"Sniegoski, Thomas E - Outcast - 04 - Wurm War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sniegoski Thomas E)

Alhazred was dead, and the Wurm had invaded. If there were any clear signs that chaos had taken control, this was the most obvious. Sitting within his cold, dark cell, stripped of all that defined him, Grimshaw had realized that he had to change in order to live. A pure creature of order could not survive a world in constant flux. No, he needed to become what he most hated.
A creature of disorder, an enemy of harmony.
A beast of chaos.
And he could think of no one better to help him with his transformation than the leader of the Wurm invaders. He had much to share with the monsters. And if everything went according to plan, Raptus would have much to share with him.
For the first time in his life, Ivar wished that he were riding inside a sky craft. He hated the unnatural feeling of confinement they gave him. But that confinement would have been preferable to his current situation.
The Asura clung to the back of the prison transport, using all his focus to keep his grip firm. If he was not careful, the strong winds that buffeted him as the stolen transport flew south would tear him from his perch. As his fingers began to cramp and grow numb with the cold, Ivar was forced to wonder if he had made a fatal mistake.
Yet there had been no choice. Grimshaw had been escaping, and Ivar could not bear the thought of a villain such as he going free. Blending with the surroundings so as not to be seen, Ivar had leaped onto the back of the ascending prison transport. Though not as sophisticated as the laws set down by the mages, the Asura had their own system of justice that had served them well in their day. It was elegantly simple. If one did wrong, than one was punished by a member of the tribe who had been designated as LawgiverЧthe keeper of tribal law and order.
As the last of his kind, he had no choice but to designate himself as Lawgiver, and swore, as he clung to back of the prison transport, that Grimshaw would not be allowed to hurt any of his friendsЧthe tribe he had surrounded himself withЧor perform any act of evil again.
So said Ivar, last of the Asura.
So said the Lawgiver.
Cythra perched at the edge of the rooftop, stretching her leathery wings to their full span as she looked out over August Hill and at the sprawling metropolis of Arcanum below. It was obvious to Timothy that she was more comfortable here, less cramped.
"He'll want to see that in ruin," she said, pointing a black claw at the spires of Arcanum twinkling in the distance.
Her clan soared in the sky above, dipping and weaving and blowing fire at one another as they trained for the coming battle. They were a fearsome sight to behold, but a small voice in the back of Timothy's mind continued to ask the question Will it be enough?
Lord Romulus paced nervously about the rooftop, not at all comfortable in the presence of the female Wurm.
"The foul beast will never be allowed to reach Arcanum," he blustered, clasping his gauntleted hands behind his back and sticking out his broad, armored chest. "Our security forces are more than enough to repel any such attack. The Legion Nocturne alone will stop him. Raptus's filth will never come north of my fortress at Twilight."
Something nagged at Timothy, an irritant of a question that refused to be quelled no matter how hard he tried. He could no longer hold his tongue.
"Raptus isn't stupid," he blurted out.
Cythra turned her large, horned head to look at him. Romulus glowered.
"I was his captive for a while. This isn't some reckless troublemaker without a plan."
"We are well aware of the danger posed by our enemy, boy," Romulus said, his eyes blazing from black pools inside his helmet. The mage was a giant by any standard, at least ten feet tall, and the nearer Timothy got to him, the more intimidating Romulus was. He reached up to stroke the long hair of his beard. "It matters not at all. Our forces are superior. Even if our power and valor were not enough, our numbers would crush him."
It was Timothy's turn to pace. Something continued to nag at him.
"And that's what I can't understand."
"Explain yourself, Timothy," Cythra asked, folding her wings against her back, eyes narrow with worry.
"He would know that he couldn't win," the boy said. "How many soldiers does he have? Two hundred? Maybe three hundred if you count the laborers from Draconae, plus a handful of Wurm sorcerers. He'll either have left the families back in Draconae or resettled them in Tora'nah, but he won't have them fighting. The children and the aged, young mothersЧ they won't be part of the attack against us. So let us say three hundred. What chance would they have against a city of hundreds of thousands of mages? Not to mention the other settlements they will have to conquer just to get to Arcanum. It just doesn't make sense."
