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

"We all know the danger we face from the Dark Things,"
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said Tahion, "but that is not the danger we face here. Many of usЧmost of us, indeedЧhave lived as neighbours to the elves all our lives, and know them as friends of men and allies of Hastur. And we love them for their beauty and their wisdom.
"And in this lies danger. Not willingly or wittingly would the elves harm us. Yet the Elf-Folk are not subject to the weaknesses of mortal men: they do not tire, they do not age, they need no sleep as we know it. And they live by magic, surrounded by it. Elves that live near men learn to control their power, that mortals may take no hurt. But at Rath Tintallain we will be among wild elves, who know little of men."
Istvan saw that Carroll Mac Lir and the five woods-runners seemed only half listening now.
"It would never occur to them their magic might hurt usЧit does not hurt them! They are like children with too much power: magic and illusion are their toys and their tools, with which they guard themselves and feed themselves, and make the world about them beautiful."
Ingulf the Wanderer broke in, his hoarse voice bitter as a raven's croak, and filled with pain.
"Listen to him! Do not let your hearts be trapped by the beauty of the elves and elvish things! Listen to him; I have cause to know the truth he speaks! I spent a night in the Sea-Elves' city, but a month went by while I was there!" He hesitated, as though to say more, then his head sank to his chest, and he stared at the ground. Tahion nodded.
"Yes, they can make time pass unnoticed, so that a man might age and die without thinking more than a day had passed. Or starve without knowing he was hungry. From mistaken kindnessЧor even as a gameЧthey could cast an illusion on a man that could lure his mind to wander lost forever in a dream. They would mean no harm: they weave such dreams for one another as easily and innocently as children playЧand escape from them as easily as children end a game when their mothers call. Then, too, they have spells against weariness and painЧ"
"I would think we would need those," said Stam MacMal-kom.
"Is it so?" said Tahion. "Think, man! A spell that can make a wounded man think himself whole, so that he would
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bleed to death without realizing he was hurt? There is a story of a woman under an elf-spell who danced until her toes wore away."
"I was told of a man who danced until he died," said Ingulf.
"What was the doom of Ranahan, that you spoke of to Tuarim?" Istvan asked. But it was Cormac the Harper who answered.
"Why, that is a very old song, older even than Fendol's day, and few sing it at all. I have only a few wordsЧthe chorus, I thinkЧ
Where do you come from, Ranahan? How long in this world will you stay? I am Ranahan, a mortal man. And it's quickly my life slips away . . .
"They say the tale comes down from the days when the Elf-Folk first came to this world, the first elves who answered the call of the sons of Hastur in the Age of Terror, long ago.''
"They speak the truth," said Tahion. "Tuarim Mac Elathan has the song; when we are safely in Rath Tintallain, ask, and surely he will sing it for you. But we have no time, now. A careless word from the Elf-host's lord drove Ranahan witless, and brought him in time to his death. He was the first in this World, but he was not the last." Istvan saw a curious smile twist Ingulfs face, and suddenly he remembered Arthfayel saying that some called him "Ingulf the Mad."
"It is easy to tell you 'be wary,' harder to tell you how," Tahion said, "Arthfayel and I, and Finloq and Cormac, are Adepts of Ellhar, and know how to guard ourselves. The forest-runners of Elthar, too, have learned somewhat of these dangers. To the rest of you, I can only say: beware of too much beauty. Beware of elvish music, and do not look into their eyes. I would warn you against their food, but there will be no other. Do not wander alone among the elvesЧthat will be hard, I know. If anything seems strange or doubtfulЧand most of all if a troubled mind is filled too suddenly with joyЧcome to me. Or to Finloq or Arthfayel. I have lived alone among the elves for many years, and know their magic well. But the great danger is that you will not know that a spell is upon you, so it is on me to watch you all. Do not
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make it hard for me. Let me know if you go off alone, or with other men who stand in the same danger, and watch your comrades well."
"Come, Tahion!" Carroll Mac Lir's voice rolled out. "To warn them is well, but there is no need to frighten them to death! Wild elves can be dangerous, true enough; yet there will be elves that have lived near men before, and other mortal wizards, and the Children of Hastur themselves to ward us! They know the dangers of elf-shock!" His voice rippled with melodious laughter.
Above birdsong and the breeze, air hissed loudly from the lungs of near a dozen men, men not accustomed to fear. Yet Istvan saw a grim ness in the eyes of the heroes that had not been there before.
Karik Mac Ulatoc still looked puzzled and uncertain, and seemed about to speak, but Carroll1 s regal voice cut off whatever he would have said.
"And are we going to Rath Tintallain, or will it come to us? Are we to ride? And where are the elves hiding?"
