EvanRank: переводы

→Ash let out a long sigh and sheathed his blade. “The Wishing Tree,” he said, and I frowned in confusion. “There’s always a cost for using it,” he went on. “Something unexpected and unexplained that happens at the worst possible moment. This was the price that it took.”

→“Enough,” I said, as Puck rolled his eyes dramatically. Ash didn’t move, still keeping his blade inches from the oracle’s heart, waiting for my orders. “Speak, then, Oracle. How do I stop this? Tell me, right now.”
The oracle sighed. “To save your brother, you must—”
A deafening crack ripped the branches of the tree behind us, and a giant limb came smashing down, barely three feet from where we stood. I flinched, taking my eyes off the oracle for the briefest of seconds—
* * *

→“Because it is a small thing,” the oracle whispered, her sightless gaze shifting from me to Ash and back again. Puck joined us, arms crossed, a disbelieving smirk on his face. “The tiniest lynchpin, in a huge, complicated machine. But, if it is removed, the entire structure could fall, sending our world into chaos. It is the domino that begins the collapse of everything.”

→“Ash, wait,” I called, and Ash halted, keeping his sword at the oracle’s withered chest. “More secrets, Oracle?” I asked, walking up to her, keeping my blade drawn. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

→“Wait!” the last oracle, the real one, cried, throwing up her hands as Ash stalked toward her. “Iron Queen, wait! Spare me, I beg you! I have not told you everything. I know one last secret. Knowledge of your son and your brother, something that could save them both!”

→“That’s a good question,” came another voice, as Puck stepped out from the trees behind me, daggers already in hand. “One minute I’m trying to decide if that doll is looking at me funny, then next, poof, here we are. And just in time, too.” He turned and smirked at the oracles, eyes gleaming. “That,” he stated, waggling his knife at one of them, “is my trick.”

→The oracles shrieked, skittering backward, arms flailing. “Impossible!” they howled as Ash stalked forward, his face hard. “How? How did you bring him here?”

→“Know that I’m with you always, even if you can’t see me.”
I heard the oracles’ piercing wail as they lunged to attack me again, and jerked my eyes open.
A flash of blue light erupted between me and two of the duplicates, shearing through them as easily as paper. The rest of them jerked to a halt, as Ash lowered his sword and turned to give me a brief smile.
“You called, my queen?”

→The oracles surrounded me, trapping me between them and the swaying trees at my back. I took one step back and, for just a moment, closed my eyes and sent my will through the Dreaming Pool, just like I had in the Iron Realm.

→This is just a dream, I thought, trying to stay calm. A dream world that the oracle controls, but a dream nonetheless. I am not going to die here. I am the Iron Queen, and if the Nevernever responds to my wishes, then I can control this nightmare, too.

→The oracles drew back. Their numbers were smaller now, little swirls of dust dissolving in the wind, but I was hurt, too. I could feel the gashes their claws had left behind, and took deep, slow breaths, trying to focus through the pain.
One of the oracles gestured, and the tree behind me bent entirely in half and tried crushing me beneath its trunk. I dove away, feeling the impact rock the ground, and rolled to my feet, panting. The trees were groaning and swaying at weird, unnatural angles, and the oracles shuffled forward again, trying to drive me back into the forest.

→They came at me all at once, a dozen ragged, jerky puppets lunging at me from all sides. I dodged one attack and lashed out with my sword at the next. The blade sheared through the thin body and the duplicate wailed, exploding into a cloud of dust. But there were so many of them, slashing and clawing at me; I felt talons catch my skin, tearing through my clothes, leaving bright strips of fire in their wake. I danced around and through them, dodging and parrying their blows like Ash had taught me, striking back when I could. But I knew I couldn’t keep this up forever.

→I growled a curse and lunged at her, stabbing with my sword. She jerked back, baring her rotten teeth. “This is my realm, Meghan Chase,” she spat. “You might be a queen of Faery, and have an entire kingdom ready to fight for you, but here, the dream obeys me!”

→“Your protectors know nothing of what is happening now,” the oracle replied, darting back like a marionette whose strings were jerked. “They see only your physical body, and the death of your dream self will not affect it. Though they will take an empty husk back to the Iron Court tonight, and by that time, I will be long gone. I did say your mind might not be unchanged by this little encounter.”

→My son didn’t answer. Sheathing his sword, he stared down at the body, and though his face remained hidden and blurred, I could sense tears running down his cheeks. A voice, low and soft, clear and high, filled with infinite possibilities, drifted over the grass.
“I’m sorry.”

→“Ethan,” I whispered, touching his arm. It was cold, sticky, and I yanked my hand back, shaking my head. “No,” I said, trembling. “No, this isn’t true. It can’t be.” I looked up at my son, who was no longer smiling, and I sensed his cold blue eyes, appraising me. “Why?”

→I felt sick, and covered my mouth to keep from screaming. I’d never seen this boy, not like this, but I knew him. I recognized his face, his eyes, the tug on my heart. Though he was years older now, and had changed so much, I’d know him anywhere.

→A body lay at my son’s feet, sprawled on its back in the grass, gazing sightlessly at the moon. Another boy, my age perhaps, with messy brown hair and smoky blue eyes. A pair of short blades were clutched loosely in his hands, though the edges were clean. Blood pooled from a gaping slash in his chest, right over his heart, staining his once-white T-shirt nearly black.

→Then I realized the blood was not his own.
And I saw what was lying in the grass before us.
The world seemed to stop for a moment. My legs shook, and I sank to my knees, unable to hold myself up any longer. No, this couldn’t be. This was a cruel joke, a nightmare.

→And he was covered in blood. It stained his hands, his arms, was splattered in large streaks across his chest. My heart gave a violent lurch, thinking he was fatally wounded, dying perhaps. Was this what the oracle wanted to show me? Was this the grief she was talking about, the death of my child? But how could that be, when he was standing right there, and I could still feel his smile, directed at me?