"Brian Lumley - Dreamlands 1 - Hero Of Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

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PART 1

First Meeting

CHAPTER I

It was evening and the uplands of dream were turning chilly. Spiked grasses nodded in a slight
breeze, like hissing Gorgon heads, where they made silhouettes atop rocky rises. Soon the sun
would be down and the stars would come out to blaze in the heavens of Earth's dreamland. David
Hero did not know these parts, for his dreams had never before carried him here; he knew only that
he did not like this place, where green plains gave way to scrub, stony slopes and sliding shale,
and the crags cast gaunt shadows that would soon become threatening caves of blackness as night
drew in.

He shivered a little and fondled the hilt of his curved sword where it hung at his hip, then
turned up the hood of his brown cape a little—but not too much. He did not want to shut out the
evening sounds of these uplands, for his ears were sensitive and would often tell him of a danger
before the danger itself became visible. The breeze stiffened to a wind and moaned with an eerie
insistence as he leaned forward up the slope, and high overhead a scud of gray clouds hurried into
view as they crossed the peaks and headed south.

South .. .

BRIAN LUMLEY

Now why couldn't he have dreamed himself south? To Celephais, perhaps, where King Kuranes reigned,
or sky-floating Serannian where the west wind flows into the sky? But no, he was here, wherever
here was, and so must accept whichever dreams were his due this night. Whichever dreams ... or
nightmares.

David Hero knew he was in the north of Earth's dreamland, but no more than that. These peaks above
him could well be the ultimate range leading to Leng itself, whose plateau was home to some of
dreamland's vilest inhabitants; or they might merely be the foothills of that far mightier
escarpment, Kadath in the Cold Waste. Thoughts such as these had almost determined the dreamer to
turn back and head for healthier lands when, on cresting a ridge, he came upon a scene which had
him drawing his sword in a whisper of steel and falling automatically into a defensive crouch.

Below, a lone wanderer sought cover in crevices of rock; while ranged about him, a trio of six-
legged spider-hounds hissed and snapped at his leather-clad legs, trying to secure a hold on him
and pull him down. One of them awkwardly clutched a straight sword in a prehensile fore-paw,
having doubtless snatched it from the frantically scrabbling, hoarsely panting object of their
detestable torture.

David Hero knew some of the ways of spider-hounds from tales told to him by travelers and
storytellers in dreamland's more civilized regions: how they would wear a man down with their vile
hissing and leaping, then paralyze him with their poisonous stings and eat him alive, often making
their meal last through several nights. Such was obviously the intention of this monstrous trio,
and Hero could well understand the near-demented scrabbling of their victim as he sought to find