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

The islander took his hands from his face and looked around in confusion. "IЧhave I been dreaming? What has
A GATHERING OF HEROES 29
happened to me? IЧI wasЧI was about toЧ" His eyes focused on Istvan and he heaved himself to his knees. "I was about to fightЧvow!"
Before Istvan could think of any words, Arthfayel caught the islander's shoulder.
"Easy!" the wizard said. "That is Istvan the Archer."
"I don't care whoЧ" He stopped, mouth hanging open, and Istvan saw pallor under the dusky skin as the black eyes widened. Karik shut his mouth and swallowed.
"I'm not afraid of him!"
"And why not?" It was Fithil of the Curranach who spoke, from where he leaned on his great war-scythe. "I am." Karik's head swiveled toward him in disbelief. Fithil smiled. "And if I am not ashamed to admit it, Karik Mac Ulatoc, it is a very madness of pride on your part. Tell me, did you see his sword move when he sliced up yourЧstick?" Karik started, and looked down at the pieces of wood still gripped tightly in his fist.
"If you did," said Fithil, "it's better eyes you have than I."
Slowly, Karik's fist unclenched. The cut wood fell to the ground, and suddenly the islander fell back into Arthfayel's arms, shivering uncontrollably. Tahion waved back Istvan's instinctive step to help. (
"What is wrong with me?" Karik gasped, panic in his voice."And where am I?"
"You are at the Elfmound of Neadvolac, on the road to Rath Tintallain," Tahion said in a quiet voice, "and you ride in the company of the greatest heroes in Y'gora. But you have ridden more than three hundred miles in a single night, and a glamour has been upon you, so that you would not delay us by fighting, and under it you have felt neither hunger nor thirst, nor the weariness of your own body. Rest now, and you will soon be well."
As the islander lay back and closed his eyes, Istvan started, hand leaping to his hilt, as a silent figure moved past himЧan elf clad in a green tunic, carrying an earthenware pitcher and a small wooden bowl.
Looking around, he saw elves everywhere. He could not > tell where they had come from, with their wide eyes and frail, / children's faces, unless they had sprung from the earth or dropped from the sky. He looked at the green mound above
30 Paul Edwin Zimmer
them, but there was no sign of an opening upon the green slope.
An elf in a plaid of green and brown offered him a bowl of nuts already cracked. As he filled his hand, he glanced over is shoulder, to see Arthfayel supporting Karik Mac Ulatoc with one arm while he held a wooden cup to the islander's lips.
But Tahion was on his feet and striding purposefully toward Tuarim Mac Eiathan, wrath in his eyes.
Quietly, Istvan followed, accepting along the way a wooden bowl filled with the mixed juices of several fruits.
"I am surprised at you, Tuarim Mac Eiathan!" Tahion's voice was low, but filled with rage. "I can see that many of your companions are wild elves, who know no better, but you have been among men before!"
"Not for more than a hundred years," said the elf, silver eyes troubled. "But surely I do them no harm? I have forgotten much, ! own it, but . . ."
"You will kill these men," said Tahion. "You will drive them past the edge of their endurance, lulling weariness with glamourie, and when the spell is taken off they will fall down dead! And any that live to reach Rath Tintallain will be withered scarecrows, too weak to lift a sword!"
"What, then, must I do?" The golden voice was muted. "Already, my kinfolk tell me, the forces from Sarlow move toward the citadel; and we are still so far away! But it is my task to bring these men there alive. Tell me, then, what must I do?"
"Let them sleep, first," said Tahion. "On the ground here, not in the saddle! Let them stop and rest at times, and let their bodies work by themselves, and not by magic! Surely among your companions there must be some who are used to men? Let them guide. And try to hold down the glamour in your voice and in your eyes!"
"It will not be safe to ride in the night much further," said Tuarim, his eyes troubled. "I will let them sleep for a timeЧ"
"A few hours, at least," said Tahion.
"Let them sleep, then, and do you come and talk with me."
