The Reign of Magic. Wolf Awert

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СКАЧАТЬ tonight, Dakh-Ozz-Han had decided to sleep among the roots.

      “Look up, boy,” the druid muttered as he noticed Nill’s bemused gaze. “This here is a dry-pine. They water the forest floor from the edge of their crests, unlike most others that do so with their skyward branches and limp leaves.”

      They had been traveling for quite a few days now, each passing much like the last. The only pleasant thing was that their luggage was becoming ever lighter, as they had to live off their provisions. The banis they drunk was reaching its end. It was made from the underground bulbs of the alwrag-weed, diluted with water. Fresh banis was easy enough to make, but for that they needed water. They had long passed the swamp-holes, and the riverbeds in the area ran dry. Dakh, too, seemed worried about the water situation.

      “I have not witnessed drought like this for a very long time,” he said as they packed up their things the next morning, shaking the cold dew out of their hair and quilts. “We will have to make a detour, and I do not like the thought of that at all.”

      “We’ll make up for the time lost,” Nill tried to calm him, but Dakh merely scowled. They did not have to go far. In the early afternoon they came across a wide hollow that was completely covered by a dense forest.

      “We will find fresh water here,” the druid said gruffly, pointing at the trees with his staff. “Unpack our things, we will stay here.”

      The curt tone in his voice was new to Nill. He did not understand, either, why Dakh had decided to rest so early. Still, he obediently opened their knapsacks and took out the most important things. But then he could no longer contain himself. “Why don’t we just go into the forest and fill up our water skins? We’d have enough fresh water then.”

      “Because.”

      “That’s no answer.”

      “If you long for a good beating, go ahead,” the druid growled. “Now keep your mouth shut and do as I’ve said.”

      You’ll have to catch me if you want to beat me, Nill thought as he spread out his quilt a safe distance from the druid. He was upset. He had witnessed Dakh as boisterously friendly, withdrawn and silent, thoughtfully morose and with a sunny smile on his face. He had never seen him this irascible. While Nill was still pondering how to treat this new Dakh-Ozz-Han, he noticed that Dakh’s mighty chest was rising and sinking rhythmically. The evenness of his breaths told Nill that he had fled to the world of dreams.

      If he wants to sleep, he’ll sleep, thought Nill with a mischievous grin. We’ll see about that beating soon enough. He’ll be surprised when he sees the full water skins when he wakes up.

      He got up silently and sneaked off like a cat. The closer he came to the forest, the softer the ground under his feet became. It got so soft that Nill constantly felt like he was tilting with each step. It was a nice sort of walk, one that made each step feel almost like a leap. But the forest was becoming ever darker and denser. Nill thought nothing of it when he scratched his hands on rough bark or when he was poked in the side by twigs. He carefully groped his way forward though the half-light, until a hard blow hit him in the back, throwing him forwards; at the same time he felt a strike to his forehead. Nill buckled over and fell down, but rolled over onto his back and thrust his knife upwards. His enemy had vanished. All he saw was the even darkness of the tree’s crest that cast an irregular, diffused light on to the ground and bathed the forest in a green hue. Occasionally the mild afternoon wind would break up the leafy canopy and the sun would take advantage of these openings, successfully beaming down onto the ground. Gripped by this otherworldly natural beauty, Nill stood up and gazed at the wondrous lights. But only a short moment later another blow, this time to his arm, tore him out of his dream-world and knocked him firmly back into reality. The first attack was followed by another, and Nill dived to the ground once more. Now he understood what Dakh had meant by the beating. It was impossible to predict the strikes and hits. Wherever the sunlight glinted, buckled figures scurried about. Nill had to squint to make anything out in this jumble of sun rays, light shadows and black turmoil. He was now kneeling on the ground, ready to leap up and lash out. But the enemy was fast.

      Nill gasped in bemusement. The small black figures had been twisted and bent branches, moving in the wind like shade-fighters, whipping through the air, spinning around, jerking here and there, rising up and slamming back down again.

      It must have been the branches that got me, Nill thought as he wiped his aching forehead, where a small lump had begun to form. He now lay flat on his back, safe from most renewed attempts by the foliage to strike him. Only once or twice did a twig take a swipe at his face.

      For the second time Nill raised his eyes to the unending heights of this forest, where the silvery trunks vanished into the dark green ceiling. This is no forest. This is a monumental hall with skyward pillars, silence and serenity under its roof, yet a wild witch-dance on the floor, Nill thought. “Dum-da-dam, dum-da-da-dam, dum-da-da-dam-dam.”

      The rhythm of the swinging and flailing branches reverberated within Nill’s body and filled him with a sorrowful song. With sparing movements and slowly shifting his head he let his shoulders circle, until finally his whole body accepted the rhythm. Nill wriggled across the floor, scratching the fallen leaves with his fingertips, toes and ankles, revealing the soft, black topsoil that lay beneath. Nill danced, but not with the weightlessness of a dancer seeking to leave the world behind. Nill danced with the earth. He had slid back into a long-forgotten past, the ancient times when not all life had dared leave the security of the ground. The time of the first dragons, earthbound creatures who had yet to rise up into the air and make it their own. These days only few creatures still moved in this archaic way. Wood olm and den newts, many-legged snakes and flat-lizards had kept the memories of the old times in their bony skulls, and so had, perhaps, many more animals that Nill did not know of. He danced until the forest settled down with the setting sun. Only then did he regain consciousness and felt once more endless sadness and desperation in his heart. Until now he had only known dance as part of exhilaration, at the parties by the Judgment Tree, or just to get rid of excess energy. But this was completely different.

      A snapping noise made Nill turn his head. He was able to make out Dakh-Ozz-Han’s silhouette vaguely against the backdrop of the forest. He was carrying a dark red light in his hand, but it barely illuminated his surroundings. “Come, it is time to fill the water skins.”

      “What …?”

      “Shh, keep quiet. It is better not to raise your voice in this forest.”

      The druid walked with slow, careful steps, as straight as the many trees would allow. The branches were still moving, but it was no more than a slight twitch, barely enough to trip up a wanderer. Nill stumbled after Dakh. His senses were in disarray, and he still heard the thumping that had heralded his dance. The painful memory of the beating he had received caused him to raise his arms to protect his face, and his body was all hunched. When he finally reached the pond from which they had planned to refill their water, Dakh-Ozz-Han had already done most of the work.

      “Come here, let me help you with that,” he murmured. Nill did not want to accept, but before he could say a word the druid had taken the water skin from him and begun to fill them from the pond, careful not to disturb the mud. He gave Nill a full one back, took the last two in his arms and began to make his way back. Nill followed him with his lips pressed tightly together, his back aching and his head full of sad thoughts.

      It took a hot tea, some dried meat and rather a lot of honey to gradually make Nill’s melancholy pass.

      “The forest down there is called the Valley of Unhappy Trees. One should usually avoid it. By day, as СКАЧАТЬ