"Mickey Zucker Reichert - Bifrost 01 - Godslayer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichert Mickey Zucker)

beneath his fingers, and Halfrija fell limp against him.



Blood trickled from the corner of her thin lips, staining Bramin's hand. He looked up quickly to a
condemning horde. A great shout rose from the stands, and men descended upon him. "Stop!" screamed
Bramin. His cry was lost in the rising din. Clutching Halfrija's body with one arm, he raised the other.
Spell words rushed from his throat. His life aura flared to blinding white. Smoke broiled from his fingers
and rolled like fog across the arena floor. It struck the first wave of courtiers and roared to flame.



Screams filled Bramin's ears like song. The courtiers' charge was transformed to chaotic flight.
Enchantments rolled from the half-elfs tongue. Bramin's staff leapt to his hand. Its jade stone winked
once, staining the roiling magics an eerie green-blue. And when the works of sorcery cleared, all that
remained of Bramin and Halfrija were five drops of blood on the sands of the arena.



тАв Stiffly, Halfrija let the last of her garments fall to the floor of Bramin's quarters at the School of
Dragonrank. She stood before him, naked. He had imagined her unclothed so many times in his dreams
and desires, yet now the sight only sickened him. Her slimness transformed to a cadaverous frailty. Her
breasts sagged, violet with pooled blood. Her eyes were hollow and dead. All his magic could not
restore life, only simulate it. This was not Halfrija, just a crude animation which would perform as Bramin
wished, without will or knowledge of its lot.



Black rage engulfed Bramin. His life aura rose to off white as he channeled his energies. Magic lanced
Halfrija's body as it fell, and the pale form crumbled to dust. Bitterness grew like a cancer. Bramin rose
and paced. With each jagged pass, his fist crashed against the smoothed-stone walls. "Hate me, do
they?" he screamed at the ceiling. "Hate spawns hate."
 He stared at the charred pile which had once been the person of the princess of Forste-Mar. One kick
scattered the ashes around his quarters. "Hatespawn I am, and so will I remain. But all mankind shall pay
for their abhorrence." His thoughts shifted slightly. For a moment he pictured his half sister Silme, as
beautiful as Halfrija and in many ways as cruel.



Bramin paced again. "It was she who told me they meant no harm. She blinded me to their treacheries
and laughed behind my back. She taught me the torture of love as though it were a pleasure and held me
from my vengeance. She goaded me to destroy my love and shame myself before Forste-Mar's
peasants. It's too late to sunder Halfrija's soul, but not Silme's. She will die in torment and the manworld
of Midgard with her!"



Light flashed through his quarters, dimming his life aura to dirty yellow as another's power pulsed against
him. Bramin turned with a hiss. Before him stood a man more beautiful than the woman he had loved.
Fine gold locks fell to his shoulders. His dark blue eyes twinkled with cruel mischief. He wore a