Читаем The Shining Falcon полностью

And Finist was weakening with every hour. If he died… God, if he died, with the spell in force and he unwed, Ljuba would be finished. The boyars‑damn them all—would never support her claim, nor would the guards—not a mere lady, not when they were all talking only of pious Prince Vasili!

Ljuba slammed her hand down on the bed cushions in helpless frustration. Akh, Finist! Since that dramatic demonstration of his magical strength, she'd been afraid not to keep feeding him at least the weakened form of her potion.

Yet his fever was so high. That Powerful outburst of his had nearly slain him. But… if she released her hold on him, let the potion's effect gradually drain from him, might that not give him a better chance for survival?

Still, there was no proof that the potion was harming him. And even if she stopped it, he would only have a very slight chance for recovery. At any rate, Ljuba didn't dare try it. She'd already gone too far: if she let him go, and he did recover, his first act would be to see she paid the traitor's price.

To be trapped in avian shape till the human mind was lost forever… No, no, no!

Ljuba let out a strangled sob. This had to be what those stupid peasants meant by «catching a wolf by the ears»: having to make such an impossible choice. Keep Finist in thrall, and she might risk slaying him. Let Finist go, and she'd almost certainly be slaying herself—

Oh God, what am I going to do?

She clenched her jaws till they ached, refusing to give way to tears, huddling amid the disordered cushions in silent misery. But her body's demands for rest at last outweighed her anguish, and Ljuba slipped, reluctantly, into a restless sleep…

«And did you think I'd let you rest?»

«Who… Finist! This is a dream!»

«Is it, my treacherous cousin?»

«Get out of my mind! Leave me alone!»

«Get out of my mind! You would enslave me! You would dare! Traitor, you'll never know peace, not from me!»

She could feel the wildness of his thoughts burning at her, close to madness in their fever-frenzy. Ljuba cried out in her sleep as it came to her that, reduced to the most primitive levels as he was, gentle Finist meant to destroy her mind:

«Saints in Heaven, help me! Help me!»

«What, call on Light? You?»

«Finist, no! Please!»

And: «No!» screamed Ljuba aloud, and woke herself, sitting bolt upright, shivering in fear.

The falcon stirred restlessly in his prison. Why was he here, trapped behind these cold stone walls, when he could be out in the free night sky? Yet his wings were bound. He fought… fought

And suddenly he was up and soaring out over open country, out over forest, free

Deep in the forest, the leshy paused, frowning, staring into the night. Now, what had he sensed… ? It had the feeling of the human‑magician's aura, yet with a chaotic strangeness to it… Humans were usually unable to bear such chaos. And even stranger, there was nothing of tangible form behind the aura…

Suddenly he had it puzzled out, and said, quite reasonably, «Is this wise? Human‑magician, is it wise to leave your body behind when it has been so weakened? Go home, forest-friend, before it's too late.»

«Too late!» came the echoing mind‑cry. «It's already too late! My cousin has poisoned me. She holds me ensnared! She will slay me, slay me

The leshy shivered, leaves stirring about him, confused by the force of human illness, by the unfamiliar tangle of human emotions. Yes, but the man, human or no, had always been a forest-friend. While the woman… Oh, the leshy knew of whom the magician spoke! He knew mat woman well! How many times had he felt her hatred of the forest? How many times had he heard her gloat at the very thought of its destruction?

«I mink I will help you, forest-friend," the leshy said thoughtfully. «Go, now, back to your body," he added, almost gently. «I do believe the forest shall help you!»

LJuba sat on the throne of Kirtesk, her form regal in gold brocade, her face a beautiful, impassive mask. This was the moment of which she'd dreamed, yet right now she could feel no triumph, no pride, nothing but fear.

I can't go through another night like that!

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Он пережил войну за трон родного государства. Он сражался с монстрами и врагами, от одного имени которых дрожали души целых поколений. Он прошел сквозь Море Песка, отыскал мифический город и стал свидетелем разрушения осколков древней цивилизации. Теперь же путь привел его в Даанатан, столицу Империи, в обитель сильнейших воинов. Здесь он ищет знания. Он ищет силу. Он ищет Страну Бессмертных.Ведь все это ради цели. Цели, достойной того, чтобы тысячи лет о ней пели барды, и веками слагали истории за вечерним костром. И чтобы достигнуть этой цели, он пойдет хоть против целого мира.Даже если против него выступит армия – его меч не дрогнет. Даже если император отправит легионы – его шаг не замедлится. Даже если демоны и боги, герои и враги, объединятся против него, то не согнут его железной воли.Его зовут Хаджар и он идет следом за зовом его драконьего сердца.

Кирилл Сергеевич Клеванский

Фантастика / Самиздат, сетевая литература / Боевая фантастика / Героическая фантастика / Фэнтези