"Realms of the Underdark 2.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthologies)

free of monsters. Anything might lie beyond the next bend of stone, any one of
those thousand waiting horrors. Yes, death could be found in endless variety in
the Underdark. But what did he have to fear? Zaknafein laughed without sound,
his white teeth shining in the darkness. Were not the draw the greatest horror
of all?
He moved on.
Minutes later Zak came upon his prey: a band of pale, bug-eyed kobolds. Until
that moment, he had not known he was hunting the stunted, dog-snouted creatures.
It might have been bugbears, or deepspawn, or black crawlers, or any one of a
score of different monsters. It made no difference. All that mattered was that
they were evil. He had come upon the kobolds first. They would serve him well
enough.
The ragged creatures huddled in a small cave, pawing over the spoils of their
latest victim. Zak's red eyes detected the cold metallic outline of a horned
helm and a stout warhammer. A dwarf. Dwarves were fierce fighters, and kobolds
were cowardly creatures, but a dozen of them would not hesitate to swarm a lone
wanderer. No doubt the dwarf had had the ill luck to find himself alone and too
far from the underground home of his clan. Tufts of hair matted with blood still
clung to the armor and weapons. The kobolds had jumped him and ripped him to
shreds.
"Mine!" one of the creatures shrieked in the crude common tongue of the
Underdark, its eyes glowing with lust. It snatched a cloak of fine cloth from
one of the others, clutching it in grimy hands.
"Mine, it is!" the other kobold growled. "I it was who bit its filthy neck!"
"No, mine!" hissed a third. "Gouged its foul, sticky eyes with my own fingers, I
did!"
The two hateful contenders tackled the first creature, snarling and biting with
yellow teeth, tearing the cloak to tatters in the process. Quarrels broke out
among the rest of the kobolds as they fought over the dead dwarfs goods. Zak
knew he had to act now if there was to be any work left for him to do. Tossing
back his concealing piwafwi, he stepped into the cave.
"Why don't I settle this little argument for you?" he asked in a ringing voice.
A fierce grin split his angular visage. "How about if you all get-nothing?"
The kobolds froze, staring at the drow weapons master in surprise and dread,
bits of cloth and jewelry dropping from their bloodstained fingers. Then, as
one, the diminutive creatures shrieked in terror, scrambling and clawing past
each other to escape the nightmare before them. There was nothing in all the
Underdark that kobolds feared more than drow. For good reason.
With one hand, Zak drew his adamantite sword, while the other uncoiled the whip
from his belt. In an almost lazy gesture, he flicked his wrist. The whip struck
like a black serpent, taking the feet out from under the nearest kobold. His
sword followed. Like a dying insect, the kobold squirmed for a moment on the end
of his blade. Then Zak heaved the creature aside, turning toward the next.
Kobolds were like candy. He could never kill just one.
Zaknafein's grin broadened as he cut a swath through the shrieking tangle. He
was slender, like all elven kind, but his lithe form was as sharp and well-honed
as his blade. In a city of warriors, Zak knew he was one of the best. It was not
a matter of pride. It was simply fact.
Another kobold expired on the end of his sword, the evil phosphorescence of life
fading from its eyes until they were as cool and dull as stones. Even as one