"Denning, Troy - Forgotten Realms - MoonShae 3 - Darkwell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

"The whole vale devastated!" she whispered, horrified. "What manner of man is this!"
"A man who can be killed, by my sword or your spells. And he will be, 1 promise you!" He put his arms around her and she leaned into him, comforted by his confidence.
"Will you join me in our celebration tonight?" he asked. "We can do nothing more until the morning. We should enjoy our homecoming."
She forced a smile. "You're right. I have thought of little else than the Moonwell and the druids since our victory on Callidyrr. You deserve greater rewards than I have given you, and I'm sorry for that. Tbnight we shall celebrate!"
"And tomorrow, I promise, we'll start for the vale." He looked at her somberly.
"Yes!" Robyn's voice grew more animated. "The scrolls that Grunnarch gave me .. . I've been looking them over. I think one of them offers a real hope, a chance to return the druids to their mortal forms!"
"You mean the statues? Bring them back to flesh?"
"Exactly! And with the druids of the isles gathered around, mustering all of our combined power, this foul cleric must certainly be defeated. Besides, this time we'll have your sword on our side."
"But tonight," Tristan interrupted, "we feast!"
He kissed her and she met his lips with the full force of her own embrace. For a minute, they relished the touch, the holding of each other.
"Tonight, as we celebrateЧ" Tristan began slowly, hesitantlyЧ"may I announce to our people the naming of their queen? Will you be my wife?"
She smiled softly and kissed him again. He realized in surprise that her cheeks were wet. Then she pulled away to look him full in the face, and the love shining from her eyes brought a fiery warmth to his heart.
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"I do want to marry you. And I shall, I hopeЧbut I cannot make this promise now."
"But why not?"
"I can't make that commitment until we have rid the vale of its scourge. You see, I believe I am the only druid left now. I hope that, with the help of the goddess, we can free Genna and the others from their stone prisons, and then I can marry you. I will tell Genna that I cannot take her place as Great Druid.
"But if we do not succeed, then I shall be the only hope of the continuance of my order. Tristan, I love you, but that would be a calling I could not refuse."
"But could we not still marry? I'm certain I could help you withЧ"
She silenced him with a finger to his lips. "The Great Druid, and such I must then become, must be chaste. She cannot marry."
Tristan was silent, understanding her calling. The knowledge only fueled his determination to succeed. "I shall love you either way."
"And I you, my king!" This time their kiss was longer, lingering until the maids entered the hall to begin preparing for the feast.
"Perhaps we should bathe," he said with a smile, "and prepare for the feast."
They returned to their separate quarters, relishing the familiarity of their surroundings, and each of them dressed in linens unstained by travel for the first time in many weeks.
Pontswain had acquitted himself well in preparing for the celebration. In anticipation of the king's arrival, the lord had ordered pigs and a cow slaughtered, kegs of ale icedЧ Tristan, in defiance of local custom, enjoyed his beer coldЧ and a multitude of cakes and pies baked.
Tristan quickly found himself seated at the head of a huge banquet table in the Great Hall of Caer Corwell. Also at the table sat Daryth, Robyn, Pawldo, Pontswain, Friar Nolan, Captain Dansforth, lavish, and Randolph. Robyn sat to his right, and at his left hand sat Grunnarch the Red. A score of
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other tables filled the hall, each with benches and chairs for a dozen or more Ffolk.
This, the largest room in the castle, was warmed by four great fireplaces, one on each wall, and illuminated by innumerable torches set in sconces along the walls. It felt good, Tristan decided, to dress in a fine tunic and sit at the head of such a grand table. The aromas of pork and meat puddings mixed with the smoke of the fires, causing his stomach to rumble eagerly.
"When do we eat?" Newt demanded indignantly, suddenly popping into view on Tristan's plate. "I've been waiting for hours!"
The king laughed, even as the kitchen doors burst open and kitchen maids, carrying heaping platters of food and foaming pitchers of ale, emerged. Newt buzzed delightedly into the air and disappeared again. Yazilliclick, presumably, was resting somewhere. Sprites are notoriously nervous among crowds.
Tristan took no notice, at the time, of the young woman in peasant garb who took the last seat at the king's table. No one seemed to know who she was, but her appearance was stunning, and since most of the occupants of the table were male, no objection was raised. With a toss of her red hair, she sat among them. Soon Randolph laughed at some humorous remark she made, and shortly thereafter Tristan forgot about her.
Robyn looked up suddenly, disturbed by a vague disquiet. She looked around the table uneasily, though her gaze passed by the strange woman without noticing her, as if the woman were invisible.
Events were moving too quickly for the king to fully accept that his long voyage had finally ended. Everyone talked at once. His mug seemed to fill of its own accord whenever the level of foam dipped more than an inch below the brim. It felt wonderful to be home, and he basked in the admiration of his people as Daryth, Pawldo, and even Pontswain described their adventures.
The crowd fell gradually silent at Pawldo's account of the battle against the monstrous forces of High King Carrathal
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and the Black Wizard Cyndre. The halfling's voice fell to a dramatic hush as he described the rage of the Earthmother, telling in vivid detail of the roaring torrent of sea that washed onto shore, carrying away not only great chunks of the island of Callidyrr but also the army of the former High King as well. Ever the showman, Pawldo paused a beat.
"Don't leave us hanging, fellow! What happens next?" Tav-ish demanded.
"That's the good part," the king said, laughing. "A few hours later, a fisherman sailed from shore to our island. He wanted to know what had happened to his bay. AH we could tell him was that it had gotten a lot bigger!"
"And he brought you home to Corwelt?"
"Oh, it wasn't that simple," interjected Pawldo again. "First we had to go to Llewellyn. The lord there had a feast for us all and summoned all the lords of Callidyrr to attend the official coronation." He looked at Tristan with pride, as if he personally was responsible for his old friend's ascent to the throne.
"The celebration went on for a week! Of course, Pontswain took the first ship out to bring word to Corwell, but those CallidyrriansЧCallidytes?Чcouldn't get enough of our hero!" Tristan stole a guilty look at Robyn as Pawldo continued, and she smiled back at him.
Newt swooped back onto Tristan's plate, lighting among clean-picked bones, and looked around for a snack. "Here," Tristan joked, tilting his mug toward the dragon. Tb his surprise, Newt stuck his muzzle into the foamy ale and slurped loudly, smacking his lips as Pawldo continued the tale.
"Finellen and the dwarves decided to walk home, though how you walk from one island to another, I'm sure I don't know. Then the storm hit, and we had to stay in Llewellyn even longerЧnot that we minded, of course. But finally Captain Dansforth and the Defiant were ready to sail. And here we are!"
"This black wizard," asked Grunnarch as the guests turned again to their own conversations. "Is he an aspect of the evil you spoke of?"
"I'm certain of it." Tristan frowned at the memory. "The
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