"Claremont, Chris & Lucas, George - Chronicles of the Shadow War 01 - Shadow Moon - part02" - читать интересную книгу автора (Claremont Chris)

"More than we can handle or afford," Thom replied for her,
using InSight for a quick glance through her eyes, and waved her
down, while he made his way to the gate.
There were no niceties to manner, word, or gesture; he was as
focused as he was sure the old warrior had been. He slashed the
blade across his palm, coating its edge with blood, then slapped
the locking crossbar that held the great, looming double doors
closed, leaving a blotch of darkness against wood that-like the
people in the Elora's hall-had been bleached by the Deceiver's
radiance of all color. A link established between the three key el-
ements-himself, the blade, the target-he quickly marshaled
his will, letting the grief and fury that had raged in him all
evening crest unchallenged, unchecked. A tidal wave of force
burst out from the heart of his being. Part of him thrust anchors
deep into the good earth beneath his feet, so the power he was
manifesting wouldn't destroy him when he put it to use; simul-
taneously, another, far vaster aspect reached out across the.plaza,
drawing strength from the assemblage and using it to add to the
force he was bringing to bear.
To Geryn, turning his head continuously from Thom to the
no-longer-distant flames and back again, the scene appeared to
be the height of silliness. A modest little manform, whose head
barely reached the Pathfinder'swaist, waving his arms against a
pair of gates that dwarfed the average town house in width and
height and were said in the bargain to be proof against any as-
sault, whether from battering rams or the forbidden black pow-
der explosive. He had no idea what Thom intended with his
knife, and even less hope for any success. He knew from his own
experience how impervious ironwood could be, had seen cross-
bow shots that had punched through proper armor with ease
bounce off a plank. These doors were thicker than a stout man's
body. Couldn't be burned, couldn't be broken.
Force and fury came together in a rush as Thom brought his
blade up and around in a grand, sweeping gesture of uncharac-
teristic flamboyance, to bury it most of the way to its hilt in the
center of his bloodstain. As it struck he unleashed a huge shout






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that to Geryn sounded like a formless bellow. Khory could tell
the difference, her nostrils flared, her teeth baring ever so slightly
in reflexive acknowledgment of the energies the Nelwyn was
manifesting.
The sound of Thom's voice echoed across the plaza, and the