"01 - Wizard's Bane (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cook Rick)

"My black robes," Toth-Set-Ra croaked softly. "They are mine and do not ever forget it."
We shall see, old crow, Atros thought. After tonight we shall see.а
"In any event, it is results I want, not details. Bring me this strange wizard with the most perfect cloaking spell. And bring him to me alive, Atros. Do you understand? I want him alive."
"Thy will, Dread Master," said Atros and bowed out of his presence.
There were a few other details Atros forebore to mention. His searchers were mostly allies or those who wanted the reward promised. Worse, nearly half of the searchers were trolls. Trolls are none too bright and far too inclined to murder to be ideal for this task.
Beyond that, Atros knew he could not hold his army together much beyond one night. The creatures not sworn to the League were restless, chancy things who would not stay no matter how great the promised reward. Even the League's sworn servants could not stay long. Such a concentration would quickly attract the attention of the Council's Watchers.
Not that it mattered, Atros told itself. One night would be more than sufficient.
Where were they bound? he wondered. They seemed to have a destination. The elf duke's hill? That made no sense. Elves were badly disposed to mortals of all varieties. Besides, if they wanted shelter among the elves there were easier roads to take.
Whatever their destination, they would have to swing south shortly or they would blunder into the deadest dead zone in all the North, a place where the tiniest spark of magic would show instantly. By now Atros had a grudging respect for this alien wizard's masking spells, but no spell could be good enough to hide them in that.
Atros was well satisfied as he went down the corridor. Not only did he have things well in hand for the capture of the strange wizard, but his other plans were well in hand besides.
Soon. Very soon.
а
"Where are we going anyway?" Wiz asked, sitting on a stump by the fire.
Moira looked up from stirring the porridge. "Someplace safe."
"You said that before."
"I prefer not to name it. There is always the chance of being overheard."
"Well, what's it like? A farm?"
Moira laughed. "No, it is a very special place hidden away in the Wild Wood. A place built like no other in the World."
"You make it sound wonderful."
"It is that."
"Have you ever been there before?"
"This deep in the Wild Wood? Not likely. I have heard of it, though."
"Right now anyplace that put a roof over our heads would be wonderful."
"Patience, Sparrow. We are perhaps a day or two from our destination."
"Then what happens?"
"Then you will be safe and I can return to my village."
"Oh."
"I have work to do, Sparrow. There are people who need me."
"Yeah, I guess so. Only . . ." Moira held up her hand to silence him.
"Wait," she said. "There is something . . ."
With a roar four trolls charged into the clearing. They were huge and foul smelling, clad in skins and leathers and rags. One brandished a rusty two-handed sword in one hand and the others carried clubs.
A troll closed in on Moira, arms extended and fanged mouth agape. Wiz grabbed a faggot from the fire and charged. With a casual, backhanded swipe and without taking his eyes from his prize, the creature sent Wiz sprawling through the fire.
Wiz rolled out as the beast got a hand on Moira. Without thinking he reached back into the fire and grabbed a burning brand. He pointed it at the troll and yelled "Bippity boppity-boo."
The troll was unfazed but the tree behind it exploded into flame with a crackle and a roar. The astonished troll weakened its grip and Moira twisted free.
"Moira! Run!" Wiz yelled and ducked under the grasping arms of another troll. He twisted about and pointed the stick at it.
"Bippity boppity boo!" he shouted and another tree blazed up. The troll cringed back.
Whirling in a circle, Wiz pointed the branch and yelled "BippityboppitybooBippityboppitybooBippityboppityboo." Trees all around the clearing turned to fiercely burning torches and the confused trolls cowered and whimpered in the ring of light and heat.
Wiz sprinted in the general direction Moira had taken. Behind him he could see the forms of the trolls black against the orange-yellow glow. The scent of burning pine filled his nostrils and he coughed from the smoke. One of the trolls groped after him. Wiz pointed the stick at a tree between them, shouted "Bippity boppity boo" and watched the tree turn to a lance of flame in the very face of the monster. Then he turned and ran as fast as he could.
As Wiz charged through the forest, a dim shape flitted from behind a tree into his path. He flinched until he saw it was Moira, her form distorted by her cloak. He clasped her hand and she gave a welcoming squeeze. His cloak was back in the clearing, he realized, as were both their packs. But Moira was safe and none of the rest mattered.
Behind them the reddish glow of the fires lightened the night. Also from behind them came a series of hooting roars.
"They hunt us," Moira whispered and released his hand. "Come quickly."
The forest sloped gently downhill and they followed the slope as best they could. Wiz silently blessed the open parklike nature of the Wild Wood here because they could move quickly and quietly through it.
Ahead he could hear the bubble and murmur of a running stream. Behind him came the sounds of the trolls. They seemed to have spread out along the ridge and were casting back and forth, calling to each other as they went. Once Wiz saw a misshapen form silhouetted on the ridgeline by the faint fireglow. He tried to shrink in on himself even though he knew night and distance made him invisible.
They paused on the rocky stream bank while Moira turned this way and that, seeking the best path. There were boulders to serve as stepping stones, but instead Moira led Wiz directly into the chill, swift waters.
"The water will mask our scent," she explained over the stream's clamor, "and some things cannot cross running water."
"You mean like trolls?"
"The trolls are the least of it," Moira said. "Listen."
Off in the distance came the sound of a horn and again the hunting roar of trolls echoed through the trees. My God, thought Wiz. Is every nightmare in creation after us?а
The water was not deep, but the current was swift and the bottom rocky. By the time they left the stream, some little distance above the place they had entered, Wiz had fallen into holes twice and was soaked from head to foot. Moira had lost her balance once and was thoroughly wet down one side.
With Moira leading they sprinted over the wide pebble beach and into the sheltering dark of the trees. The forest was thicker here and the underbrush more profuse. Wiz and Moira crowded into it and peered back the way they had come.