"Clayton Emery - Netheril 02 - Dangerous Games" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

A blob of brown ichor like tobacco juice splattered Sunbright's face. Caught unprepared, he hadn't
time to close his eyes. Blinking furiously and clawing at his eyes, he found he couldn't see. Then the
stinging glop began to burn, sear, until he shouted in pain and anger. And for the first time, fright.
He was blind.
Candlemas's wormhole spell worked on another flea, drilling it through and reducing it to a curved
shell spinning on the stone floor. The pudgy mage grabbed the table legs to pull himself out from
under, when a warning crash made him duck back. From above, a jar filled with brine crashed on the
floor, drenching him. A silver scale followed. The destruction didn't bother him so much as the
danger: this table was old and creaky, he recalled. But before he could slither clear, it crashed on his
back, pinning him.
A flea nipped at his ear, so close he felt it tick like a cat's claw. With the monster's weight crushing
him—how could bugs weigh so much?—he couldn't free his arm to conjure another spell. Normally he
hated to employ the same spell repeatedly, for it was considered the mark of an amateur, and many of
his spells were subtle, designed to turn opponents away, to instill fear, to enfeeble their minds. But
these insects had no minds, only claws and teeth, and ravening hunger.
But now he'd be glad to hurl a wormhole, except he was trapped with one hand underneath him.
The bug hooked a mandible into the back of his neck, making the arcanist shiver. It would tear open
his skull and suck out his brains unless he got loose—
Then a crashing, smashing, crunching rattled all around him, and the flea was knocked clear, as
was the table. Sunbright stamped on the arcanist's hand, making him gasp.
Still, Candlemas didn't waste time. Sliding on his knees under the far side of the table, Candlemas
clambered up, shoving the empty hulls of dead insects away. How many of the murderous bastards
were left?
He ducked as Sunbright's sword slashed sideways, scattered glass and pottery, and tore a chunk
from the table's edge. Was the barbarian mad? Broken chips stung Candlemas's face, cutting his chin
and eyebrow, making it hard to see for blood. Sunbright was under attack from four slashing, jumping
bugs, but the barbarian slung his sword awkwardly, dinging a marble column, almost severing
Candlemas's forearm, hitting nothing. The wizard shouted, "What are you—"
"I can't see! I'm blind!" A sob of panic drowned Sunbright's voice. Strong of arm and body, the
barbarian was terrified of being rendered helpless. Now he howled involuntarily as a flea clamped its
mandibles onto his knee.
"Get down!" Candlemas shouted. "Drop!"
Desperately the wizard racked his brain for some all-encompassing spell. Noanar's fireball would
incinerate everything in sight, set off a chain of explosions that could level the tower. General Matick's
shields were useless, for the bugs would just jump over or around. And they must be destroyed. Aksa's
shatter? Ptack's brittleness? If Candlemas had a fault, he knew too much and became paralyzed trying
to choose. Nor was Sunbright helping. Used to battling alone, the barbarian had no intention of
ducking from a fight.
What to do? The insects were like hot coals tearing up his laboratory and the two men. Even now
one skipped away from Sunbright to leap at Candlemas, and the wizard found himself stepping away
from the threat. Heat wouldn't mean much to them with their tough, leathery hides. But the opposite .. .
Invoking Kozah, the Storm Lord, Candlemas shot his sleeves, locked his fingers, and conjured. The
spell took form instantly, for his fingers ached to the bone, then to the wrists, then the elbows. He
couldn't hold this enchantment long—
A flea leapt. Instead of backing away, Candlemas stepped to meet it.
A slap to either side of its head did the trick. Veridon's chiller sank magic deep into the beast's core.
Its rust-red carapace was suddenly brighter, reflected in morning sun from the high windows, as the
insect was coated with a layer of ice an inch thick. Frozen solid, the thing tilted down and thundered at
Candlemas's feet, icy legs and claws shattering against stone. Clumps of frozen bug landed on the
wizard's sandaled feet, leaving a wet, chill, ugly feel on his hairy toes. Irritated, he kicked the thing