"McKiernan, Dennis L - Silver Call 02 - The Brega Path UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKiernan Dennis L)

Cotton tried to pay heed, but his mind simply could not concentrate upon Bomar's words. Had the Dwarf been speaking of growing a garden, or of shaping wood, or of treating an animal or a bird, then the buccan's attention would have been riveted to every syllable Bomar uttered. But the
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Masterdelver was speaking of stone and levers, of slings and prybars, of work shifts and duties; and even though these words were vital to the mission and vital to the rescue of Mister Perry and the others, Cotton's thoughts purely would not stay focused upon Bomar's work plan.
Instead, the Warrow again fretted about Mister Perry, wondering where the Squad was, and whether they had met with mischief: how had they fared? And his thoughts scurried along these endless paths to nowhere, for how long he did not know.
But suddenly, he became aware that he was listening intently, not to Bomar, but to the valley, for it seemed as if, above the shush of Sentinel Falls, he had heard a fainf cry; yet it was so dim, so far away—just on the edge of perception— that he wasn't at all certain whether he had actually heard.it, or had merely imagined it.
The Warrow swept his emeraldtne eyes around the circle; no Dwarf there appeared to have noted anything other than Bomar's words; yet both Rand and Brytta seemed to be listening intently for a distant call—especially Brytta, who had risen to his knees and turned his face toward the west.
There! It came again! To Cotton the call had the sound of a far-off horncry. Brytta cocked his head and held Up his broken hand. "Quiet!" he barked. A hush fell upon the Council, and only the cascade of the falling water failed to heed Brytta's sharp command,
Once more! Again! It was a homcall! Now all heard it, and it grew stronger:
A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! Over and again it belled, growing louder, and Marshal Brytta leapt to his feet. "A foe! Alert!" he cried, his good left hand gripping his spear as he sprang to the rock in circle center, his sharp gaze piercing the length of the valley to the'west.
"A horseman comes!" cried down a Dwarf lookout from atop the Sentinel Stand.
A-raw, a-rahn! came the call again; and at last bursting into sight along the valley floor came a rider flying at full gallop; clots of flood-dampened earth were flung.behind from plunging hooves as the horse thundered down the vale and toward the Host along the Old Rell Spur. "It's Arl!" cried Brytta. "From Redguard Mountain! From Quadran Gap!"
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Couching, his spear, Brytta blew a signal upon his own black-oxen horn—Hahn! Hahn! (Here! Here!)—and he sprang toward the stairs beside the linn and plunged down them to meet the flying scout.
No sooner, it seemed, had Brytta reached the bottom of the steps than Arl pounded up, hauling his lathered mount short as he leapt to the ground. Quickly the two Men spoke in Valur—the warrior tongue of VaJon—with Arl gesticulating fiercely, his hands and spear describing numbers, directions, and actions. In but a moment Marshal Brytta brought him up ,to the Council circle as all eyes followed them, and Cotton discovered his heart was racing. Brytta spoke: "It's Wrg! Some know we are here! They go to warn Gnar!"
Angry shouts burst forth from many in the circle, while others spat oaths and gripped their axes. Durek held up his .hand, and when silence returned he motioned for Brytta to continue. "It seems as though the secret High Gate is known to the Spawn after all, and we are revealed. But here, let Arl tell it."
The tall young rider of Valon stood before them. As with all the Harlingar, he was clothed in leathern breeks and soft brown boots, while a fleece vest covered his mail-clad torso. Art's steel helm sported a flowing black horse-tail crest, and his flaxen locks feli to his shoulder. He bore a spear in his left hand, while a long-knife was at his belt, and a bow and arrows could be seen at his horse's saddle, as well as a scabbarded saber. At his side depended a black-oxen horn, taken from the wild kine of the south—the mark of a Son of Harl.
It could be seen that the youth was weary; yet his manner belied the fatigue, for he stood warrior straight. With a quick sweep of his eyes, Arl's intense gaze took in the Council circle, and in a firm voice he spoke, his scout's report stripped starkly bare of all but the essential facts: "For those here who know it not, three nights past, Eddra, Wylf, and I were left atop Redguard Mountain to watch for a Wrg army should they come to attack from Quadran Col.
"Last night a torch-lit Rutchen band of thirty or so scuttled down from the Gap and turned south toward this valley.
"Leaving Wylf behind to watch for a larger force, Eddra and I rode from Redguard and trailed the Spawn at a distance.
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Our plan was to divert them were they nigh to discovering the Host; or, should we fail to deflect them, our plan was to warn the Legion if the Wrg espied you here in this place.
"We followed them south for some leagues, when -the band we trailed met up with a like number coming north from the direction of this vale.
"They joined forces and turned back for Quadran Gap. Yet heed! As they loped past where we were hidden, we overheard them cursing: '. . . we tell Gnar of the lake-draining army of foul-beards at the buried door!'
"Krukf" burst out Durek, siamming fist into palm, his face dark with rage. "They know who we are, where we are, our exact numbers, and our very goal!"
Again angry shouts swept forth from the Council .circle, and many pounded the flats of their axes to the ground while venting oaths. Durek struggled to master his own passion, and held up his hands for silence; and Dwarves swallowed their rage and clenched their jaws. And when quiet returned the Dwarf King motioned for Arl to continue.
