"Craig Shaw Gardner - Ebenezum 03 - A Night in the Netherhell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

yet be rescued. But, should this event occur . . .” Snorphosio’s voice dropped away, as if the final
consequences might be too horrible to even say aloud.

The silence that followed was shattered by a great rumble beneath our feet. We had been through
Nether-hells-inspired earthquakes before. I looked for something to hold onto, but there was nothing
around us but piles of sand.

The quake ended before I could even lose my footing. As I turned to the others, another loud noise
erupted from beyond the dunes, a great, belching roar, as if the earth itself had swallowed something and
found that it disagreed with its digestion.

Snorphosio had fallen to the dirt. Although the quake had passed, he was still trembling violently.

“That was the event I was waiting for,” the old man managed after a moment.

“Doom,” Hendrek replied.

Snorphosio pushed his hands against the sand to stop his spasms. He nodded at last.

“All is lost. Vushta is gone forever.”

TWO
Why don’t you conjure a legendary city, full of magic spells and mystic beasts, out of thin air?”
the uninformed client asks. “Well, where would you put it?” the wise wizard replies. “Have
you seen the price of real estate?
—from Ebenezum the Wizard’s Handy Guide to Better Wizard/Client Relationships, fourth
edition
Vushta was gone forever.

“Indeed,” my master said to the cowering Snorphosio. “Are we then the only wizards left in all of
Vushta?”

“In all of Vushta, yes, we are the only wizards that remain.” The old professor regained his feet
somewhat unsteadily. He dusted at his sleeves half-heartedly. “Of course, there are also wizards in East
Vushta, some two hills over, but whether East Vushta is part of the greater metropolis has always been
open to debate. At the moment, I would imagine that East Vushta is quite separate from the rest of the
city.” He paused to stare off into the dust. “Yes. Quite separate indeed.”

Ebenezum nodded and scratched beneath his wizard’s cap. “Wuntvor, shoulder your pack. We all
need a place to spend the night. I think East Vushta shall do nicely.”

I did as my master bade. The pack, which had once bulged with a large number of sorcerous tomes
and arcane paraphernalia, was now much lighter due to the loss of almost the entire contents when I was
carried off by a large, mythological bird in one of our more recent adventures. Ebenezum had hoped to
replace what he had lost once we reached the fabled centers of learning in Vushta. But that, along with
most of the rest of our plans, now seemed futile.

I looked to my master, once the greatest mage in all the Western Kingdoms, as he led our party in a
march across the sand. Even though his clothes were torn, his beard matted, his skin burned red by the
sun, still he looked every inch the master magician. The casual observer would never have guessed the