"Mel Odom - Forgotten Realms - Lost Empires 01 - The Lost Library of Cormanthyr" - читать интересную книгу автора (Odom Mel)

the old man looked bedraggled in his sopping clothes. Still, he carried his signal flags at his side.
"Is your group in place?" Skyreach asked.
"Yes, milady." Verys had marched as a boy with her great--grandfather, quickly rising to captain of one
of Faimcir Glitterwing's signal corps.
Skyreach didn't insult the man by looking around for his group. If Verys said they were there, then they
were there. She watched the pirate ship cutting through the crashing waves of the sea. The prow of the
other vessel cleared the water and hung for a moment, like it had suddenly taken wing from the gusting
winds. Then it slapped back down, almost burying the prow under the sea. Chalice of the Crowns behaved
in the same man-ner.
More men yelled in fear and anger. A man tumbled from the rigging above Skyreach. The sailor
slammed against the main deck with a sickening thud and remained still. His neck was at an unnatural
angle. The corpse stayed there only the space of a drawn breath, then the hungry waves came slavering
across the deck. When the foamy sea water recessed as Chalice of the Crowns crested the next wave,
the body had disappeared.
Skyreach murmured a quick prayer to Rillifane Rallathil, god of the wilderness that she found herself so
far from now. Corman-thyr had been the only home she'd ever known. Evermeet was only a place her
great-grandfather had bade her visit a few times, not home at all. And it lay days in her future. Provided
she had a future. She swallowed hard and remembered her great-grandfa-ther's words and the importance
of the duty she was doing.
"Ready the mages," she told the signalman.
"Yes, milady." Verys chose his flags, one scarlet and one white, then waved them in prescribed patterns.
"They are ready."
Peering across the roiling waves, Skyreach saw the humans lin-ing the side of the pirate ship. Lightning
flickered, burning reflec-tions from the burnished pieces of the crew's armor and their bared weapons. She
knew none of them, but she had no doubt that they knew her. Faimcir Glitterwing had acquired a number of
enemies over his long life span. Her great-grandfather's stand against allowing humans into Cormanthyr
despite Elminster's arguments that had swayed Coronal Eltargrim and the Elven Court had never wavered.
She didn't hate the humans. At least, she didn't hate all of them. There were many who'd been brave,
and had died defending Cor-manthyr against the Army of Darkness that had gathered to bring the city
down. But there'd also been many who'd tried to ransack the city and the homes of the inhabitants on their
way out of town. Some of those had died on her sword. What Chalice of the Crowns carried was only a
fraction of what remained to be taken out of the doomed city. It represented her great-grandfather's legacy.
She would not let it be taken.
The rustle and snap of fabric as well as the sudden movement to her right drew Skyreach's attention
forward to the prow. The ship's spinnaker shot into the air, catching the rush of air as it blossomed from its
storage area. The circle of cloth reached out like a giant fist and gripped the wind. Chalice of the Crowns
pulled free of the sea, suddenly more sprightly.
"We're outrunning them!" Verys crowed.
"Not for long," Skyreach said. Though the woods were her home of choice, her great-grandfather had
seen to her education even in boating. Sailcraft had been one of the old man's loves, an interest he'd carried
with him since childhood. If they'd lived nearer the ocean, had more business there, Skyreach had no doubt
that they would have owned a ship instead of her having to lease one for this voyage. "If the captain of that
vessel has come this far, through storm and all to pursue us, I think he has a trick or two up his sleeve as
well."
Captain Rinnah fought the wheel, his voice belaboring his men in hoarse shouts. They moved the sails,
making the most of the wind.
Skyreach moved toward the knot of her warriors. Naked steel gleamed in their hands, desperation
lighting dark fires in their hollowed faces.
"Milady," Scaif greeted. "The archers want to launch a few shafts at the enemy."
"Wait," Skyreach said. "The waves and the wind will only make their shafts too uncertain. Exposure to