"David Gemmell - Knights Of Dark Renown" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

Somewhere - though he knew not where - his mother lay cold in death, and the grief was
like hot knives in his soul. But, as children will, he forced it from his mind and looked to
the bright, diamond stars. They seemed so close and he tried to soar towards them. But
ever they remained, glittering and cold, far from his reach. He slowed in his flight and
gazed down.
The land of the Gabala was so small now, and the world so large. The Forest of the
Ocean lay beneath him like a wolf pelt, the mountains merely wrinkles in an old manтАЩs
skin. He dropped lower, falling, spinning towards the ground, and screamed in his fear as
the mountains roared up towards him, jagged and threatening. His dizzy fall slowed and
he floated once more. On the sea beyond Pertia Port he could see the great triremes with
their square sails, their oars lifted - and on the land the lights of the towns and cities. Four
huge braziers were lit on the walls of Mactha fortress, twinkling like candles on a cake.
He sped away from the lights towards the distant mountains.
He wished he might never go home; wished he could float like this for ever, safe from the
many tortures of slavery. While his mother had been alive there had been someone who
cared for him - not as a slave boy but as Lug, the child, flesh of her flesh. Her arms had
always been open to him.
Grief and pain swamped him once more. When she had become ill Lug had been told she
needed rest. . . but it did not help. They had sent for the healer, Gwydion, but he was
away in the city of Furbolg. Lug had watched the flesh vanish from his motherтАЩs features,
seen her change from a living, loving woman to a skeletal creature whose eyes could look
at him without recognition, and whose arms did not have the strength to open for him.
And then she was gone . . . while he slept. He had kissed her good-night and been led
away to a room he now shared with five other boys. In the morning he had finished his
chores and run to her chamber, only to find her covered with a white linen sheet. This he
had pulled back from her face. The eyes were closed, the mouth open. And no trace of
breath or movement could be seen.
The elderly house slave Patricaeus had found him there and carried him back to his own
room. Lug had been aware of the old man, but he could not move. He was frozen in
shock. He felt himself tucked up into PatricaeusтАЩ bed, the warm blankets around his
shoulders, but he could not even close his eyes. The old man had stroked his face, and
gently closed his lids.
For a long while Lug had slept. Then something inside him snapped - and his spirit had
sailed free into the night air.
He shivered, though he felt no cold, and wished he could bring his mother back. Just then
his eye was caught by movement far below. A line of riders, nine of them, were riding
out into the night on tall white horses. Lug dropped towards them and saw that they were
Knights dressed in silver armour, white cloaks draping to their saddles. They formed into
a line in a meadow, and white mist billowed around the horsesтАЩ hooves like a ghostly sea.
On a nearby hillside Lug saw a man, his face partly hidden by a dark hood on a velvet
cloak. The man was chanting, but the language was unknown to the boy. The Knights sat
silently as the mist deepened.
Lug came closer, avoiding the chanting man and settling himself on another hillside near
some trees. As he came to the ground he sank through it; a touch of panic spurred him
and he rose again, wishing that he were solid. The wish became reality and he sat down
upon the grass. The mist had not reached the upper slopes of the hill and he settled down
to watch the Knights.
Their armour glistened in the moonlight, round helms under tall black plumes, silver
neck-plates linked to curving shoulder-guards, engraved breastplates, thigh-guards and
greaves. Yet they carried no shields.