"Roger Taylor - Hawklan 2 - Fall Of Fyorlund" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

Dan-Tor had been locked in tormenting internal debate ever since his decision to lure Hawklan to the
Gretmearc to be bound and carried to Narsindal. Now it surged around him in a frenzy like a
wind-whipped sea overwhelming a rocky shore.

Grimly he fought off the onslaught, and brought his pounding emotions under control with an icy will that
belied the awesome glow in his eyes.

Whatever else had happened at the Gretmearc, Ethriss had not been wakened. He would not be stood
debating with himself in this accursed land if that had happened. He would be bound again in the
darkness, to wait another eternity, another Coming. He shuddered involuntarily.

His calmer counsels told him that much could be gained from this disaster.Must be gained, mocked a
voice within him.Must be gained, if you are to account to Him for your folly. He grimaced and dismissed
the tormentor.His anger must be faced in due course, come what may, but actions taken now could
perhaps alleviate it, and such actions would not benefit from fretful worrying.

Who or what Hawklan was remained an enigma. And one that spread further mystery in its wake. The
message brought to him by the failing bird was scarcely intelligible, but it was clear that Hawklan had
played little or no part in his own salvation, and was now fleeing the Gretmearc. And yet his saviour, too,
had fled, though by some route unseen, pitting his strength against one of the birds. The thought was
comforting. You’ll find the bird no easy prey, he thought, maliciously. It has strength beyond your
imagining, and when it defeats you, I’ll know you, and I’ll find you at my leisure.

Standing like a column of rock in the Orthlund sunshine, Dan-Tor’s turmoil eased gradually and the
unfettered hatred faded from his eyes. Nearby, birds began to sing again. He had been right. Hawklan
was a creature of some importance. True, he had not been bound, but his very presence had at once
exposed and perhaps immobilized a hitherto unknown enemy capable of wielding the Old Power against
Him. And now Hawklan himself was alone and presumably scurrying back to Anderras Darion like a
frightened rabbit to his burrow.

Caution seeped into Dan-Tor’s momentary ease. The man must still be bound and examined. But how
alert was he now? To risk the Old Power again would be unforgivable folly. He sensed a presence
approaching.

‘Captain,’ he said, without turning round.

Jaldaric stopped, surprised as always at the Lord’s awareness.
‘Lord, we heard rumbling and felt the ground shake. I thought perhaps there might have been a rock fall.

Dan-Tor turned and looked at Jaldaric. At the sight of the Captain’s fair hair a memory of long blond
hair glinting in the sun came to him, and a device for Hawklan’s binding came to him that was truly
earthbound and far from the deep powers of older times.

He smiled broadly, a white banner of welcome lighting up his creased brown face. ‘That was most
thoughtful of you, Jaldaric,’ he said, stepping forward appreciatively. ‘But I was in no danger. It was a
small earth tremor, nothing more. Unusual and most interesting.’

Jaldaric opened his mouth to speak, but Dan-Tor raised a hand and assumed an expression of almost
fatherly concern.