Книга только для ознакомления
."
"And a lack-wit?"
Flint snorted and shook his head. "I stand by that. And I'll add
that we're both lack-wits if we continue on through this cursed
forest."
"I'll go on."
"I thought you would. Well, then, so will I." He glared down at
his palms, scowling at the blisters that were already beginning to
form there. "I owe someone for this, and I do not like unpaid
debts."
Wretched dawn silvered the eastern sky, blighting Gadar's
certainty that his work of the coming night would be undisturbed.
His phantom warriors had failed in their task, leaving him exposed
and vulnerable. They could not be called into service again until
darkness swallowed the days light. By that time the intruders
might well have found him.
Or they might not. It was a chance that he would have to take.
The time was right for the casting of his spells, the victim had been
chosen. One night hence would be too late.
For a moment, regret, sharp and even bitter, touched Gadar's
heart. It was ever this way when he was faced with this task. The
young man was full of youth's bright flame. The blood ran quick
and sparkling in this one, as it had in the others. Youth would
dance in his eyes, sing in his veins, and light his face with his
golden hopes.
The groaning that had begun with the dawn's coming now
increased in persistence, telling of one who struggled against the
black prison of unconsciousness, pushing against it with feeble
strength and stronger heart
|
