"Julia Gray - Guardian 04 - The Red Glacier" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

— of course — it was not moving. But from the sea it had not really seemed
like land at all. So much of it was covered in snow and ice, some of it
apparently permanent, that it looked more like a piece of ocean that had
frozen over, like a giant iceberg. Even from a distance it was clear that the
mountains of the interior were huge. They were mostly shrouded in mist or
cloud, but when the sunlight finally broke through, their peaks shone like
pure white beacons.
As the Skua sailed closer, the rugged nature of the coastline had become
apparent. Where the slopes were too steep to be covered with snow, much of the
rock was black or dark grey, but even that sparkled, as if it were studded
with crystals. Finally, Terrel had caught a glimpse of the fabled sculpture.
Although he'd known it would be
impressive, the real thing had taken his breath away. The manner in which its
sinuous lines mimicked life, almost as though it were swimming in the air
above the cliff, was remarkable. This was no crude shaping of a convenient
piece of rock; this was a true work of art, as beautiful as it was
astonishing. And the fact that it could achieve this effect on such a huge
scale was truly awe-inspiring. The stone whale was colossal. To conceive of
such a structure, let alone actually shape it, did indeed seem to be the
province of gods rather than men.
As the Skua had drawn round into the lee of the headland, Terrel had gazed up
in wonder. For a moment he'd thought that perhaps a real creature had been
frozen in stone many ages earlier, just as the dragon-lizard and her eggs had
been preserved in the desert of Misrah. But he'd soon dismissed the idea.
Savik's Whale was a deliberate creation, not an accident of history.
He had been given no more time to stare and speculate, as preparations had
quickly been made for his departure. At least the weather had been kind, with
the sea as calm as it was ever likely to be. Terrel's blithe assumption that a
landing would have been possible whatever the conditions had seemed very
foolish then. If it had turned rough, he would have had no chance at all. As
it was, he'd already begun to doubt his own decision, purely because of the
nature of the terrain he would be entering.
'I hope you know what you're doing,' Ostan had said in parting.
'Be careful,' Kjolur had advised. 'The Gold Moon is full tonight.'
Terrel had not known why this was relevant — and at that moment, as he climbed
down the rope ladder to the waiting skiff, the position of the moons had been
the least of his worries. The rest of the crew had been silent or, like
Kahl, had simply wished him good luck. By then, Terrel had known he was going
to need it.
He spent the night huddled in a small, salt-smelling cave, which he fervently
hoped was above the highest tide line. The darkness proved to be almost
complete, with just a little moonlight filtering through a canopy of cloud.
Terrel found that when he could see nothing, the relentless, ever-changing
noise of the wind and sea seemed even louder and more threatening. He kept
imagining that the waves were coming closer and would soon flood his meagre
shelter, plucking him from his refuge like a clam being pulled from its shell.
He was cold and afraid, and although he knew he ought to get some sleep to
prepare himself for the exertions of the next day, both his body and his mind
remained restless.
Part of the reason for his long journey towards Myvatan had been the advice