"Douglas Niles - Forgotten Realms - Moonshae 03 - Darkwell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niles Douglas)

DOUGLAS NILES
time in many decades, the king of the Ffolk was a true hero, as was right and
proper. And though one lone druid remained free, she was a druid of great
faith and steadily growing might.
But they were both very young, and the goddess was very old. She doubted that
she could live long enough to see them prevail.
Or fail.
12
THE OBSCENE
Heavy breakers assaulted the stone barrier protecting Llewellyn Harbor. They
crashed against the rocky rampart, sending clouds of spray through the air,
roaring in frustration as the eternal power of the sea dispersed against the
fundamental strength of stone.
A lone figure stood near the end of the breakwater. The man was heavily
wrapped in oilskins and ignored the salty shower that doused him each time a
fresh wave expended itself. If anything, he relished the bracing cold of the
water.
The man was young, but he was a king of many lands. He had bested creatures
foul and wizards of might, yet he felt unsure of his own strength. He held the
love of a strong woman in his heart, but still his future remained a muddled
blur before him.
Tristan Kendrick claimed as ancestors a long line of kings, but for two
centuries the Kendricks ruled only the small, sparsely populated land of
Corwell. Now, as High King of the Ffolk, King Kendrick accepted fealty also
from Moray, Snowdown, and mighty Callidyrr.
The king had recently won a war, the Darkwalker War, besting a supernatural
beast and its human allies. He had claimed as allies the graceful warriors of
the Ltewyrr and the doughty fighters of the dwarven realms. His blade, the
Sword of Cymrych Hugh, girded him as ample proof of his heroism, for he had
returned the weapon to the Ffolk after many decades of its absence.
Finally the man turned from the sea, walking slowly along the rocky barrier
toward the welcoming lights of Llewellyn
DOUGLAS NILES
Town. The sea had given him no answers. Nothing, it seemed, could give him the
answers. And there were so many questions.
The eagle soared slowly. Its eyes, dulled by fatigue, searched the barren
landscape below, seeking any morsel of lifesaving food.
But the bird saw nothing. No trace of animal, small or large, appeared across
the stretches of brown marsh. Even the trees of the once-vast forests now
resembled gaunt skeletons, barren of leaves and needles, surrounded by heaps
of rotting compost.
The great bird swirled, confused. It sought a glimpse of the sea, or even the
high coastal moor. But everywhere the view yielded scenes of rot and
corruption. With a sharp squawk of despair, the eagle soared off in a new
direction.
A sudden movement caught the eagle's keen eye, and it swept into a diving
circle to investigate. But it pulled up short, screeching its frustration at
the shambling figure on the ground. Though the creature smelled of carrion, it
moved. Though it moved, it was not alive.
Growing desperate now, the eagle soared away in search of something, anything,