"Brooks, Terry - MKL 5 - Witches' Brew" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

The armored rider's black gauntlet lay before them in the center of the bridge.

"You see what I mean," Questor whispered enigmatically.

Ben didn't, but it made no difference. Not wanting to prolong the confrontation, Ben shouted down to the two on the bridge, "I am Ben Holiday, King of Landover. What do you want with me?"

The armored rider's helmet tilted upward slightly. "Lord Holiday. I am Rydall, King of Marnhull and of all the lands east beyond the fairy mists to the Great Impassable." The man's voice was deep and booming. "I have come to seek your surrender, High Lord. I would have it peaceably but will secure it by force if I must. I wish your crown and your throne and your medallion of office. I wish your command over your subjects and your Kingdom. Am I plain enough for you?"

Ben felt the blood rush to his face. "What is plain to me, Rydall, King of Marnhull, is that you are a fool if you expect me to pay you any mind."

"And you are a fool if you fail to heed me," the other answered quickly. "Hear me out before you say anything more. My Kingdom of Marnhull lies beyond the fairy mists. All that exists on that side of the boundary belongs to me. I took it by force and strength of arms long ago, and I took it all. For years I have searched for a way to pass through the mists, but the fairy magic kept me at bay. That is no longer the case. I have breached your principal defense, Lord Holiday, and your country lies open to me at last. Yours is a small, impossibly outnumbered army. Mine, on the other hand, is vast and seasoned and would crush you in a day. It waits now at your borders for my command. If I call, it will sweep through Landover like a plague and destroy everything in its path. You lack any reasonable means of stopping it, and once it has been set in motion, it will take time to bring it under control again. I do not need to speak more explicitly, do I, High Lord?"

Ben glanced quickly at Willow and his advisors. "Have any of you ever heard of this fellow?" he asked softly. All three shook their heads.

"Holiday, will you surrender to me?" Rydall cried out again in his great voice.

Ben turned back. "I think not. Maybe another day. King Rydall, I cannot believe that you came here expecting me to do what you ask. No one has heard of you. You bring no evidence of your office or your armies. You sit there on your horse making threats and demands, and that is all you do. Two men, all alone, come out of nowhere." He paused. "What if I were to have you seized and thrown in prison?"

Rydall laughed, and his laugh was as big and deep as his voice and decidedly mean. "I would not advise you to try that, High Lord. It would not be as easy as it looks."

Holiday nodded. "Pick up your gauntlet and go home. I'm hungry for breakfast."

"No, High Lord. It is you who must pick up the gauntlet if you do not accept my demand for surrender." Rydall eased his horse forward a step. "Your land lies in the path of my army, and I cannot go around it. I will not. It will fall to me one way or another. But the blood of those who perish will not be on my hands; it will be on your own. The choice is yours, High Lord."

"I have made my choice," Ben answered.

Rydall laughed anew. "Bravely said. Well, I did not think you would give in to me easily, not without some proof of my strength, some reason to believe that your failure to do as I have commanded will cause you, and perhaps those you love, harm."

Ben flushed anew, angry now. "Making threats will not work with me, Rydall of Marnhull. Our conversation is finished."

"Wait, High Lord!" the other exclaimed hurriedly. "Do not be so quick to interrupt--"

"Go back to wherever it is you came from!" Ben snapped, already turning away.

Then he saw Mistaya. She was standing alone on the parapets several dozen feet away, staring down at Rydall. She was perfectly still, honey-blond hair streaming down her narrow shoulders, elfin face intense, emerald eyes fixed on the riders at the gate. She seemed oblivious to everything else, the whole of her concentration directed downward to where Rydall and his companion waited.

"Mistaya," Ben called softly. He did not want her there where she could be seen, did not want her so close to the edge. He felt sweat break out on his forehead. His voice rose. "Mistaya!"

She didn't hear or didn't want to hear. Ben left the others and walked to her. Wordlessly he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her away from the wall. Mistaya did not resist. She put her arms around his neck and allowed him to set her down again.

He kept his annoyance hidden as he bent close. "Go inside, please," he told her.

She looked at him curiously, as if puzzling something through, then turned obediently, went through the door, and was gone.

"High Lord Ben Holiday!" Rydall called from below.

Ben's teeth clenched as he wheeled back to the wall one final time. "I am finished with you, Rydall!" he shouted back in fury.

"Let me have him seized and brought before you!" Abernathy snapped.