"Mithgar - 01 - Eye Of The Hunter" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKiernan Dennis L)

A faint tremor ran through the earth, and Faeril placed a hand against the rock. "Dragonslair?" she asked, receiving a nod from Riatha.

"Aye, wee one. From Kalgalath's ruin thousands of Springdays agone. As a bell remembers its ring, so too does the world remember the Dragon's destruction."

Faeril said nothing in return, for she had read the ancient diary of her long-dead ancestor, some thirty generations removed; and the faded writing spoke of a region of quakes, there in the Grimwalls. Even so, to actually feel the earth shudder gave her pause. And words from a thousand years back rose up in her mind and her heart raced, for she knew that when they reached their goal they would be at a place where, now and again, the world shook even more violently than these faint echoes from afar. And that would be soon now, for they were but a day or so from their destination: the Great North Glacier, a wide, deep river bound forever in ice, imperceptibly flowing out of the Grim-wall. And though it lay only a day or so away, time was of the essence, for she knew as well that in the dark of the night the Eye of the Hunter now streamed overhead, and an eld prophecy stood due, the augury of a seer cast more than a millennium past. Faeril shivered at the thought.

Aravan raised up his hand, reaching for the top of the standing wall, falling a foot or so short. "Not very tall, this guardpost, yet the land about is lower. A platform atop or mayhap a tower would give a place to stand and yield warning enough should foe draw nigh."

Gwylly cast back his hood and looked up and about, his red hair tumbling out, the coppery color in sharp contrast to his eyes of green. "Foe?" The Warrow gestured out toward the storm-swept plains. "What foe? It's deserted out there."

Aravan smiled down at the Wee One. "Look not to the empty plains, my Waerling. Instead, thine eye should be turned toward the Grimwall, for there it is that the Foul Folk dwell, there in the mountains ahead. And it is that which this post once guarded against: Spaunen. For those were the days before Adon's Ban, and the R√pt ranged far and near, and this land was at risk. Yet the Great War changed all, and now the Foul Folk remain in the grasp of the Grimwall, nigh the places where they take shelter when the Sun rides the sky."

Gwylly knew that Aravan referred to the Great War of the Ban, when Gyphon had sought to challenge Adon for dominance over all. In the struggle Gyphon had been aided by the folk of NeddraЧthe underworldЧand by minions on MithgarЧthe Kistani, the Hyranians, some Renegade Dragons, and a few Wizards, as well as by Foul Folk and others. In contrast, Adon had been aided here on Mithgar by the Grand Alliance of Men, Elves, Dwarves, and War-rows; and some even claimed that the UtruniЧthe Stone GiantsЧhad been part of the Alliance as well.

In any event, the struggle had been mighty and the balance in doubt, yet at the last the Alliance had prevailed, and Modru, Gyphon's lieutenant upon Mithgar, had been defeated and the rebellion collapsed.

As punishment, Adon set His Ban upon the Foul Folk, signalled by a blazing star where none had been before, a star which burned brightly for weeks, a star which faded and was nevermore seen. Yet during the time that the Ban Star burned, the Foul Folk began to suffer from a sickness whenever they stepped into the light of day; and the longer the star burned, the more deadly became this sickness, until in the end the touch of daylight upon one of the Spawn would bring on the Withering Death; even the briefest exposure meant a deadly collapse, the victim turning into ashes in mere moments.

All Foul Folk suffered Adon's Ban, and other creatures as well, including some DragonsЧthose that had sided with GyphonЧnow Cold-drakes, for Adon reft them of their fire as punishment.

But of the Men who had aided Gyphon, none suffered the Ban, for they had been misled by the Great Deceiver and Adon spared them in the end.

And this was what Aravan referred to when he spoke of the Great War changing all: for now the Ban drives the Foul Folk into hiding, into places of concealment in the Grimwall Mountains when day is upon the land. Hence even at night Foul Folk would not range this far, would not come unto these ruins, unless driven by great need or by great fear, for the Sun would find them and slay them should they be caught out upon these plains after dawn, should they not discover a crevice or cranny to hide in during the day, a place free of Adon's light.

And so Gwylly peered at the ruins, while thoughts of Wars and Bans and ancient days skittered through his mind.

As the wind moaned and snow blew over the rock wall and swirled in through the tumbled doorway, the buccan looked up at Aravan. "How would this place be defended? I mean, it's not more than ten of my strides acrossЧsix of yoursЧcertainly not large enough to house any great force. I would think that it would easily fall."

"Aye," responded Aravan. "But a place such as this is not meant to be defended. Should foe be sighted, then the sentries would ride from here and give warning, or perhaps light a beacon fire and then ride."

"Like Beacontor?" asked Faeril.

Gwylly shook his head, No. "Beacontor, love, was meant to be defended. The towers of the Signal Mountains were ringed 'round by walls. This place, though, has no fortress walls. Just a tower . . . and a small one at that."

Riatha turned her silver gaze away from the stone and toward Gwylly. "Should we look, I deem we would find the remains of a stable, or mayhap a kennelЧa place used long ago for housing a steed or a team for quick flight across the land when the need arose. They would light the signal fire, then run."

Faeril brushed a stray lock of coal black hair from her eyes and looked through the door gap and out at the spinning snow. "Who would they have warned? I mean, who lived in here and out there when the tower was built?"

"Aleutani, I think," answered Aravan. "For even then they brought their herds of ren here in the long summer days when the grass is lush and green, even as they do unto this day."

Faeril nodded, for she had seen some of the antlered ren in their winter pastures in the deep, sheltered vales along the rim of the Boreal Sea.

Again the land trembled, and Faeril stepped to the tumbled-down entrance. "Will it be safe to sleep here tonight? I wonder, with the quakes . . ."

Riatha smiled at the wee damman. "Safe enough, little one. The land out here on the edge of the foothills is yet a distance from the Grimwall, and farther still from; Dragonslair."

Glancing up at the Elfess, Faeril nodded again, then turned and stepped out into the storm, leading the others back to the sleds.

It took one more trip for them to transfer the needed supplies into the stone ruins. While the Elves busied themselves with the bundles, Gwylly and Faeril set about trying to find wood for a fire. Although the Warrows did find a stable of sorts out to one sideЧit, too, fallen into ruinЧ they found no wood to burn.