"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 4 - Book of Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

land's natural wealth and the barren leavings of battle.
The last portion of his journey had been the worst. The fighting had
begun when the Baron of Sland had attacked the High King at Kholis, and
although the High King had never managed to restore his full authority,
several barons had helped him make sure that Sland would no longer be a
threat. The troublesome Baron had been assassinated after his defeat on the
field of battle, and his successor had made peace with his Eramman
neighbors-though Garth had heard rumors that the new Baron had designs on the
lands beyond his western border, outside Eramma's limits. Unfortunately, by
the time this peace had been established, much of Sland was a burned-out
desert. The land showed some signs of recovery after a year of peace, but was
still largely desolate and empty. Garth had been relieved to get up into the
hills, into the forests where he was not surrounded by mud and ash.
And now, as he emerged into the valley of Orgul, the warm, green vista
before him was a staggering contrast.
It was very odd. He had spoken with people along the way, wherever it
had seemed safe to do so, and those who had heard of Orgul at all had also
heard of the dragon; they had described the valley as a scorched wasteland.
Even in Sland, the survivors, racked by hunger and disease, had considered
themselves more fortunate than the people of Orgul. They had spoken of burned
crops, seared fields, empty, ruined villages, and whole populaces devoured or
destroyed.
That description did not accord with what Garth now saw. He wondered
briefly if somehow he could have gotten turned about in the forest's darkness
and wound up in the wrong valley. The sun was where he had expected it to be,
and he had noticed no other trails as he had ridden, but he resolved to ask
the first person he found.
If he was lost, he had no idea where he might be or how to get to the
real Orgul. He had little choice but to assume that he had indeed reached his
destination and that the stories of the dragon's depredations had been
exaggerated. He wondered whether the Forgotten King had known more of the
situation than he had said; Garth hoped that he was not once again becoming
entangled in some labyrinthine scheme the old man had concocted.
With an almost imperceptible shrug, he urged the warbeast forward. The
spire of a small temple gleamed golden above the trees before him, not more
than two or three leagues away at most; he was sure that he would find a
village there, and someone from whom he could ask directions. If there were no
one in the temple or village, then it was a safe assumption that he was in
Orgul and that the dragon was real and terrible.
The ride down the hillside was pleasant; the highway wound down from the
promontory through a final patch of forest before opening out into farmland,
and the morning sun poured through the leaves in a spatter of honeyed light.
Birds sang on either side. A deer wandered across the narrow road, then turned
and flied at the sight of the warbeast. Off to the left, Garth heard the
splashing of a rocky stream, its cheerful burble accompanying him down the
slope. He glimpsed a hawk overhead, soaring in graceful, wide circles.
It seemed utterly incredible that this peaceful valley could harbor a
dragon. Dragons were said to be the most formidable and destructive creatures
in all the world, and the dragon of Orgul, Garth had been told along the way,
was the most ferocious dragon ever known. Something here was not as it seemed,