"David Gemmell - Drenai Saga 04 - Quest For Lost Heroes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

The Earl allowed his wife to lead his sons from the hall and waved away his retainers. With the hall empty he took the monk's arm and
the two men strode to the south gallery where a pitcher of fruit juice and two goblets had been set aside.
The Earl filled the goblets. 'Are you really content here?' he asked.
The monk shrugged. 'As content as I would be anywhere, my lord. Why do you ask?'
The Earl gazed into the eyes of the man before him. The face he saw was strong, the nose long and aquiline, the mouth full below a
trimmed moustache. 'There are many legends concerning you, Chareos,' he said. 'Some have you as a prince. Did you know that?"
'I have heard it,' Chareos admitted. 'It is unimportant.'
'What is important? You are the finest swordsman I ever saw. You were one of the heroes of Bel-azar. You could have been rich beyond
the dreams of common men.'
'I am rich beyond the dreams of common men, my lord. And that is what is important. This life suits me. I am by nature a student. The
libraries here in Gothir are among the best anywhere. Far south, they say, the libraries of Drenan contain more books, but here are the com-
plete works of Tertullus. It will take me many years to study them all.'
'It doesn't seem right,' said the Earl. 'I remember my father putting me on his shoulder so that I could see the heroes of Bel-azar as they
marched through the streets of New Gulgothir. I remember everything about that day. You were riding a white stallion of some seventeen
hands, and wearing a silver mail-shirt and a helm with a white horsehair plume. Beltzer was behind you, carrying his axe. Then Maggrig and
Finn. People in the crowd reached out to touch you, as if you were some lodestar. It was a wonderful day.'
'The sun shone,' agreed Chareos, 'but it was only a parade, my lord - and there are many parades.'
'What happened to the others?' asked the Earl. 'Did you remain friends? I have heard nothing of them for years.'
'Nor I,' Chareos answered. The dark-eyed monk looked away, seeing Beltzer as he had been on the last day - drunk, red-eyed and
weeping, his axe auctioned to settle his debts. The farmer had become a hero, and it had destroyed him in a way the Nadir could not.
Maggrig and Finn had been there; they had left Beltzer alone in the back room of the inn and walked with Chareos out into the sunshine.
'We are going back to the mountains,' said Finn.
'There's nothing there,' Chareos told him.
Finn had smiled. 'There's nothing anywhere, Blade-master.' Without another word the black-bearded archer had taken up his pack and
moved off.
The youth Maggrig had smiled, offering Chareos his hand. 'We will meet again,' he said. 'He probably only needs a little time to himself,
away from crowds.'
'How do you suffer his moods and depressions?' asked Chareos.
'I do not see them,' Maggrig answered. 'I see only the man.'
Now Chareos sipped his fruit juice and gazed out of the tall window. He was sitting too far back to see the courtyard and the gardens
beyond. But from here he could look over the high wall of the monastery and off into the southern distance, where the forest lay like a green
mist on the mountains. His gaze swept across to the east, and the ridges of hills which led to the Nadir Steppes. For a moment only, he felt
the touch of icy fear.
'You think the Nadir will attack come summer?' asked the Earl, as if reading his thoughts. Chareos considered the question. The Nadir
lived for war - a dour, nomadic tribal people, joyous only in battle. For centuries Gothir kings had held them in thrall, sure in the knowledge
that the tribes hated one another more than they detested the conquerors. Then had come Ulric, the first great warlord. He had united them,
turning them into an invincible force, an army numbering hundreds of thousands of fierce-eyed warriors. The Gothir were crushed, the King
slain and refugees fled here to the north-west to build new homes. Only the great Drenai citadel of Dros Delnoch, far to the south-east, had
turned them back. But a century later another warlord arose, and he would not be thwarted. Tenaka Khan had crushed the Drenai and invaded
the lands of Vagria, his armies sweeping to the sea at Mashra-pur and along the coastline to Lentria. Chareos shivered. Would they attack in
this coming summer? Only the Source knew. But one point was as certain as death - one day the Nadir would come. They would sweep
across the hills, their battle cries deafening, the grass churned to muddy desolation under the hooves of their war ponies. Chareos swallowed,
his eyes fixed to the hills, seeing the blood-hungry hordes flowing across the green Gothir lands like a dark tide.
'Well?' queried the Earl. 'Do you think they will attack?'
'I could not say, my lord. I do not listen to the reports as once I did. It is said that the Drenai are in rebellion again, led by yet another who
claims to be the Earl of Bronze reborn. I think that makes it the fifth in the thirty years since Tenaka Khan stormed Dros Delnoch. But
perhaps such an uprising will put off the Nadir plans.'
'He went the way of all the others,' said the Earl. 'He was caught and crucified; the rebellion was crushed. It is said the new Khan has
ordered his troops north.'
'People have been saying that for years,' said Chareos. 'There is little here for them. The spoils they took from the conquests of Drenan,