"Zelazny, Roger - Amber Short Story 05 - Blue Horse Dancing Mountains" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"Go," I told him.
Trees changed their foliage even as I watched. The trail was
maddeningly irregular, shifting its course, changing its character beneath
us. Seasons came and went--a flurrying of snow followed by a blast of hot
air, then springtime and blooming flowers. There were glimpses of towers and
metal people, highways, bridges, tunnels gone in moments. Then the entire
dance would shift away and we would simply be mounting a trail again.
At last, we made camp in a sheltered area near to a summit. Clouds
collected as we ate, and a few rumbles under rolled in the distance. I made
myself a low lean-to. Shask transformed himself into a great dragonheaded,
winged, feathered serpent, and coiled nearby.
"A good night to you, Shask," I called out, as the first drops fell.
"And-to-you-Corwin," he said softly.
I lay back, closed my eyes, and was asleep almost immediately. How long
I slept, I do not know. I was jarred out of it, however, by a terrific clap
of thunder which seemed to occur directly overhead.
I found myself sitting up, having reached out to and half drawn
Grayswandir, before the echoes died. I shook my head and sat listening.
Something seemed to be missing and I could not determine what.
There came a brilliant flash of light and another thunderclap. I
flinched at them and sat waiting for more, but only silence followed.
Silence...
I stuck my hand outside the lean-to, then my head. It had stopped
raining. That was the missing item--the splatter of droplets.
My gaze was attracted by a glow from beyond the nearby summit. I pulled
on my boots and departed the shelter. Outside, I buckled on my sword belt
and fastened my cloak at the neck. I had to investigate. In a place like
this, any activity might represent a threat.
I touched Shask--who indeed felt stony--as I passed, and made my way to
where the trail had been. It was still there, though diminished in width,
and I set foot upon it and climbed upward. The light source for which I was
headed seemed to be moving slightly. Now, faintly, in the distance, I seemed
to hear the sound of rainfall. Perhaps it was coming down on the other side
of the peak.
As I advanced, I became convinced that it was storming not too far
away. I could now hear the moaning of wind within the splashing.
I was suddenly dazzled by a flash from beyond the crest. A sharp report
of thunder kept it company. I halted for only a moment. During that time,
amid the ringing in my ears, I thought that I heard the sound of a cackling
laugh.
Trudging ahead, I came at last to the summit. Immediately, the wind
assailed me, bearing a full load of moisture. I drew my cloak closed and
fastened it down the front as I made my way forward.
Several paces then, and I beheld a hollow, below and to my left. It was
eerily illuminated by dancing orbs of ball lightning. There were two figures
within it--one seated on the ground, the other, cross-legged, hanging Upside
down in the air with no apparent means of support, across from him. I chose
the most concealed route I could and headed toward them.
They were lost to my sight much of the way, as the course I had taken
bore me through areas of fairly dense foliage. Abruptly, however, I knew