"Janrae Frank - Journey of Sacred King 3 - My Father's House" - читать интересную книгу автора (Frank Janrae)

Hadjys the Dark Judge

High Temple, Havensword, Creeya.



My Dear Eshraf,

I can't. I simply can't. The proofs you have sent me, do suggest a vampire. But not
necessarily the same vampire. I will, however, bring my riders nearer the city.

Captain Alysyn Larkwind,

Riders of Hadjysymi




CHAPTER ONE
BROKEN RULES
Arruth huddled under the bushes on the Stalking Grounds, which lay within the wide
spread walls of Ishladrim Castle on part of the palace compound made up by the
Hadjysheen Temple University, the palace, the ancient libraries, and the High Temple
itself, forming a quad on the spire of the mountain like a crown jewel with the city of
Havensword wrapped around and beneath it. Hiding was not as easy as it had once
been, since the twelve years old's sudden spurt of growth had turned her into a
gawky six-footer. The bushes clutched at her like a thousand sharp fingers, catching
at her sleeves and pants legs as they wrapped her in their shadows. The scent of pine
dominated the air around her, overpowering the lighter fragrances of the wood. Dirt
and bits of brush clung to her wavy black hair. She dug her fingers into the moist,
black soil, softly breaking the rotted crust of leaves beneath its shallow blanket and
disturbing the insects dwelling there, which then skittered away from her.

The shadows had lengthened with the approach of sunset and the air was turning
cold. She did not wear a cloak because the warmth of midday had been pleasant
when she fled. A sudden breeze chilled the sweat along her arms and neck. Arruth
shivered. Her ears strained for the smallest sound of booted feet. She knew the
Wrathscar soldiers were out there. If she moved, they would find her. Her heart
drummed loud in her ears, matching the sound of her breathing. She fought to
control her panicked breath, her panting; fought hard to breathe as quietly as she
could. Yet it all seemed loud in her ears. Arruth had recently reached that awkward
stage in adolescent growth, when the rapid changes tended to interfere with
coordination so that sometimes it seemed like she was all arms and legs. Arruth had
lost much of that street child quickness, which had served her so well all her life, and
she was painfully aware of it – it seemed as if her body had to struggle to find a new
center of gravity.

She prayed again that the Wrathscar myn chasing her would not catch her. She
desperately wanted to go home, wanted to be back in Shaurone. The grand