"Flint, Kenneth C - Gods of Eire 02 - Champions of the Sidhe UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Kenneth C)

bright-cloaked men huddled right below. The obscene, sucking mouth began to drop threateningly toward them.

The men stood, seemingly transfixed by fear, staring helplessly upward at the thing as it prepared to strike.

IV

THE SEA GOD'S PLAN

"NO. NO. NO! This will never do!" a fussy voice said with sharp disapproval.

A small figure dressed, like the others, in a multihued robe, appeared from behind the grotesque creature and stood, hands on hips, looking up at it and shaking his head.

"It is certainly disgusting. That I will admit. But what good would it be against the Fomor? Why, if they saw it, they would probably try to carve the poor thing up for their supper. And some of them are more ugly than it is." He waved a dismissing hand at the thing. "Now, get away with you," he ordered

curtly.

And with miraculous obedience, the creature instantly began to disappear. It dissolved, like a cloud dissipated by a sudden wind, blown into tatters that floated up through the smoke hole in the ceiling's peak. Soon nothing remained but the embers of a small fire in the pit from which rose a thin thread of grey smoke.

Lugh and his companions all relaxed and released their grips on their weapons. All four had been ready to charge in. Now, seeing the little man, they understood. For he was Findgoll, High-Druid of the Tuatha de Dananns.

"Findgoll, I object to your criticism," said an imposing grey-haired Druid who pulled himself stiffly up to his considerable height to glare down at his small colleague. "I used some of my best skills to conjure that."

Findgoll stepped toward the group of other Druids. They were an imposing lot, mostly tall, lean, aristocratic men with strong features and an air of great dignity. Indeed, the Druids

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CHAMPIONS OF THE SIDHE

were the most influential group in the de Danann society, rivaling even the High-King in power. But Findgoll, a head shorter than any of the rest, was not intimidated. His manner toward them was that of a scolding teacher to unruly small boys.

"If that is your best, then it only proves how decayed your skills have become from long neglect," he replied uncompromisingly.

"What? Why, how do you dare toЧ" the other began in an outraged splutter.

Findgoll cut him off "Listen, you, and all the rest of you," he said fiercely, his high voice cracking like a whip, "while most of you spent these past years cowering in your hiding places and praying to Danu that the Fomor wouldn't find you, I was at work. I was using my talent in sorcery to protect the other teachers and artists Bres had condemned. My skills are sharper than ever in my life, more than a match for any Fomor and, I'm betting, more than a match for any of you. Or would one of you be wishing to give them a test?"

He glared around at them, his eyes fixing most challengingly on the tall Druid. None replied. They knew the truth of his words.

"Fine, then," he said. "Now, you're all as out of practice as our warrior friends outside. So we will practice, practice, and practice. Every skill that we learned from our teachers in the Four Cities may be needed."

"And sooner than we thought, I'm afraid," Lugh called across the room to him, striding forward with his companions.

Findgoll looked around toward them. He had a small-featured, cunning face set below a broad forehead. It lit now with pleasure as he saw his friends.

"Well, you've come back!" he said. Then the ominous words of Lugh registered and his expression clouded. "But what do you mean? What's wrong?"

"It's the Fomor," Lugh explained. "They're gathering a huge army, and Bres himselfis leading them."

"Bres!" exclaimed the Druid, and murmurs of concern ran through the group of his colleagues.