"James M. Ward - The Pool 3 - Pool of Twilight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ward James M)

began to shrink. It dropped to his chest, then to his knees, and finally became nothing more than a glowing
circle down around his feet.
"Is it gone?"
Kern nodded, not daring to speak for fear of breaking his concentration.
"Now, beloved," Shal said to Tarl, placing the jar of oint-ment into the cleric's hands. With deft, practiced
fingers, Tarl spread a thin layer of the clear ointment over Kern's oozing wounds. The pungent healing balm
smelled of mint and juniper. Tarl set down the empty jar.
Nothing happened.
"Concentrate on the wall, Kern," Shal warned.
With a groan of effort, he held the wall down. Suddenly he felt a cool tingling in his chest Then he could
bear it no longer. He relinquished his willpower, and felt the imaginary wall spring back into place around
him. But the pain in his chest was gone.
"You can open your eyes now, Son."
Kern could hear the relief in his mother's voice. Slowly he opened his eyes. He was almost surprised to
see that, in truth, there was no wall of white light encasing him. He ran a hand over his chest. His
bloodstained nightshirt was still in tatters, but the skin beneath was smooth and unbroken. The ointment had
healed him.
He grinned weakly. "Thank you, Mother, Father," he whispered hoarsely. "You too, Listle."
The elf winked at him, beaming, but he didn't notice. In the blink of an eye, Kern had fallen asleep.
*****
"I just don't understand it, Tarl!" Shal said, clenching her hand into a fist. The sorceress and her husband
were alone in the main chamber of Denlor's Tower. A fire burned in a vast marble fireplace. Kern was still
sleeping upstairs, and the sorceress had sent Listle to her spell-casting chamber with a broom, hoping to
keep her preco-cious apprentice occupied for a time.
"How, by all the gods, could he be hurt by a dream?" Now that she and Tarl were alone, Shal's voice
was trem-bling. She leaned her head against her husband's broad chest, and he held her in his strong arms.
She was a stat-uesque woman, taller even than TarlтАФthe result of an inadvertent use of a wishing ring
years agoтАФbut right now she felt small and afraid.
"All I can say is that it must be a very powerful creature that stalks his dreams," Tarl said softly.
 "You think it's the warder of Tyr's hammer, don't you?"
Tarl nodded slowly. "Nothing else makes sense. Who-ever plagues Kern's dreams knows that it's his
destiny to find the lost hammer."
Shal sighed. Twenty-two years ago, she and Tarl had confronted a magical pool of darkness with the
help of several othersтАФincluding the ranger Ren o' the Blade, the sorceress Evaine, and an undead paladin
named Miltia-des, raised from the grave by Tyr for the purpose of the quest. Shal shivered. Even after all
these years, the mem-ory of the ordeal was still clear in her mind.
It all began when, with the help of the evil god Bane, the Red Wizard Marcus stole the entire city of
Phlan, transporting it to a subterranean cavern beneath his tower. There he intended to feed the life-forces
of Phlan's people to a pool of darkness in an attempt to gain enough power to become a dark deity. But
Shal, Tarl, and the others had different ideas, and after they had defeated the Red Wiz-ard, Tarl cast the
legendary Hammer of Tyr into the pool, destroying the dark waters forever.
But something went awry. Before the holy relic could magically return to Tarl's hand, as it always had
before, the hammer was stolen by Bane. The dark god hid it where he thought none would ever find it.
Before he was summoned back to the halls of Tyr, the undead paladin, Miltiades, made a prophecy. One
day, he foretold, it would be the fate of Shal and Tarl's newborn child to lead a quest for the lost hammer.
Knowledge of this prophecy they had thus far kept from their beloved son.
"By Tyr, I would go myself," Tarl said through clenched teeth. "But how can I when . . . when ..." His
broad shoulders slumped in despair as he sank down to a chair covered in gryphon leather. He buried his
face in his hands. "What have I become? I cannot even protect my son in his time of need." His voice was
anguished. "What good is a blind hero, Shal?"