"Van Lustbader, Eric - Sunset Warrior 05 Dragons On The Sea Of Night(eng)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Lustbader Eric)

'Let us hope the Dai-San believes that, eh?' the high minister said darkly.
The wind whipped their cloaks around them with a fiery turbulence. The speck, illumined by the setting sun, was now an identifiable object. As he stared, Ojime's bowels threatened to turn to water, for he found that he was facing the great triple-horned head of a Kaer'n, one of the ancient beasts all Bujun warriors rode in the days of fire, ice and necromancy which, even for the Bujun, were becoming a thing of legend.
Where once they had been plentiful, living in harmony with the Bujun, the huge winged Kaer'n were now vastly reduced in number, living in a valley protected by the icy alpine regions of the northernmost of Ama-no-mori's three islands.
What I would give to get my hands on one of those beasts, the minister thought, shifting from one foot to the other. My power would increase tenfold if I was seen directing one of the legendary Kaer'n. My drive to become head of the Sekkan would be assured, and I could then begin my assault on the Kunshin himself. But, by the gods, this creature makes my knees weak!
Qaylinn's thoughts were also filled with the Kaer'n, but they were tinged with nostalgia and regret that the Bujun had somehow lost their abilities to nurture and interact with the Kaer'n. He looked upon the beast with awe and veneration.
The flapping of the Kaer'n's wings filled the men's ears just as it caused the curling and blowing of the cloud formations high above. There was a certain rhythm, a kind of pulsing that seemed to invade the entire body. It was said, though Ojime had never seen documentation, that when the Kaer'n killed, their wings beat the air with a rhythm that slowly aligned itself with the victim's heartbeat. When synchronicity was achieved, the victim somehow died.
Astride the beast was the last person on the planet able to control and speak to the Kaer'n - the Dai-San, the Sunset Warrior.
Qaylinn felt a fire on his face as the Kaer'n's golden talons extruded through flesh, horned and armored to grip the highest parapet of the temple. Its iridescent wings folded in upon themselves, its long scaled neck bent, the large-boned, trapezoidal head almost touching the stone flooring, the amber intelligent eyes impaling the minister and the Rosh'hi in their unwavering gaze.
The two men stood transfixed as the Dai-San dismounted over the arch of the Kaer'n's neck. He was impossibly tall, wrapped in a cape of an unidentifiable material the color of night. His high curious helm was studded with gems that gave off a lambent illumination not unlike starlight. His faceted armor was unlike anything Ojime had ever dreamed of. A veritable galaxy of mythical beasts was embossed into the metal with such consummate skill that they appeared to be alive. What unknown artisans had fashioned this fantastic second skin he had no idea, but he longed to touch it, to don it, to investigate for himself its efficacy, the heady sense of invulnerability it must surely engender. Oh, what he could do with such armor!
The Dai-San's face was human-like, but in a multitude of ways it was vastly different. For one thing, his hooded eyes were faceted. It was almost as if one were being scanned by a company of people all with different personalities, differing points of view. His prominent nose seemed sculpted out of granite, his cheeks to have been scraped from the depths of the howling deserts. His mouth was like a dagger of ice, slashed horizontally across the lower half of his face. He was, in short, like no other creature either man had ever met.
'Dai-San,' Oaylinn said softly, with a small, ceremonial bow. 'It was good of you to come.'
The Dai-San's terrifying mouth split into what might, in others, have been a smile. 'It is good to see you again, my friend.'
Qaylinn lifted a hand briefly in Ojime's direction. 'May I introduce High Minister Ojime. He represents the lay portion of Bujun society.'
When the Dai-San fixed Ojime in the glare of those inhuman orbs, the minister blanched. He was adept at reading people; this was, after all, a talent that had served him well in his climb up the political ladder. But this was another story. He tried to fix his sights into the depths of those eerie eyes, because he knew that the soul of each man and woman was written in those individual depths. What he saw now appalled him. Rather than the blank wall he had imagined, he encountered a hall of mirrors which threw back on him the excesses and sins of his own soul, so that he felt a line of sweat creep down his spine and his stomach turned to ice. He bowed deeply, if only to free himself of the terrible images that had danced before his gaze. He felt sick to his stomach, but he hid his distaste deep down as Qaylinn ushered the Dai-San into the sanctuary of the temple. Through the Hall of Secrets they went with its peculiar curved walls and massive thousand-year cedar columns, down the Corridor of Remembrance where the scrolls of the founding Rosh'hi hung in hand-carved niches, until at length they came to the Chamber of Prayer.
The last dying rays of the sun touched the thick stone sill of the high narrow west windows so that slices of crimson stained the tea-green walls, illuminating in electric fashion the raised platform from which hung a vertical scroll in stark black and white. The running calligraphy upon it had been written by Qaylinn's greatgrandfather, who had founded this temple long ago.
'Please excuse us for not offering you hot tea, Dai-San,' Qaylinn said, bowing again, 'but our purpose is urgent and time is very short.' He went to the platform and, kneeling at the spot directly beneath the scroll, pressed two of the short wooden boards. Ojime, almost morbidly fascinated by the Dai-San, switched his gaze momentarily to the Rosh'hi. Lifting aside the boards, Qaylinn reached into the space beneath and, a moment later, lifted out an object swathed in layers of sueded leather. He rose, holding it away from him as if he would become contaminated by it. Without a word of explanation, he slowly unwrapped the cloth until all the layers had fallen away. He offered it up for the Dai-San's inspection.
