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

They followed the road northward for three more days, and Alex was relieved that there were no signs of goblins or anything else that might be trouble. Alex’s early morning watch remained his favorite time of the day as well, now that the company was together again. Alex continued his studies, but thought it best not to use any magic until he heard from Whalen, and Sindar agreed. Alex enjoyed talking with Sindar as much as anything. Sindar would answer questions he had and tell him stories of times long past. Sindar seemed to know a great deal about a great many things, and Alex thought he must be extremely old, even for an elf.

On the morning of their fourth day on the road, a geeb from Whalen finally arrived just as Alex was preparing to study his magic books. He was glad that the others were still asleep so he could read the letter in private.

Dear Alex,

I was pleased with the way you handled the return of Jonathan Cain’s bag. It sounds like you returned it at a time when it was most needed. Your generosity and kindness to the Cain family will both increase your honor and your fame. I’m sure your friends have mentioned this to you.

I am disturbed and troubled by the goblins you met. Goblins have always been rare in Norsland, and the fact that they had a shaman with them is alarming. I am also puzzled by the fact that the goblin shaman did not see you for what you are, at least not until it was too late. Magic knows magic, and the fact that the shaman didn’t know you had magic is odd and interesting. More important is the fact that you were able to destroy the shaman. An impressive feat for any wizard, and I am pleased that you were able to do it with the limited training you have had. We will talk more about this when we meet. For now, well done.

I would hope you have learned a valuable lesson: namely, emotions can be powerful tools, so long as you control them and they do not control you. You were able to control your anger and use it as a tool. Remember that lesson.

Now, about you feeling strong and refreshed after doing a great deal of difficult magic. I can’t be completely sure, but I think I know what has happened. Simply put, the magic you used to seal the soldiers’ oaths did much more than just that. When magic is used for great good, it tends to energize the person using the magic. You don’t need to worry, and you don’t need to stop practicing your magic. I’ve told you how you will feel when your magic is near its limit, so please continue to practice.

I am enclosing more instructions for your reading. You are doing well, and I am impressed and pleased to hear about your increased abilities with transfiguration. I should warn you, however, not to try to transfigure any of the guardians of the tower that you may meet. Transfiguring magical creatures can be more dangerous than you know.

Yours in fellowship, Whalen

Alex refolded the letter once he was done reading it and stored it in his bag. He told Sindar what Whalen had said, and Sindar was relieved to know that they didn’t need to worry about Alex’s magic anymore. Alex asked Sindar if goblins might be traveling in Norsland from some other land.

“They don’t use the arch, do they?” Alex questioned.

“They have some magic of their own,” Sindar answered. “Traveling to new lands is difficult for them, but not impossible. Goblins seldom move to new lands, however, unless they are forced to.”

“What about the shaman? Whalen was troubled by the fact there was a shaman with the goblins.”

“True shamans are rare,” Sindar replied in a thoughtful tone. “Even more rare than wizards.”

“A true shaman?” Alex questioned.

“As I understand it, true goblin shamans are born with their powers,” Sindar explained. “They need little training, and their power grows slowly for as long as they live. A true shaman can choose a lesser shaman and teach him to use magic. Lesser shamans have limited powers, but can still be deadly. I can see why Whalen is worried. If the goblin you destroyed was a lesser shaman, that means that a true shaman is still hidden somewhere in Norsland.”

“And if I destroyed a true shaman?”

“That would be my hope,” Sindar answered. “But I don’t know any way we can be sure of that.”

Alex didn’t ask any more questions. Before the rest of the company woke up, Alex sent another message to Whalen, asking if there was any way to know what kind of shaman he had destroyed. He was worried that a true goblin shaman in Norsland would mean trouble for his friends, but he didn’t know if he could do anything about it.

The company was soon on the road once more, and Alex’s thoughts turned back to how little time they had. They had been in Norsland for nearly three months, and he knew that there were never more than six months of good weather here. He hoped that they would reach the Mountains of the Moon soon and find the Horn of Moran. If they were lucky, they could make it back to Ollvi or maybe even Oslansk before winter set in. If they were unlucky . . . well, spending the winter in the pine forests didn’t sound like much fun to him.

Days went by, but the distant mountains never seemed to get any closer. Alex wondered how much further they would have to go once they reached the mountains to find the Tower of the Moon when a deep booming voice called out.

“Hold!”

Alex looked around but could see no one. He looked at his companions, but they were as surprised as he was.

“State your name and your business in our woods,” the voice called.

“I am Silvan Bregnest, the leader of this company,” Bregnest answered. “We are adventurers, seeking the Tower of the Moon.”

Alex was shocked that Bregnest had said where the company was going. He hadn’t even told Skeld and Tayo the details of their quest.

“And why do you seek it?”

“We seek a treasure that was lost there.”

“What treasure?”

“The Horn of Moran,” Bregnest answered again, a slightly dreamy quality to his voice. “It was carried there a hundred years ago and has not returned.”

It was so unlike Bregnest to talk about their final goal that Alex was certain there must be some kind of magic at work.

“Bregnest,” Alex said sharply, before the voice could ask anything else.

He turned toward Alex, looking as if he had woken up from a wonderful dream and longed to return to his sleep.

“Bregnest,” Alex said again, in as calm a voice as he could manage.

“What?” asked Bregnest, shaking his head.

“What are you doing?”

“We see you have a wizard with you,” said the voice, before Alex could say anything more. “His wits are not so easily confused.”

Bregnest and the others looked around as if they were hearing the voice for the first time. Alex was surprised and a little amused by the looks on his friends’ faces. Something in the sound of the mysterious voice made him feel safe and unafraid.

“Forgive us,” said the voice, as a large creature stepped out of the trees and into the road in front of them. “We are not trusting of outsiders.”

Alex looked at the creature and started to smile. The lower half of the speaker was a sleek black horse, but where the horse’s head should have been there was the torso of a man.

“I am Usel, leader of my people,” the centaur said proudly. “I ask your forgiveness, and swear that neither I nor my people will repeat what you have said.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Usel,” Bregnest replied, slightly shaken by the centaur’s sudden appearance. “You must look to your own security. We know that you and your people will not share what you have learned.”

“You are most kind, Silvan Bregnest. Will you do us the honor of dining with us? We have much to talk about.”

“The honor is ours, and we will openly speak of our plans and goals with you and your people.”