"Mary Kirchoff, Douglas Niles. Flint, the King ("Dragonlance Preludes II" #2) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Chapter 2

The Trail Home

Darken Wood. The place certainly earns its name,
thought Flint. Tall pines, their needles a green that was al-
most black, towered over the forest floor-. Huge, musty
oaks, draped with thick vines and feathery moss, and even
an occasional looming vallenwood trunk that rose to disap-
pear among the foliage, prevented a single sunbeam from
reaching the ground.
The forest was not huge, but Flint knew that it sheltered a
number of dangerous denizens. Some years earlier, a small
party of mercenaries had entered Solace bearing an unusual
trophy - the head of a troll slain in these woods. Bands of
hobgoblins and worse reputedly still dwelled among the an-
cient trunks of Darken Wood.

The feeling of potential danger brought Flint a keen sense
of awareness even as his mind wandered. The narrow trail
twisted among the tree trunks, enveloped by ferns and
great, moist growths of mushrooms and other fungus. The
scent of warm earth, heavy with decay, overwhelmed the
dwarf with a thick, cloying presence.
Flint did not find the odor unpleasant. Indeed, after his
long residence among humans, not to mention the constant
presence of kender, elves, and other races, this dominance
of nature refreshed his spirit and lightened his step. There
was something joyful in this solitude, in this pastoral adven-
ture, that brought a forgotten delight to Flint's soul.
For many hours he made slow progress, not from any
sense of exhaustion, but instead because of the great ease
within him. His hand stroked the smooth, worn haft of his
axe. Absently, his ears and eyes probed the woods, alert, al-
most hoping for a sign of trouble.
The trail forked and he paused, stark still for a moment,
listening, thinking. He sensed the earth, the twists and turns
in the surrounding land - as only dwarves could - through
his thick-soled boots. Soon he learned what he needed to
know, and he chose a direction.
Toward the south for a while. Flint followed no map and
needed no compass to maintain the route he had selected. It
would lead him the length of the woods, and avoid both the
lands of the Qualinesti elves to the south, and the seeker-
ruled city of Haven to the northwest.
The seekers, he thought with a mental grimace, I would
walk to the ends of the earth to avoid. Those pesky
"prophets" had made life in Solace unpleasant enough. But
in Haven - the city that was their capitol and the center of