"Brooks, Terry - First King of Shannara" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

Kinson nodded. It had been six months since the Troll
marauders had swept down out of the Chamals east and begun a
systematic subjugation of their people. Their army was vast and
swift, and in less than three months all resistance was crushed. The
Northland was placed under rule of the conquering army's myste-
rious and still unknown leader. There were rumors concerning his
identity, but they remained unconfirmed. In truth, few even knew
he existed. No word of this army and its leader had penetrated far-
ther south than the border settlements of Varfleet and Tyrsis,
fledgling outposts for the Race of Man, though it had spread east
and west to the Dwarves and Elves. But the Dwarves and Elves
were tied more closely to the Trolls. Man was the outcast race, the
more recent enemy of the others. Memories of the First War of the
Races still lingered, three hundred and fifty years later. Man lived
apart in his distant Southland cities, the rabbit sent scurrying to
earth, timid and toothless and of no consequence in the greater
scheme of things, food for predators and little more.

But not me, Kinson thought darkly. Never me. I am no rabbit. I
have escaped that fate. I have become one of the hunters.

Bremen stirred, shifting his weight to make himself more com-
fortable. "I went deep into the mountains, searching," he con-
tinued, lost again in his tale. "The farther I went, the more
convinced I became. The Skull Bearers were everywhere. There
were other beings as well, creatures summoned out of the spirit
world, dead things brought to life, evil given form. I kept clear of
them all, watchful and cautious. I knew that if I was discovered
my magic would probably not be enough to save me. The dark-
ness of this region was overwhelming. It was oppressive and
tainted with the smell and taste of death. I went into Skull Moun-
tain finally—one brief visit, for that was all I could chance. I
slipped into the passageways and found what I had been searching
for."

He paused, his brow wrinkling. "And more, Kinson. Much
more, and none of it good."

"But he was there?" Kinson pressed anxiously, his hunter's
face intense, his eyes glittering.

"He was there," affirmed the Druid quietly. "Shrouded by his
magic, kept alive by his use of the Druid Sleep. He does not use it
wisely, Kinson. He thinks himself beyond the laws of nature. He

First King of Shannara 7

does not see that for all, however strong, there is a price to be paid
for what is usurped and enslaved. Or perhaps he simply doesn't