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

Rand clapped the horseman on the shoulder, and the awkward moment was dispelled. "Good! Now we must think upon how best to move the injured south; in this we must seek the advice of a healer. As to when to move them: if the Door opens at the mid of night on the twenty-fifth, and if the Host enters Kraggen-cor, then you must move them no later than the morn of the twenty-sixth, perhaps e'en sooner, to get them out of harm's way should Spawn flee the battle and come forth through this vale."
"Aye," answered Farlon, "there is mat to think on. And
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there are the horses, too. My original mission was to find them good pasturage, which I have done. Yet how will I get them south? Drovers are needed, but all my brethren are gone, and the wounded cannot move the herd. Yet the steeds cannot be left here."
"You can do nought but loose them and hope that most will follow behind your waggons bearing the hurt Dwarves," stated Rand. "They are horses of Riamon, more tame than the fiery steeds of your Land, more likely to follow. Even so, if they do not come with you, I think they will stay together in a great herd and wander to other pastures upon the western wold, to be found again once the issue of Drimmen-deeve is over and done with."
"Mayhap we should leave some of the horses behind, here near the Door; perchance there will be a need," suggested Farlon. "Come, let us see how that might be done. And, too, let us find a healer and speak upon the move south."
And the scout and the Prince strode away, leaving Cotton behind. And the Warrow watched across the black crater as the work at Dusk-Door went on. The Sun set and darkness fell, yet the toil at the distant Loom continued by lamplight. Shifts changed and fresh workers replaced weary ones. Dwarves not working slept, as Cotton finally did, succumbing at last to his fatigue.
The next morning. Cotton awakened to find that more than half the stone had been removed from the Door, and he was overjoyed until he tallied up the hours to find that more than half the work time also was gone. He breakfasted with Rand, who said, "It is going to be close. Whether we reach the portal-by mid of night depends upon whether any more great stones are found like the one last eventide mat took more than an hour to move." No sooner had he said that than word came that another massive block barred the way.
After breakfast, Cotton went to the remnants of the dam above the falls and sat and once again watched the work. Time passed, yet by midmorn the pile did not seem to have diminished. The Warrow let his sight stray up along the reaches of the massif and down into the black crater. And then his jewel-like eyes swept to the Sentinel Stand. He could see someone—Farlon it was—carrying a bundle of wood up
the steps to the top of the spire. Now why would the rider be carrying a fagot up there? But ere Cotton could puzzle it through, Durek brought his Chief Captains to the buccan, and Cotton began to describe the main features that the Army would see along the Brega Path, starting at the Dusk-Door.
Using copies of Perry's map, Cotton began by telling of the stairs leading up behind the western doors, and he went on to speak of the halls and chambers and passageways they would encounter within Kraggen-cor. The Captains were especially interested in places where there would be bottlenecks, or where maggot-folk could lie in ambush. Cotton had to draw upon all of his knowledge of the Brega Scroll te answer their enquiries, particularly those of Fetor the Driller, who asked many penetrating questions, dwelling almost exclusively upon the first several miles of the Brega Path. Cotton was later to discover that Felor's companies were to be in the forefront of the invasion—the spearhead of the Dwarf Army.
Though he couldn't answer all their queries, Cotton had done well, and the Chief Captains thanked him for the review, and at noon they withdrew. But shortly thereafter, Cotton went over the same information with another group of Captains. Three more times, meetings were held at which the Warrow spoke of the Brega Path in terms of bottlenecks, ambuscades, deployments, and other tactical features. It was sundown when he finished, and at last all the Captains had heard his words.
During the time Cotton was speaking, the work at Dusk-Door continued. At times it went swiftly, at other times slowly, yet progress was being made. More than three quarters of the stone was now out of the way, yet only seven hours remained until midnight. Lanterns were again unshielded, and the toil went on.
Cotton ate his evening meal, then sat once more atop the broken dam and watched the labor at the far wall. The stars began to shine in the vault above, and still the effort went forth. Time passed, and Rand joined the Warrow. "In just three hours night will be at its deepest," remarked the Man, peering at the starfield.
