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

Book One

THE BATTLE FOR EIRE

Chapter One THE STRONGHOLD

A hundred torches and a large central fire filled the great hall of Tara with
a ruddy glow. It fluttered nervously in the fretful gusts of autumn wind that
batted at the fortress hill of kings.

The many wavering lights cast multiple shadows of the thick roof pillars
against the outer walls of the immense circular room. They created patterns
that writhed and altered constantly in a grotesque dance whose music was the
keening of the wind itself.

Not many days before, the hall had been the scene of a victory celebration,
filled with the rejoicing people of the Tuatha de Danann. Now, no Bards sang,
no harps played, no ale was passed. The long tables ranged about the fire pit
were empty. The hall of Tara was deserted except for a single group of men
gathered on the dais of the High-King.

Some fifty men were on this royal platform, seated or standing around the
table where the High-King and his champions sat when feasting. They made a
spot of brightness in the gloom of the cavernous space, a grand collection of
colors and textures in the tunics and woolen cloaks, the finely wrought
brooches and sword hilts of the chieftains, the multihued robes and golden
tores of the Druids. All were intent upon the large chart of the island called
Eire spread out upon the planks.

Nuada, High-King of the Tuatha de Danann clans, stood over it. The firelight
painted the strong features of his long face in broad, emphatic strokes of
light and dark, turning his eyes to flames gleaming in the deep shadows behind
his shaggy brows. He indicated locations upon the chart with the slender,
glinting point of his own sword as he spoke, his voice booming hollowly in the
vast space.

"Our rising against the Fomor has succeededтАФso far. We've broken their
companies at every place they've tried to

4 MASTER OF THE SIDHE

stand." The sword tip touched lightly at several points across the upper third
of the isle. "Now they seem to have given up resistance altogether and are
fleeing toward the north."

He lifted his gaze and cast it around at the circle of stolid faces. The
gathered leaders were of a type with their king, long-featured, intense, tall
and lean of body, golden-haired. And the eyes of all glowed alike with
victory.