"Sniegoski, Thomas E - Outcast - 02 - Dragon Secrets" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sniegoski Thomas E)

The boy refused to make eye contact with the burly mage, choosing instead to gaze out the craft's window as it soared above the greatest city in the nation of Sunderland, although not even the splendor of Arcanum could raise his spirits this day.
Upon hearing the news of Verlis's imprisonment, Timothy had demanded that they depart from Patience at once, leaving Edgar, Sheridan, and Ivar the task of packing up his workshop. He hated the way they had looked at him as he left without explanation, but he didn't have the heart to tell them what had happened. He was too ashamed.
"I understand that you're angry with me, but you need to realize thatЧ"
"I'm more than just angry, Leander," the boy interrupted, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'm hurt and disappointed. How could you? How could the Grandmaster of the Order of Alhazred allow this to happen?" he demanded. "Verlis is our friend, never mind the fact that he's done nothing wrong."
The great mage sighed, sliding closer to Timothy. "I did all I could to sway the Parliament, but they're still reeling from the realization of the heinous things Nicodemus was doing right beneath their noses. The Parliament is in chaos, and all too susceptible to the recommendations of Constable Grimshaw."
"But you're a grandmaster," Timothy complained. "It has to mean something."
Leander nodded. "Yes, that's true. But I am grandmaster of an order whose former leader was responsible for foul deeds. The most treacherous mage in modern history. Needless to say, my words don't carry much weight these days."
Timothy turned to face his friend, pulling his leg up beneath him on the padded bench. "Verlis hasn't done anything wrong. He came to usЧto my fatherЧfor help. I don't care how paranoid they are. What justification do they have for locking him away?"
Leander closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm afraid my answer to that question will be just as unsatisfactory, my boy," the Grandmaster said. "The constable's reaction is a carryover of mistrust and hate from another age. It is not that Verlis is accused of a crime. Constable Grimshaw has arrested him solely because he is a Wurm, and his species is considered a danger."
Timothy knew he ought to have been shocked. The idea that Verlis would be imprisoned just for who and what he was certainly struck him as horrible. But the words were disturbingly familiar. Ivar had spoken of the Parliament's intolerance for different races. The warrior's own tribe, the Asura, had become extinct thanks to the suspicion and hatred of the world's most powerful mages. And Timothy had experienced these attitudes firsthand from those who feared or hated him because he was an un-magician.
It was even worse for the Wurm. Verlis explained that once the Wurm had lived in the wild places of Terra, in jungle caves and the mountain caves of the hottest parts of the world. Their only natural predators were their enemies, the Asura tribe. Wurm and Asura continued to struggle over territory for centuries as both breeds expanded. They evolved together, locked in a mutual hatred upon which both seemed to thrive. The average lifespan of a Wurm was more than two hundred and fifty years, an Asura more than three hundred, so new generations learned old hatred fresh from those who had kindled it for centuries, and the animosity between the two never had a chance to die out.
The mages changed all of that. Verlis had been a child when it had begun, but he remembered still. When the Parliament of Mages was still brand new, the many guilds were beginning to come together, to make peace, and to look at the world as theirs. Offshoots of Wurm and Asura tribes were springing up far beyond their usual homelands, with their own types of magic and with powerful warriors as well. Yet with no loyalty to any guild. The Parliament would not have welcomed them, of course. They were different, monstrous, to the eyes of a mage. But the mages might have been content if the monsters had been willing to bow to the Parliament's authority. Neither Wurm nor Asura would ever have bowed to anyone. So they were seen as a threat.
It had begun quickly after that. In the areas where the Wurm and Asura existed, locked in their eternal struggle, the mages began to oppress them. Alhazred, who had only recently founded his own guild, the Order of Alhazred, drove the Parliament into a panic over the danger of these so-called savage races. He pushed them to create laws in an attempt to control them. Or better yet, enslave them. Both Asura and Wurm were driven out of their homes, but the mages were not content with that. Alhazred whipped the Parliament into a frenzy of hatred against both tribes, but the mages hated the Wurm even more. The Asura, after all, were humanoid. They were differentЧtheir skin, their eyesЧbut at least they were shaped like mages.
The oppression had become so bad that the Wurm and the Asura began to cast aside centuries of feuding and work together in some areas to fight against the mages.
The Parliament would have none of that.
Timothy had heard the entire, ugly truth from Verlis, and the boy's own research and conversations with Leander confirmed it. One hundred and seven years ago, the Asura were wiped out. Thirteen months later, the Parliament of Mages set out to do the same to the Wurm. Timothy's own father, Argus Cade, had saved IvarЧthe last of the AsuraЧby secretly moving him to the Island of Patience, which existed in a parallel dimension. This had inspired Argus to do the same for the Wurm, but on a grander scale. Though he was a member of Alhazred's guild, he spoke against his own grandmaster in opposition to the slaughter of the Wurm. He offered a gentler solution.
Banishment.
