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Автор Эд Гринвуд

Ed Greenwood

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ed Greenwood

Dark Lord

CHAPTER ONE

She was crying as she swung the sword. Tears of pain and rage and desperation, as the knights in black armor crowded close around her, their black blades hacking ruthlessly. Sparks flew from her armor as she reeled, driven by one sword blow back into another. They were killing her, she was going to- No! Don't! I won't watch, I- But he could not look away as laughter echoed inside closed black helms, and long white feathers swirled in a swiftly spreading cloud. They're hacking off her wings! The Aumrarr fought on, her shattered armor clanging, as blood stained the snow-white curves above her shoulders. It was hopeless; she was doomed, whether he shouted or cowered. The Dark Helms were too many and too vicious.

She shrieked as a black blade thrust through one wing, and twisted wildly away to meet the biting black steel of another Dark Helm, a cut that tore away an armor plate, lacings and tatters of torn underjerkin spinning with it.

Rod had a glimpse of bare, sweat-slick hip as the winged woman threw herself around at the foe that had wounded her, stabbing upwards with her silver sword.

The Dark Helm stumbled back, hissing in pain, and the Aumrarr's war-steel came out of him dark with blood, to swing-

Too late. Rod winced back into shuddering darkness as two Dark Helms shouted in glee as they brought their blades down and sliced off a wing in a welter of blood-that sent the sobbing Aumrarr to her knees.

In half a breath they were all over her, kicking and stabbing, battering her remaining wing down into bloody ruin.

Armor shrieked and clanged in protest as it was hacked from her, her vainly defending sword broke in a whirl of bright spell-sparks against seven black blades, shards flashing… and then it was over. She lay huddled and still, severed armor straps strewn about her, snow-white belly slit open and lifeblood steaming. The Dark Helms spat on her, laughed a farewell, and strolled away.

Leaving Rod staring into her agonized, pleading eyes.

Emerald green eyes, wet with tears, yet not yet dimmed in death, and somehow seeing him, really seeing him…

And Rod Everlar came awake screaming, clawing sweat-soaked sheets as he sat up to stare wide-eyed across the familiar darkness of his bedroom.

His throat was raw. Panting, Rod shook his head, trying to swallow and hoping the silvery chaos dancing in front of his eyes would clear. That had been a bad one.

Hoob.

His dreams of Falconfar were always vivid-he glanced toward the notebook, ready beside the bed-and sometimes held huge dark snakes and other menacing monsters, but this…

"This takes the…"

His voice was a thick croak, and the silver mists wouldn't clear. He shook his head again, and-