James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura
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- Название:Beyond the Mists of Katura
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- Издательство:Gollancz
- Жанр:
- Год:2013
- ISBN:9780575086869
- Рейтинг книги:3 / 5. Голосов: 1
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Beyond the Mists of Katura: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация
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‘We are all afraid when a Wytch Lord is among us,’ he said. ‘Kicking young Navar is akin to kicking your horse because you fell from his back.’
‘He spoke Ystormun’s words.’
‘But he is not Ystormun,’ said Lorok, Gorsu’s own elder shaman, a Wesman clad in bone and hide and tattooed so heavily it was hard to tell the age of his skin. But he was old, unnaturally so. ‘And we have until first light to plan an assault. Perhaps we should pray to calm ourselves, break bread, eat meat and find a way to do as Ystormun bids.’
Gorsu looked down at Navar, who was staring at him as if waiting for the next blow.
‘What was he doing inside you? Why is he here?’
‘Because the elves are here and he hates the elves above all things,’ said Navar, gasping for breath. ‘His touch is far harsher than that of Belphamun but his mind is not guarded.’
Gorsu snarled. ‘It sickens me that we are forced to do his bidding. We are Wesmen! Why do I find myself tethered to the whim of a creature with no skin?’
‘Must we have this again?’ asked Jhalzan. ‘Without them we would all be dead by now, burned or frozen or worse. Have patience, old friend. When eastern magic is gone, we can build free of its stink. We won’t need the cadre then, and there are only six of them.’
‘But with such power,’ said Lorok.
‘Only because it comes from the fingers of every shaman,’ said Jhalzan. ‘How will they dominate this world when you refuse to be a conduit for them?’
Lorok said nothing, but Gorsu saw the look that passed between him and Navar. The young shaman got to his feet and brushed dust and debris from his cloak. He looked at Gorsu as if expecting an apology. Gorsu pointedly turned his back on him and looked at Julatsa’s walls. They were more than forty feet high, but the Wesmen had ladders to scale them.
And would, but for the mages up there by the hundred and those elven warriors who moved so fast and fought so hard. By all accounts they were few, perhaps only a hundred, but their skills were already known to every warrior, and the stories would become taller around the fires tonight. Gorsu needed a way to combat them.
‘Lorok, a question.’
Lorok came to his shoulder. ‘Yes, my lord?’
‘Combined casting is the only way to achieve long range, is that right?’
‘Yes. The joining of so many minds lends distance and strength.’
‘My problem is that we will need multiple castings as we scale the walls. How close must you be for each shaman to target individual elves or mages?’
‘Well within spell range of the enemy,’ said Lorok.
Gorsu shrugged. ‘My warriors too. We are all throwing ourselves headlong into battle at the behest of your masters.’
‘Our masters,’ corrected Lorok.
‘There is no one alive who is my master,’ said Gorsu tersely. ‘How close do you have to be to target those on the walls? We must have time to climb and space to fight when we reach the ramparts.’
Lorok looked at him blankly. ‘I understand the basics of taking the walls, Lord Gorsu.’
Gorsu managed a smile. ‘Of course. But the Wytch Lords have provided you with nothing but their demonic fire, and I would not send my warriors into battle without shields for those who wish them.’
‘Making a shield is simple. Developing a casting to protect from magical attack is not,’ said Lorok. ‘Do your hide barriers deflect magical fire?’
Gorsu growled. ‘Ystormun wishes us to take a college city with inferior weapons. Perhaps he should be standing with us.’
‘Perhaps you should be careful what you say, Lord Gorsu.’
‘Why?’ Gorsu turned to face Lorok. ‘Are my words being relayed to your masters then?’
Lorok shook his head. ‘That is unworthy of you.’
‘Is it? I am not the only tribesman wondering where the loyalties of our shamen really lie. Nor am I the only one wondering if you can really turn your backs on the power they grant you.’
‘How long have I been your shaman?’ asked Lorok. ‘And in all that time have I given you one reason to doubt my loyalty to you and our tribe?’
Gorsu shrugged.
‘Then why do you question me now? I and my brothers are going to support you tomorrow and many of us will lose our lives doing so. We are proud Wesmen, we are the shepherds of your spirits. It saddens me that you’re suspicious of us.’
‘The world has changed, Lorok. I do not feel master of my own destiny, and that makes me suspicious. Your masters have ordered us to mount an attack that is ill judged and unnecessary. Should we win we will be weakened, and should we lose we will rot, and Ystormun and Belphamun will merely look for more fodder. This is not our way.’
‘It is our only chance to break human magic,’ said Lorok.
‘We will never break it,’ said Gorsu, and he felt a shameful pang of hopelessness.
‘Never speak such words,’ hissed Lorok.
‘The truth is inconvenient, is it?’ Gorsu turned away from Lorok. ‘My Lords Jhalzan and Hafeez, my cook fire is hot and the stew is strong; the drink is stronger still. Join me and let’s plot our victory.’
Gorsu glanced back at Lorok.
‘And you know what you must do. See that your brothers are ready.’
Auum flexed his left hand and sensed the weakness in his arm. He felt lost and alone. The Wesmen might have been bruised but they had not fallen back, and tomorrow would bring another battle. More TaiGethen would die, and Auum needed to run with them, even if he couldn’t hold a blade.
Doubts crowded his mind. He needed Drech but Drech was gone. Takaar too. That should have pleased him, but he could not shake the feeling that he had made the wrong decision. Stein and Ulysan had no such worries, but Takaar was out there beyond any sort of control and, for all Gilderon’s assurances, would do exactly as he pleased.
‘We had the right to kill him and we didn’t,’ he said. ‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s Takaar,’ said Ulysan.
Auum turned sharply from his vantage point on the highest balcony of the Julatsan college tower. It gave him a view across the calm city all the way to the furthest Wesmen campfires. Dawn was only a couple of hours away, and Auum had long since given up on sleep.
‘It comes to something when I can’t hear your heavy boots,’ said Auum. ‘Is that why we showed him mercy?’
Ulysan shrugged. ‘Why else? Deep down I still hope that he’ll come back to us and be the elf he once was. Stupid I know, but it’s what I’ve always hoped.’
‘I loved him,’ said Auum, feeling suddenly on the edge of tears and cursing himself for the weakness. ‘I so wanted him to see past his guilt and his paranoia, but he can’t, can he? You aren’t stupid, Ulysan. We all wish for the same and we’re all disappointed so often, aren’t we?’
‘But your hope hasn’t died, has it?’
Auum shook his head. ‘No, curse him. And try as I might to hate him, I can’t maintain it. I can’t dismiss him.’
‘So stop wasting your energies on Takaar. Concentrate on our real enemies.’
‘I do, and I fear their magic. Even under the shetharyn I was hurt, and we lost seven. Seven . Their black fire is an indiscriminate power and its touch is so harsh. We can’t play such a game of chance again, and I can’t see another way to take the fight to them.’ Auum walked back into the antechamber and sat on a bench. ‘And if they choose not to attack us, what then? Yniss preserve me, I wish we’d never left Calaius.’
Ulysan followed and sat next to him. For a time the two of them stared at the tapestries and paintings hung around the room. They were dour images of the building of Julatsa and the council in session.
‘You know we had no choice.’
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