Istvan's sleep was deep and dreamless for the most part, stirred only by rare, fleeting glimpses of eldritch beauty. Food waited when they woke, late in the day, with the
A GATHERING OF HEROES 31
green Elfmound above them like a mother's breast. Men and dwarves ate and felt strengthened, even Karik Mac Ulatoc, while birds sang in the trees. But there seemed to be only a handful of elves, in moss-colored garments, who brought the men food. Istvan could not be sure whether these had been with them during the night's ride, or if they were out of the Elfmound. But neither Tuarim nor the Sea-Elves were anywhere to be seen. Neither were Tahion and Ingulf the Wanderer, though Istvan hunted for them through the crowding champions. At last a dwarf named Thubar said he had seen them atop the knoll, with one of the elves.
"By the tall pine there," said the dwarf pointing. Istvan rose, brushing crumbs from his fingers. The dwarf, too, stood, his head barely on a level with Istvan's elbow. He gestured again with his broad hand., "There's an elf going there nowЧ" He stopped, and looked around him. "Is that not strange? Do you see any of the elves still with us?" From his greater height, Istvan looked around. All the elves who had brought their food seemed to have vanished. "Something strange is about to happen. Prince Tyrin!" Thubar waved to a younger, gold-bearded dwarf who sat nearby talking with Garahis of Ordan.
Looking up, Istvan saw Tahion walk out of the trees, with the gaunt, red-haired islander behind. Istvan strode off to meet them, dimly aware that the two dwarves and the Cairanorian knight were following.
Tahion smiled.
"Ah, my sombre friend!" he said with a laugh, as Istvan came up. "I might have known you would wonder where I was, and worry, too."
"Well," said Istvan, "who else will explain all this to meЧand you did promise me an explanation back at the inn. And I will be more than surprised if you try to tell me we are in no danger here!"
"Using your eyes and ears again, I see," said Tahion with an approving nod. "Yes, there is danger, and because of that, you will get your explanation in a moment. Come with me now." He began to walk on toward the othersЧbut stopped, with the dwarf, Thubar, planted in his path, head thrown back to glare up from under bushy eyebrows.
"Tell us first, Tahion Mac Raquinon, why have the elves left?" The dwarfs voice was even deeper than Fergus Mac
32 Paul Edwin Zimmer
Trenar's, deep as a lion's roar. Tahion dropped to one knee, so his face was on a level with the dwarfs.
"Because I asked them to leave," he said. "Some ride ahead on the road, to reach Rath Tintallain before us. Others will join us after I have spoken to the men here."
"And why is that?" Thubar demanded, bristling. Tahion laughed.
"Can you not guess? If not, follow me and learn." He rose, and the dwarf, frowning, stepped aside.
"I can guess, Thubar, if you cannot," Prince Tyrin said, his voice not so deep as Thubar's, though deeper man most men's. "Your zeal does you credit, but you arc too suspicious."
Tahion turned to Sir Garahis, who had followed Prince Tyrin and listened, mystified. "If you would sound that horn I see at your belt, good knight, it would help greatly."
Before them, men and dwarves were rising and stretching after their meal; some polished weapons, some laughed and joked. Cormac the Harper was playing some rapid, difficult tune, his face tight with concentration. Fergus Mac Trenar and Carroll Mac Lir were sparring with shields and scab-barded swords, and shouting raucous comments at Starn and Flann, who were wrestling nearby.
Garahis lifted from his side a gracefully curving trumpet wrought of silver and gold: its pure tone sliced through chattering voices and silenced them, lifting men to their feet. Swords flashed, and suddenly all were moving, striding grim-faced toward Tahion. Istvan, who had led men for nearly thirty years, felt a sudden chill.
This was a company of men unmatchedЧnot only in each man's skill and prowess, but in some common factor of training or temperament that made them act together as one.
There were no foolish questions: even Karik Mac Ulatoc waited in silence for Tahion to speak.
"Listen, men!" cried Tahion. A faint quiver in his voice told Istvan that Tahion, too, had only now realised how deadly a force this select troop was. "Swords are not needed now: no foe is upon us. And yet we are in dangerЧdanger of which some of us know, but not all."
Swords slid back into their sheaths, yet the eyes of the heroes were watchful. Istvan heard birds sing in woods beyond, and leaves stir in the wind, but no other sound.