"Mel Odom - Forgotten Realms - Threat from the Sea Trilogy 02 - Under Fallen Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Odom Mel)

avoiding the sides of the claw coral. He nestled quietly into the coral like a hermit crab taking on a new
shell, then he waited.
He gazed up, wishing he wasn't so frightened. A warrior wasn't supposed to be frightened, but he'd
barely made it through his training before he'd been sent on his first mission.
His shoulder-length dark blue hair was tied back in a ponytail to keep it from his brilliant blue eyes.
His skin was only a few shades of blue lighter. He was broad across the shoulders from living in the sea,
and wore a shell-covered cloth girdle fitted with a belt because he'd been in the shallows, where surface
dwellers, uncomfortable with nakedness, might see him. Still, he had appreciated the pockets in the girdle
for carrying some small shells he'd found along the way.
Flyys drew the tapal from his belt as the morkoth gathered overhead. The weapon was uniquely
triton. Formed of crystal, it was shaped into a curve like a surface dweller's fishhook. Two handles, set in
the middle of the tapal and inside the curved end, allowed usage of either end of the weapon. A trained
triton warrior could use the tapal as a long sword, dagger, or spear by spinning it around in his hands.
"Give up, longmane," one of the morkoth advised, "and your death will be mercifully swift."
Wishing he had a gallant reply readily on his lips, Flyys lifted the tapal in defiance. Sunlight caught
the wide, curved end. "I know not to trust the word of kraknyth." Kraken were mortal enemies of the
triton, and the triton considered morkoth to be kraken-kin.
The morkoth undulated in the water, their tentacles splaying out and curling reflexively in the
currents. They carried spears, but Flyys knew it was the savage beaks and pincers he most had to fear.
Sunlight gleamed over their bodies, creating hypnotic patterns on their purple skin.
"We'll have more time with you than we did with your fellow spies, longmane," the morkoth warned.
The death screams of the three tritons who had taken him with them echoed in the young triton's
ears. They'd been discovered aboard a pirate ship near Dragonisle in the early hours of that morning.
Junnas had immediately thrown Flyys overboard, instructing him to swim to Pumanath as quickly as
possible and tell the nobles what they'd learned. Junnas and the others had stayed behind to die.
Flyys stared into the creature's eyes, having to switch focus often as it turned its head from side to
side to view him. The morkoth drifted down closer. The claw coral extended beyond the young triton's
reach even with the tapal.
"We can take time with your death," the morkoth promised, its gaze drawing him in.
The promise sent a chill down the young triton's back. Flyys remembered the stories he'd been told
even as a child about the morkoth, about the ways they'd learned to rip flesh from their prisoners with
their beaks and pincers, bringing death while extending the agony. They knew how an enemy's body was
put together, and how best to take it apart.
"You've allied yourselves with the Taker," Flyys accused, glaring up at the morkoth. "According to
the legends of Seros, there won't be much time for anyone if he makes his way here."
"He's coming," the morkoth said, shifting in the current again, "but the legends also say that the
Taker will offer death only to those who stand against him. We shall stand with him."
"The legends say he will bring nothing but death and destruction to Seros." Flyys knew the legends,
though he didn't much believe in them. Even though he'd been sent to investigate the morkoth interest in
the Taker, the tritons had their own agenda. Persana had given them the task of watching over the great
evil that slept at the bottom of Seros.
"Wrong," the morkoth said. "The Taker comes to reshape the destinies of everyone in and around
Seros." The head continued turning from side to side, more slowly now.
Flyys felt himself going limp. He chose to go with it, knowing it might be his only chance. A warm
lassitude crept through his limbs, relaxing his muscles. He kept his gaze locked on the morkoth.
"Your best choice is acceptance," the creature crooned. Its voice held a muted cadence that
beckoned to the young triton.
Flyys relaxed his arms, letting the currents gliding between the edged fingers of the claw coral pull at
him. The morkoth came closer. A tingle raced through the triton's legs, then they turned numb. Fear made
his heart hammer inside his chest as he continued to take bis chance against its hypnotic powers.