"Eddra is tracking them yet, or did so til dawn," the young rider spoke on, "leaving sign along the Grg path, marking their dash for the hidden High Gate. I came as quickly as I could to warn of the danger." '.,
Ar! turned to Brytta. "Sire," he spoke urgently now to his commander, "there are perhaps seventy of them, and they are swift. Yet I think they have not now reached the pass, for dawn was nigh and first light of day wil! find them holed up until sunset, when once again they will take up the race for the Black Hole. They must be intercepted ere they can carry word to Gnar, else we are foredone; and the riders of the Valanreach are the only ones fleet enough to overhaul their track." The youth, pale and harried from his all-night venture, looked into the drawn, tired faces of Brytta and the Council, weary, too, from their night-long struggle with the Krakenward.
Durek, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, rasped, "Marshal Brytta, Warrior Arl is right. Only the Vanadurin can thwart this threat." As the Dwarf King looked.up at the Reach commander', others in the Council grunted and nodded their agreement, for it was clear that only the horse-borne Harlingar -would be swift enough to overtake the fleeing
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Squam. No one there knew just how far the two bands of maggot-folk had gotten before dawn broke, the oncoming dayrise forcing the Spawn to take cover in the splits and cracks of the western side of the range to await the onset of night and the final dash for the High Gate. Indeed, perhaps some had already reached that goal and even now were on their way to Gnar with news of the Dwarves at Dusk-Door.
Brytta's voice was grim: "Arl, get a fresh mount; you will lead us back to'Eddra. If they have not yet done so, these Wrg must not escape to alert Gnar. Go now; and bring Nightwind to me." And as Arl sprang down the steps, the Reachmarshal glanced at the morning sky. "Prince Rand, by the straightest horse route, how far lies the road to Quadran Gap?"
"Nine leagues, perhaps ten, through the foothills by horseback will set you upon the way to the pass," answered Rand after some thought. Both Brytta and Durek grunted in agreement, for the estimate confirmed their own. Rand continued: "The route through the margins wil! be rock-strewn and slow, rugged, broken, though I can see no swifter way to cut off the Yrm." Rand then turned to the Dwarf King. "Even so, King Durek, when the Vanadurin reach the road, how far upwards should they ride? Where lies the secret High Gate?"
Durek shook his head. "Lore only tells us that it is some--where within the pass. Yet it cannot be more than a league or three upslope, for we now know that it is this side of the high snow, the deep snow, else the Grg could not have used it. How they found it and discovered the way of its working, we may never learn, though they have had more than a thousand years to know of it."
"Oh, no sir," spoke up Cotton. "Beggin' your pardon, King Durek, but I think they've not known about it all that time. Why, if they knew of that High Gate just as recent as Tuck's time—two hundred thirty or so years past—well then, Sir, you can stake your last copper on the fact that they'd've used the High Gate to get at him and the other three when those four tried to cross over Stormhelm during the Winter War." Cotton looked around and saw nods of agreement. "So, as I'd say, since they didn't grab at Tuck in the pass, well, they must have got that secret door open since then."
Brytta glanced down into the vale and saw Arl riding a
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fresh mount and leading Nightwind to the Sentinel Falls.. "Regardless as to when it was discovered by the Wrg, they know of it now. No more time can be spent in speculation.ft is time for deeds, not talk." And Brytta raised his black-oxen, horn to his lips to signal the Harlingar.
"Wait, Sir!" cried Cotton. "What about the wounded? What about those hurt in the fight with the Monster? Who will take them south? And, for that matter, what about the horses? We can't just leave them here in this dead place; how will they live?"
"Cotton, my gentle friend, unforeseen events are running roughshod o'er us, trampling our careful stratagems,"'declared Brytta. "Hence, for those things you name—and-perhaps more—other plans must needs be made; for, wounded or not, horses or not, still the Spawn must be stopped ere they reach the High Gate; and none else can do that but the Vanadurin. We must ride now!"
Astride a fresh mount and leading the ReachmarshaFs steed, Arl had come to the foot of the linn; and Nightwind reared and his forelegs pawed the air, sharp hooves flashing. Brytta glanced down, and then spoke to all in Council: "Fare you well, Lords. May each of you succeed in your mission, and we in ours." v
And Brytta again raised the black-oxen hom to his lips, and this time an imperative call split the air. Nightwind belled a challenge, and other notes rang forth as Brytta's c.all was answered in kind by each of the Harlingar; and horn after horn resounded, which set the echoes to ringing, and the Ragad Vale pealed with the fierce calls of the untamed horns of Valon.
'Mid the Vanadurin homcries to battle, Brytta sprang down the steps and vaulted to Nightwind's back. And'with yet another blast upon his horn, the Reachmarshal spurred his dark steed to the west toward the mouth of the valley, and at his side rode Arl on a grey. High upon Arl's upright spear flew the War-banner of the House of Valon: a white horse rampant upon a field of green, an ancient sigil ever borne into battle by the Harlingar.t And as Brytta and Arl went swiftly past each of the other riders, they, too, spurred in behind. Soon all the Vanadurin were in the column, riding at a fast pace, in pairs, a forest of spears bristling at the morning sky:
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thirty-seven grim warriors upon whom the hopes of the Dwarf Army rested.