They continued to watch the work in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. Farlon came and joined them,
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but said nothing as he, too, regarded the sky and judged the depth of the night. Shortly, however, there came a cheer from the Great Loom, and Cotton sprang to his feet. "They're done!" he shouted. "They must be! See, the light shows only a few rocks remain, and they are being rolled into the black crater even now."
The three watched, and soon the lanterns began bobbing northward as the workers returned to the encampment. Word finally came: the task was indeed finished—the massive job done with. Durek, smiling, came carrying a lantern to the top of the falls. "Well, Friend Cotton," he rumbled, "we have succeeded, and with yet two hours to spare."
Durek summoned a herald to him and spoke a word or two. The herald stepped to the edge of the falls precipice and raised a golden horn to his lips, and blew a blast that echoed throughout the vale, causing all who heard it to leap to their feet with hands flying to axe hafts. And even though Cotton was standing next to King Durek, still the Warrow found himself reaching for the hilt of the Atalar Blade, so compelling was the night to arms of the War Horn.
At this sound, Farlon raised his own black-oxen horn to his lips, and an imperative call split the air. Again Cotton fc]t his heart thud and his blood surge, and his gaze leapt in wonder from Durek's golden War Horn to Farlon's black-oxen horn. And he glanced to the silver Horn of the Reach hanging by the green and white baldric over his own shoulder, recalling its heartlifting voice. The peals of these three clarions seemed, somehow, irresistibly compelling, though their calls were different: the golden horn was resonant and commanding; the black, flat and challenging; the silver, sharp and calling.
Cotton, too, felt the urge to sound the trumpet he carried— the silver Horn of the Reach—and his hand grasped the bugle; yet he did not set the wind to it, for he knew the dread this token held for the Dwarves; and so he let it fall back to his side unvoiced.
Yet other sounds peaied forth as Durek's and Farlon's calls were answered by the shouts of Dwarf warriors and by the clack of axe upon buckler, a sonance which soon became a great rhythmic pounding of steel upon bronze.
And Cotton's heart pounded too, and his blood surged and his spirit flamed as the Ragad Vale rang with the great
hammering and with the roar of the fierce War calls of the Chakka. And above this din pealed the wild cry of a hom of Valon, but above all belled the great golden command of Durek's mighty War Horn.
And the Dwarves of'the Army came to the golden call, for it was the summons of their King. Their blood was up and their hearts aflame, and as they came "they shouted and flourished their weapons to the sky, and their Dwarvish passions blazeu. And when the clamoring Host had gathered on the sides of the vale near the Sentinel Falls, a great proud cry burst forth from the Legion entire as above them Durek stepped to the edge of the linn and stood.
The light of he lanterns filled the valley before the Dwarf King, and he was wreathed in the blue-green phosphorescence. The Moon was full and shone down on him, and the circlet of stars on his black mail-shirt glittered silver in the moonlight. And at his side the water tumbling o'er the linn shimmered brightly. His black and silver locks fell from his helm, and his forked beard shone with luster. He grasped his silveron-edged axe in his right hand, and the blade sparkled. And he looked somehow greater than his stature, for he was King.
Durek raised his arms, and when quiet fell, he spoke; and though he did not seem to raise his gravelly voice, still all the Host heard him: "We stand ready to issue into our rightful homeland and drive the foul usurpers out. This ancient foe we have met in battle many times, and never yet have we suffered defeat at their hands. But heed me: My meaning is not that the Grg is a soft, easy opponent. To the contrary, the Squam are evil and cunning, and in every battle the struggle has been mighty and the outcome uncertain. Yet we defeated the Foul Folk in the Wars of Vengeance; we defeated them again in the Battle of the Vorvor; and we again defeated Squam in the Great War, as well as in the Winter War. And now, once more we go to fight the Grg, and this time the victory may be yet harder to grasp, for this time they shall be in their strength, for the battle will take place underground, where the Sun threatens them not. But we, too, shall be strengthened, for we shall be in our rightful homeland. And when this War is done with, Kraggen-cor shall again be ours!"
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There was a great roar of voices, and a pounding of axe haft upon stone, and the black and golden horns blew wildly.
