able to walk through that portal back to Dominaria. I want
you to place a mark of protection on her, that no
Phyrexian dare harm her. For Hanna I fight."

A thrill moved through the assembled host. In the
black balcony, Hanna sat beside the huge lizard. Her hand
did not lift from its great talon.

"For one woman, you give up a whole world?" Gerrard
took a deep breath. "She is my whole world." Heads shook
and tongues clucked. "A great weakness, Gerrard, to have
so big and soft a heartЧa great weakness in a world filled
with blades. We will grant this boon to you, as you ask,
should you prevail." The air whined with an eager tension.
A sudden gleam traced the weapons at the edge of the dais.
"Now, Urza Planeswalker and Gerrard CapashenЧrise and
take up blades and do battle."

The Benalish master-of-arms cared nothing for halberds
or poniards, tridents or mattocks. Gerrard wanted a
swordЧno unwieldy bastard sword or fainting rapier but a
solid cutlass, the blade of a skyfarer. He strode toward the
nearest one. Stooping, he clutched its hilt. It tingled, alive
in his grip. Barbs of energy prickled across his knuckles and
moved through his veins. The sword and its arcane powers

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Apocalypse

reached through the sinews of his body and tied knots in
his heart. This blade had much to teach. Gerrard spun,
leveling the sword. It hummed, thirsty for the blood of the
planeswalker.

Urza stood there, unarmed. His strange gaze moved
patiently from one weapon to the next. Here was the
artificer, analyzing each hammer and rod against Gerrard as
though he were an engine to be disabled. Through his
mind tumbled weight ratios, tensile strengths, moments of
arc, and calculated torque. He would not slay Gerrard but
dismantle him, an artificer destroying a rogue machine.

The thought enraged Gerrard. The knots in his heart
tightened, wringing hatred from twisted muscle. Let Urza