"Simon R. Green - Forest Kingdom 2 - Blood and Honor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

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Chapter One
Hidden Faces

The demon appeared from nowhere in a puff of evil-smelling smoke. The
warped and twisted trees of the Darkwood loomed protectively over the crouching figure. The High
Warlock stood tall and proud before the demon, his jet black cloak swirling ominously about him in
the evening breeze. The stagelights gleamed brightly from the cloak's silver embroidery of stars
and moons and sigils. The Warlock gestured imperiously, and a sword suddenly appeared in his right
hand. Gaudily coloured lights shrieked and flashed around the crouching demon, and the Warlock
stepped back a pace. The sword was no longer in his hand. He drew himself up to his full, imposing
height, and raised his arms in the stance of summoning. He chanted a spell in a deep, ringing
voice. The audience watched breathlessly, and then gasped in awe as bluewhite flames flared around
the Warlock's upraised hands. The flames danced and crackled noisily on the gusting wind, but the
Warlock's hands remained unburned. His voice rose to a commanding roar, and then the demon burst
into flames as the Warlock gestured sharply with a flame-wrapped hand. The twisted creature burned
fiercely, and the audience cheered. The High Warlock turned and smiled coldly at them, and they
fell silent before his unwavering gaze.
'And thus did the demons of the Darkwood fall before me, in the darkest hour of the Forest
Kingdom. In that faraway land, I stood shoulder to shoulder with the noble King John, and his
heroic sons Harald and Rupert, and the forces of darkness could not stand against us.' The High
Warlock low-ered his hands to his sides, and the bluewhite flames sputtered and went out. 'The
long night ended, the demon hordes were thrown down and destroyed, and the Forest Land was saved.
That was the way it had to be, for is it not written that evil cannot prevail against good, and
that the darkness shall always give way to the light?'
He clapped his hands sharply and the stagelights flared brilliantly for a moment, pushing
back the shadows of the falling evening. The lights dimmed again, and the Warlock folded his arms
across his chest. His black cloak folded about him like great membraneous wings. His gaunt face
was harsh and forbidding, and his cold grey eyes stared unwaveringly out over the hushed audience.
'And that, my friends, is the true history of the great and wondrous High Warlock, and his part in
the destruction of the Darkwood. A tale of adventure and intrigue, honour and treachery, and the
inevitable triumph of Good over Evil. My honoured friends . . . the performance is at an end.'
He bowed once, and then gestured imperiously with his left hand. Smoke billowed up around
him from nowhere, and then drifted away to reveal the actor standing alone in the middle of the
crude wooden stage, dressed once again in his simple everyday clothes. He stepped forward and
bowed deeply, and the audience beat their hands together until they ached. The Great Jordan smiled
and bowed graciously, but all too quickly his audience began to drift away, and only a few of them
paused to drop a coin in his offerings bowl.
Jordan waited until the last of his audience had left, and then he sat down on the edge of
his stage and began wiping the make-up off his face with a piece of dirty rag. Without the
carefully placed shadings and highlights, his face looked younger and softer, and nowhere near as
forbidding. His shoulders slumped wearily as the tiredness of the day caught up with him, and the
air of mystery and command that had surrounded him on stage vanished like the illusion it was. The
sword he'd used in his act poked him unmercifully in the ribs, and he pulled it out of the
concealed sheath under his cloth-ing. Seen up close it was battered and nicked and not at all
impressive. It was just a sword, which had seen too much service in its time. Jordan yawned and
stretched, and then shivered suddenly. Nights were falling earlier as the summer gave way to
autumn, and the rising wind had a cold edge. He glanced across at the smouldering demon, but the