"Gray, Julia - Guardian 01 - The Dark Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

Inside the haven there were far more lights than usual, and he knew that the soldiers were carrying lamps as they went through the house, presumably looking for him. It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling, and reinforced his determination to get away.
He ventured further from the building, then slipped from the garden into the southern orchard. After waiting there and still seeing no signs of any pursuit, he trusted himself to the increasingly gloomy evening and set off into the wide open spaces, circling round to the south of the house in an irregular arc. Eventually he crossed the path and continued down the hill to the lake. Once there he found the jetty and, without hesitation, lowered himself into the water.
Long before he reached the haunted island he was gasping for breath, afraid that he might drown, but he made it at last and pulled himself, shivering, onto the shore. When he had recovered a little, he got up and staggered towards the tower, hoping to find some shelter. As he did so he could not help remembering some of the legends connected with the place. The most famous of these was of the young maiden who, when she refused to marry the lord of the time, was walled up inside the tower to starve. But she was only one of the ghosts reputed to dwell there. If all the stories were to be believed, this small island had seen more murder, rape and treachery than many cities -and it took all Terrel's dwindling supply of courage not to jump out of his skin at every small noise.
To his surprise the lower part of the ruin proved quite hospitable. It was like a small cave, and the floor was covered in several years' worth of dry leaves. Forgetting that he would need to get them wet again in order to leave the island, he stripped off his dripping clothes in the hope that they would dry out a little overnight. Then he tried to rub some life back into his tortured limbs before lying down and making himself a cocoon of leaves. Before long, exhausted in both body and mind, he slept.
Terrel had expected his own paralyzing feelings of guilt and remorse over Elam's death to turn into nightmares, but his dreams that night were calm, almost soothing. He floated on a bed of light, like an eagle soaring weightless on the wind. He saw nothing, felt nothing. It was as though the ghosts of the island were watching over him, spreading a protective veil over his mind. It was only at the end that he heard her voice and began to struggle. He knew it was Alyssa and fought to see her, to be with her, but she remained disembodied and remote, and it was only when he had come to terms with his frustration that he could actually hear what she was saying.
'It's all right. I know you have to go. I'll wait for you.' The dream was fading now, its purpose served, and there was nothing Terrel could do about it.
'Don't worry. I'll wait for you.'
Terrel woke feeling a mixture of reassurance and terror. For the first time he realized the full implications of his escape. If he were to succeed it would mean abandoning Alyssa - and he was not sure he could bring himself to do that. It was one thing to leave her for a few days while he was planning ways to help her; it was quite another to contemplate fleeing from the estate altogether. He would not be able to return in the foreseeable future, perhaps ever. He would not be able to see her, speak to her . . . And yet in the dream she had given him her blessing, her promise -almost as if she wanted him to go. Dreams are sometimes meant to show us things. But could he trust them?
Looking out of the entrance of his man-made cavern, he saw the Red and Amber Moons, close together and low in the sky, both full. Love and dreams, he thought. Or violence and the spirit world. Who was to know? The gap in the cloud cover closed, and the moons were hidden again.
What choice do I have? he wondered. I can't stay. After this Aylor is bound to 'make an example' of me - and then I'll have abandoned Alyssa for good. At least this way there's the possibility of coming back.
He got up and dressed in his damp clothes, took one last look around, and thanked the island spirits for their welcome. Then he waded into the cold, black water, knowing that before he went to the stables - however stupid it was - he had to visit Alyssa's cell one last time, to bid her farewell.
Daybreak was still some hours away, and in the darkness he nearly missed the jetty and got entangled in the reeds. When at last he heaved himself out of the water and started back towards the house, the benefits of his night's rest already seemed to be slipping away and he began to doubt himself once more. His natural caution made him wait and watch at some distance from the haven, but he could detect no movement and there were no lamps burning now, so he moved forward and came to the window at the base of the north wall.
Peering in, it seemed to him that her pale shape was brighter than before - even more ethereal - but she still had not moved.
'Alyssa?'
There was no response, but he had expected none.
'Goodbye, my love. I will come back for you. I swear it.'
And then, tearing himself away as tears threatened to blind him, he headed for the stables, knowing that he would keep his promise. All he could hope for was that she would be able to keep hers.

