effink: переводы

→‘Secrets that you saved and brought back to the Free Glades, Rufus, my boy. Secrets which mean …’ He turned to his son, his eyes twinkling with excitement. ‘Life on the Edge might never be the same again …’

→He shook his head and his grip on his son’s shoulder tightened for a moment.

→‘Well,’ said Xanth Filatine thoughtfully, examining the intricate mechanism of the globe with the tiny crystal of stormphrax at its heart, so dazzlingly bright it was hard to look at, ‘sometimes one has to destroy something to reveal the secrets locked inside …’

→‘Of course,’ said Rufus. ‘It’s the phraxfire globe – but it’s in bits …’

→‘Tweezel and I have done quite a bit of work on it.’

→‘Remember this?’ asked his father, with a smile.

→Rufus strode across the vast empty hall with his father, their footsteps echoing round the vaulted ceiling. The pair of them stopped at a small heavy darkwood desk situated in an alcove on the far side of the lecture theatre. Laid out on a tray, and bathed in light, was an array of tiny, intricately tooled metal pieces.

→Tam’s wounds had mended, and Rufus had found that his own blooding had forged a new and even stronger bond with his friend. So now it was back to the routine of patrols and lance-drill – and the occasional visit to the academy at Lake Landing.

→As for the Third Roost, it had suffered badly at the Battle of the Phrax Glade, but already its ranks were being restored by new young recruits attracted by the tales of its heroic exploits. From Fifth Splinter, Fourth High-Branch Troop, Scarface Company, Cedifice the waif, the twins Holt and Hudflux, and Sergeant Logglimb had survived the deep patrol and joined Rufus on the battlefield. Back at the Scartree, they spoke little of their exploits, as was the way with seasoned lancers.

→It had been three weeks since Rufus’s blooding and promotion, and only now were things getting back to normal in the Ironwood Stands. The strange creatures known as nameless ones had had their wounds treated and had been taken far out into the Deepwoods and released – but not before the librarians had studied them closely and made many notes.

→‘Indeed I did, corporal. Indeed I did. I have something to show you.’

→Xanth Filatine, High Master of the Knights Academy, crossed the wooden floor and clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder.

→‘Yes, yes,’ said Rufus, blushing proudly. ‘You wanted to see me, Father?’

→‘Well, well, if it isn’t Corporal Filatine of the Freeglade Lancers,’ came his father’s gently teasing voice, ‘promoted in the field at the Battle of the Phrax Glade by my good friend, Commander Barkwater …’

→Rufus stood before the huge ornately-carved door of the Great Lecture Theatre of the Academy at Lake Landing. He carefully adjusted the fine green and white chequerboard collar he wore before pushing the heavy door open and stepping inside.

→Rufus’s hand reached for the metal globe in his pocket …

→‘Nobody shall have my secrets!’ he screamed, as the flames that had destroyed his face now claimed the rest of his body. ‘Nobody shall learn the secrets of phraxfire!’

→Thick tendrils of black smoke began curling up from between the roughly-hewn logs of the cabin and, as Rufus watched, the heavy timbers of the roof burst into crackling white flame. Then, from within the inferno the workshop had suddenly become, the deranged voice of the armourer sounded.

→The prowlgrin leaped high in the air just as the plough’s spike was about to run her through. Rufus jabbed down with his lance as they sailed past and landed in the rutted tracks of the contraption. He raised the lance. On its tip, pierced through his tiny heart, was the red dwarf, his small eyes bulging and his beaked mouth open wide. Behind him, the plough ground to a halt strides from the cabin as the great hunched shoulders of the nameless ones slouched forward and the poor tormented creatures slumped to their knees, panting hoarsely.

→‘Go on, girl. Go on!’ Rufus shouted. ‘Now, Lyrinx! Now!’