"Roger Taylor - Hawklan 4 - Into Narsindal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

unfolded the map.

‘It’s a long time since I travelled this route, myself,’ he said. ‘But I can remember it quite well. However,
there’s no point in you just following me. If I get hurt or if we get separated, you’ll have to lead, so, with
respect, adviser to the Ffyrst, I’ll spend a portion of our journey showing you how to read this.’ He
tapped the map gently.

Agreth seemed doubtful, and anxious to be on his way, but Andawyr was insistent.

‘This is not bad,’ he said after a moment. ‘There’s some very good detail. See, we’re here.’ Agreth
screwed his eyes up in earnest concentration. Andawyr’s finger jabbed at the map and then out into the
greyness. ‘That is that small peak over there, and that is the larger one next to it.’

For a few minutes, for the benefit of his reluctant pupil, Andawyr identified on the map such of their
surroundings as could be seen, then the two men set off slowly and cautiously through the deepening
snow.

As they walked, Agreth told Andawyr of Sylvriss’s unexpected arrival in Riddin, and of her strange tale
of the corruption and decay of Fyorlund. He concluded with the interrogation of Drago, and the news
that the Morlider were preparing to attack Riddin, united now by a leader that was presumed to be the
Uhriel, Creost.

Andawyr stopped walking and looked round at the mountains, grey and ominous in the dull wintry light.
Not a sound was to be heard except the soft hiss of the falling snow.

Oklar ruling a divided Fyorlund, Creost uniting and guiding the Morlider, Rgoric murdered, Vakloss torn
apart, Hawklan struck down and perhaps even now lost in these snow-shrouded hills. He put his hand to
his head.

‘Are you all right?’ Agreth asked anxiously.

No, Andawyr cried out to himself in self-disgust. No. How can I be all right? Me, leader of the
Cadwanol, Ethriss’s chosen watchers and seekers after knowledge, who slept when all the demons of
the ages were waking and running amok! I just want to lie down in this cold grey silence and become
part of it – free from all this horror forever.

‘Yes,’ he said out loud, letting the now familiar reproaches rage unhindered and unspoken. ‘It’s just that
so many things seem to be moving against us.’ He looked up at the snowflakes spearing down into his
face, grey and black against the dull sky. ‘Even the weather’s moving against us,’ he said as his distress
slowly began to fade away. It would return many times yet, he knew.

Agreth looked on, uncertain what to say.

Andawyr gave a dismissive grunt. ‘Still, all we can do is walk forward, isn’t it?’ he said, stepping out
again. ‘And we find help in the strangest places, don’t we?’ He looked at his companion. ‘In the midst of
this lonely and ancient place, you find a cosy billet for the night, and I find someone to carry my pack.’

He laughed suddenly, and held out his arms wide. ‘I used to love this weather when I was a boy,’ he
said. ‘Sledging, snowballing. How can this be against me?’ Impulsively he walked over to a nearby rock
and scooped the snow on top of it into a single heap. Then he began compacting and shaping it.