[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
give you power over the Unreal.'
Jordan looked at him blankly.'Oh my God,' he said softly.
'What is it?' said Gawaine. 'What's the matter?'
'I thought I just had to say the right words, once I had the crown and seal ... I never thought . . .'
'What is it, Viktor? We don't have much time!'
'I can't do it, Gawaine!'
'What do you mean, you can't? You've got to!'
'I mean I can't do it! I don't have any Blood!I'm Jordan, not Viktor.'
Gawaine looked at him, and a slow horror crept across his face. 'You fool. You've damned us all.'
Jordan looked back across the Hall. Taggert had fallen to the floor. Cord stood over her, and fought to
keep the Unreal at bay with his war hammer. Roderik had been backed up against a wall, and was
fighting a dogged but losing battle against a crowd of howling, shrieking creatures. Of the fifty or so
guards who had followed Jordan into the Hall, barely a dozen remained, battling bravely in small clumps
against overwhelming odds. The Unreal was growing stronger. More creatures crawled up out of the
cracks in the floor, or stepped through the walls or fell from the ceiling. The light pulsing within the
Monk's open robe was blindingly bright, and the power of the Unreal thundered on the air in a
never-ending roar. Jordan swayed unsteadily on his feet, and shook his head to clear it. There had to be
something he could do. There had to be something . . .
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Gawaine grabbed him by the arm, and hauled him round to face him. 'Why did you do it, Jordan? Why
did you kill him? Did you want to be King so badly, you were ready to risk destroying us all?'
'It wasn't like that,' said Jordan wretchedly. 'I never meant ... He was mad, just like his brothers. I
thought I could save the Kingdom . . . He was crazy, Gawaine! He was going to start a war that would
have destroyed Redhart!'
'He had the Blood,' said Sir Gawaine. 'And without that, we're all going to die anyway.'
He turned away, his face a mask of despair. Jordan felt sick. Was Gawaine right? Had he really killed
Viktor only because he wanted to be King himself? It didn't matter. It was too late now for doubts and
recriminations. He'd given it his best shot, and it hadn't been good enough. He'd failed his friends, and
failed the Kingdom. He looked slowly around him. A dozen creatures swarmed over Damon Cord and
pulled him down. He went down roaring and kicking, still trying to swing his hammer. Two of the
creatures tore it out of his weakening grip, and threw it away, out of reach. Somehow Cord surged to his
feet again, flailing about him with his fists. He was covered in blood, much of it his own. The Unreal
milled around him, clawing and snapping, and still Cord fought on, trying to get back to protect the
Steward.
Catrionia Taggert was back on her feet again, though she couldn't remember how. She cut desperately
about her with a sword she'd snatched from a dead guard's hand. The Unreal closed in around her, and
she swayed drunkenly on her feet as she struggled to keep her swordarm steady. That final blast of
balefire had taken too much out of her, and she knew it. The Unreal knew it too. She could see Cord
fighting to get back to her side, but there were too many creatures between them. She risked a quick
glance at the throne, and saw Viktor and Gawaine standing over the Stone. She tried to smile bravely.
Prince Viktor had got to the Stone. At least she wouldn't have died in vain. Blood ran down into her
eyes, and she lifted a shaking hand to wipe it away, a A glistening black creature with a barbed spine
lashed out at her while she was distracted, and knocked her to the floor. She tried to get up again, and
couldn't. Something with blood-red eyes and needle teeth stooped over her. Taggert snarled up at it.
Jordan saw Taggert go down, and screamed her name. He knew he couldn't get to her in time. All his
rage and guilt burned within him, and he stretched out a desperate hand towards her. A jet of roaring
flame burst from his hand and shot through the air to fry the creature bending over Taggert. It shrieked
once as the flames consumed it, and then fell back and lay still. The Unreal scattered away from the
burning corpse. The din of battle suddenly went down, and for a moment it seemed that everything in the
Hall had paused, aware that something vital was happening. Jordan looked disbelievingly at the flames
licking harmlessly round his hand. Viktor had the fire magic, not him. He was just an actor who knew a
few conjuring tricks. But that was no longer true. He could feel the fire burning within him, waiting to be
used. A bright-burning flame, to sear
the world clean of foulness and evil. He looked up at the Monk, floating high above the violence below,
and realised for the first time that the Monk had stopped laughing. He raised his hand, and smiled grimly
at the gateway of the Unreal.
'Burn in Hell, Monk,' he whispered. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
give you power over the Unreal.'
