"Mickey Zucker Reichert - Renshai 02 - The Western Wizard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichert Mickey Zucker)

she knew, no Wizard had been specifically assigned to instigate the Ragnarok. In fact, it would stand
against the survival of nearly all of the gods, the Wizards, and the world to assign anyone to such a task.
Fortunately, without a Wizard to back it, the prophecy had little chance of coming to fruition, and Trilless
saw no reason why she should not oppose it. Still, it went against her many oaths to confront any mortal
directly or to suggest that another Wizard do such a thing. Even if she did, Shadimar might mistrust her
intentions. Their causes did, at times, come head to head. She could only choose her own champion,
send him or her after Colbey, and hope that Shadimar did not step in the way. To let Carcophan's
champion skew the balance toward evil meant a fate nearly as ugly to Trilless as the Ragnarok. And there
was only one way to even the odds between Colbey and whatever champion she chose to send against
him. Ristoril, the White Sword of Power. The calmness that accompanied this decision felt as right as the
eternity she had dedicated herself to preserve. Many Northern Wizards before her had placed the Great
Sword in a champion's hands.



"Demon," Trilless said softly, her mind made up. "You still owe me a service. I would have you retrieve
the White Sword of Power."



This once, the demon had no taunts. "I shall fulfill your request, though it is folly. Should Carcophan
recall the Dark Blade, his champion would still best yours by skill. You take an unnecessary risk with
lives you claim to protect. Including your own."



Trilless stood statue still. She knew the demon spoke truth. Another prophecy claimed that the
Ragnarok would occur when all three Swords of Power existed in Odin's world of law at once. Previous
mages had already crafted two of the Swords, storing them on the plane of magic when not in a
champion's hands. Yet the third Sword had not yet been crafted, and Trilless believed it would require a
joint effort of Eastern and Western Wizards to create it. So long as the Western Wizard did not exist, she
was taking no risk. Without Ristoril, her champion had no chance at all against Carcophan's chosen one.
Surely Carcophan knew this, too. He would have to guess that Trilless might call the White Sword
against Colbey. After all, the Southern Wizard had been wise enough to withhold the Dark Sword from
Siderin. "You cannot defy me."
"As you wish, Lady."



Trilless tightened her control on the snarled webs of warding as the demon bellowed harsh, vulgar
syllables that made her ears ache. Yet the result of his ravings was beautiful to behold. The sun
shouldered through a crack in the clouds, as golden and bright as the elves who dwelt far north of the
Amirannak Sea. Gradually, light emerged from the globe, streaming tendrils of sun that dropped from the
sky and merged at Trilless' feet as a starry burst of energy.



Its brilliance obscured the demon who summoned it. Within the light, a shape took form. Silently, the
Sorceress watched as the sun streamers guttered and sank, leaving only a great Sword sheathed in a
worn leather scabbard. Despite its imposing size, the plain steel hilt suggested nothing of the Sword's