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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 202 из 208Matteo groaned as he recognized a deathspell-a powerful necromancy attack that snuffed out alife-force instantly and irrevocably.
The king swept one hand toward the advancing necromancer. A brilliant light flashed out-as bright and pure as a paladin's heart. It swept toward the necromancer, a light that would dispel darkness, destroy evil.
The black globe winked out, and Akhlaur slumped to the ground. To Matteo's horror, the necromancer's green scaled faced darkened, taking on the bronzed visage of newly slain warrior. The wizard's robes changed to a blue green uniform, mottled with darkening blood.
"A zombie double," Matteo said, understanding the necromancer's diversion. He had lent his form to a newly slain Halruaan. The jordain looked frantically about for the real Akhlaur.
A shadow stirred amid the roiling battle, and a black globe flared into sudden life. It hurtled toward the king. A shout of protest burst from Matteo, but he was too far away to reach Zalathorm in time.
A bay stallion galloped toward the king, and the tall, red haired man in the saddle drew his feet up beneath him and launched into a diving leap. The black sphere caught him in midair and sent him spinning.
Andris struggled to his feet, his daggers in hand. For moment, Matteo dared hope that his friend's jordaini resistance would prove equal to the terrible spell, but Andris hands dropped to his side, and his daggers fell to the field. Matteo threw himself off the horse and caught the dying man as he fell.
Kiva raced toward the palace. She stopped near one of the trees that shaded the courtyard and began to climb. A soft thump landed behind her. Kiva's wide-spanning elven vision granted her a quick glimpse of Tzigone, her hands darting toward Kiva's hair.
Before the elf could respond, Tzigone seized the jade-colored braid and yanked it savagely. Kiva's head snapped back, and she lost her grip on the rough bark. Using her fall to advantage, she kicked herself off the tree and into the wretched girl.
They went down together like a pair of jungle cats-rolling, clawing, and pummeling. Neither of them noticed at first that Keturah had begun to sing.
Slowly Kiva became aware of elven voices joining in with the woman's ruined alto. She broke away, backing away from the suddenly watchful Tzigone and gazing with disbelief at faces too long unseen.
The song faded. Quiet and watchful, the elven folk lingered near as if somehow their life task was not quite finished.
Tzigone rose. "It's over, Kiva. You've won. The elves are free."
Dimly Kiva became aware that she was shaking her head as if in denial. Yes, these were her kin, her friends.
The king swept one hand toward the advancing necromancer. A brilliant light flashed out-as bright and pure as a paladin's heart. It swept toward the necromancer, a light that would dispel darkness, destroy evil.
The black globe winked out, and Akhlaur slumped to the ground. To Matteo's horror, the necromancer's green scaled faced darkened, taking on the bronzed visage of newly slain warrior. The wizard's robes changed to a blue green uniform, mottled with darkening blood.
"A zombie double," Matteo said, understanding the necromancer's diversion. He had lent his form to a newly slain Halruaan. The jordain looked frantically about for the real Akhlaur.
A shadow stirred amid the roiling battle, and a black globe flared into sudden life. It hurtled toward the king. A shout of protest burst from Matteo, but he was too far away to reach Zalathorm in time.
A bay stallion galloped toward the king, and the tall, red haired man in the saddle drew his feet up beneath him and launched into a diving leap. The black sphere caught him in midair and sent him spinning.
Andris struggled to his feet, his daggers in hand. For moment, Matteo dared hope that his friend's jordaini resistance would prove equal to the terrible spell, but Andris hands dropped to his side, and his daggers fell to the field. Matteo threw himself off the horse and caught the dying man as he fell.
Kiva raced toward the palace. She stopped near one of the trees that shaded the courtyard and began to climb. A soft thump landed behind her. Kiva's wide-spanning elven vision granted her a quick glimpse of Tzigone, her hands darting toward Kiva's hair.
Before the elf could respond, Tzigone seized the jade-colored braid and yanked it savagely. Kiva's head snapped back, and she lost her grip on the rough bark. Using her fall to advantage, she kicked herself off the tree and into the wretched girl.
They went down together like a pair of jungle cats-rolling, clawing, and pummeling. Neither of them noticed at first that Keturah had begun to sing.
Slowly Kiva became aware of elven voices joining in with the woman's ruined alto. She broke away, backing away from the suddenly watchful Tzigone and gazing with disbelief at faces too long unseen.
The song faded. Quiet and watchful, the elven folk lingered near as if somehow their life task was not quite finished.
Tzigone rose. "It's over, Kiva. You've won. The elves are free."
Dimly Kiva became aware that she was shaking her head as if in denial. Yes, these were her kin, her friends.