Название | The Diamond Warriors |
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Автор произведения | David Zindell |
Жанр | Сказки |
Серия | |
Издательство | Сказки |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9780007386536 |
While Master Juwain paused in his speech to draw in a breath of air, Liljana kept silent as she stared at him.
‘And then,’ Master Juwain said, ‘we will finally build the civilization that we were sent here from the stars to build. In time, through the great arts and the Maitreya’s splendor, men will become more than men, and we will rejoin the Elijin and Galadin as angels out in the stars. And then the Galadin will make ready a new creation and become the luminous beings we call the Ieldra, and the Age of Light will begin.’
Master Juwain, I thought, had spoken simply and even eloquently of the Great Chain of Being and its purpose. But his words failed to stir Liljana. She stood with her hands planted on her wide hips as she practically spat out at him: ‘Men, kings, laws – and this becoming that keeps you always looking to the stars! Your order’s old dream. In the Age of the Mother, women and men needed no laws to live in peace on this world – no law other than love of the world. And each other. Why become at all when we are already so blessed? So alive? If only we could remember this, there would be a quickening of the whole earth, and men such as Morjin wouldn’t live out another season. We would rid ourselves of his kind as nature does a rabid dog or a rotten tree.’
Most of the time, Liljana seemed no more than a particularly vigorous grandmother who had a talent for cooking and keeping body and soul together. But sometimes, as she did now in the strength that coursed through her sturdy frame and the adamantine light that came over her face, she took on the mantle of the Materix of the Maitriche Telu.
Atara stepped between Liljana and Master Juwain, and she held her blindfolded head perfectly still. Then she said, ‘The Age of the Mother decayed into the Age of Swords because of the evil that men such as Morjin called forth. And Morjin himself put an end to the Age of Law and brought on these terrible times. So long as he draws breath, he will never suffer kings such as Val to arise while he himself is cast down.’
‘No, I’m afraid you are right,’ Master Juwain said, nodding his head at her. ‘And here we must look to Bemossed, too. I believe that he is the Maitreya. And so I must believe that somehow he will heal Morjin of the madness that possesses him. I know this is his dream.’
And I knew it, too, though it worried me that Bemossed might blind himself to the totality of Morjin’s evil and dwell too deeply on this healing that Master Juwain spoke of. Was it truly possible, I wondered? Could the Great Beast ever atone for the horrors that he had wreaked upon the world – and himself – and turn back toward the light?
It took all the force of my will and the deepest of breaths for me to say, ‘I would see Morjin healed, if that could be. But I will see him defeated.’
‘Oh, we are back to that, are we?’ Maram groaned. He looked at me as he licked his lips. ‘Why can’t it be enough to keep him at bay, and slowly win back the world, as Master Juwain has said? That would be a defeat, of sorts. Or – I am loath to ask this – do you mean he must be defeated defeated, as in –’
‘I mean utterly defeated, Maram. Cast down from the throne he falsely claims, reviled by all as the beast he is, imprisoned forever,’ I gripped my sword’s hilt as a wave of hate burned through me. ‘Or killed, finally, fittingly, and even the last whisper of his lying breath utterly expunged from existence.’
As Maram groaned again and shook his head, Master Juwain said to me, ‘That is something that Kane might say,’
My friends stood around regarding me. Although I was glad for their companionship, I was keenly aware that we should have numbered not eight but nine. For Kane, the greatest of all warriors, had ridden off to Galda to oppose Morjin through knife, sword and blood, in any way he could.
‘Kane,’ I told Master Juwain, ‘would say that I should stab my sword through Morjin’s heart and cut off his head. Then cleave his body into a thousand pieces, burn them and scatter the ashes to the wind.’
Maram’s ruddy face blanched at this. ‘But how, Val? You cannot defeat him in battle.’
‘We defeated him in Argattha, when we were outnumbered a hundred against nine,’ I told him. ‘And on the Culhadosh Commons when he sent three armies against us. And we defeated his droghuls and his forces in the Red Desert – and in Hesperu, too.’
‘But that was different, and you know it!’ Maram’s face now heated up with anger – and fear. ‘If you seek battle, none of the Valari kings will stand with you. And even if they did, Morjin will call up all his armies, from every one of his filthy kingdoms. A million men, Val! Don’t tell me you think Mesh’s ten thousand could prevail against that!’
Did I truly think that? If I didn’t, then I must at least act as if I did. I looked at Atara, whose face turned toward me as she waited for me to speak. Then it came to me that bravura was one thing, while truly believing was another. And knowing, with an utter certainty of blood and breath that I could not fail to strike down Morjin, was of an entirely different order.
‘There must be a way,’ I murmured.
‘But, Val,’ Master Juwain reminded me, ‘it has always been your dream to bring an end to these endless battles – and to war, itself.’
For a moment I closed my burning eyes because I could not see how to defeat Morjin other than through battle. But neither could I imagine any conceivable force of Valari or other free people defeating Morjin in battle. Surely, I thought, that would be death.
‘There must be a way,’ I told Master Juwain. I drew my sword then. My hands wrapped around the seven diamonds set into its black jade hilt while I gazed at Alkaladur’s brilliant blade. ‘There is always a way.’
The silver gelstei of which it was wrought flared with a wild, white light. Somewhere within this radiance, I knew, I might grasp my fate – if only I could see it.
‘You will never,’ Master Juwain said, ‘bring down Morjin with your sword.’
‘Not with this sword, perhaps. Not just with it.’
‘Please,’ Master Juwain said, stepping closer to lay his hand on my arm, ‘give Bemossed a chance to work at Morjin in his way. Give it time.’
A shard of the sun’s light reflected off my sword’s blade, and stabbed into my eyes. And I told Master Juwain, ‘But, sir – I am afraid that we do not have much time.’
Just then, from out of the shadows that an oak cast upon the raspberry bush, a glimmer of little lights filled the air. They began whirling in a bright spray of crimson and silver, and soon coalesced into the figure of a man. He was handsome of face and graceful of body, and had curly black hair, sun-browned skin and happy eyes that seemed always to be singing. We called him Alphanderry, our eighth companion. But we might have called him something other, for although he seemed the most human of beings, he was in his essence surely something other, too. At times, he appeared as that sparkling incandescence we had known as Flick; but more often now he took shape as the beloved minstrel who had been killed nearly three years previously in the pass of the Kul Moroth. None of us could explain the miracle of his existence. Master Juwain hypothesized that when the great Galadin had walked the earth ages ago, they had left behind some shimmering part of their being. But Alphanderry, I thought, could not be just pure luminosity. I could almost feel