"Richard A. Knaak - Dragonrealm 02 - Ice Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Knaak Richard A)

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RICHARD A. KNAAK

The Dragonrealm: Ice Dragon
I
The bone-numbing winds of the great Northern Wastes tore at the cloaks of the two riders, seeking to remove their
only real pro-tection. One rider paid the wind no mind though it often threatened to thrust him from the back of his
steed. The other rider, his form, like that of his companion, hidden by the enveloping cloak, would glance from time to
time at the first one as if seeking some re-sponse. After a moment or two, he would return his gaze to the endless white
world before them—and specifically to the jagged, treacherous range of ice-encrusted peaks near the horizon.
He urged his steed forward, knowing that the other would follow if he could convince his own. His urging however
only succeeded in gaining a slight increase in speed; the mounts had suffered greatly and were, in fact, the last of six
that he had started out with.
The slow movements of the steeds angered him, but he knew his choices had been limited. The mounts he would have
desired would have been dead long before, the cold of the Northern Wastes having an even more pronounced effect
on those creatures than the horses he and the other rode.
Already he felt sick of the cold, sick of the snow and ice—but what choice did he have? The others were fighting
among themselves or, worse yet, were dead or turned traitor, which was the same thing in his eyes. He let loose a hiss
of anger, disturbing both horses. It took him several moments to calm them down. His companion made no move
despite the jumpiness of his own steed. There was no need to. His legs had been tied to his horse by the other rider. It
was a necessity.
They rode on, and as they moved closer and closer toward the mountains, the one rider's anger turned to uncertainty.
Who was to say that he would gain aid here? This land was ruled by the most traditional of his kind and that tradition
conflicted with his own desires, namely the rule of his own and other races by himself. Under the laws governing birth
for his kind, he was ineligible. As his father's warlord and the ruling duke of the clan, he should have been satisfied. He
was not, however, knowing as he did that his command of the power was greater, far greater, than many of his father's
brethren. But for a few birth markings . . . The snowbank before him rose, and continued to rise. It towered over him
and his companion, blotting out the land-scape before them.
The snowbank grew eyes, pale, ice-blue eyes—and tremendous claws designed for digging through frozen earth and
easily tearing through soft flesh.
The first of the guardians of the one he sought. He had now two choices, it seemed. Either kill the guardian or be killed,
and neither was particularly wise.
The horses began turning and bucking. Only the rider's skill kept his own animal from throwing him and only the rope
fastened from his own animal to the other kept him from losing his com-panion. The other rider teetered back and forth
like some toy, but his hands were also tied to his mount's saddle, preventing him from falling too far.
The lead rider raised his hand and made a fist. He could not, of course, allow either of them to die, which meant he had
to halt the guardian. He began to mutter under his breath, knowing that it would require a strong spell to turn, much
less destroy, this creature.
"Halt."
The sorcerer paused, checking but not canceling his magical assault. He peered through the snowstorm the guardian
had caused in rising and finally noticed the figure to his front right. The mage
blinked.
It walked stiffly toward him, one hand holding a staff which he was sure controlled the great snow beast. A blue gem
pulsated on the top of the staff. The figure holding the staff was not human.
"You are in the domain of the Ice Dragon." Its voice was emotionless and reminiscent of the whirling wind. There was
something about it, something that made it difficult to see until it was practically on top of the sorcerer. "Only one
thing prevents your death . . . and that is that you are one of the master's kin, are you not, drake?"
The lead rider reached up and pulled back his hood. As he did so, he revealed the dragonhelm that should have been
noticeable, hood or no hood. The magical cloak which had hidden it allowed him to travel through the lands of men,