The Way of the Clan 7
Page 32
“Angora …” Whispered the redhead. He didn't ask why she had noticed this foreigner in particular, though there were many outsiders who took up the task of reading the book of Angora. But she had reason to be interested in this one, that was what mattered.
“Angora .... The mythical City of the Dead, the path to which is not written on any map. The stranger ordered a copy of the book, and will come back for it tomorrow.”
“His name?”
“Rosgard. His name is Rosgard. I rarely leave these halls of knowledge, but even here, in recent months, his name has been spoken. So maybe it will be he for whom the path leading to the city of the dead will open. Perhaps you will be able to go on this journey with him, in order to create the greatest map in all existence. A map so perfect that it would certainly take its rightful place on the Grand Atlas of Valdira. What say you, master Lazarus?”
“I will be here tomorrow ....”
“Excellent solution, my friend, a simply excellent and wise decision. Take this. It will tip the scales in your favor, Master Cartographer.” With these words, the gray-haired gnome put an old yellowed papyrus scroll into the hand of Lazarus, and quietly added: “Your talent is needed desperately. So why not unleash your gift on the road leading to hell?....”
***
Doom! Doom! Dagadum! Doom! Doom! Dagadum!
There was the rumbling sound of drums. Columns of smoke rose from huge fires on the hills of the wasteland and turned it into a ghost forest of ugly smoking trees swaying in time with the beating of drums. The drums were being played by the mountain trolls, holding thick mallets in their hands.
Between the fumes and drums danced crazy shamans dressed in animal skins, their faces daubed with paint, or with fanged skulls on their heads. They chanted the ancient words, their fingers traced intricate patterns and their feet traced mysterious symbols in the sand. The diamonds in their hands emitted a mystical echo.
Doom! Doom! Dagadum! Doom! Doom! Dagadum!
High above the clouds slowly circled hundreds of nasty, screeching harpies. They were waiting for the signal ....
Devil! The little devil child! That is whose sweet blood they are so eager for!
In the heart of a black forest, on a pile of bones, sat she- a child, extending all four of her hands to the blackened sky. She sat motionless, but there was a fierce light in her eyes, an impatient fury. She was snarling:
“Soo-ooon! Soon! I see you, little devil! Wait! Just you wait! Guorra is already coming for you! She's going to crush you!”
***
“Oh the bright gods! Oh Gods!” Said the white-lipped guard of Lazurovode town, rushing down the rattling wooden stairs. A cry echoed on the far horizon, boding trouble “Arm yourselves! Black Sa-a-a-ils on the horizon! All to arms! All to arms!”
After a moment, the alarm began to ring, the narrow streets filled with running people, and the air was filled with the cries of women.”
“Black Sa-a-a-ils! All to arms! All to arms! …”
About a league from the port of Lazurovode, a man lowered his long telescope and abruptly turned and glared at the deck, at his gang of thugs.
“And this time, do not fail me, may a hundred devils stick in your throat! Kill them all! Burn the city to the ground! Find the gold! Spare neither the old no the young! Clear?!”
“Yes-ah! Aye-aye, Admiral Lihodey!”
“Boatswain! Give everyone three cups of black rum laced with hot peppers!”
“Ye-aa-aa-aah!”
“Ya-aa-rr!”
Dozens of ships with black sails, one after the other, approached the ring of defense of Lazurovode. They passed the blackened skeletons in the towers, passed the charred debris, and overturned ships. On the open water, no one could stop them.
They were safe, except for the small boat with a white and red sail with “Brave One” inscribed on the side. On deck were silent guards in full armor, and over their heads hung a protective magical barrier. But one ship against a whole armada of pirates ....
After another minute, the lead ship of the Navy Army of Lihodey opened fire.
The attack began. And the first harbinger of the coming horrors. Wooden houses flared up instantly. Stone structures stood against the melee, becoming the main protection for the poor citizens, whose hopeful eyes were fixed not on the fleeing soldiers on the streets - not to the guards - but on the belligerent and fearless foreigners.
They had come to the defense of the city ....
***
“And I am telling you, the info is true! Can’t be more true! She is the Rapunzel of Valdira!”
“Come on! Did the digital moonshine get to your head? Do you expect me to believe fairy tales?”
“Do what you want - do not listen! It's your business!”
“Right… you say she’s in the forest?”
“Yes! The tall stone tower that stands in the middle of the forest! I myself have not seen her, but one of my friends heard from his friends and they are part of the spy clan Thorns of Glory. From one their attacks in the middle of the forest, they came across the tower! It stands in the foggy lowlands, but the height of it is ridiculous! With one small window at the top! And they saw her!”
“Who?”
“The girl! With long black hair! Can you imagine?!”
“It is a lie! Why did not he say hello?”
“Because he died! He made it a few steps to the tower, but then the mist touched him. And he swore that, when he was flying to the revival, he heard the quiet laughter of children - spooky stuff, like in a horror movie ....”
“Lies!” Gravely concluded one of the listeners.
“Complete lie! Did he not come back for his equipment? Or did he die again?”
“He was not found! Rather - they found the place, but the tower was gone! It disappeared … even the fog!”
“Nonsense.”
“It is true! You asked - I told! Any beer left?”
“And do you know the fable? About the horrors in the tower ....”
“I have not heard it .... And if I did… I still will not tell you anything.”
“Come on. You tell things so well.”
“I am a minstrel after all! Okay, if you put a bottle of expensive wine before me, then I will tell you one story… just today I heard it.”
“A whole bottle! Not too much for you?”
“Well, as you wish ....”
“Okay! You will have the wine. Tell me.”
“In short, it is insane - a friend of mine, who knows a couple of "local" hunters, said that they had stumbled upon a whole bunch of naval vessels on a snowy mountaintop, on a ridge just to the north of here! A very long ridge, stretching along the coast. Can you imagine? On the mountains! Ships!”
“Where? On the top of the mountain? Ships?! You kidding?”
“Ships! It is true! Standing right in the snow! Iced over completely - and on their decks, zombies with glowing blue eyes. And the main captain is an ice skeleton! Scary as hell!”
“Lies!”
“What do you mean lies?! I even know the name of the mountain!”
“Come on, speak!”
“A …”
Here the narrator paused and slooowly covered his mouth, looked at the table, looking at the trembling arrow that had pierced it. To the arrow was attached a swaying flag inscribed with one word: "Silence!”
“Ahem ... “ He was the first to break the dumbfounded silence hanging over the table. What mountain .... What ships am I talking about .... Ahem .... You know .... Ahem .... Ahem .... I will go ... catch some chickens. Enough stories out of me today.”
The end of the seventh book.
Uzbekistan, Zarafshan.
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