"Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - Legends 03 - Test Of The Twins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

More dreadful, though, than wind or rain was the deadly, multicolored lightning that leaped from
cloud to ground, striking the tree stumps, shattering them into brilliant balls of flame visible for
miles. The booming rumble of thunder was constant, shaking the very ground, numbing the senses.
Desperately trying to find shelter from the storm's violence, Tas and Caramon huddled beneath a
fallen vallenwood, crouching in a hole Caramon dug in the gray, oozing mud. From this scant
cover, they watched in disbelief as the storm wreaked further destruction upon the already dead
land. Fires swept the sides of the mountains; they could smell the stench of burning wood.
Lightning struck near, exploding trees, sending great chunks of ground flying. Thunder hit their
ears with concussive force.
The only blessing the storm offered was rainwater. Caramon left his helmet out, upturned, and
almost immediately collected water enough to drink. But it tasted horrible-like rotten eggs, Tas
shouted, holding his nose as he drank-and it did little to ease their thirst.
Neither mentioned, though both thought of it, that they had no way to store water, nor was there
anything to eat. Feeling more like himself since he now knew where he was and when he was (if
not exactly why he was or how he got here), Tasslehoff even enjoyed the storm for the first hour or
so.
"I've never seen lightning that color," he shouted above the booming thunder, and he watched it
with rapt interest. "It's as good as a street illusionist's show!" But he soon grew bored with the
spectacle.
"After all," he yelled, "even watching trees get blasted right out of the ground loses something after
about the fiftieth time you've seen it. If you won't be lonely, Caramon," he added with a jaw-
cracking yawn, "I think I'll take a little nap. You don't mind keeping watch, do you?"
Caramon shook his head, about to reply when a shattering blast made him start. A tree stump not a
hundred feet from them disappeared in a blue-green ball of flame.
That could have been us, he thought, staring at the smoldering ashes, his nose wrinkling at the
smell of sulfur. We could be next! A wild desire to run came into his head, a desire so strong that
his muscles twitched and he had to force himself to stay where he was.
It's certain death out there. At least here, in this hole, we're below ground level. But, even as he
watched, he saw lightning blow a gigantic hole in the ground itself, and he smiled bitterly. No,
nowhere was safe. We'll just have to ride it out and trust in the gods.
He glanced over at Tas, prepared to say something comforting to the kender. The words died on his
lips. Sighing, he shook his head. Some things never changed-kender among them. Curled up in a
ball, completely oblivious to the horrors raging around him, Tas was sound asleep.
Caramon crouched down farther into the hole, his eyes on the churning, lightning-laced clouds
above him. To take his mind off his fear, he began to try to sort out what had happened, how they
had landed in this predicament. Closing his eyes to the blinding lightning, he saw-once again-his
twin standing before the dread Portal. He could hear Raistlin's voice, calling on the five dragons
heads that guarded the Portal to open it and permit his entry into the Abyss. He saw Crysania, cleric
of Paladine, praying to her god, lost in the ecstasy of her faith, blind to his brother's evil.
Caramon shuddered, hearing Raistlin's words as clearly as if the archmage were standing beside
him.
She will enter the Abyss with me. She will go before me and fight my battles. She will face dark
clerics, dark magic-users, spirits of the dead doomed to wander in that cursed land, plus the
unbelievable torments that my Queen can devise. All these will wound her in body, devour her
mind, and shred her soul. Finally, when she can endure no more, she will slump to the ground to lie
at my feet ... bleeding, wretched, dying.
She will, with her last strength, hold out her hand to me for comfort. She will not ask me to save
her. She is too strong for that. She will give her life for me willingly, gladly. All she will ask is that
1 stay with her as she dies....
But I will walk past her without a look, without a word. Why? Because I will need her no longer. . .