Talking to Dragons - Wrede Patricia Collins (онлайн книги бесплатно полные .TXT) 📗

A voice said loudly, "All hail the Waker of the Sword? and voices all around me shouted, "Hail!"

Echoes from the shout rolled around the room, like thunder rolling back and forth across the sky. I couldn't see anything except fire, I couldn't hear anything except echoes, and I couldn't feel anything at all. Then something in my head seemed to snap into place, and the noise stopped abruptly.

I let go of the sword and stepped back a pace. The light in my eyes started to dwindle into flames again, but now I could see pictures in them, outlined in fire: dragons fighting wizards outside the castle, and dwarves fighting elves, and elves fighting wizards and other elves.

I couldn't tell who was winning. Sometimes it seemed to be one set of fiery little shapes, and sometimes it seemed to be the other.

As I stared at the fire, I realized that I could feel the jangling from all the wizards' staffs and the deep rumbling of the magic of the Enchanted Forest and the purring of the castle itself, even though I wasn't holding the sword anymore. I could even feel the shape of the wizards' spells inside and outside the castle, including the one around and over the brazier. I could feel the magic of the sword, too, weaving a bright pattern through all the other types of magic. I followed the pattern until I saw how it worked, and then I reached out toward all the different kinds of magic and twisted.

The jangling of the wizards' staffs stopped abruptly as the power of the Enchanted Forest swallowed up the power of the staffs.

Immediately, the flames in front of me swirled and pulled together, so that the pictures I'd been watching disappeared, and I found myself staring at a crowd of very angry ex-wizards through a shifting curtain of fire.

At least two of the wizards were wearing swords, and they were reaching for them. The leader started to point in my direction, and I ducked instinctively. Almost every wizard who's any good carries a spell or two outside his staff, just in case the staff gets stolen. The wizards at the castle didn't have any magic in their staffs anymore, but they could still make trouble with their spare spells.

I dove behind the brazier just in time to avoid something like a large lightning bolt. I swallowed, hoping these wizards didn't have very many more spells like that. I heard shouts, and I peered around the edge of the brazier, expecting to see the wizards with the swords coming after me.

Wizards were running in several directions, but none of them seemed to be heading for me. For a moment, I was puzzled, but then I saw Morwen, Telemain, and a couple of elves charging into the room from the hallway. I didn't stop to worry about how they had gotten there. I turned back to the brazier, to pull the Sword of the Sleeping King out of it so I could join the fight-and stopped.

The flames were still swirling in the air above the brazier, but they were denser somehow, and brighter. All I could see was a mass of white-and-yellow light, shot with power. Then something flashed so brightly that I had to cover my eyes. When I could see again, there was a door in the center of the brazier, right on top of the place where I had thrown the key, and facing the point of the sword. The door hung between two pillars that looked as if they were made of solid light, and I couldn't see anything around it except light and flames.

I stared at the door for a moment as it grew even more solid. I wasn't sure I wanted to find out what was on the other side. Doors like that are even worse than the one in Morwen's house; they can go anywhere. I reached for the Sword of the Sleeping King, but before my hand touched it, the door opened and a man stepped through.

He didn't look at all like the simulacrum. He was taller, with black hair and tired-looking gray eyes, and he didn't have a beard. He was dressed in plain clothes, but there was a feeling of strength about him, and power.

Even without the thin gold circlet he wore I would have guessed who he was. I took a deep breath of relief as he stepped down from the brazier and onto the marble floor in front of me.

As he did, the doorway behind him melted back into leaping flames, which faded quickly until there was nothing there except the brazier and the glowing coals. The room was utterly silent. I looked up at the King of the Enchanted Forest for a moment, then turned to the brazier and reached for the hilt of the Sword of the Sleeping King. The sword wasn't even warm from the fire, but the blade shone even more brightly than it had the day Mother brought it out of the Enchanted Forest and gave it to me. I looked at it for a minute, then turned back to the King and held it out.

"I've come to return your sword, Father," I said.

21

In Which the battle Ends and Antorell Makes Trouble Again

For a long moment the King of the Enchanted Forest looked at me over the hilt of the sword. Then he reached out and took it. He held it up for a moment, then turned and brought it down hard on the edge of the brazier.

The brazier split and fell apart, scattering embers. As soon as it hit the floor, it started to melt and vanish, and in a few seconds there was nothing left of it except the key. The King bent and picked it up, then turned back to me and smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said automatically. Then I noticed Shiara sitting on the floor, where she had dived when the wizards started throwing spells around. She was looking from me to the King and back, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said.

"Shiara, this is the King of the Enchanted Forest. Father, this is my friend Shiara. She's a fire-witch."

Father bowed. Shiara looked at him and cleared her throat, then cleared it again and said, "Hey, tun, are you really Daystar's father?"

The King smiled slightly and nodded. "Of course. Only the Kings of the Enchanted Forest can use the sword." He raised it so that the light flashing from the blade filled the room, then in one fluid motion he sheathed it in the empty scabbard at his side. He looked at me and smiled again.

Shiara blinked, then turned her head and glared at me. "Why didn't you tell me the King of the Enchanted Forest was your father?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't know it myself until just now," I said.

"Ha!" said Shiara. "Why-" Before she could finish her sentence, Nightwitch pounced on her.

"Nightwitch!" Shiara sounded relieved. "Where did you come from?"

"I believe she came with them," Father said, nodding toward the doorway.

Shiara and I turned. A dozen wizards were sprawled on the floor in a tangled pile. Some of them were wrapped in vines, some of them seemed to be frozen, and some of them had elves and cats sitting on them. As soon as we turned to look at them, the elves all got up and bowed, then sat down again quickly before the wizards could get up and do anything.

The cats just sat and blinked at us.

"I don't think you need to be quite so careful," the King said to the elves. "If you'll let them up one at a time, I'll decide what to do with them!"

The elves nodded, and one of them stood up and bowed politely to the King. Father walked over to the wizard the elf had been sitting on and started asking him questions. The wizard didn't answer. Finally, Father shrugged and waved a hand. The wizard disappeared, and Father went on to the next one.

As soon as they got off the wizards, the elves started gathering up the staffs into a big bundle. Most of the cats just sat down and washed their paws. None of the wizards would say anything to Father, and he didn't waste much time on any of them. In a few minutes, there were only three wizards left. I was watching them when Shiara poked me.

"Daystar, where's Morwen?" she asked when I turned around. "Those are her cats; she has to be around somewhere."