[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
thought that I would see such a day."
Bres detected a note of bleakness in the usually impassive voice.
"You don't approve of this, do you, Salmhor?" he said. "You know my
feelings, Bres. These machines have been carefully preserved for
generations, to be used when the Tower moves to dominate the world
again. They were not meant to be hazarded in campaigns to regain one
island for a pack of defective and odious creatures."
Irritated by Salmhor's attitude, Bres wheeled on the officer, "You
really do amaze me, you and your bloody Tower attitude. I thought /
despised the Eirelanders, but you're worse! I mean, they're your own
people, your own blood, exiled by you because of some ancient malady,
cast out from your 'perfect' Tower. They fight for you, work for you,
supply you with materials and food, and you sit here in your ice
mountain and look down on them as if they were flies swarming on a
cow's hot dung!"
"Serving us is their function," Salmhor responded in a
careless tone. "The preservation of the Tower, the protection
of the pure blood, is the only thing of value. If all of them
a
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Click here to buy
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'must be sacrificed to that end, it should be done." He turned
to Bres. "It should have been done this time."
"Are you saying you disagree with Balor's orders?" Bres accused.
"Certainly not. Our Commander acts through necessity. You are the one
who created that necessity. Now we are forced to rescue you."
"You're taking a great risk saying such a thing to me!" Bres warned.
"Am I?" the officer returned, unimpressed. "And how often have you
assured us the de Dananns were weak, useless, unable to fight?"
"They have strength now," Bres countered. "And they have a fighting
spirit I didn't expect to see in them."
"You sound almost admiring, Bres," Salmhor said, then smiled in a
contemptuous way. "But then, I forgot you have their blood in you."
With that he turned and strode away. Galvanized by rage, Bres sprang
after him, grasped his shoulder, and swung him forcefully around.
"Listen to me, you bloody, smirking prig! I'll take you with me because
Balor wishes it. But I'll take none of your superior airs."
This outburst caused no ripple of concern in the officer's smug
exppression.
"I am a soldier of the Tower of Glass," he answered smoothly. "My blood
is pure. You are a mongrel, with the blood of those barbaric de Dananns
in you. Destroying them won't change that. You'll never be one of us."
Before the outraged Bres could respond to that, Salmhor pushed away the
restraining hand and gestured toward one of the nearby vessels.
"This is our ship, and the captain is waiting to sail," he said
pointedly. "So, if you're quite through with this absurd argument, I
think we should go aboard. You were in a hurry, I believe."
With that he turned and strode up the gangway into the ship. Bres
stared after him a moment, fuming, before stomping up the gangway after
him.
In moments the ship had cast off and was gliding across
40
MASTER OF THE SIDHE
THE FORCES GATHER
41
the water of the little bay. Once clear of its sheltering rocks, a
radiant white sail blossomed from the slender mast, and the sleek
vessel soared gracefully away like a sea bird skimming low over the
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
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F
F
f
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Click here to buy
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waves.
Not long after it had slid out of sight, four men emerged from the base
of the Tower of Class. They were clad in the tunics and bright cloaks
of de Danann warriors. The hoods of the cloaks were up, shadowing their
gray, immobile faces.
At a brisk pace they moved along the quay, passing the lines of dark
ships and heavy equipment. Beyond them, a crude wooden fishing boat of
Eireland was tied up, looking like a scruffy rat among a gathering of
otters. The four men boarded quickly and put out to sea, headed toward
the southern horizon . . . and the shores of Eire hidden just beyond
its
rim.
Chapter Six THE FORCES GATHER
The meadows were like a soft black cloak studded with ornaments of
bright gold. All across their gently rolling extent hundreds of fires
sent up glowing yellow cones into the night.
These cheering blazes illuminated a scene of great activity. For the
thousands of warriors of the Tuatha de Danann clans were gathered
there, making their final camp and their last preparations for battle.
Around many of the fires, warriors were at their evening meal, the rich
aroma of the stews and breads scenting the cool fall air. Others were
at work, honing the blades of spear and ax and sword, seeing that
shields and harness were in good repair. The martial sound of their
clashing arms provided a sharp music to accompany the talk of fighting
styles, weapons, and stragegy.
They were a handsome people, tall, lean, and naturally graceful in
movement. Their features were long, slender, and elegant, the foreheads
broad, the light eyes widely spaced. They wore their fair hair long
tied or fastened back at the
neck in fighting. Their weapons matched them in their style, slender,
finely made, hut with no sense of frailness. With these gleaming
weapons and their bright battle raiment, the warriors made an imposing
sight in contrast to the ragged Fomor horde. In the firelight the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
thought that I would see such a day."
