"Forgotten Realms - Shandril's Saga 02 - Crown of Fire (2002) (Greenwood, Ed)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forgotten Realms)

CROWN OF FIRE
by Ed Greenwood

Sequel to the Best-Selling Novel 'Spellfire'

The action of this novel occurs in the Year of the Prince (1357 Dalreckoning), immediately after the
novel 'Spellfire', and before the Coming of the Gods.


Prologue


Something flashed as it moved - aye, there! Brann stepped up to the grassy crest of the hill where his
flock was pastured and looked east, shading his eyes against the bright forenoon sun. Whatever was
moving caught the light again, flashing against the dark, tree clad lower slopes of the mountains
opposite him. Out of habit, Brann looked quickly around at his flock, counting without thought. He
found nothing amiss and peered back to the east again, looking for that moving glint to show itself
again.
The mountains stood high and dark, like a row of stone giants frowning down on easternmost Cormyr.
The "Thunder Peaks", men called them, named for the fierce storms that often rolled and broke among
them. They were hard and grim and splendid, and sometimes Brann just sat and watched them for
hours.
Much as he was watching them now. They towered over him like a dark, many-spired fortress wall,
forever hiding Sembia from the high meadows where he stood. Rich, splendid Sembia, a land where fat
merchants lay at ease among piles of gold coins, glittering like that spot on the mountains. Ships full of
coins from all over the Realms - even far, sinister Thay, where wizards kept slaves, came to its shores
every day.
He'd not always be just a shepherd. Someday he'd go to Sembia's docks and meet with adventure,
Brann promised himself... not for the first time. He sighed at that thought, shook his head with a wry
smile, and glanced about at the sheep again. His count was right, and none of them was straying,
shifting, or even looking particularly awake. Brann stared at the sheep in growing exasperation. They
ignored him, as usual. Oh, for a little excitement! Nothing here seemed amiss-also as usual. He sighed
again, and looked east.
The sky was bright and clear, and every boulder and stand of trees on the familiar flanks of the Peaks
was as it had always been, unchanged-except ...
Except for that little winking flash of light, far away over the rolling, grass-clad hills near the Gap.
Something shone back the sun at him again, something descending through the high meadows, where
he spent most days alone with his flock It was something - or someone-that wore or carried metal. It
wasn't on the road through the Gap, so it couldn't just be another trading wagon hung with pots and
pans. Perhaps it was a knight of Cormyr, perhaps even one of the Dragon Knights, who were the
personal swordguard and messengers of Azoun, the Purple Dragon, king of all this land. With
quickening interest, Brann watched for another flash.
There it was again. Metal, surely, and bobbing in short, choppy moves - so it wasn't a horse, or
someone riding. It looked ... as if some splendid knight in gleaming armor were marching afoot across
the hills toward him.
Brann leaned on his staff and shaded his eyes for a better view. Then his mouth fell open. A dwarf - a
real dwarf, with an axe and a beard and a mail shirt, and all! Brann stood frozen in wonder. A tiny
voice inside him chuckled at his awe and reminded him that this was what he'd wished for. Adventure
was striding to meet him, after all. Staggering, actually. The dwarf stumped along on one side of a girl
who was being carried, and a slim young man struggled along on the other. The dwarf was bearing