"David Eddings. Castle of wizardry enchanters' end game (The Belgariad, Part two)" - читать интересную книгу автора

The Hierarch screamed.
"Are you going to leave us alone?"
"Please, Belgarion! No more! I'm dying!"
"Are you going to leave us alone?" Garion demanded again.
"Yes, yes - anything, but please stop! I beg you! I'll do anything.
Please!"
Garion unclenched his fist and drew his hand out of the Hierarch's
heaving chest. He held it up, clawlike, directly in front of the old man's
face. "Look at this and remember it," he said in a dreadfully quiet voice.
"Next time I'll reach into your chest and pull your heart out."
The Hierarch shrank back, his eyes filled with horror as he stared at
the awful hand. "I promise you," he stammered. "I promise."
"Your life depends on it," Garion told him, then turned and flashed
back across the empty miles toward his friends. Quite suddenly he was
standing at the mouth of the ravine staring down at his shadow slowly
reforming on the ground before him. The purple haze was gone; strangely
enough, he didn't even feel tired.
Durnik drew in a shuddering breath and struggled to rise.
Garion turned quickly and ran back to his friend. "Are you all right?"
he asked, taking hold of the smith's arm.
"It was like a knife twisting inside me," Durnik replied in a shaking
voice. "What was it?"
"The Grolim Hierarchs were trying to kill you," Garion told him. Durnik
looked around, his eyes frightened.
"Don't worry, Durnik. They won't do it again."' Garion helped him to
his feet and together they went back into the ravine.
Aunt Pol was looking directly at him as he approached her. Her eyes
were penetrating. "You're growing up very fast," she said to him.
"I had to do something," he replied. "What happened to your shield?"
"It doesn't seem to be necessary any more."
"Not bad," Belgarath said. The old man was sitting up. He looked weak
and drawn, but his eyes were alert.
"Some of it was a bit exotic; but on the whole, it wasn't bad at all.
The business with the hand was just a little overdone, though."
"I wanted to be sure he understood that I meant what I was saying."
Garion felt a tremendous wave of relief at his grandfather's return to
consciousness.
"I think you convinced him," Belgarath said dryly. "Is there anything
to eat somewhere nearby?" he asked Aunt Pol.
"Are you all right now, Grandfather?" Garion asked him.
"Aside from being as weak as a fresh-hatched baby chick and as hungry
as a she-wolf with nine puppies, I'm just fine," Belgarath replied. "I
could really use something to eat, Polgara."
"I'll see what I can find, father," she told him, turning to the packs.
"I don't know that you need to bother cooking it," he added.
The little boy had been looking curiously at Garion, his wide, blue
eyes serious and slightly puzzled. Quite suddenly he laughed; smiling, he
looked into Garion's face. "Belgarion," he said.

Chapter Four