"Mithgar - Hel's Crucible - 02 - Into The Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKiernan Dennis L)

"Aye, King Loden," replied Bekki, sitting across the table from the stunned young man.

Prince Brandt stood at the fireplace, tears running down his face. "We've got to kill him."

"Kill who?" asked Beau, sitting at the edge of the hearth.

"Sleeth."

Bekki cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, and beside him, DelfLord Borl said, "It cannot be done, for none has ever slain a Drake and likely none ever will."

"What about Gurd? He slew Kram," declared Brandt.

Phais glanced at Tip, then turned to Brandt. " 'Tis but a fanciful song the Bards sing."

Loden nodded grimly. "Brother of mine, Lord Borl and Lady Phais are right: should we go after Sleeth then we would merely be casting our lives away."

"But he slew our father, our brothers . . . Lady Pietja." Brandt's face twisted in grief.

"I know," replied Loden, his eyes desolate. "I know."

"It's Modru who is responsible for the destruction of Dael and the deaths of so many," said Tipperton, "for not only did Renegade Sleeth whelm the city, but the blizzard Modru sent was perhaps even more deadly."

"Aye," said Coron Ruar, the Dylvana Elf staring into his mug of tea. He looked up at Tip. "It nearly proved our undoing as well."

"Oh?"

"Aye. Yet Fortune smiled upon us, for we were near Bridgeton when the blizzard struck."

"What of the foe, the Horde?" asked Tip.

"Fully half of them perished," said Chieftain Gara, "slain by the breath of Waroo, or so we thought."

"Waroo?"

"A hearthtale, Sir Tipperton: he is the Great White Bear from the north who claws over the tops of the mountains and blasts his chill breath down on all, bringing hard winters onto the land, or so our legends say."

A silence fell upon those gathered 'round the table, and only the crackle of the fire on the hearth filled the void. Finally Borl said, "Regardless of the Baeron fables, we thought this blizzard was at Fortune's behest, but now we find it was Modru instead."

"Modru, aye," said Loric, "yet beyond stands Gyphon, the root of all ill."

Another silence fell, and a knot popped in the fireplace, startling Beau. He looked about sheepishly, then said, "What'll you do about the company of Foul Folk we saw marching toward the ruins of Dael?"

Loden shook his head. "Rather than pursue a small band of deserters into a dead city, there are some two thousand Foul FolkЧthe remnants of the HordeЧyet east of here. Those we must deal with first."

"But what about Lord Tain?" asked Beau. "He's in Dae and yet lives."

"Coward Tain," growled Bekki.

"Mad Tain," replied Beau. A bleak look drew over the buccan's face. "He whispers to the corpse of his daughter.'