Jordan looked at him blankly.'Oh my God,' he said softly.
'What is it?' said Gawaine. 'What's the matter?'
'I thought I just had to say the right words, once I had the crown and seal ... I never thought . . .'
'What is it, Viktor? We don't have much time!'
'I can't do it, Gawaine!'
'What do you mean, you can't? You've got to!'
'I mean I can't do it! I don't have any Blood!I'm Jordan, not Viktor.'
Gawaine looked at him, and a slow horror crept across his face. 'You fool. You've damned us all.'
Jordan looked back across the Hall. Taggert had fallen to the floor. Cord stood over her, and fought to
keep the Unreal at bay with his war hammer. Roderik had been backed up against a wall, and was
fighting a dogged but losing battle against a crowd of howling, shrieking creatures. Of the fifty or so
guards who had followed Jordan into the Hall, barely a dozen remained, battling bravely in small clumps
against overwhelming odds. The Unreal was growing stronger. More creatures crawled up out of the
cracks in the floor, or stepped through the walls or fell from the ceiling. The light pulsing within the
Monk's open robe was blindingly bright, and the power of the Unreal thundered on the air in a
never-ending roar. Jordan swayed unsteadily on his feet, and shook his head to clear it. There had to be
something he could do. There had to be something . . .
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Gawaine grabbed him by the arm, and hauled him round to face him. 'Why did you do it, Jordan? Why
did you kill him? Did you want to be King so badly, you were ready to risk destroying us all?'
'It wasn't like that,' said Jordan wretchedly. 'I never meant ... He was mad, just like his brothers. I
thought I could save the Kingdom . . . He was crazy, Gawaine! He was going to start a war that would
have destroyed Redhart!'
'He had the Blood,' said Sir Gawaine. 'And without that, we're all going to die anyway.'
He turned away, his face a mask of despair. Jordan felt sick. Was Gawaine right? Had he really killed
Viktor only because he wanted to be King himself? It didn't matter. It was too late now for doubts and
recriminations. He'd given it his best shot, and it hadn't been good enough. He'd failed his friends, and
failed the Kingdom. He looked slowly around him. A dozen creatures swarmed over Damon Cord and
pulled him down. He went down roaring and kicking, still trying to swing his hammer. Two of the
creatures tore it out of his weakening grip, and threw it away, out of reach. Somehow Cord surged to his
feet again, flailing about him with his fists. He was covered in blood, much of it his own. The Unreal
milled around him, clawing and snapping, and still Cord fought on, trying to get back to protect the
Steward.
Catrionia Taggert was back on her feet again, though she couldn't remember how. She cut desperately
about her with a sword she'd snatched from a dead guard's hand. The Unreal closed in around her, and
she swayed drunkenly on her feet as she struggled to keep her swordarm steady. That final blast of
balefire had taken too much out of her, and she knew it. The Unreal knew it too. She could see Cord
fighting to get back to her side, but there were too many creatures between them. She risked a quick
glance at the throne, and saw Viktor and Gawaine standing over the Stone. She tried to smile bravely.
Prince Viktor had got to the Stone. At least she wouldn't have died in vain. Blood ran down into her
eyes, and she lifted a shaking hand to wipe it away, a A glistening black creature with a barbed spine
lashed out at her while she was distracted, and knocked her to the floor. She tried to get up again, and
couldn't. Something with blood-red eyes and needle teeth stooped over her. Taggert snarled up at it.
Jordan saw Taggert go down, and screamed her name. He knew he couldn't get to her in time. All his
rage and guilt burned within him, and he stretched out a desperate hand towards her. A jet of roaring
flame burst from his hand and shot through the air to fry the creature bending over Taggert. It shrieked
once as the flames consumed it, and then fell back and lay still. The Unreal scattered away from the
burning corpse. The din of battle suddenly went down, and for a moment it seemed that everything in the
Hall had paused, aware that something vital was happening. Jordan looked disbelievingly at the flames
licking harmlessly round his hand. Viktor had the fire magic, not him. He was just an actor who knew a
few conjuring tricks. But that was no longer true. He could feel the fire burning within him, waiting to be
used. A bright-burning flame, to sear
the world clean of foulness and evil. He looked up at the Monk, floating high above the violence below,
and realised for the first time that the Monk had stopped laughing. He raised his hand, and smiled grimly
at the gateway of the Unreal.
'Burn in Hell, Monk,' he whispered. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]