The Horn of Moran - Forman Mark L (читать полную версию книги .TXT) 📗

Alex felt something powerful and as cold as ice hit him from behind. Pain filled his mind and drove him to his knees. He lifted his head and saw his sword on the ground a few yards in front of him, but he couldn’t remember dropping it. A great weight seemed to be resting on his back.

“Your sword is no match for my magic, boy,” a rough, jeering voice said from Alex’s left. “Take him. Put him with the others. We’ll have some good sport with this lot once we get home.”

Take him.

Those two words burned into Alex’s mind, igniting his anger once more. Take him—as if he were no threat, as if he were a piece of baggage to be carried away. He would not be taken, not by these foul creatures, and he would not submit to the magic that held him down. His friends might already be lost, but he would make the goblins pay for that loss.

As his anger rose up inside of him, the weight on his back grew lighter. Alex pushed himself to his feet, turning to look at the goblin who had spoken. Even in the shadow-filled meadow Alex could see the shaman clearly. A strange black mist filled with purple and blue streaks seemed to float around his enemy like a lightning storm at night. In his right hand the shaman held a staff with what looked like a human skull attached to the top of it. Seeing the skull sent Alex into an even greater rage, but instead of letting the anger take control, he used it to focus his thoughts and his magic.

The goblin’s eyes grew wide as Alex stood up. The purple and blue flashes around the shaman grew brighter and spun around him with dizzying speed. He was terrible to look at, but his voice was full of fear when he started to yell.

“Kill him! Kill him now!”

Alex reached out for his sword and it flew through the air to his hand. Even as his fist closed around the hilt of the sword, the dark blade was moving, becoming a blue-white flame. Three warriors stood between Alex and the shaman, but the flaming sword passed through them without slowing, instantly turning them to ash.

The shaman raised his left hand to cast a spell, but he wasn’t fast enough. The world seemed to slow down around Alex, and for a moment he could hear no sound at all. He didn’t move forward to kill the shaman with his sword, he only moved his own left hand in a small circle.

Flames exploded from the shaman’s chest, rising fast and hot and spinning wildly around the rest of his body. The shaman screamed in agony as a whirlwind of flame consumed him. Alex poured all of his anger into the fire, letting it grow larger and hotter with each passing second. The tornado of blue-white flame was more than thirty feet tall when it started to move with deadly speed and accuracy.

Goblins ran in every direction, yelling and screaming words that Alex didn’t hear. Wherever the goblins went, the flames followed, burning them like dry grass on a windy day. Rocks and trees exploded when the heat of the flames touched them, the debris tearing apart any goblins that were nearby. Soon it looked as if the entire forest was on fire, and Alex did nothing to slow the flames.

Once more he let his magic flow outward, searching for the cursed creatures he wanted so much to destroy. There were a few goblins left in the forest around him, but most were running away in panic. He could feel more goblins in the distance, but they were too far away for the flames of his anger to reach them. They would live for now, but sooner or later he would find them and destroy them, just as he had destroyed their shaman.

Slowly Alex’s anger faded. With his rage spent, the tornado of flame flickered and died out, leaving only the burning trees to light the meadow around him. He was tired, worn out, and terribly sad. His friends were lost, he was alone, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Dropping to the ground, Alex tried to think. The shaman had said something about the others, but in his anger he hadn’t been listening. It was something important, something he needed to remember, but it wouldn’t come to him. Before he could force the answer out of his tired brain, Alex collapsed into unconsciousness.

Chapter Eight

Hostages

It was a few seconds before Alex realized he was awake and that the feeling of something approaching was more than just another bad dream. He didn’t move a muscle as he waited, letting his magic tell him what he needed to know. He tightened his grip on Moon Slayer, ready for whoever or whatever was creeping up on him.

In a flash of speed Alex was on his feet, his sword raised and ready to strike. Sindar jumped back in surprise, his own swords coming up in defense. For a second the two of them looked at each other, unable to believe what they were seeing.

“Alex! You survived,” Sindar almost shouted.

“Sindar, you’re alive,” Alex said at the same time.

They threw their arms around each other like long lost brothers, and for a minute nothing else in the world mattered.

“The others?” asked Alex, as they broke apart. “Have you seen any sign of them?”

Sindar shook his head “I thought . . . I thought you were all dead because of my foolishness.”

“Foolishness? What are you talking about?”

“I should have known this was a trap,” Sindar answered slowly. “I have fought goblins many times before. I know how cunning they can be. I should have known that an open path would lead to a trap. Forgive me, Alex. I’ve failed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alex said softly. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should have noticed the shaman’s magic sooner. I shouldn’t have been so confident in my own abilities. If I hadn’t believed everything my magic told me, this never would have happened.”

“You are not to blame,” Sindar replied. “And perhaps neither am I. Enough of doubts and blame—there will be time for that another day. What about the others? I’ve seen no sign of them, and I’ve searched the dead between here and the rocks we took cover behind last night.”

“I haven’t seen anyone,” said Alex. “What happened to you during the battle?”

“Halfdan and I were in the lead,” Sindar said. “Fifteen or twenty goblins attacked us, and we were separated in the fight. I tried to get back to the rest of the group, but more goblins appeared. I thought it best to lead as many of them away from the company as I could, so I killed a few to make sure they would follow me and I led them west.”

“He said to put me with the others,” Alex said suddenly. “‘Put him with the others. We’ll have some good sport when we get home,’ that’s what he said.”

“Who said that?” Sindar asked in alarm.

“The goblin shaman. He was here when I entered the meadow. He hit me with some kind of magic that pinned me to the ground. I don’t remember everything that happened, but I know he said to put me with the others.”

“The shaman? Did he escape with the other goblins?” Sindar questioned in a worried tone.

“No, I destroyed him,” Alex answered, sitting down on a large rock.

“It would have been better if our friends had died with him,” Sindar said slowly. “Death is better than being hostage to a goblin.”

“Hostage?” Alex questioned in alarm.

“You are sure the shaman said to put you with the others?” Sindar asked, ignoring Alex’s question.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what he said.”

“Then the others have been captured, probably with the help of the shaman’s magic. The goblins will take them back to their caves, and then . . .”

“If our friends are alive we have to go after them,” Alex said. “If there is any chance at all of saving them we must try.”

“Yes. It will be difficult, but we must try.”

“Let’s get started,” said Alex, standing up once more. “The goblins have been running for hours, we need to hurry if we are going to catch them.”

“Rest a little longer, Alex,” Sindar answered. “You’ve had a long night and used a great deal of magic. You will need all the rest you can get if we are to chase the goblins on foot.”