Ojime caught the quick reaction in the Dai-San's face before he bent down, sniffing the thick gray object. To Ojime's surprise, the Dai-San's head jerked quickly back.
'It is fresh!' His voice, though a whisper, thundered in Ojime's ears.
'Fresh.' Qaylinn nodded. 'Yes.'
The Dai-San took a step backward. It happened so quickly that Ojime missed the motion. One instant, the Dai-San was in one place, the next he was in another. Astonishing!
With a whisper of polished leather and beaded silk, the Dai-San drew his enormous sword, Aka-i-tsuchi. Its long blue-green blade shone in the last of the day's light just as if it were noon outside instead of dusk. The Dai-San held the blade horizontally, the point almost touching the layers of sueded leather as they lay open like the petals of some alien flower. Slowly, the tip slid along the leather, then beneath the gray object until it rested on the blade. Then the Dai-San lifted it away. Was it his imagination, Ojime wondered, or did the Rosh'hi heave a sigh of relief?
The Dai-San regarded the thing with intense interest. 'It is the tongue of a Makkon.'
'A Makkon, yes.' Qaylinn nodded. 'One of the Chaos beasts that were the outriders for the Dolman.' The Dolman, ruler of the creatures of Chaos, had attempted to take control of the world some years ago. A pitched battle had been fought, culminating with the Kai-feng at the citadel of Kamado. The Dai-San was intimately familiar with the Dolman. They were linked in a curious and particular manner, since it had been the Dolman's decision to invade this world which led to the creation of the Dai-San, the savior of mankind, he who had defeated the Dolman.
'But all the Makkon are dead,' the Dai-San said. 'There were four and they all died.'
Qaylinn shook his head. 'What you hold on your sword, Dai-San, is a Makkon's tongue. It is fresh, unpreserved. It is proof that either one Makkon lived somehow or..." His voice petered out, his words hanging in the air.
'Or there are more than four.'
'Yes.' The Rosh'hi refolded the layers of leather, set them aside. From the pocket of his robe he threw five small items across the floor. 'I have cast the foot bones of the snow-hare, Dai-San, and they tell of a new attempt by the forces of Chaos to enslave our world.'
'The Dolman-'
'Exists no more,' Qaylinn said. 'You made certain of that when you sundered it with your magic dai-katana. But Chaos did not die when the Dolman ceased to exist. It was thrown into disarray and torment, and we wished to assume that it would remain leaderless and, therefore, without threat to us. Now the bones of the snow-hare have told us the truth. There is a new leader in Chaos, and it means to succeed where the Dolman failed.'
'I knew my work was not yet done,' the Dai-San said.
'I wonder whether it ever will be, my friend,' Qaylinn said.
The Dai-San flipped the tongue into the air, caught it on the talons of the scaled, six-fingered glove, made from the hide of a Makkon. 'Where was this tongue found?'
'On a Kintai clipper during a routine inspection,' Ojime said, pleased that the tactical phase of the discussion had begun. Since the Dai-San's return to Ama-no-mori, the islands had been opened up to trade. 'A keen-eyed tariff assessor spotted a nervous crewman and ordered the ship searched from stem to stern. The tongue was found secreted within the crewman's sea-chest.'
'I would question this crewman,' the Dai-San said.
Even being asked questions by him was painful, and Ojime sucked in his breath before he said, 'I am afraid that is impossible. The crewman took his own life.'
'Are you certain this is the way it happened?' the Dai-San asked. 'Your men are still unused to outsiders. They are notorious for over-reacting.'
Ojime noticed the Dai-San's gaze meet Qaylinn's, and he found himself deeply envious of their relationship. 'Absolutely certain,' he said stiffly. 'There are half a dozen witnesses.'
'All men under the tariff assessor's command, I will warrant,' the Dai-San said.
'Why the Makkon's tongue was being brought here we have no idea,' Ojime said, desperately trying to deflect the Sunset Warrior's wrath. 'But we did discover where it came from: the Great Rift.'
'That is a long way from here,' the Dai-San said. 'Beyond the Mu'ad desert of Iskael, the country of my bond-brother, Moichi Annai-Nin.'
'Upon the summit of the sacred mountain of Sin'hai,' Ojime affirmed. 'We need you to beat back this new threat, Dai-San. We believe that something or someone is using the depths of the Great Rift to break through from the dimension of Chaos.'
The Dai-San nodded. 'Who knows, perhaps the Great Rift itself is the tunnel built by the new forces of Chaos. I will go there immediately.'
He turned to depart but Qaylinn's voice stopped him in his tracks. 'There is something else the snow-hare revealed.'
The Dai-San turned his baleful gaze upon the two men. 'Tell me.'
'Yes, Dai-San.' Qaylinn recognized an order as well as did the minister. 'There is an agent - a human agent whom the Chaos forces are using to help them gain a foothold in our world.'
'Have you a name?'
'Yes.' Now, to Ojime's astonishment, the Rosh'hi actually appeared to quail beneath the burden of his message. In the face of his cowardice, Ojime spoke.
'The bones of the snow-hare were cast and there can be no mistake,' he said quickly, before he, too, lost his nerve. 'The agent, the traitor, Dai-San, is your bond-brother, Moichi Annai-Nin.'
PART ONE
ISKAEL