"The Summoning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morgen Shelby)

“I can’t be dead. A little drunk, maybe. But not dead. The last thing I remember was the waves washing over my feet. The storm had passed and the moonlight was shimmering over the waves. It was so beautiful… I must have passed out once I got back to my room.”

“I left my body behind, Mistress, and went in search of Ayailla among the newly departed in the spirit world. I sent forth the summoning, a projection of Lord Lindall’s message, among the spirits there. Most could not see or hear my message. They were too lost in their own cares. One spirit, and one alone, answered. Your spirit answered my call. I did not question your right to come with me. You looked like Ayailla, or as much like her as a woman with no body could. I did not drag you here against your will. Your spirit came to me. You answered the summoning.”

No. She wasn’t dead. He was lying. He was—he had tricked her somehow. Or Roanen had. Unless… “What—” Marylin swallowed hard and tried again. “What was the message? Roanen’s Summoning?”

The Mage closed his eyes and lowered his head, his hand finding hers, brushing her with the tips of long, sensitive fingers. She felt, more than heard, the image the Mage shared.

It was dark. The mists slowly parted to reveal a dark figure, a man, dressed in chain maille that had seen too much battle, kneeling beside a body that might have been hers. The man raising his head to look directly at her, eyes filled with despair.

Come back to me, my love. I need you.

The plea shook her. She hadn’t head his voice, not precisely. Rather it was as if she could feel his words in her head.

Come back to me.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached into the mist. “Roanen,” Ayailla whispered. The vision faded, leaving her wanting, reaching for him. “Any time, anywhere, any way I could, I’d have answered his summoning.”







Chapter Two



“Where are we?When are we? What happened?”

“Where would be Earth, M’Lady, though not the Earth you knew. When would be 2456, in the way you count the years. Earth as you knew her was changed by the Great Cataclysm. She grew hot for a time, very hot. The poles melted. The waters rose. After the Cataclysm the ice came. The ice saved us, else there would be no habitable lands left. Those races who survived once again populate the oldest lands, lands that were their homes long ago. Specifically the place where we are now is called the Northlands, part of what was once known as Europe, at the Pass of Saint Greg—George.”

The Mage actually blushed as he stumbled over the name. Once again Marylin wondered who Ayailla had been, and why these men feared her so.

“I am sorry, M’Lady, but I can no more undo what we have done than I could turn back the hands of time. The only release I could give you would be to free your spirit by ending this body’s life once more. Should you make that choice I would willingly accompany you rather than face the end I would suffer at Lord Lindall’s hands.”

“We cannot lie to Roanen. Nor will I steal another woman’s love. He deserves more. She deserves more!”

“Lord Lindalldeserved to die in battle at Ayailla’s side, M’Lady, as the fates decreed. Lady Ayailla gave her life to save his. Even if I could, I would not take that away from her. To do so would make her death meaningless.”

“Can you not simply swap us back? Find Ayailla and exchange us so Roanen might never fully understand what has happened?”

“M’Lady, do you not understand? There is nothing to exchange. You answered my summons. Only one spirit could have done so. Youare Ayailla.”

“I am Marylin! Marylin!” she shrieked. Damn the man! No wonder Ayailla had thought to have him flogged! Marylin raised her hand as if to strike him, but as she moved lightning flew from her fingertips. The room filled with the smell of burning hair and singed cloth. The Mage moved, but not fast enough. The fire spread quickly from his hastily discarded robe to the carpets covering the floor, then to the tent itself.

“Ayeeee!” Marylin shrieked as the room went up in flames around her. She raised her hands to the gods in fists of fury. “Why! Why have you done this to me?” Thunder cracked and angry gray clouds opened, sending a downpour to drench the flames where the tent had stood moments before. “I am Marylin! Marylin!”