Книга только для ознакомления
. The only thing that marred the icy, detached beauty
was a straggling trail gouged up the mountainside, a trail
that led to the two solitary figures who had reached their
destination.
The stars shone brightly from all around. Marakion's
cloak, wrapped around the boy, furled and straightened
softly in the breeze. His heavy breathing plumed out white
in front of his face.
"Here . . ." Gylar said in a whisper. He nodded, with a
smile. "Yes, this is perfect, so perfect."
Marakion swallowed hard and knelt next to Gylar. He
spread a blanket and moved the boy onto it, then covered
him with his own bedroll, trying to make him as warm as
possible.
"Let me be alone now, Marakion." Gylar whispered, "I
want to call Paladine. It's time for me to call him."
Marakion nodded, slowly rose from his kneeling
position, and walked a distance away. He scuffed the snow
with his boot, wondering again about this whole thing.
For an hour, Marakion walked about in the cold. He
turned to watch Gylar from time to time. He could see the
boy's mouth move, hear him talking to the skies.
Another hour passed, this time in silence. Nothing
answered Gylar's feeble summons. Marakion tromped
about, fuming. He knew he shouldn't have expected an
answer, but suddenly he was furious that none was coming.
After a time, Marakion realized the boy was beckoning
weakly to him. The man was instantly at the boy's side.
Gylar's flesh was almost completely wasted away. The
effect of the fever over such a short time was astounding
|
