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The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 85 из 212Each night when they stopped to rest the horses, she would test small cantrips: summoning lights, igniting small fires-things Halruaan childrencould do.
Never had Andris seen such fierce, absolute focus. He knew wizards and their ways, but had no idea that magic could be acquired so fast. The effort was costly. Kiva aged swiftly and visibly, as if she were trading her life-force for another sort of magic. Step by hurried step, like an infant determined to compress an entire childhood into a single day, she pressed through the books and scrolls.
For several days they skirted the mountains, moving steadily north and then east. The way became rougher and more dangerous as they went. Each day Andris pressed Kiva for answers about their destination and their purpose. She ignored him until finally his importuning ignited her temper. Raising furious golden eyes from the page, she flung out one hand. Gouts of flame flashed toward him.
Instinctively Andris ducked-not away from the flame, but toward it. He lunged between the flame and the horse's neck, barely clinging to the saddle as he protected his vulnerable steed.
The arcane missile caught his shoulder and sizzled off, dissipated into smoke. Andris felt the impact but not the heat The jolt knocked him from his uncertain perch. He hit the rock-strewn ground and rolled away from his unnerved horse. Andris rose and glared at the elf. "What was that for?"
"Practice," she responded with a cool smile.
He captured the horse's reins, then hauled himself into the saddle. He was reaching into his bag for a salve when a sudden movement caught his eye. He looked up, and reached for his sword instead.
A steep cliff rose along the path. Up ahead, not more than a dozen paces, was a shallow cave. Shadows collected there like rainwater in a ditch, but the shadows breathed, and moved, and came forward to claim substance. The battle-trained jordain's mouth went dry.
Three warriors, deadly females armed with curved swords and spiked flails, paced steadily toward them. All were tall, beautifully formed, and formidably muscled. Аll wore leather armor, all had wild mops of curly gray hair and large almond-shaped eyes in angular faces the color of smoke.
"Crinti!" he shouted as he drew his sword. He reached out to slap the flat of it against the flank of Kiva's steed, hoping the horse would run and carry the elf to safety.
The horse merely snuffled indignantly. Kiva glanced at the shadowy trio, then back at Andris. "So they are. Greetings, Shanair," she called out.
To Andris's astonishment, all three warriors dropped to one knee before Kiva. The tallest elf balled her right fist and pounded it once against her left shoulder.
Never had Andris seen such fierce, absolute focus. He knew wizards and their ways, but had no idea that magic could be acquired so fast. The effort was costly. Kiva aged swiftly and visibly, as if she were trading her life-force for another sort of magic. Step by hurried step, like an infant determined to compress an entire childhood into a single day, she pressed through the books and scrolls.
For several days they skirted the mountains, moving steadily north and then east. The way became rougher and more dangerous as they went. Each day Andris pressed Kiva for answers about their destination and their purpose. She ignored him until finally his importuning ignited her temper. Raising furious golden eyes from the page, she flung out one hand. Gouts of flame flashed toward him.
Instinctively Andris ducked-not away from the flame, but toward it. He lunged between the flame and the horse's neck, barely clinging to the saddle as he protected his vulnerable steed.
The arcane missile caught his shoulder and sizzled off, dissipated into smoke. Andris felt the impact but not the heat The jolt knocked him from his uncertain perch. He hit the rock-strewn ground and rolled away from his unnerved horse. Andris rose and glared at the elf. "What was that for?"
"Practice," she responded with a cool smile.
He captured the horse's reins, then hauled himself into the saddle. He was reaching into his bag for a salve when a sudden movement caught his eye. He looked up, and reached for his sword instead.
A steep cliff rose along the path. Up ahead, not more than a dozen paces, was a shallow cave. Shadows collected there like rainwater in a ditch, but the shadows breathed, and moved, and came forward to claim substance. The battle-trained jordain's mouth went dry.
Three warriors, deadly females armed with curved swords and spiked flails, paced steadily toward them. All were tall, beautifully formed, and formidably muscled. Аll wore leather armor, all had wild mops of curly gray hair and large almond-shaped eyes in angular faces the color of smoke.
"Crinti!" he shouted as he drew his sword. He reached out to slap the flat of it against the flank of Kiva's steed, hoping the horse would run and carry the elf to safety.
The horse merely snuffled indignantly. Kiva glanced at the shadowy trio, then back at Andris. "So they are. Greetings, Shanair," she called out.
To Andris's astonishment, all three warriors dropped to one knee before Kiva. The tallest elf balled her right fist and pounded it once against her left shoulder.