"Dragonlance - The War of Souls 01 - Dragons of the Fallen Sun - Tracy Hickman & Margaret Weis 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragonlance)

CHAPTER ONE
THE SONG OF DEATH



The dwarves named the valley Gamashinoch-the Song of
Death. None of the living walked here of their own free
will. Those who entered did so out of desperation, dire
need, or because they had been ordered to do so by their com-
manding officer.
They had been listening to the" song" for several hours as
their advance brought them nearer and nearer the desolate valley.
The song was eerie, terrible. Its words, which were never clearly
heard, never quite distinguishable-at least not with the ears-
spoke of death and worse than death. The song spoke of entrap-
ment, bitter frustration, unending torment. The song was a
lament, a song of longing for a place the soul remembered, a
haven of peace and bliss now unattainable.
On first hearing the mournful song, the Knights had reined in
their steeds, hands reaching for their swords as they stared about
them in unease, crying "what is that?" and "who goes there?"
But no one went there. No one of the living. The Knights
looked at their commander, who stood up in his stirrups, inspect-
ing the cliffs that soared above them on their right and the left.
"It is nothing," he said at last. "The wind among the rocks.
Proceed."
He urged his horse forward along the road, which ran, turn-
ing and twisting, through the mountains known as the Lords of
Doom. The men under his command followed single file, the pass
was too narrow for the mounted patrol to ride abreast.
"I have heard the wind before, my lord," said one Knight
gruffly, "and it has yet to have a human voice. It warns us to stay
away. We would do well to heed it."
"Nonsense!" Talon Leader Ernst Magit swung around in his
saddle to glare at his scout and second-in-command, who walked
behind him. "Superstitious claptrap! But then you minotaurs are
noted for clinging to old, outmoded ways and ideas. It is time you
entered the modem era. The gods are gone, and good riddance, I
say. We humans rule the world."
A single voice, a woman's voice, had first sung the Song of
Death. Now her voice was joined by a fearful chorus of men,
women, and children raised in a dreadful chant of hopeless loss
and misery that echoed among the mountains.
At the doleful sound, several of the horses balked, refused to
go farther, and, truth told, their masters did little to urge them.
Magit's horse shied and danced. He dug his spurs into the
horse's flanks, leaving great bloody gouges, and the horse sulked
forward, head lowered, ears twitching. Talon Leader Magit rode