"David Zindell - Ea Cycle 04 - The Diamond Warriors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zindell David)

nine. For Kane, the greatest of all warriors, had ridden off to Galda to oppose
Morjin through knife, sword and blood, in any way he could.
'Kane,' I told Master Juwain, 'would say that I should stab my sword through
Morjin's heart and cut off his head. Then cleave his body into a thousand pieces,
burn them and scatter the ashes to the wind.'
Maram's ruddy face blanched at this. 'But how, Val? You cannot defeat him in
battle.'
'We defeated him in Argattha, when we were outnumbered a hundred against nine,' I
told him. 'And on the Culhadosh Commons when he sent three armies against us.
And we defeated his droghuls and his forces in the Red Desert - and in Hesperu,
too.'
'But that was different, and you know it!' Maram's face now heated up with anger -
and fear. 'If you seek battle, none of the Valari kings will stand with you. And even if
they did, Morjin will call up all his armies, from every one of his filthy kingdoms. A
million men, Val! Don't tell me you think Mesh's ten thousand could prevail against
that!'
Did I truly think that? If I didn't, then I must at least act as if I did. I looked at Atara,
whose face turned toward me as she waited for me to speak. Then it came to me that
bravura was one thing, while truly believing was another. And knowing, with an utter
certainty of blood and breath that I could not fail to strike down Morjin, was of an
entirely different order.
'There must be a way,' I murmured.
'But, Val,' Master Juwain reminded me, 'it has always been your dream to bring an
end to these endless battles - and to war, itself.' For a moment I closed my burning
eyes because I could not see how to defeat Morjin other than through battle. But
neither could I imagine any conceivable force of Valari or other free people defeating
Morjin in battle. Surely, I thought, that would be death.
'There must be a way,' I told Master Juwain. I drew my sword then. My hands
wrapped around the seven diamonds set into its black jade hilt while I gazed at
Alkaladur's brilliant blade. 'There is always a way.'
The silver gelstei of which it was wrought flared with a wild. white light. Somewhere
within this radiance, I knew, I might grasp my fate - if only I could see it.
'You will never,' Master Juwain said, 'bring down Morjin with your sword.'
'Not with this sword, perhaps. Not just with it.'
'Please,' Master Juwain said, stepping closer to lay his hand on my arm, 'give
Bemossed a chance to work at Morjin in his way. Give it time.'
A shard of the sun's light reflected off my sword's blade, and stabbed into my eyes.
And I told Master Juwain, 'But, sir - I am afraid that we do not have much time.'
Just then, from out of the shadows that an oak cast upon the raspberry bush, a
glimmer of little lights filled the air. They began whirling in a bright spray of crimson
and silver, and soon coalesced into the figure of a man. He was handsome of face
and graceful of body, and had curly black hair, sun-browned skin and happy eyes
that seemed always to be singing. We called him Alphanderry, our eighth
companion. But we might have called him something other, for although he seemed
the most human of beings, he was in his essence surely something other, too. At
times, he appeared as that sparkling incandescence we had known as Flick; but more
often now he took shape as the beloved minstrel who had been killed nearly three
years previously in the pass of the Kul Moroth. None of us could explain the miracle
of his existence. Master Juwain hypothesized that when the great Galadin had walked
the earth ages ago, they had left behind some shimmering part of their being. But