After a time, Durek once more held up his arms for quiet, and slowly the swell of voices and horncalls and clatter of axes subsided, til only the susurration of the tumbling glitter of the Sentinel Fails remained. And above the shush Durek spoke: "We have conquered much that has stood in our way to come to this moment: we outfought the blizzard in the Crestan Pass; we overcame the deep snow on the Mountainside; we quick-marched long to defeat time and distance; we slew the vile Monster of me Dark Mere; and we moved a great mass of stone to uncover the Dusken Door. There is but one thing more that stands in our way, and that is the Grg Swarm. But as we have done before, so shall we do again: we shall meet them in battle and crush them! Victory shall be ours!"
Again there was a mighty shouting and a wild pealing of the black and golden horns, and the strike of axe haft on stone became a great rhythmic beat, and four thousand voices chanted, Khana-Durek! Khana-Durek! Khana-Durek! fBreak-death-Durek!] over and over and over.
At last Durek held up his hands for quiet, but it was a long time coming. "I go now to the Dusken Door to speak the words of power at mat portal. If the Squad of Kraggen-cor has won through the caverns to the goal, then at the .mid of this night we shall set foot into our ancient homeland, Yet hearken: it may not be the Squad we meet at the Door but, rather, the Squam army, for we know not the success or failure of Marshal Brytta's mission, and the Grg spies may have slipped past the Vanadurin and borne to Gnar word of our Army here at the Dusken Door. Regardless, if it is the Grg Swarm we meet, then we will begin the War just that much sooner and regain our ancient homeland all the quicker. Heed: We all know our battle assignments. Form into your Companies, for the hour is nearly arrived. And may Elwydd smile upon each of us, and Adon strengthen our arms."
Then Durek flashed his axe up to the moonlit sky and cried the ancient battle challenge of the Dwarves: "Chdkka shok! Chdkka cor! [Dwarven axes! Dwarven might!"]
And thrice a mighty shout went up from all the Host: Chdkka shok! Chdkka cor! and Cotton felt his heart leap and his blood surge. The Warrow stabbed his sword to the sky
and he, too, shouted with all the Legion the battle cry of the Dwarves. And he turned to see that Rand, also, had his Riamon blade upraised in solemn pledge; and Farlon stood with the butt of his spear grounded to the earth of the Valley Ragad as a steadfast vow that he would lead the wounded to the south, out of harm's way.
Then Durek spun on his heel and started for the Door with Cotton and Rand at his side; and the Dwarf Legion surged along the Old Rell Spur and up the cliff to follow after, while Farlon of the Valanreach stood firm.
As the warriors strode around the crater and by the cairns along the Great Loom, desperate thoughts whirled through Cotton's mind; Oh, please let Mister Perry be at the Door. He's just got to he there. It won't be right if he ain't. But then he thought, Whoa now, Cotton Buckleburr, why are you thinkin' he might not be there? You know he'll make it. Nothing can stop 'him. not even a black mine full of maggot-folk. It'll sure be good to see him again—if he's there. If he ain't there, well, then, I'll just lead the Dwarves down the Brega Path til we find him and the others, even if Marshal Brytta didn't stop those spies and we have to go through a whole Spawn Horde. But I won't have to do that, 'cause Mister Perry'11 be there and the maggot-folk won't be ... I hope. Then he'll lead and I'll follow. But if I do have to lead then it's: two hundred steps up the broad stair; one and twenty and seven hundred level paces in the main passage 'round right, left, right, and right turns passing three arches . . . And as Cotton strode with the odiers toward the Door, through his mind marched the beginning steps of the Brega Path.
At last they halted at the place of die Dusk-Door. Blank stone loomed where the portal should appear. It was not quite midnight, and so they stood and waited. Behind them the Host moved into position: Felor's companies were first, standing ready with axes, and some sported small bucklers on their left arms. Cotton could see rank after rank of Dwarves stretching back around the black crater toward the Sentinel Falls. Lanterns glowed softly, carried by the warriors. Cotton's eyes followed the lights all the way to the last group of lanterns: Bomar's company: die rear guard.
Atop the Sentinel Stand stood Farlon and a head-bandaged Dwarven observer, peering at the stars overhead and at the
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