Ringwall's Doom. Wolf Awert

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СКАЧАТЬ Nill thought, it doesn’t look like rain. But I don’t seem to be the only wanderer around here.

      His sharp eyes had spotted small whirls in the steady swaying of the grass. Now and then it parted like a maw to swallow its prey, then fell back into unnoticeable calm as it waited for a new victim. Nill observed the grass with caution, but he was not afraid; whatever it was, it was not troubling to remain hidden.

      The motion stopped once Nill was barely twenty steps away. His mouth fell open in a surprised laugh. He knew this distance.

      “Come out, you,” he said hoarsely, but his spirit’s call was all the louder. The grass parted again and out of the green trudged an old ram with great horns and grumpy-looking, slanted yellow eyes, so starved that Nill could count every rib in its side.

      Only now that he was reunited with the old ram did Nill realize how lonely he had been in Ringwall. His heart lifted as it had not since he was still a child in Grovehall.

      He patted the ram’s coat, gripped its horns and knocked gently against its bony brow as if it was a door and he was asking to enter. The ram accepted all of it without losing a trace of its grumpiness.

      “What are you this time? A stubborn old sheep or a Demon Lord’s vessel?”

      He immediately regretted the careless question, but it was too late. A fleeting shadow flitted over him and he shivered. Jesting about the lords of the Other World was foolish; he cast a protective spell on himself. The shadow vanished.

      “Come on, then,” he said to his ram. “We have a long way ahead of us.”

      Nill could attract most small animals and even bind some to him. The larger ones were too strong, but he still felt them. But this ram, his old companion from his younger days, lived its own life, and Nill had no idea why it had decided to follow him all the way from Earthland to Ringwall, and now had suddenly reappeared. There was a mysterious connection between them. Another obscure secret in Nill’s life, which truly did not struggle to attract the inexplicable.

      He set off again and the ram walked in circles around him. Nill began to worry. Shepherd’s dogs behaved this way to protect their herd, but a ram was not a dog, and Nill was not a herd. A ram stood still in vigil, or it kept the rear of the herd safe as it traveled. Nill looked around and allowed his senses to wander across the grassland, but he found nothing.

      If you go looking for adventures you’ll find them. If none exist, you make them up in your head, Nill attempted to soothe his troubled thoughts, but he could not shake off the strange uncomfortable feeling. Even the next few uneventful days did not change that.

      Sleeping in tall grass had certain disadvantages. Often his clothing was soaked with dew when he woke up, for the days grew shorter and the nights colder. The feeling that he was being followed surrounded him like flies on carrion. The grass concealed the hunter as much as the prey, and the air was heavy and threatening on his shoulders. Nill noted with displeasure that there were always small wild cats or birds of prey around him. They were not dangerous, but they knew where he and his ram were. He was not worried for himself, but a pack of leonpedons would judge a ram to be easy and tasty prey. Nill called for the ram to stay close, and to his surprise the stubborn old animal obeyed. From now on Nill followed the narrow hunter’s tracks, and they had soon left the plains surrounding Ringwall.

      The terrain began to rise and soon the bald stone heads of the hills broke through the grass. One evening he made a wondrous discovery. Glittering like precious jewels in the last rays of the evening sun, small droplets of water clung to the grass. It could not be dew – it was too early in the evening, and the air was far too warm. Out of curiosity he decided to taste it. It was normal water apart from a subtle, yet impossibly sweet note. Nill caught the droplets in the palm of his hand. Twenty each made a tiny mouthful that filled his mouth with a flowery, mellifluous taste. Nill did not know that people called it dreamwater. Those who bought it paid a high price, for the gathering was an arduous process, and nobody was quite sure when the droplets came forth to breath the silent evening air. And so he simply enjoyed their sweetness and their smell, and the happy thoughts that followed.

      *

      The archmages of Ringwall had convened around the Onyxian Oval. Gnarlhand, Archmage of Earth, had worked his element tirelessly to rebuild it from the three fragments it had shattered into. But the magic that could have undone the conflict in the High Council was beyond any of them. The splits in the stone stood out more clearly than scars left by a blade. They would forever serve as a reminder that conflict and disunity are the parents of weakness.

      The seats around the table were throne-like, each attempting to outdo the others in grandeur. The five elemental archmages sat opposite the magon. Beside him were the Mages of the Spheres – Keij-Joss, he who read the Cosmos; Murmon-Som, Archmage of the Other World; and Ambrosimas, whose magic was of thoughts and words. The Archmage of Nothing was absent. His chair, plain and without embellishment, was empty. The circle was incomplete.

      The Onyx’s scarred surface crackled and blew sparks as the archmages took their seats. Gnarlhand worried how long the stone would last as his eyes wandered across the cracks and gouges. Now and then he shook his head unnoticeably. It did not look good, not good at all. What worried him even more were Ambrosimas and Keij-Joss. Ambrosimas had wrapped his aura around himself like a cloak and was barely visible beneath the dancing symbols; Keij-Joss was so pale he looked as though he would evaporate at any moment.

      “I have asked you here today because Nill, our Brother of Nothing, seems to have gone missing.”

      The airy tone Gwynmasidon affected stood in stark contrast to the pulsing vein in his temple.

      “Can any of you tell me where he is, or the last time he was seen?”

      The magon’s tone had not lasted for more than a sentence. He was angered, and he showed it.

      “I have felt a weakening of the circle for only a few days,” Queschella answered. She was the Archmage of Water and the only woman on the council. “I never considered it important; Brother Nill’s contribution to the circle’s power was never great,” she muttered with a disapproving glance at Ambrosimas, who showed no sign of having listened.

      “Although, the blame is not his own; the young man had no example to follow in that regard,” Nosterlohe added haughtily.

      Ambrosimas remained impassive.

      Bar Helis slammed his fist down on the magical Onyx. “Enough. We all know what to think of Brother Ambrosimas, but our dear Archmage of Thoughts is not what we’re here for. We were talking about our Brother Nill.”

      My Brother Nill, your Brother Nill, our Brother Nill. Don’t make me laugh, you puffed up, pompous prattler, Ambrosimas thought. He did not have the time to finish his thought; Bar Helis rode his attack in a full gallop.

      “I agree with you, Sister Queschella. Nill’s contribution to the circle was small. But if I may remind you all, the boy succeeded in killing Mah Bu, and Mah Bu was an archmage. Powerful and experienced.”

      Bar Helis observed with satisfaction that several faces around the table darkened.

      “Mah Bu was a fool, and now he’s dead. Of course his experience was undeniable. But the powers of the Other World cannot always be tamed. Every Archmage of the Other World lives a dangerous life.” Ambrosimas’ voice was flat and dispassionate. Such an Ambrosimas was a new appearance at the High Council, and everyone wondered what СКАЧАТЬ