Книга только для ознакомления
. She -
the elven maid - she hated you for it, when she found out,
didn't she?"
"She loved me!" Soth's fist clenched in anger. He
glanced down at the page. His hand slowly relaxed. "She
hated what I had done. She prayed for me. And her prayer
was answered. I was to be given the power of stopping the
Cataclysm. I was on my way to do so, when I stopped at
your castle, Lady."
The deep voice was sad, filled with regret, a bitter
sorrow that wrung the heart. The darkness deepened until
they could see nothing except the flaming eyes, the
reflection of their fire in the charred and blackened armor.
The noise of the mob faded away, became nothing more
than the keening of the wind.
"And I turned aside, as it says here." Soth gestured at
the flame-lighted page. "But it was Paladine who tempted
me to do so. Elven priestesses, enamored of the Kingpriest,
told me that the woman I loved was unfaithful. The child
she had born was not mine. Wounded pride, soul-searing
jealousy, overwhelmed me, drove me to abandon my quest.
I rode back, accused my love, falsely accused her. . . . The
Cataclysm struck. My castle fell. She died in the fire... and
so did I.
"But not to stay dead!" Soth's mailed fist clenched
again. His anger flared. "I awoke to endless torment, eternal
pain! Free me. Cleric. You can. You must. You are a true
cleric."
He stretched out his ghostly hand to the medallion.
"The goddess has blessed you."
"Yet she does not bless you," said Michael, the words
falling from fear-numbed lips
|
