"Brian Lumley - Born Of The Winds" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

“That’s so, yes.” He frowned again, moving in his chair in what I took to be agitation.

I waited for a moment, and then, when it appeared that the judge intended to say no more, I asked,
“And now?”

“Hmm?” His eyes were far away even though they looked at me. They quickly focused. “Now – nothing
… and I’m rather busy!” He put on his spectacles and turned his attention to a book.

I grinned ruefully, inclined my head and nodded. Being fairly intimate with the old man’s moods, I knew
what his taciturn, rather abrupt dismissal had meant: “If you want to know more, then you must find out
for yourself!” And what better way to discover more of this little mystery, at least initially, than to read
Samuel R. Bridgeman’s books? That way I should at least learn something of the man.

As I turned away, the judge called to me: “Oh, and David – I don’t know what preconceptions you may
have formed of Sam Bridgeman and his work, but as for myself … near the end of a lifetime, I’m no
closer now than I was fifty years ago to being able to say whatis and whatisn’t . At least Sam had the
courage of his convictions!”

What was I to make of that? – and how to answer it? I simply nodded and went out of the room, leaving
the judge alone with his books and his thoughts …



That same afternoon found me again in the library, with a volume of Bridgeman’s on my lap. There were
three of his books in all, and I had discovered that they contained many references toArctic and
near-Arctic regions, to their people, their gods, superstitions, and legends. Still pondering what little I
knew of the English professor, these were the passages that primarily drew my attention: Bridgeman had
written of these northern parts, and he had died here – mysteriously! No less mysterious, his widow was
here now, twenty years after his demise, in a highly nervous if not actually distraught state. Moreover, that
kindly old family friend Judge Andrews seemed singularly reticent with regard to the English
anthropologist, and apparently the judge did not entirely disagree with Bridgeman’s controversial
theories.

But what were those theories? If my memory served me well, then they had to do with certain Indian
and Eskimo legends concerning a god of the Arctic winds.

At first glance there seemed to be little in the professor’s books to show more than a normally lively and
entertaining anthropological and ethnic interest in such legends, though the author seemed to dwell at
unnecessary length on Gaoh and Hotoru, air-elementals of the Iroquois and Pawnee respectively, and
particularly upon Negafok, the Eskimo cold-weather spirit. I could see that he was trying to tie such
myths in with the little-known legend of the Wendigo, of which he seemed to deal far too positively.
 “The Wendigo,” Bridgeman wrote, “is the avatar of a Power come down the ages from forgotten gulfs
of immemorial lore; this greatTornasuk is none other than Ithaqua Himself, the Wind-Walker, and the
very sight of Him means a freezing and inescapable death for the unfortunate observer. Lord Ithaqua,
perhaps the very greatest of the mythical air-elementals, made war against the Elder Gods in the
Beginning, for which ultimate treason He was banished to frozen Arctic and interplanetary heavens to
‘Walk the Winds For Ever’ through fantastic cycles of time and to fill theEsquimauxwith dread,
eventually earning His terrified worship and His sacrifices. None but such worshippers may look upon
Ithaqua – for others to see Him is certain death! He is as a dark outline against the sky,