The sound of Romulus chuckling filled the air like the growl of a hungry predator. "Isn't it obvious to you both?" he asked them. "Raptus is mad. His hate for the mages of Terra has made him irrational. It would not be the first time that a tyrant infected with the disease of insanity has waged an impossible war against a much larger and more powerful foe."
"The boy is right," Cythra said in a hushed whisper, twin streams of hissing steam flowing up from her nostrils. "I have known Raptus since he was a hatchlingЧwe grew up togetherЧwere even friends in the early days of our youth. He has never been a fool."
Romulus moved closer to them. "What are the two of you suggesting?" he asked, caution in his low, grumbling tone.
Timothy sighed, not caring for the direction his thoughts were taking him. "It's just that I can't imagine that he would invade Terra without some kind of plan. Some way that would guarantee a victory."
And as those words left his lips, he heard a sharp intake of air from Cythra that could only have been a gasp of shock.
"What is it, Cythra?" he asked, imagining that he saw a look of fear in the dark, watery eyes of Verlis's mate. "What did I say?"
"All this talk of Raptus has stirred the flames of remembrance," she said. "Even as a youth, his hate for the mages knew no bounds. His nature was scarred by the death of his father before his hatching."
Romulus crossed his arms and grumbled in frustration. "What has this to do with now?"
Cythra ignored the petulant attitude of the leader of the Legion Nocturne, lost in memories of days gone by. "Even as a child his thoughts did not stray from the idea of revenge, and how he would eventually achieve it. But Raptus was also obsessed with the legends of the Dragons of Old. There was one particular legend that he often talked about. It was said that the dragons feared the growing power of the wizards with whom they shared this world. The dragons feared that there would come a day when their kind would be no more."
Romulus threw his hand up in frustration, bellowing at the heavens. "We have no time for myths and legends! Our enemy moves against us!"
Timothy cast an angry eye toward the Grandmaster. "Please, Lord Romulus, be patient," the boy snapped. "Go on, Cythra. We're listening."
"With their ancient sorcery, legend claims that the dragons created a horrible weapon, an egg."
Timothy frowned. "They created an egg ... as a weapon? I don'tЧ"
"Not just any egg," Cythra explained, leaning in closer to make sure he understood the importance of what it was she was saying. "They called it the Spawn of Wrath, and inside its shell seethed the fury, rage, and fear of all dragonkind. A power that, if consumed, could bestow upon the eater unspeakable might."
The Wurm pulled her wings tightly around her, as if suddenly cold. "Raptus often spoke of one day having his vengeance. There were other ideas he had to achieve that end, but he returned to the tale of the Spawn of Wrath more than any other. I paid no mind to his rambling, for it was only a legend, after all."
"Precisely!" Romulus snarled. "It is a thing of legendЧof myth. It doesn't exist."
Timothy felt a chill pass through him, and he gnawed his lower lip. "But what if it does?"
Cythra shrugged her broad shoulders. "It was said that the Spawn was buried with the Queen, hidden with her body in the final resting place of the dragons."
"Tora'nah," Timothy whispered, a claw of fear gripping at his chest.
The Wurm nodded. "If it does exist, that is where it would be found."
"And if he does find it?" Romulus asked. "What then? What can we do to defend ourselves?"
Cythra did not answer, turning her gaze up to the members of her tribe that flew above their heads. She spread her wings, leaping up into the sky to join them in flight.
Her silence spoke volumes.
CHAPTER FIVE
A cold rain had started to fall over the burial ground, almost as if the Dragons of Old were crying tears of joy over what he had found. Raptus could not pull his gaze from his prizeЧfrom the Spawn of Wrath. It was exactly as he believed, not only a thing of legend, but of the physical world. It existedЧin all its wondrous glory. And now, it belonged to him.
Through the shell of the great egg he felt the thrum of ancient power, waiting to be unleashed.