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

After a while, he realized that he must have been going round in circles, because he was back at the field where he had encountered the cows. The herd was there again, and so was the farmer. This time Terrel remained hidden within the foliage of the tall hedge, mindful of the fact that he had been told to keep away. He watched as the cows headed once more for the gate, which already stood open.
The warning began, as it always did, as a trembling deep inside him, but this time it was stronger than ever. Terrel was used to the sensation by now, and as the premonition grew to certainty, he simply accepted it. Then, as he looked around to make sure he was in as safe a place as possible, he remembered something the herdsman had said two days ago.
Before he realized what he was doing, Terrel set off across the meadow in his lopsided run, calling at the top of his voice.
'Don't go into the ravine! Don't-'
The farmer turned to look at him, his face darkening with anger, but the boy's words made him hesitate.
'I thought I told you-'
'There's going to be an earthquake!' Terrel gasped as he came to a halt under the man's stern gaze.
'There's nothing due for days,' the herdsman replied, but there was doubt in his eyes. Like every other farmer in Saefir, he was aware that several recent tremors had not been listed in the almanac. 'What are you talking about?'
'Old Runeshanks,' Terrel replied. 'What is it?'
'What do you . . . ?' The farmer set aside his surprise and answered the question. 'She's a witch who was buried inside the hill over there,' he said, pointing to one side of the ravine. 'Behind that cliff face.'
'The cliffs unstable, isn't it?' Terrel guessed, seeing immediately how rockfalls could lead to a legend about a vengeful witch.
'Yes.'
'The earthquake's going to wake her up,' Terrel went on, knowing he was right. 'Don't go in there. Not yet anyway.'
During this discussion the cows had been ambling on, following their usual routine, and most of them had now passed through the gateway and were heading towards the gully. They obviously did not sense anything out of the ordinary, and their owner knew that animals were often much more sensitive to such things than any human. And yet there was something about this strange boy . . .
He whistled loudly and the cows all stopped, turning their large heads to look at their master. They displayed no surprise, merely the curiosity that Terrel had seen before. Nothing happened for a while, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. Terrel's certainty did not diminish, but he could see the doubts building up in the herdsman's mind.
'If this is some sort of trick . . .' the farmer said threateningly, glancing round as if he expected the boy's accomplices to emerge from their hiding places at any moment.
'It's not. I swear.'
Most of the cows had now begun to graze on the sparse vegetation next to the trail, glancing back at their herdsman every so often. They still seemed quite content. Terrel saw the farmer draw in his breath to send them on their way again, and made one last despairing effort to convince him.
'Please don't go in there. It'll be soon now.'
The man frowned, his hand tightening on his stick, but then the trembling inside Terrel grew to a crescendo, and he knew the waiting was over.
'It's coming!'
The herd clearly agreed with him. Several of them began lowing in alarm, and a few had become skittish, shifting and stamping nervously.
The earthquake struck. Terrel was thrown to the ground, a victim of disorientation as much as the sudden vibration, but the farmer remained on his feet, staring in horror. The cows panicked and, although none of them fell, they charged in all directions, some crashing into the hedge, while others thundered back down the trail towards the men so that Terrel feared he might be trampled. The sound of their terrified lowing was joined by an ominous crashing from the ravine - and beneath it all was a deep growling that seemed to come from the bowels of the planet. The whole thing lasted only a few heartbeats, but it was the strongest tremor there had been in a long time.
When it was over, the herdsman called to his charges in a voice that shook, calming them as best he could. Then, as Terrel picked himself up, he glanced at the boy.
'How did you know?'
Terrel shrugged.
'I can't explain it.'
'Is it over?'
'Yes.' As with any earthquake there was the chance of some lesser aftershocks, but the boy could sense nothing else coming this time - and the animals all seemed calm enough now.
The farmer went round the herd, rescuing one of the beasts who had become entangled in the hedge, and patting each animal on their neck, talking to them softly all the while. Then, beckoning for Terrel to follow, he went to inspect the ravine. It was still passable, but the trail was strewn with rocks, some of them large enough to crush either man or cow. The farmer was white-faced with shock. He knew that without Terrel's warning he would have lost some of his herd at least, perhaps even been killed or injured himself.
'She woke up all right,' he said to himself, looking up at the cliff face above, then turned to Terrel. 'Can you always do that?'
'I think so.'
'Then maybe I have some work for you after all.'
Terrel was to spend almost two median months at the farm, and during that time he came as close as he had ever done to being part of a real family. The farmer, whose name was Ferrand, had overcome the initial qualms of his wife, Magana, and their two sons with the simple yet forceful argument that - no matter how odd he seemed - Terrel had probably saved not only his own life but those of half the herd as well. And, he had added, even if it was not for the debt he owed the boy, such a remarkable talent could prove very useful in these troubled times.
