"Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar 2 - Silverthorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

which seemed to glow angrily in the firelight. It was clear
that his was no simple disfigurement but some sort of
magic talisman, for it formed a perfect silhouette of a
dragon in flight. He raised his finger, pointing upwards. "I
have the power.' He made a circular motion with his
upraised finger. 'I am the foreordained. I am destiny.'
The witch nodded, knowing death raced to embrace
her. She suddenly mouthed a complex incantation, her
hands moving furiously through the air. A gathering of
power manifested itself in the cave and a strange keening
filled the night. The warrior before her simply shook his
head. She cast a spell at him, one that should have
withered him where he stood. He remained, grinning at
her evilly. 'You seek to test me with your puny arts,
seer?'
seeing no effect, she slowly closed her eyes and sat
erect, awaiting her fate. The moredhel pointed his finger
at her and a silver shaft of light came forth, sinking the
witch. She shrieked in agony, then exploded into white-
hot fire. For an instant her dark form writhed within the
inferno, then the flames vanished.
The moredhel cast a quick glance at the ashes upon the
floor, forming the outline of a body. With a deep laugh
he gathered up his robe and left the cave.
Outside, his companions waited, holding his horse. Far
below he could see the camp of his band, still small but
destined to grow. He mounted and said,
'To Bar-Sargoth!' WIth a jerk on the reins he spun his horse and led the
mute and the serpent priest down the hillside.
1

Reunion

The ship sped home.
The wind changed quarter and the captain's voice rang
out, aloft, his crew scrambled to answer the demands of a
freshening breeze and a captain anxious to get safely to
port. He was a seasoned sailingmaster, nearly thirty years
in the King's navy, and seventeen years commanding his
own ship; And the Royal Eagle was the best ship in the
King's fleet, but still the captain wished for just a little
more wind, just a little more speed, since he would not
rest until his passengers were safely ashore.
Standing upon the foredeck were the reasons for the
captain's concern, three tall men. Two, one blond and
one dark, were standing at the rail, sharing a joke, for
they both laughed. Each stood a full four inches over six
feet, and each carried himself with the sure step of a
fighting man or hunter. Lyam, King of the Kingdom of
the Isles, and Martin, his elder brother and Duke of