Now, though, Alhazred was dead. Argus Cade was dead. And there was a Wurm on Terra, in the city of Arcanum, for the first time in over a century. But Alhazred had been wrong. All of the Parliament had been wrong, then, to oppress the Wurm.
They weren't savage as a race. They were no different from mages. Perhaps some were cruel and vicious, but some were kind and gentle.
Verlis was more civilized than most of the mages Timothy had met.
"He's not dangerous!" the boy insisted, shooting a hard look at Leander. "I know the history. All his kind ever wanted was to be left alone. Now there's a civil war in his dimension, in Draconae, and his clan are being killed. All he wants is help! He risked everything to get here. I promised to help him, Leander."
Leander glanced out his window, avoiding Timothy's gaze. "They understand completely, but it has done nothing to sway their judgment." The Grandmaster smoothed his thick tangle of red beard with one hand, then glanced at the boy again. "They have retracted your offer of aid to the Wurm."
Timothy felt as though he'd just been slapped. "Retracted my offer? How can they? It's my offer, not theirs. It isn't as though I promised Verlis that Parliament would help. I told him I would go to Draconae with him, and that's exactly what I plan to do."
The Grandmaster gazed at him solemnly. "They have forbidden it," he said softly, his face drawn, eyes filled with woe.
To Timothy, the man looked to have aged at least ten years in as many days, but that did little to restrain his anger. "I promised."
"And they have negated that promise," Leander stated. "I'm sorry, Timothy, but no one is going to Draconae. You have no choice but to abide by the Parliament's decision, especially during this time of upheaval."
The sky carriage slowed, and from his high seat, the navigation mage called down to his passengers. "We have arrived, Master Maddox."
"Very good, Caiaphas," Leander called. "Bring us down. I'm ready." He began rolling up sleeves as though preparing to cast a spell.
Timothy watched out the window as the carriage glided over an abundant expanse of forest, and then the ocean came in sight. He frowned. "I thought you were taking me to see Verlis."
"I am," the mage replied, flexing his fingers as he began to utter a strange droning incantation.
"I don't understand. I see nothing out there except ocean. Where have they taken him, Leander? Is it hidden by magic?" Timothy pressed his face to the window and the spell-glass dissipated at the touch of his forehead. Air blasted into the carriage, buffeting him, but as he withdrew, the glass restored itself.
"Timothy," Leander said, his tone grave.
The boy turned to find the mage staring at him with brow furrowed as though in anger. "Do not do that again," he said sternly.
Then Leander extended his arms. Bolts of pure magical force arced from his fingertips through the walls of the craft and coalesced to form a transparent bubble of emerald energy around the hovering carriage and its navigation mage. The magic hummed, tinting everything outside the windows green.
"The Wurm has been brought to Arcanum's most notorious prison," Leander explained as the sky craft began its descent toward the churning ocean. "The prison is called Abaddon, and its ugliness, and what it represents, is hidden from sensitive eyes by neither spell nor glamour."
Within the translucent sphere of magic, the sky carriage bobbed as it touched down on the waves. Timothy gasped when the craft began to sink, plunging the cab into darkness as water rose above the windows.
They seemed to descend forever, and Timothy only realized he'd been holding his breath when his lungs began to burn for air.
"No need for concern," Leander said. He conjured a floating baubble of silently spinning energy to cast light within the darkness of the carriage, yet still there remained a kind of eerie gloom. "We're quite safe."
The protective bubble glowed, and Timothy received his first view of the strange world beneath the ocean. The water seemed gray, as if the color had somehow been drained away. Even the sea life darting behind rocks or plants was devoid of any color.
"What a sad, cold place," Timothy said, pulling his attention from the drab world outside the carriage to look across the seat at his friend.
Leander nodded in agreement. "Yet appropriate."
The sky craft stopped short of touching the muddy bottom and glided forward through the murky waters as if moving through a stormy night sky, propelled by the expert skills of the navigation mage. Leander dipped his head to look out Timothy's window. Slowly he raised a hand, pointing out into the ocean depths.
"There," he said. "Just ahead."
Timothy squinted, looking in the direction that the mage was pointing. At first he saw nothing, and then it was there, massive and foreboding, on the ocean floor.
"Abaddon," Leander said in a whisper, as if to say the name too loud might be a crime all its own.
The enormous structure appeared to be made from slabs of gray stone, its surface shiny and slick, most likely from an accumulation of algae, Timothy guessed. Circular windows like multiple eyes shone in the darkness, and Timothy could not help but be reminded of some fearsome sea beast, lying in wait for prey to swim by.
"What a terrible-looking place," Timothy said as they drifted closer, his concern for Verlis already on the rise.
"Constructed to house Sunderland's most dangerous criminals," Leander said. "It is as if the face of Abaddon reflects the evil that dwells within its walls."
Timothy fixed Leander in a fierce stare. "Verlis isn't evil," he said emphatically. "He doesn't belong in a place like this."
The Grandmaster lowered his gaze, sighing with obvious regret. "You must believe me, if there was anything I could have doneЧ"