"All around us," Tahion smiled. "We ride when I am sure we have rested enough for another long stint in the saddle. And that," he said, looking about, "would seem to be now." No one answered: Istvan felt the ache in his hips and thighs, and dreaded a second ride, but said nothing. Tahion laughed. "What! No sluggards in this troop, no shirkers? A refreshing change! Be it so, then. Sir Garahis, the use of your horn would be a kindness now."
The young man looked up. Istvan guessed suddenly that this boyЧhe was hardly moreЧhad grown up on tales about his new comrades. Without a word, he took the horn from his belt, and, instead of sounding it, handed it to Tahion. Surprise flickered a moment in the prince's eyes, then he took the trumpet with a grave bow. Sunlight jeweled its metal as he lifted it.
"Dwarf-work?" Tahion asked. Garahis nodded shyly. "I thought so," said Tahion, and set it to his lips.
A sudden clear cascade of notes sang from the horn's bell, thrilling along the nerves between ear and heart: Cormac stared, and under the long, golden call, drums pulsed in the ground.
Through screening leaves burst white and mystic horses,
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daylight glowing on snowy coats, flowing tails and manes wind-whipped. Their brightness blurred the eye.
This time, no music lifted men into the saddles: hooves sounding on sod, the bright steeds trotted up and stood to be mounted like any horse. Dwarves lifted each other up, or scrambled onto tree stumps. The bare-legged Y'goran's took time to lay their plaids across the saddles, to give some protection to their already sore thighs.
Istvan swung up over his horse's back, and in a moment that wild ride began again, trees flashing past in full daylight now, as the elf-steeds threaded their uncanny way through the wood. Cloud-white horses with elves on their backs darted shining between trees to join them.
A wall of solid brush reared up ahead. Istvan cringed and closed his eyes as his mount plunged straight into a solid mass of green. In a moment his ears were filled with that mysterious leafy murmur he remembered from the night.
The sound of hooves had grown louder for a time, but now it faded, became a scarcely-heard faint patter. Cautiously, he opened his eyes onto dim green dusk. Above him and on either side, braided branches wove in solid walls, but ahead branches parted, bending as though lifted by invisible hands. As he passed, they fell back into place behind him. He flinched back, expecting at any moment a stinging cut across the face, but neither leaf nor branch touched him.
And under him, the soft sound of hooves faded to silence.
For a long time he watched the lithe branches writhe and twist out of his path with terrible speed, like an endless series of opening gates; then at last he hid his face in the horse's mane and held onto its neck, shuddering.
Time passed. Suddenly, he sensed a change in the air about him, in the light falling on his skin. He looked up. A blaze of light fell blinding from a long, leaf-fringed ribbon of blue sky mat crossed his path. As he straightened, sudden fear choked him as he saw, beneath it, a broad stretch of dark water, flowing between thick, gnarled trees.
Before he could shout or draw breath for a shout, they were at the river's brink, and between his thighs he felt the horse's muscles bunch convulsively: suddenly the water was underneath them as his mount sprang out over the wide river.
Startled shouts sounded all around, and he glimpsed white shapes soaring above the murky water.
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Then his horse's hooves were scrambling up the muddy bank, and it was gallopingЧno faster than a mortal horseЧ through open woods. A quick glance over his shoulder showed the rippling breadth of the river beneath a scattering of tiny, scudding, cloud-white blurs; and, beyond, trees shrinking on the distant shore. Other horses flashed through the forest nearby.
Fear knotted his fists in the silky mane: he would have reined in, had there been reins. But only Tahion, among all the men and dwarves, seemed to have any control over his mount; all the rest were swept along, helplessly.
The wild wind of the horse's speed increased: its hooves turned to a white blur and vanished. Sudden leaves blocked his vision: as his eyes closed instinctively, they stirred. He heard the rustle as woven branches parted before his horse; then the murmuring dusk of the thicket was about him.
The twin suns moved across the sky. Three more times they emerged from the dimness of thickets to ride through open woodlands: twice more they leaped rivers. Countless tiny streams vanished behind almost before they were seen. *
Twice they halted, and men and dwarves dismounted, stretched their legs, and ate. The shining twins dipped ever nearer the horizon.
The forest stretched endlessly around them. They saw no signs of men and few enough of beasts. They were riding through an area of low hills covered with great pines and hemlocks, when suddenly the horses slowed and, spiraling into a great clearing, stopped.
"Listen!" cried Turaim Mac Elathan, raising his arm as the men and dwarves, thinking this but another rest, began to laugh and talk among themselves. Istvan saw that all the elves were tensed, listeningЧand Tahion as well. Yet he could hear nothing but the ancient sorrow of wind in the tree tops. Tuarim straightened.