"Flint, Kenneth C - Gods of Eire 03 - Master of the Sidhe UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Kenneth C)

light grew to a near-blinding peak, then shrank down suddenly, concentrating into a small globe of brilliance. In moments this began to subside, revealing a new outline which resolved into a recognizable form as the glow faded.

A large blue-black raven now stood in the Morrigan's place.

"Tell Nuada we'll keep watch on the Fomor until the de Dananns come," Lugh said to it. "We'll join him at the Magh Turiedh plains just to the south."

The raven gave a sharp caw in answer and lifted the wide spread of wings, A few flaps lifted the body, the powerful strokes pulling it up and away from them until, in moments, it was soaring away across the sky, a rapidly dwindling speck.

Shaglan gazed after the Raven-Woman, then spoke with a grudging admiration.

"She flies well enough. Better than I do. But then, it is the only other form that she can take." He smiled around at the others. "More practice."

"Say, look there," Aine said, pointing down toward the Fomor city.

A Fomor sailing ship was now in view, making out of the city's harbor into the open sea.

"What's that about?" Lugh asked curiously.

The Dagda shrugged. "Just one of their fishing boats. Even the likes of those creatures have to keep eating."

But none of them noted the unusually grave expression on the face of Gilla the Clown as he watched the small vessel sail northward, shrinking out of sight.

Chapter Four THE TOWER

The Fomor craft sailed steadily northward, making its best speed. Behind it, Eire had faded to a haze. Ahead, its destination was now in view.

It seemed to rise up from the waves as the ship approached. In the slanting rays of sunset, striking through the

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MASTER Or THE SIDHE

THE TOWER

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clouds lining the world's rim, it glowed crimson, like a bloodied spearhead thrusting cruelly outward from the darkening body of the sea.

It was a tower, rising starkly, abruptly, from the surrounding level expanse to a height of over thirty stories. The four sheer walls that formed its sides appeared made of single sheets of polished glass which reflected the sea and sky and clouds with a mirror clarity, precisely and coldly.

As the ship swept in closer to its goal, more details of this massive structure became visible. At the bottommost few levels the glass gave way to walls of a smooth, gray-white stone. They formed a solid-looking foundation to anchor the bright Tower, like a candle's holder. And this base was itself firmly implanted in the barren, sea-scoured rock of a tiny isle, seeming almost to grow from it.

It was a startling and unexpected thing to find here, so near the soft, natural beauty and primitive life of Eire. It presented itself with arrogance, proudly alien, dominating the forces of the sea. It was indeed a fit dwelling place for

power.

The ship from Eire circled the small isle to the westward side. There the ragged shoreline bent inward, forming a cove. The sea licked up to the stone base of the Tower. Large quays of the same stone were visible along the base, and a series of long docks thrust far out into the waters of the cove. At the docks, over a score of ships were drawn up.

They were several times the length of the arriving craft and twice its width. Their hulls were sleek, formed of a smooth black metal like polished iron. As they lay lined up along the docks, dully reflecting the sunset's glow, they looked like a row of weapons, like well-honed swords waiting to be lifted for a slashing blow.