"Roger Taylor - Hawklan 5 - Return of the Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

would guard the world against His coming again.

For come again He must, Ethriss had known, though of how he had known he never spoke. Suffice it
that, although Sumeral took mortal form, He was no mere man. He had come in the wake of Ethriss and
the other Guardians from the Great Searing that had been the beginning of all things and, with lesser
figures that had emerged with Him, had set out to destroy the world that the Guardians had created.
Though His mortal body had eventually been destroyed, after a long and terrible war, there were many
places within the warp and weft of the fabric that formed all things where His dark and festering spirit
could find sanctuary.

And come again He had, for the Cadwanol had failed in their charge as generations of stillness and
peace had taken Sumeral from the minds of men and reduced Him to little more than a myth, a tale to
make children tingle. Yet some sixteen years or so ago He had again taken form in this world. Silently,
His ancient fortress, Derras Ustramel, had been built again in the bleak, mist-shrouded land of Narsindal
and it was as much good fortune as courage that had eventually brought Him down before, it was hoped,
His corruption had spread too far out into the world. Nevertheless, much harm had been done and many
had died.

No special reproach had been offered to the Cadwanol, for others had failed in their vigilance as well,
and all had paid a bitter price. But a day did not pass without Andawyr thinking of the events of that time
and, whenever a problem taxed him to the point of despair, it was these memories that returned to spur
him on. For ignorance and the darkness of the mind and heart that it brought were the greatest of
SumeralтАЩs weapons and only knowledge could prevail against it.

But what was Andawyr to do now? At the very heart of his work lay a maelstrom of confusion and
illogicality; conclusions which, though reached through modes of thought and observation that were
unimpeachably correct, led to consequences that seemingly defied the reality of the world as ordinary
men knew it. As he knew it, for pityтАЩs sake, he mused bleakly, throwing a small pebble into the stream
and watching the ripples spread and disperse. No one would claim to understand what this strangeness
truly meant, but until now it had not really mattered. It was sufficient that it was consistent and that it
worked: it could be used to predict the outcome of experiments and went a considerable way towards
explaining many once-mysterious things, not least the powers that the Cadwanwr themselves possessed.
But what had once been a vague suspicion had grown of late. It could no longer be dismissed as an
inadvertent aberration twisting and curling at the distant edges of their calculations. And it could no longer
be ignored.

There was, beyond all doubt now, a flaw deep in the heart of the way the world was made. Something
that, even within the terms of the strange nature of the CadwanolтАЩs work, could not be. As an academic
exercise it had been speculated upon from time to time for many years, but in the surge of learning that
had followed the war it had been confirmed and accepted.

Fortunately, though disconcerting, it should have been of no pressing significance. It was something that
would manifest itself in the world very rarely and then only fleetingly and in the smallest ways. But now
there were signs that for some reason it was growing, signs that it might manifest itself much more
conspicuously, that it might bring great destruction. And, too, there were indications that something else
was pending, something rare and ominous, though whether the two happenings were associated could
not be determined.

Andawyr growled irritably and threw another stone into the stream. He was ploughing the old ruts again
after all. He had come out here to clear his mind, to rid himself of its interminable circling arguments and