"Gordon R. Dickson - Dragon Knight 08 - The Dragon in Lyonesse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

he had bitten it. In spite of himself, he smiled; and, smiling, relaxed. The sudden, all-encompassing fire of
rage that had come upon him began to sink, gutter, and die, like the flame of a fireplace log as the last of
its burnable substance was consumed. He brought his eyes back to the High Table.

Angie and Dafydd were looking at him.

“Go on,” he said to Dafydd, a little thickly. His tongue had already begun to swell, but not much. Angie
relaxed in her seat.

Dafydd watched him for a second longer, the archer’s face as calm as ever. Then he went on, as if
nothing had happened.

“Of further facts I have none. But my King, like all my people now living apart on deep ocean floor, has
spent all his life there and not only feels but reads more- and more correctly-into such feelings as we of
the Old Blood have been gifted to sense. He reads the shadow as darkening to the west of our Drowned
Land, beyond our borders, where is the fabled, ancient Land of Old Magic-Lyonesse; and it covers that
country as far as the cliff-face you and I know, James, that is the beginning of the great underseas
mountain which holds the Kingdom of the Gnarly people. There, where just a short time past Carolinus
was held prisoner, and from which we carried him and your young ward back to this castle.”

“The cliff-face has an entrance. Maybe the shadow’s gone in there, too, where your people can’t see or
feel it?”
 “No, James. It ends at the cliff with the entrance to that land. It is Lyonesse alone that is cloaked-an
action such as the Dark Powers have never shown before, and for reasons known only to them. No
doubt those reasons will show themselves in time-after they have truly won Lyonesse-for my King
believes that winning still awaits a final test of their strength. Remember, Lyonesse is a land of old and
strange magick-it may be older and stranger than even the Dark Powers understand. But reasons do not
matter to my cousins beneath the waves, only that this darkness will be next neighbor to them if it
succeeds.”

Jim could think of nothing to say. Apparently, neither could Angie.

“I come to you, James,” Dafydd went on, “because this is a foe my arrows cannot touch; and my King
there is old, older than he looks; and not likely to go on being old forever even though he takes care not
to be captured and misused as was Carolinus by the Gnarly King. It is the Drowned Land, not himself,
for which he cares, you understand.”

“Of course we understand!” said Angie. “He’s worried about what will happen to the Kingdom once
he’s gone and there’s no one capable in charge.”

“Yes,” said Dafydd; “and you likewise understand, I can see, James. I know this is none of your care or
responsibility. It is only I who bear an obligation and a duty to the Drowned Land.”

“Never mind that. Go on,” Jim said.

The entrance door to the Hall banged open; and, entering sideways because of a large gutted and
cleaned stag on his shoulders, there came Brian, wearing his sword and an old mail shirt, but otherwise
dressed in somewhat stained and well-worn everyday clothes. He turned to face the dais; and, still
carrying the deer, marched down the aisle toward them. A quiver of arrows hung from one hip and the
top end of a bowstave poked up between his left shoulder and the carcass.