"Weis, Margaret & Hickman, Tracy - Darksword 03 - Triumph of the Darksword UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

"What is it you want, my son?" Radisovik asked in a mild voice that had yet grown suddenly cool and cautious.
"I ... I came to ask if you would open a Corridor to me.
Holiness."
"You want to leave Sharakan," Radisovik said slowly.
"Yes, Holiness."
"You are aware that travel outside the magical boundaries of this city is forbidden for the good of our citizens. All travel is perilous these days, especially for the citizens of our city. Our own Thon-U currently control our Corridors, with the help of the Duuk-tMtritbf of course, put it is possible that the warlocks of Merilon may always attempt to gain entry."
"1 know. Holiness," Mosiah said respectfully but firmly. "This trip is important to me, however, and I am willing to take the risk. I've informed Prince Garald," he continued, seeing Radisovik hesitate. "He gave me his permission to leave. I have a message from him." Fumbling in his tunic, Mosiah produced a small crystal globe that, when activated
a spoken word of magic, would produce the image of the young and handsome prince of Sharakan.
"That will not be necessary," Radisovik said, smiling. "If
Х. you have discussed this with Prince Garald and he has given V his permission, then I will certainly open a Corridor and ;- wish you godspeed. Now, where is it you want to go?"
"The Borderlands," Mosiah answered.
Radisovik started, looking at the young man with a nvys-
Х:-.ttfied expression. "Why do you Ч " Then his brow cleared. !<*Ah," he said softly. "Today is the anniversary."
"Yes, Holiness," Mosiah replied in a low voice. "I've never been there. When the Sorcerers found me in the Out-
Х land, I was more dead than alive. I didn't hear what had happened until . . . long after. I wanted to go, but I couldn't make myself." He looked at the floor, ashamed. "I know I should have, but I couldn't bear to see Saryon ... to see him changed. ..." Coughing, he cleared his throat.
"I know, my son. I understand." Radisovik laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder. "I heard about your ordeal and it must have been a terrible one. None can blame you for not wanting to travel to that awful place until you were stronger."
"I must go. I need to go," Mosiah said stubbornly, as though arguing with himself. "I need to make myself realize that it was real. That it all truly happened. Then maybe I can accept it, or understand it."
"I doubt if we will ever understand," said Radisovik, watching the young man intently, his eyes noting every nuance of expression in the open, guileless face. "But certainly we must come to accept what has passed, lest rage and bitterness gnaw at us and prevent us from living out our own lives."
He paused, waiting to see if Mosiah said anything more. The young man, struggling with his emotions, appeared incapable of speech, however. The Cardinal shrugged imper-ceptively and, speaking a word of prayer, caused a Corridor to open in the room, creating an oval void of nothingness in the air.
"Go with the Almins blessing, Mosiah," Radisovik said as the young man, with a flushed face, mumbled and coughed : his thanks. "May you find the peace you seek."
22 WEISANDHJCKMAN
The Corridor elongated. The young man stepped inside, and the pathway through space and time formed by the ancients long ago closed around him. Mosiah vanished from the room.
Staring after him, his brow creased. Cardinal Radisovik shook his head. "What secret gnaws at your heart, young man?" he murmured, "I wonder. , . ."
The Corridor closed around Mosiah with its familiar squeezing effect, as though he were being dragged through a small, dark tunnel. The young man experienced*a 'terrifying moment of panic, recalling with horrible vividness the last time he had traveled this route. . . .
Her face expressionless, the witch spoke a word and Mosiah caught his breath in fear as the thorns began to grow on the Kif vines again, this time merely pricking his flesh but not digging into it.
"Notyet, "said the witch, reading his thoughts. "But they will grow and keep on growing until they pierce right through skin and muscle and organs, tearing out your life with them. Now, I ask you again. What is your name?"
"Why? What can it matter?" Mosiah groaned. "You know it! "
"Humor me," the witch said and spoke another word. The thorns grew another fraction of an inch.
"Mosiah!" He tossed his head in agony. "Mosiah! Damn it! Mosiah, Mosiah, Mosiah. ..."
Then their plan penetrated the haze of pain. Mosiah choked, trying to swallow his words. Watching in horror, he saw the witch become Mosiah. Her face Ч his face. Her clothes Ч his clothes. Her voice Ч his voice.
"What do we do with him?" the -warlock asked in subdued tones.
"Throw him m the Corridor and send him to the Out-land, " the witch Ч now Mosiah Ч said, rising to her feet.
"No!"
Mosiah tried to fight the warlock's strong hands that dragged him to his feet, but the tiniest movement drove the thorns into his body and he slumped over with an anguished cry. "Joram!" he yelled desperately as he saw the dark void
TRIUMPH OF THE DARKSWORD
23
of the Corridor open within the foliage. "Joram J" he shouted, hoping his friend would hear, yet knowing in his heart that it was hopeless. "Run! Its a trap! Run!"
The warlock thrust him into the Corridor. It began to squeeze shut, pressing in on him. The thorns stabbed his flesh, his blood flowed warm over his skin. Staring out, he had a final glimpse of the witchЧnow himselfЧwatching him, her face Ч his face Ч expressionless.
Then, she spread her hands.
"Its all the rage," he saw himself say.
What happened after that, Mosiah couldn't be certain. Mercifully, he lost consciousness in the Corridor. When he came to, days later, he was in the Sorcerers crude town in the Outland. Andon, their elderly, gentle leader, was with him as was a Tbeldora Ч a healer Ч and a catalyst who had been sent to the Sorcerers' village by Prince Garald himself. Mosiah begged to know the fate of his friends, but none in the secluded village could Ч or would Ч tell him.
The following weeks were ones of pain when he was awake and terrible dreams when he sank into the magically induced sleep. Then he heard, in a whispered conversation not intended for his ears, what had happened to Joram and Father Saryon. He heard about the catalysts tragic sacrifice, about Joram s voluntary walk into Beyond.
Mosiah himself drew near death. The TbcQara tried everything but told Andon that the young man's magical Life was not working to save him. Mosiah didn't care. Dying was easier than living with the pain.
One day Andon told him he had visitors, two people who had been brought to the village by orders of Prince Garald. Mosiah couldn't imagine who they could be and he didn't much care. . . . And then his mothers arms were around him, her tears bathing his wounds. His fathers voice was in his ears. Gently, tenderly, his parents' rough, work-worn hands led their son back to life.
The memories of his pain and his despair overwhelmed Mosiah and he felt as though the Corridor were smothering him. Fortunately, the journey was short. The feeling of panic subsided as the Corridor gaped open. But the terror was replaced by feelings more profound yet no less painful Ч feel-
24
WEIS AND HICKMAN
TRIUMPH OF THE DARKSWORD
25
ings of sorrow and of grief. Stepping from the Corridor, Mosiah gritted his teeth, nerving himself. Although he had never visited the Borderlands, he had familiarized himself with them and he knew what to expect.