Bres detected a note of bleakness in the usually impassive voice.
"You don't approve of this, do you, Salmhor?" he said. "You know my
feelings, Bres. These machines have been carefully preserved for
generations, to be used when the Tower moves to dominate the world
again. They were not meant to be hazarded in campaigns to regain one
island for a pack of defective and odious creatures."
Irritated by Salmhor's attitude, Bres wheeled on the officer, "You
really do amaze me, you and your bloody Tower attitude. I thought /
despised the Eirelanders, but you're worse! I mean, they're your own
people, your own blood, exiled by you because of some ancient malady,
cast out from your 'perfect' Tower. They fight for you, work for you,
supply you with materials and food, and you sit here in your ice
mountain and look down on them as if they were flies swarming on a
cow's hot dung!"
"Serving us is their function," Salmhor responded in a
careless tone. "The preservation of the Tower, the protection
of the pure blood, is the only thing of value. If all of them
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
'must be sacrificed to that end, it should be done." He turned
to Bres. "It should have been done this time."
"Are you saying you disagree with Balor's orders?" Bres accused.
"Certainly not. Our Commander acts through necessity. You are the one
who created that necessity. Now we are forced to rescue you."
"You're taking a great risk saying such a thing to me!" Bres warned.
"Am I?" the officer returned, unimpressed. "And how often have you
assured us the de Dananns were weak, useless, unable to fight?"
"They have strength now," Bres countered. "And they have a fighting
spirit I didn't expect to see in them."
"You sound almost admiring, Bres," Salmhor said, then smiled in a
contemptuous way. "But then, I forgot you have their blood in you."
With that he turned and strode away. Galvanized by rage, Bres sprang
after him, grasped his shoulder, and swung him forcefully around.
"Listen to me, you bloody, smirking prig! I'll take you with me because
Balor wishes it. But I'll take none of your superior airs."
This outburst caused no ripple of concern in the officer's smug
exppression.
"I am a soldier of the Tower of Glass," he answered smoothly. "My blood
is pure. You are a mongrel, with the blood of those barbaric de Dananns
in you. Destroying them won't change that. You'll never be one of us."
Before the outraged Bres could respond to that, Salmhor pushed away the
restraining hand and gestured toward one of the nearby vessels.
"This is our ship, and the captain is waiting to sail," he said
pointedly. "So, if you're quite through with this absurd argument, I
think we should go aboard. You were in a hurry, I believe."
With that he turned and strode up the gangway into the ship. Bres
stared after him a moment, fuming, before stomping up the gangway after
him.
In moments the ship had cast off and was gliding across
40
MASTER OF THE SIDHE
THE FORCES GATHER
41
the water of the little bay. Once clear of its sheltering rocks, a
radiant white sail blossomed from the slender mast, and the sleek
vessel soared gracefully away like a sea bird skimming low over the
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
waves.
Not long after it had slid out of sight, four men emerged from the base
of the Tower of Class. They were clad in the tunics and bright cloaks
of de Danann warriors. The hoods of the cloaks were up, shadowing their
gray, immobile faces.
At a brisk pace they moved along the quay, passing the lines of dark
ships and heavy equipment. Beyond them, a crude wooden fishing boat of
Eireland was tied up, looking like a scruffy rat among a gathering of
otters. The four men boarded quickly and put out to sea, headed toward
the southern horizon . . . and the shores of Eire hidden just beyond
its
rim.
Chapter Six THE FORCES GATHER
The meadows were like a soft black cloak studded with ornaments of
bright gold. All across their gently rolling extent hundreds of fires
sent up glowing yellow cones into the night.
These cheering blazes illuminated a scene of great activity. For the
thousands of warriors of the Tuatha de Danann clans were gathered
there, making their final camp and their last preparations for battle.
Around many of the fires, warriors were at their evening meal, the rich
aroma of the stews and breads scenting the cool fall air. Others were
at work, honing the blades of spear and ax and sword, seeing that
shields and harness were in good repair. The martial sound of their
clashing arms provided a sharp music to accompany the talk of fighting
styles, weapons, and stragegy.
They were a handsome people, tall, lean, and naturally graceful in
movement. Their features were long, slender, and elegant, the foreheads
broad, the light eyes widely spaced. They wore their fair hair long
tied or fastened back at the
neck in fighting. Their weapons matched them in their style, slender,
finely made, hut with no sense of frailness. With these gleaming
weapons and their bright battle raiment, the warriors made an imposing
sight in contrast to the ragged Fomor horde. In the firelight the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]