As always, it was Terrel's appearance that caused the most unease. Jehar - who, at twenty, was two years older than his brother Vizquel - remained suspicious of the newcomer for quite some time. However, as Terrel asked for nothing more than a place to sleep and enough food to live on - and in return did whatever he could to earn his keep - even Jehar eventually grew accustomed to the strange outsider. And when Terrel correctly predicted another tremor - less severe this time - he proved his worth to them all. He was also able to help Ferrand make the necessary amendments to his almanac by interpreting the various proclamations that were posted in the nearby villages.
As the days passed, Terrel began to learn the ways of the farm: the daily migrations of the cattle to pasture and back for milking; the slower rhythms of planting and harvesting various crops; the careful preserving of food in preparation for the harsher months ahead; the rituals involved in the feeding and care of goats and hens; and the regular trips to the nearest villages to barter produce for whatever else they needed. He discovered how the milk yield of the herd varied according to the aspects of the moons, and how the irregularities of the Dark Moon had caused several animals to become fretful or even barren. And through it all he felt an internal tug of war as his new-found contentment battled against the idea that he was betraying Alyssa.
He dreamt of her often - without ever being able to see her face - in between his regular nightmares, and each time he visited her that way he woke feeling strangely reassured, still convinced she was alive and waiting for him. When fully awake he was not so sure, tormenting himself with his own imaginings. But he had wandered so far from the haven that he no longer knew in which direction it lay - and even if he was to return, he had no more idea about what he could do to help her than he'd had when he left. Until he could answer that question he saw no point in moving on, and the attraction of having found a place where he was accepted, where his life had become stable, was undeniable. He had no wish to return to the outright hostility of his earlier wanderings, and chose not to accompany any of his hosts on their visits to nearby settlements. He was happy to remain a part of their small community, and they in turn had no wish to advertise his presence to the outside world.
There were three other people who lived and worked on the farm; a burly labourer called Ty, his wife Mia and their daughter Sarafia. At eleven years old, Sarafia was the closest to Terrel's age, and once she had overcome her initial shyness - and her nervous parents had come to terms with Terrel's presence - they spent a lot of time together. It was from the young girl that Terrel learnt of the legend of the enchanter, a story that was part of local folklore.
'He lived in a castle made of glass, on top of a mountain,' she told him. 'But sometimes he would come down among us to practice his sorcery. He had eyes that drew you in like a whirlpool. When you looked into them, all you could see was a faraway light, like the sun or a thousand stars - and if you did that you were lost. He could make anyone do anything he wanted then, especially the women.' She blushed at this, but Terrel didn't notice.
'My eyes don't have that effect,' he said. 'Rather the reverse, in fact.' But he could see now why his appearance caused such discomfort - and why Gallia's husband in particular had been so concerned.
'I don't believe all the stories,' Sarafia remarked, 'but I like hearing them.'
'You're good at telling them too,' he told her.
'Do you think so?' She smiled in genuine pleasure at the compliment. 'I'd like to be a travelling player, going to all the villages and putting on shows and telling stories. But I don't suppose I ever will,' she added, suddenly downcast. 'I'll probably be stuck here for ever.'
'There are worse places to be stuck,' Terrel said.
Terrel's time at the farm coincided with a number of strange sights in the sky. Shooting stars became an almost nightly occurrence, their short-lived beauty counterbalanced by their reputation as harbingers of conflict. When the stars fall so do the dreams of men, as the old saying put it. For several nights a distant comet was also visible, an ice-blue streak making its slow progress across the heavens - and that too was seen as an ominous event. There were also several eclipses of the sun by various moons. Regardless of the fact that all of these - even those caused by the Dark Moon on its altered course - had been accurately predicted by the seers, the unusually close grouping was seen as significant. The unnatural periods of reduced light filled the people in the shadows below with a sense of unease.
All this only served to intensify the rumours that were spreading throughout the countryside, concerning various upheavals in Makhaya, of dissent among the seers themselves, and of the imminence of unspecified disasters. This speculation was made worse by the undoubted fact that a split was developing between those who were guided by the heavens in all things, and those who saw themselves as more practical men - to whom most of the recent developments made no sense. In a situation where neighbours might take to spying on one another to make sure that no taboos were being flouted, and where soldiers constantly patrolled the countryside, tensions were bound to run high.
For the most part, the inhabitants of the farm were not directly affected by this uneasy state of affairs, but even in their relative isolation they could not remain unaware of it. Terrel in particular was frustrated by the fact that he did not know more. He thought longingly of Muzeni's journals, and wondered whether those hidden pages might contain answers to the mysteries that were currently engulfing Vadanis. But they too were beyond his reach, as remote as the Dark Moon itself.
'It's twisted too far,' Vizquel muttered, caught between frustration and panic.
'We can still do it,' Ty said, although his voice betrayed his lack of confidence. 'Come on, old girl. Keep trying. This'll be over soon.'
The cow bellowed as she strained helplessly. There had been several difficult calvings recently, but this was proving to be the hardest so far. To make matters worse, Vizquel's parents and Jehar were away at market when the labour began unexpectedly early, leaving the birthing in relatively inexperienced hands.