"Denning, Troy - Forgotten Realms - Black Wizard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

DOUGLAS NILES
"The Scarlet Guard will follow your orders," said Cyndre reassuringly. "I brought them to you expressly so that you would have soldiers you could trust implicitly." .
"But the people won't like it," replied the king. "Those ogres, especially, make everyone so nervous."
In truth, the ogres made the king himself very nervous, which was why he had not used them yet, though he had been paying them for more than two years. At least the Northmen had not bothered Callidyrr in the interim.
But now he considered using them against one of his own subjects, and this did not seem right. He knew that his people resented his employment of mercenary troops when the fighters of the Ffolk were perfectly capable warriors. Why had he let the wizard convince him to hire them?
"The people are your subjects!" argued Cyndre. His voice took on a hardened edge. "Will you let them rule the kingdom? I tell you, the guards are your best troops!"
"So you claimed," said the king, "when you persuaded me to hire them."
Cyndre lowered his head modestly. The monarch could not see the gloating light in his eyes.
"And the lords grow restless," whined the king. "They all owe fealty to me, but they don't act like it! I don't trust any of themЧthey would turn against me at the drop of a hat. Like that bandit O'Roarke in Dernall Forest. That rebel could serve as an example for other traitorous scum!"
"You hold his sister in your dungeon. Why do you not use her as an example? Show what will happen to those who resist your wilt?"
King Carrathal turned away. He did not like to be reminded of the way he had usurped Lord Roarke's landЧnor was he completely comfortable with the idea of using the young woman as a lever to obtain his ends. "If only O'Roarke knew me," he whined. "He and his outlaws would see that I have only the best interests of the kingdom at heart!"
"Do not underestimate the extent of the problem," said Cyndre calmly. "But come, Your Highness, what of this prince? Will you do as I suggest?"
"Very well," sighed King Carrathal. "I shall declare the prince of Corwell an outlaw. The Scarlet Guard will meet
BLACK WIZARDS
him as he lands. They will arrest the usurper and bring him to me in chains."
Water pounded and crashed about Tristan, choking him and pressing him down. He kicked and flailed but could not find the surface. He felt his consciousness slipping away, though he struggled even more desperately to swim. He barely felt the vicelike jaws close over his arm, jerking him roughly through the sea. For a second his face broke free from the black water, and he gulped a great lungful of air. Then he became conscious of the teeth that were sinking through his flesh.
Thrashing upward, struggling for more air, the prince felt the grip on his arm slacken. But then he was grabbed by the collar and pulled backward helplessly. Miraculously, his face remained out of the water.
He felt a solid object strike him in the back, and he twisted around to catch a long section of planking. The Lucky Duckling, he thought. As he did so, the grip on his collar broke free, and he turned to find himself face-to-face with his panting moorhound. Canthus thrashed beside him, finally forcing his forelegs over the plank.
"Thanks, old dog," he choked, wrapping an arm around the broad neck. "You almost ripped my arm off, didn't you, buddy?" The presence of the hound warmed his heart, but did little for his hopes. "I fear you have only postponed the inevitable," he added, after he had recovered his breath.
"Daryth!" he shouted suddenly. Where was the hound-master? The bleak, despairing realization crept over him: his friend had drowned, along with Hodger and Pontswain. But he couldnt bring himself to believe that the man's cocky self-assurance, his casual energy, had been snuffed out. "By the goddess, no!" he cried aloud.
The feeling that he was doomed would not go away, and he had to grit his teeth and shake his head to dissuade himself from releasing the plank and sinking into oblivion.
Through the remainder of the long night, the young man and his dog bobbed, barely alive, across the heaving surface of the strait. Tristan lost consciousness once, only to awaken
DOUGLAS NILES
as Canthus dragged him back to the plank. Frightened and shivering, he nevertheless remained alert after that.
He groped to understand the death of the Lucky Duckling. Black sorcery had killed her, he felt ceitain, but how? And by whose hand? Over and over again he vowed vengeance against the force that had sought to destroy him. Gradually his anger began to sustain him. I'm not going to die, he told himself. I'm too mad to die.
Gradually he noticed that the waves grew smaller, and the wind died away almost completely. The swells lessened. Though the crests of the waves still loomed six or eight feet higher than the troughs, they seemed to carry him up and down with an easy and unthreatening rhythm. No longer did they curl over at the top, thundering down to crush anything below them.
The horizon lightened to a dull gray, and he peered around for any sight of land or sail or even debris. Visibility was still very poor, and he could make out no features beyond the rolling swells.
"Tristan!" He heard the voice as if from a great distance away, and he was certain that he imagined it.
"Tristan!" it repeated. "Over here!"
Now he squinted intently across the gray surface, wondering if he was losing his mind. There! He saw a flash of brightness over the crest of a wave.
"Daryth!" He croaked. He finally saw his friend, and Pontswain too, bobbing across the rolling summit of a wave. The Calishite was soon kicking toward him, buoyed by an air-filled wineskin and a loose bundle of wood, and dragging a sodden Ponstwain behind him.
"Are you injured?" asked Daryth.
"I don't think so. How about you?"
"Just wet and cold." The Calishite somehow found the strength to grin. Pontswain's formerly graceful locks hung like a wet blanket across his face. He looked barely alive, and he did not acknowledge the prince's presence.
"Aye," grunted Tristan. "And I've lost the Sword of Cymry-ch Hugh. The goddess alone knows how far it is to land from here, or what such land would be."
"Still, the seas are calming, and it'll be daylight soon. We
*CK>*
BLACK WIZARDS
may even sight a sail." But Daryth didn't look as cheerful as he sounded.
Pontswain coughed weakly and struggled to raise himself. His efforts sent the makeshift raft rolling, and everyone scrambled to regain their handholds.
"Be careful!" snapped the prince as the lord gave him a baleful glare.
"This is your fault! If you hadn't let that old fool take us in his rot-ridden craft, this would not have happened!"
"That man gave his life for us! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"He met the fate he deserved for his incompetence. He failed, and that's all that matters," said Pontswain.
But as twilight gave way to dawn and the clouds broke apart, the men saw no sign of anything except the rolling sea. They could tell which direction was east, for there the sun became a rosy glow against the horizon, finally breaking free from the sea to begin its climb into the sky. But that knowledge did them little good, for they had no idea which direction to look for land.
"What's that?" Daryth asked suddenly.
Everyone fell silent because they all heard it: A faint rumble seemed to arise from the sea itself. The sound was almost inaudible, but was so deep and powerful that they felt it as much as a vibration in their bones as a sound in their ears. The sound grew in volume and strength, until they heard a noise like crashing thunder, rolling constantly. The water itself seemed to shake.
Suddenly the surface of the sea turned to foam a scarce hundred yards away from them. Water frothed upward and then rolled away, creating a steady wave that forced them backward. A crenelated parapet, like the top of a tower, burst through the surface and sent spray and waves crashing away from it. Another, and then a third, exploded from the sea, thrusting skyward like gigantic lances.
And then the foaming water spilled away to reveal a vast surface of smooth stone. A glowing rosy hue shone from a wall as the thing caught the rays of the morning sun. More walls, and a gate, and more towers continued to rise for a minute until the vast object came to rest, seeming to sit
DOUGLAS NILES