"Zimmer,.Paul.Edwin.-.A.Gathering.of.HerosUC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zimmer Paul Edwin)

"It cannot be!" Tahion gasped. "Surely that isЧ" there was awe in his voiceЧ "Unless my eyes deceive me, that is Tuarim Mac Elathan, who rode with Fendol: Tuarim Mac Elathan, the greatest of the heroes of the elves!" Istvan
15
16 Paul Edwin Zimmer
stared, while his spine pricked and thrilled: Legend stood in that door.
Five thousand years had passed since Fendol, Hero-King of Galdor, had brought a great fleet over the ocean to the aid of beleaguered Elthar. The very land he had ruled was barren desert now: generations of poets had mangled the tales of his deeds. Ruling houses of a dozen kingdoms pointed proudly to his name in their genealogies.
But Tuarim Mac Elathan still walked the earthЧstood now in the doorway with wind blowing his dark hair and huge eyes gleaming like jewels . . .
In the doorway behind him, two others appeared: long beards covered their chests, but the faces above them were lineless, delicate, like children's faces, or young girls'. And the sight of one took Istvan back twenty years.
"That is Ethellin the Wise behind him!" he gasped.
"And Dorialith of the Sea-Elves," said Tahion.
Now voices joined the music, rising in song. Higher and higher the voices rose and wove, while men in the inn sat like stone.
Suddenly, the song ended on a note like high-pitched, maniacal laughter, and every man in the room started.
Then the voice of Tuarim Mac Elathan rang all around them, not deep, like a man's voice, but high and clear as a bell.
"I greet you, dwarves and men! 1 am Tuarim Mac Elathan, and I ride to war!" Istvan heard gasps all around him: few had guessed who had come among them. "My kin, and the sons of Hastur, have sought you out; they tell me mat the greatest living warriors are garnered here. 1 ride now to Rath Tintallain, ringed by dark powers: goblins and demons from the forest, as well as warriors of Sarlow, and the sorcerers they serve."
Istvan felt his blood soar and sing in his veinsЧand deep within him, angry independence burned. The elf s voice was playing upon their emotions, and there was no need!
He heard his own voice, as harsh as a bullfrog's after the melodious chiming of the elf.
"We know all that! but what is so precious about Rath Tintallain that you assemble such a company as this to defend it?"
A GATHERING OF HEROES 17
Tuarim's wide eyes blinked in surprise, and elves and men stared. But it was Ethellin the Wise who answered.
"Your question, Lord DiVega, deserves an answer. This much I will say: whether Rath Tintallain stands or falls will shape the fate of the World. But what it is that is guarded at Rath Tintallain, and why mortal warriors are needed for its defense Ч these are secrets I dare not tell Ч even to Istvan the Archer; even in such company as this."
Men muttered all around as the Sea-Elf named him, and Istvan became acutely aware of the eyes upon him Ч and most of all Arthfayel's.
"Well, if we are to trust you, let us trust you, then," he mumbled, and was about to say something about free will and spells, when Tahion's voice broke in.
"It has been long since you have been among mortal men, Son of Elathan, and you have been forgetting much in all those years. Remember that you speak for mortal ears, and forget not the doom of Ranahan!" Tuarim's huge silver eyes rested on Tahion. Istvan wondered who Ranahan had been Ч but it was plain that the elf knew.
"It is the truth." Tuarim's voice was still inhumanly beautiful Ч but the edge of compulsion was gone. "My thanks for the warning. You are Raquinon's son, are you not? Your father. . . ?"
"Dead these many years."
"I feared so." Long lashes swept down over the wide eyes. "He was a good man. So." Tuarim straightened again, and the closed eyes flashed open, shining like stars in the firelight. "So! We must ride! An age indeed has it been since I was riding with a company of mortal men!" Clear laughter bubbled out of his mouth. "Glad will I be to know the names of those with whom I ride. Istvan DiVega has been named to me, and Tahion Mac Raquinon I remember from his youth. Not long ago a bard was telling that Mardil O'Corrie was the greatest of mortal heroes living. Is he here?"
"He died more than fifty years ago," Tahion said, quietly. Tuarim was silent.
"Ingulf the Wanderer is here," said the Sea-Elf whom Tahion had named as Dorialith. His voice was deeper than
was common among the elves, and in the firelight escoul have been taken for an old, frail man, had not the winothat blew through the open door shaken his beard like a maiden's
18 Paul Edwin Zimmer
hair. "I hear he has done great deeds upon the paths of the World with the sword that we gave him. Carroll Mac Lir and Flann Mac Malkom arc here, and Finloq Mac B'an, and. . ."
"And Cormac the Harper!" Cormac himself came pushing between the tables, his harp clasped to his breast. "If it is knowledge of heroes you want, is it not a harper you should ask?"
Istvan groaned. Poets! He wanted to go to bed. Morosely, he stuffed his mouth with cheese.
"Time passes." Dorialith's voice cut through the harper's. "We must depart. There are thirty or more here to name, counting these dwarf-folk. There will be time on the road, and more within the fortress, to learn the names and deeds of our companions."
"That is so," said Tuarim sadly, to Istvan's great relief. "Come, harper! You shall ride by me, and tell me the name and fame of our comrades. But it is many a mile to Rath Tintallain, and hard riding it will be for mortals! We must be there before three days have passed, or we shall be cut off!"
Arthfayel whistled, and Tahion sat up straight, blinking. Istvan heard exclamations from all around the room.
"What is it?" he whispered. "How far away is this place?"
"Hundreds of miles," said Arthfayel. "Nearly a month's journey, as men reckon distance."
Outside the door, the sweet music had begun again. Then, just inside the threshold, two blue-clad figures appeared. Copper hair gleamed in the firelight.
Istvan blinked in surprise, recognising Kandol Hastur-Lord, the oldest living Hastur. Rarely did any mortal who dwelt outside Carcosa see him: his presence here was itself proof of the importance of this matter.
"Kandol!" shouted Tuarim Mac Elathan. "Kandol Shadow-slayer!" With a chime of wild laughter he bounded across the room and caught the Eldest of the Lords of the World in an exuberant embrace. "Is it riding with us you are?" Next to the Hastur-Lord, he seemed fragile.
"No." A smile spread across the calm, ageless face of the Hastur-Lord. "No, I travel by swifter means. But when danger closes on the fort of Rath Tintallain, you will see me there, old friend."
"We shall be glad of that," Tuarim said.
"Well, it is good someone is glad," said Kandol, som-
A GATHERING OF HEROES 19
beriy. "There will be much to mourn ere all is over," Tuarim nodded. "There always is."
"My Lord Istvan," a low voice murmured, and Istvan looked up to see Kandol's companion beside the table. It took him a moment to recognize the Hastur, then rising, he bowed in the Carcosan fashion.
"My Lord Ringion." Was there a twinkle in the Hastur's eyes? Ringion spoke to Tahion and Arthfayel, and went from table to table, greeting each of the assembled champions by name.
"Some day it must end," Kandol was saying, his voice somber. "Either we shall hurl them back to their own place, and imprison them, as Hastur did in the beginningЧor else they will overcome us at last, and eat all living things, and darken the stars themselves."
"Even that would not be the end, for us," said Ethellin the Wise. "There are worlds beyond this, which must still be guarded if Carcosa falls." Kandol nodded.
Dorialith stepped to the door and looked outside. In a moment he turned back, lamplight gleaming silver on his long pale beard. His voice rang loudly through the room.