"Stephen Lawhead - Dragon King 02 - The Warlords of Nin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawhead Stephen)

regarded as much a prince as was Quentin; and in the city where all men
were servants of one another, this was the highest honor.
Toli returned and took the reins of both horses and led them out into the
quiet streets. Quentin followed at Toli’s right hand and listened to the clop
of the horses’ hooves upon the cobbled stones of the ancient streets. In the
east the sky shone with a violet haze which lightened into a golden-red
hue as the sun rose higher.
Toli sniffed the air and announced, “The wind is from the west over the
sea. We will have good weather for our journey.”
 “Good. I am hoping to be in Askelon before the new moon. We should
be able to manage that, aye?”
“It is possible. With good horses and the King’s road restored through
Pelgrin...”
“We have horses with wings, my friend. And Eskevar’s road is now
complete as far as the Arvin. We shall fly indeed.”
They reached the gates of the city and let themselves out. The gates
were seldom tended, since Dekra had no fear of intrusion and no real need
of defense.
At the small door which opened within the larger, Quentin paused and
took a long last look upon the city he loved. The red stone glowed with the
rosy hue of the rising sun. Towers and spires swept majestically into the
clear, cool morning air, gleaming and glittering like radiant crystal.
The ordinary sounds of the city waking to life echoed out into the empty
streets: a dog barked, a door opened and closed. Behind him Blazer and
Riv, Toli’s sleek black mount, shook their bridles, impatient to be moving
along. Quentin raised an arm in farewell to Dekra and then turned to his
horse.
“It is time for speed,” he called as he swung himself up into the saddle.
“On, Blazer!” The horse lifted his forelegs off the ground, gave a little
kick and leapt ahead to the trail.
Quentin pushed an eager course through the low hills and into the
wretched marshlands. They planned to hold north as far as Malmarby, thus
skirting the boggy wasteland as much as possible. At Malmarby they
would hire a boat to cross the inlet and swing along the shore west past
Celbercor’s Wall. Then the trail would become easier. They would make
for the Arvin River where it came spilling clear and cold out of the Fiskills
and ride through the wild foothills above Narramoor along the King’s new
road, and speed along through Pelgrin to Askelon.
The days on the trail were uneventful. Game was plentiful and, thanks to
Toli’s skill as a hunter, they never lacked for anything the hills could
provide.
They arrived at Malmarby village one bright morning, picking the wider
path toward the town out of the maze of bogs and wetlands which
surrounded it.
As they approached the village, Toli stiffened in the saddle and reined
his horse to a halt. Quentin mirrored his actions, wondering what had
alarmed his friend.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“Something is amiss in the village yonder. I feel it.”
“It looks peaceful enough. But let us go with caution.”