PART TWO

THE WANDERER

Chapter Fourteen

Terrel and the cow stared at each other. It was probably true to say that neither had ever seen anything like it before.
Certainly Terrel had never seen a cow before - although he had heard them lowing earlier in the day, and had been wondering what sort of creature could possibly make such a loud and yet so mournful a noise. Having come face to face with the animal as he pushed his way through a narrow gap in a hedge, he was relieved to find that although its sheer bulk and stubby horns were intimidating, it seemed placid enough.
For her part, the cow - in as much as she was able to tell the difference between humans - probably recognized that this ragged figure was unusually shaped and that his eyes were strange. However, as he did not seem to be either a threat or a possible supplier of food, her natural curiosity was soon exhausted and she returned to her grazing.
This was not true for the others in the small herd. They had been further away when Terrel emerged into their field, and thus had not been able to see who or what he was. One of the nearest cows decided to investigate, and began to walk towards him slowly, and that piqued the interest of the rest. Soon all the cows were converging on him, some of them breaking into a lumbering canter, until they came to a halt a few paces away, forming a semicircle of curious stares. This renewed the inquisitiveness of the first animal, and she looked up again. One of the others mooed plaintively, and there was some slight jostling and shuffling of hooves as those at the back pushed forward to get a better view.
Terrel's first instinct had been to retreat, to put the hedge between himself and the herd, but now, faced with this attentive audience, he felt the urge to put on a performance for them, to dance or sing. That in turn made him want to laugh - and he acknowledged the unfamiliar impulse with gratitude. In the end he did nothing, and simply gazed back at the row of large eyes and slow-moving jaws.
He was thinking, for perhaps the hundredth time since leaving the haven, that the world was full of such commonplace wonders, when a wordless but obviously human cry sounded from the far side of the field.
'Heeey-yup!'
On hearing the remote voice the cows lost interest in Terrel and turned away, ambling across the meadow in the direction of the newcomer. As they thinned out, Terrel saw a figure - presumably the herdsman - walking towards him, and once again his first thought was of flight. Hard experience had taught him that he was unlikely to find much of a welcome among his own kind.
The farmer was a big man and he was carrying a heavy stick, with which he gave several of the cows almost friendly taps as they passed by. Should he choose to wield it as a weapon, Terrel had no doubt that it could land a crushing blow, but in spite of this he lingered, hoping that on this occasion his instincts would be proved wrong. It had been a long time since he had held a conversation with anyone, several days since he had even heard another voice, and the need for some sort of human contact was strong.
The man was obviously aware of Terrel's presence now and, although he moved in an unhurried fashion, his long stride covered the ground quickly, and there was a stern expression on his weather-beaten face.
'You're trespassing, boy. This is my land.'
Then he fell silent, and Terrel knew that this was because he was close enough now to have seen his eyes. He had become used to the reaction, and sought to deflect it as best he could.
'They're just eyes,' he said. 'They don't do anything special.' He half expected the farmer to make one of the surreptitious signs which were supposed to ward off evil, but he just stood where he was and met Terrel's gaze in steadfast manner, evidently assessing the stranger.
'What are you doing here?' he asked eventually.
'Nothing,' the boy replied, then realizing that this was not a sufficient answer, he added, 'I'm travelling . . . looking for somewhere to stay.' He was painfully aware of his own appearance. His clothes were torn and stained, and he was filthy. The only advantage to this was the fact that the dirt hid the tattoo on his left hand. He had grown thinner, and living rough had worsened the constant aching of his deformed limbs, so that his face had developed a gaunt and desperate look. It took little imagination to predict the way most people would react to his presence. Such a stranger would have been unwelcome in most places, even if his eyes had not been so unusual.
'Well, you can't stay here,' the farmer told him flatly, dashing any faint hopes that Terrel might have harboured about this encounter turning out differently.
'I know,' he replied meekly. 'Is there . . . Do you have any work I could do?'
The big man laughed.
'You don't look much like a farm hand to me,' he said.
'I've worked in stables.'
'I've all the help I need.'
Terrel accepted the rejection stoically. He had expected nothing else.
'I can read and write,' he said, refusing to give up all hope. 'Do you know of anyone-'
'You'd best try in the village,' the farmer cut in, his dark eyes betraying none of the incredulity that Terrel's claim had provoked elsewhere.
'Where's that?' In truth Terrel had no idea where he was.
'No more than half a league, over there,' the farmer replied, pointing across the field. 'There's a path through the woods that's easy enough to follow.'