"Gray, Julia - Guardian 04 - The Red Glacier" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

Prologue
'And do you know what the sword was called?'
'Slayer?' Yarek replied, getting it wrong deliberately so that it wouldn't spoil his grandfather's story.
'No.' Takkara smiled at the boy's innocent expression. 'It was called the Peacemaker. Strange name for a sword, eh?'
Yarek nodded.
'It was called that,' the old man explained, 'because it made the warrior who wielded it invincible. His foes would fall before him, making the ice run red with their blood, and only when they were all defeated would there be peace.'
'So why don't our generals use it?' Yarek asked.
'It's not as simple as that. The Peacemaker was lost long ago, many centuries before even I was born.'
'How could anyone lose anything so important?'
'That's a good question,' Takkara replied. 'The only answer I can give you is that the gods are sometimes capricious Ч even cruel.'
'Who forged the sword?'
'No one knows for certain, but it must have been a very great wizard.'
'Then why can't one of our wizards make another one?'
'Because the magic was lost too.'
The boy nodded, looking thoughtful.
'No one knows where the blade is now,' Takkara went on, 'although most people assume it's buried deep within the ice that never melts, guarded by the Lonely Peaks. And that's not all.' The old man's voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper. 'The sword only becomes visible when the Red Moon is full and all the other moons are new Ч and that's a very rare combination. You'll be lucky to see it once in your lifetime.'
'Have you ever seen it?' Yarek asked.
'No, but my father did, when he was not much older than you are now. He told me that all the mountains, all the snow fields, all the glaciers turned red, as if the gods themselves were weeping blood.'
'Did he look for the sword?'
'Of course! But he was too young to go very far, and much stronger men had to turn back that night. Many men died and even more lost fingers or toes to the bitter cold, but no one even caught a glimpse of the sword. Some say that only a hero who can walk on through the winter dark will ever be able to find the Peacemaker.'
'But that's impossible!' Yarek objected.
'Who knows what a true hero can do?'
The boy still looked doubtful, but decided not to argue. He knew that he'd been lucky to have his grandfather to himself for so long. Takkara was the best inspirator in the whole of the Black Quarter, and his services were much in demand. This late in the season the generals called for him less often, but there was usually one last campaign being planned, one last daring raid on the White or the Gold, and it was rare for Takkara to be able to return to his village home for more than a few hours at a time. It was rarer still for him to be persuaded into retelling one of the old stories. When he was not working he liked to take a rest from such things - but he found it almost impossible to refuse his grandson.
Yarek could see that the old man was tired now, and wondered how he could keep him talking. If he did not, the boy knew that one of the women would soon come and drag him back to their world, to the tedium of lessons, of cooking and sewing, of building fires and weaving cloth. Yarek preferred the world of adventure and battle, and ever since his father had been killed, his grandfather represented his only direct link to that world.
'Can I fetch you a drink, jokull?' he asked, using the term that denoted respect for an elder. Literally, it meant 'ice-wisdom', implying that the person had a great deal of experience and was known for the proven worth of his advice.
Takkara nodded his assent and watched as the boy scurried away. Sometimes, as with most children, his motives were transparent, but there were other times when it was clear that Yarek's mind worked on several different levels. Watching him now, as he dipped the ladle into the mitral cauldron and filled a metal cup, Takkara could not help wondering about his grandson's future. Yarek had always been good-natured, but recently there had been something disturbing about the intelligence hidden behind that deceptively cherubic face. Someone so young should not question things as much as he did. Takkara was about to say something to this effect when Yarek beat him to it Ч and in doing so, deepened the old man's disquiet.
'But it's not really true, is it?' he asked, as he handed over the cup. 'I mean, the sword is just a myth, isn't it?'
'Myths can be real. They have to begin somewhere. And there are some things we just have to accept on faith.'
'Why?'
'Because that is what it means to be a soldier,' the inspirator replied awkwardly. 'And you'll be a soldier soon, like your father.'
That silenced the boy for a while, and Takkara felt a wave of sadness envelop them both. He reminded himself that his son had died in glory, that he now strode across the Great Plain, but the pride he felt in Borgar's sacrifice did not wholly counteract the ache of his absence. Nor did it quell the old man's anger.
'What if I become a wizard instead?' Yarek asked eventually.
Takkara laughed, glad that the boy had returned their conversation to the future rather than dwelling on the past Ч even if his question was ridiculous.
'You mean a neomancer. That would be good too. You couldЧ'
'No. A wizard,' Yarek stated with solemn persistence.
'That's impossible!' the old man snapped, angry now. 'And you know it.'
The boy retreated into silence again, realizing that he'd gone too far this time. A short while later, Takkara's curiosity overcame his misgivings.
'Do you think you have talent?' he asked tentatively. 'Enough to gain a sizarship?'
'I hope so,' his grandson replied, though he sounded less confident now.
'Life under the pyramids is not easy,' Takkara told him. 'And any glory you may earn will be at second-hand. You may never see the results of your work. Are you sure that's what you want?'
Yarek didn't answer and Takkara took a sip of his mitra, which was growing cool now. As always, the infusion of herbs tasted bitter, but he was used to that. Their scent filled the house almost constantly - which was only right and proper. He watched his grandson over the rim of the cup, wishing he could tell what the boy was thinking.
'You're a bright lad,' he said, when the silence had
dragged on long enough. 'I'm sure you can do anything you set your mind to. But be careful you don't anger the gods.'
'I'll be careful, jokull,' Yarek promised earnestly.
'Besides, you don't have to decide yet. And you'll soon have the chance to sleep on it.' Takkara smiled, and the boy grinned back, but Ч as so often now Ч there was something hidden behind his large, pale blue eyes.
The reference to the long winter sleep had indeed set Yarek thinking. When he'd been an infant, he'd accepted the hibernation as natural, just another part of the life that was organized for him by others. By the time he was a few years old, it had frightened him, and his mother had been ashamed of his crying. He had grown out of that and had returned to unquestioning acceptance once more - though with a little more understanding this time. And now, as the days grew shorter, Yarek was actually looking forward to it. When the spring came, unlike most of the others, he would remember his dark dreams. And it was in those dreams that he learnt so much, saw so much.
That was his great secret, the reason he knew he was destined to be a wizard - no matter what anybody said. Unwittingly, his grandfather had confirmed his faith. 'You can do anything you set your mind to.' Rules were meant to be broken. Yarek had decided that long ago. And if the greatest wizard the four Quarters had ever seen could not break some rules, then who could?
PART ONE
MYVATAN
Chapter One