"Lords Of Avalon - 02 - Knight Of Darkness" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacGregor Kinley)

KINLEY MACGREGOR
KNIGHT OF DARKNESS
LORDS OF AVALON


Prologue

It has been said by the wise that in the heart of every man there lies a noble
beast who seeks to do what is right. But before he becomes a man, he is a child.
A boy. In the best of circumstances, that child is conceived in love, and he is
nurtured so that he can grow to manhood to be noble and kind, and fulfill his
destiny.
And then there are others. Those who are conceived in darkness and deceit. Those
who are suckled on bitterness and hatred. These are not noble beasts. They are
fierce and angry.
They are feral lions bent on the destruction of all.
These men grow to resent those around them. Not by choice, but because whenever
they dared to reach out to anyone for comfort, they were met with more anger and
hostility. With scorn and brutality. It is all they know. All they’ve ever
learned.
These men are what they’re exposed to. For good.
For bad.
For evil.
How do I know? I’m one of those of beasts. Meant to be a son of light, I was
born of the darkest arts. Torn between the two, I’ve never known peace or
succor. Never known a gentle touch. Malice. Cruelty. Rage. Those are what
nurtured me into what I am today. Not noble, but definitely a beast. One who
stalks this life in search of those like me who walk the path of evil so that I
can expose them for what they really are. And once they are known to us, it is
by my hand that they die.
I am fortitude. I am sinister.
Most of all, I am hatred. It is what nourishes me more than mother’s milk ever
could.
I would have it no other way. For it is that darkest part of my soul that allows
me to do what I must. But whether I work for the betterment of mankind or the
betterment of myself is anyone’s guess.
Even my own.
Chapter 1
“There’s a traitor among us.”
With a completely stoic expression, Varian duFey looked up from the desk where
he was wasting time on a Sudoku puzzle to meet Merlin’s worried gaze. As always,
she was dressed in a long white medieval styled gown that was trimmed in gold,
while her pale flaxen hair fell around her shoulders and down her back like a
mantle of silk. Unlike the Merlin who’d served King Arthur, Aquila Penmerlin was
lithe and young, with a beauty that was only surpassed by her intelligence and
magick.
Scratching his chin, Varian merely arched a single brow at her agitated
demeanor. “No shit, Sherlock. There’s always a traitor among us.”
Closing the distance between them, she cradled his chin in her hand and forced
him to look up at her. Those cold blue eyes bored into him, and by the sharp