Katherine Kerr - Deverry 09 - The Dragon Mage 01 - The Red Wyvern

VIP免费

2024-12-19 0 0 1.02MB 425 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

THE RED WYVERN

Book One

The Dragon Mage

THE RED WYVERN

For Jo Clayton

Kerr 1997

The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this

work

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents

portrayed

in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual

persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 0-00-647860-3 Set in Fairfield

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Caledonian International Book

Manufacturing Ltd, Glasgow

in a retrieval system, or transmitted,

in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade

or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the

publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in

which it is published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

THE RED WYVERN

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I must apologize to the faithful readers of this on-going project who have

had to wait so long for the volume now in hand. I have been much

distracted of late by legal matters, in particular the suits and counter-suits

concerning a certain Elvish scholar of Elvish and his libellous attacks

upon me. When Gwerbert Aberwyn ruled in our favour in Malover, my

publishers and I hoped that the matter had ended at last, but alas, our

opponent saw fit to appeal to the High King himself. After an ennervating

journey by coach and barge on the part of myself and a representative of

my publisher, we settled into a suite at a public guesthouse in Dun

Deverry and filed our counter-suit. While we waited for our proceedings

to be summoned, I once again applied myself to the craft for which I am

better suited than legal wrangling, that of writing novels.

Some months later, we are still waiting. Let us hope that the High King’s

courts take up and dispose of this matter soon.

THE RED WYVERN

PROLOGUE

Winter in a Far Distant Land

Some say that all the worlds of the many-splendoured universe lie

nested one within the other like the layers of an onion. I say to you

that they all lie braided and wound round and that no man nor

woman either can map all the roads of their twisting.

The Secret Book of Cadwallon the Druid

THE RED WYVERN

Domnall Breich knew the hills around Loch Ness well enough to know

himself lost. The hunting accident that had killed his horse and separated

him from his companions had happened some two miles straight south, or

at least, in that direction and at that distance as closely as he could reckon.

By now he should have reached the frozen dirt road that led back to the

village and safety. He stopped, peering through the rising mists at the

snow-streaked valley, stippled here and there with pines. The gathering

dark of the winter’s shortest day shrouded Ben Bulben, the one landmark

that might guide him through the mists. When he glanced at the sky, he

realized that it was going to snow.

‘Mother Mary, forgive my sins. Tonight I’ll be seeing your son in his

glory.’

They always said that freezing was as pleasant a death as any, more like

falling asleep to wake to fire and sleet and then the candlelight that would

guide you to the gates of Heaven or Hell. Domnall felt no fear, only

surprise, that a man like him would die not in battle or bloodfeud but in

the snow, lost like a lame sheep, but then the priests always said a man

could never tell the end God had in store for him.

Ahead against the grey of clouds, the western sky gleamed dull red at the

horizon. When he faced the glow and looked round, he saw off to his

right, at the edge of his vision, a tall tree. He turned and sighted upon it.

His last hope lay in keeping a straight course toward the north, the general

direction of the loch, which ran southwest to northeast. If he reached the

edge of that dark gash in the land, he could follow it and head for Old

Malcolm’s steading, which he just might, if Jesu favoured him, live to

reach. Worth a try, and if he were doomed, he might as well die on his

feet. He wrapped his plaid tight around him, pulled his cloak closed

around it, and walked north.

The first thing he noticed about the tree was that it grew straight and

remarkably tall. As the sunset faded into darkness, he noticed the second

thing, that it was burning. Here was a bit of luck! If he could nourish a fire

THE RED WYVERN

against the snow, it would keep him through the night. As he drew close,

he noticed the third thing, that although half of the tree blazed with fire,

the other half grew green with new leaf. For a moment he could neither

speak nor breathe while all the blood in his veins seemed to freeze like

water spilled into snow. Was he already dead then?

‘Jesu and the saints preserve,' he whispered. ‘May God guide my soul.’

‘It’s a waste of your breath to call upon the man from Galilee,’ the voice

said. ‘He doesn’t do us any favours, and so we do none for him.’

Domnall spun around to find a young man standing nearby. In the light of

the blazing tree he could see that the fellow was blond and pale, with lips

as red as sour cherries and eyes the colour of the sea in summer. He’d

wrapped himself in a huge cloak of solid blue wool with a hood.

‘And are you one of the Seelie Host, then?’ Domnall said.

‘The men of your country would call me so. There’s a great grammarie

been woven at this spot, and it’s not one of my doing, which vexes me.

What are you doing here?’

‘I got lost. I wish you no harm, nor would I rob you and yours.’

‘Well-spoken, and for that you may live. Which you won’t do if you stay

out in this weather much longer. I need a messenger for a plan I’m

weaving, and it’s a long one with many strands. Tell me, do you want to

live, or do you want to die in the snow?’

‘To live, of course, if God be willing.’

‘Splendid! Then tell me your name and the one thing you wish most in all

the world.’

Domnall considered. The Seelie Host were a tricky bunch, and some

priests said them no better than devils. Certainly you were never supposed

to tell them your name. Something touched his face, something cold and

wet. In the light from the blazing tree he could see snow falling in a scatter

of first flakes.

‘My name is Domnall Breich. I most desire an honourable death in battle,

THE RED WYVERN

serving my liege lord.’

The spirit rolled his eyes.

‘Oh come now, surely you can think of a better boon than that! Something

that would please you and bring you joy.’

‘Well, then, I love with all my heart the Lady Jehan, but I’m far beneath

her notice.’

‘That’s a better wishing.’ The fellow smiled in a lazy sort of way. ‘Very

well, Domnall Breich. You shall have the Lady Jehan for your own true

wife. In return, I ask only this, that you tell no one of what you see here

tonight except for your son, when he’s reached thirteen winters of age.’

The fellow suddenly frowned and drew his hands out from the folds of his

cloak. For a moment he made a show of counting on his fingers. ‘Well,

thirteen will do. Numbers and time mean naught to the likes of me.

Whenever you think him grown to a man, anyway, tell him what you will

see here tonight, but tell no one else.’

‘Good sir, I can promise you that with all my heart. No one but his own

son would believe a man who told of things like this.’

‘Done, then!’ The fellow raised his hands and clapped them three times

together. Turn your back on the tree, Domnall Breich, and tell me what

you see.’

Domnall turned and peered through the thin fall of snow. Not far away

stood a tangle of ordinary trees, dark against the greater dark of night, and

beyond them a stretch of water, wrinkled and forbidding in the gleam of

magical fire.

‘The shore of the loch. Has it been here all this while, and I never saw it?’

‘It hasn’t. It’s the shore of a loch, sure enough, but’s not the one you were

hoping to find. Do you see the rocks piled up, and one bigger than all the

rest?’

‘I do.’

‘On top of the largest rock you’ll find chained a silver horn. Take it and

THE RED WYVERN

blow, and you’ll have shelter against the night.’

‘My thanks. And since I can’t ask God to bless you, I’ll wish you luck

instead.’

‘My thanks to you, then. Oh, wait. Face me again.’

When he did so, the fellow reached out a ringed hand and laid one finger

on Domnall’s lips.

‘Till sunset tomorrow you’ll speak and be understood and hear and

understand among the folk of the isle, but after that, their way of speaking

will mean naught to you. Now you’d best hurry. The snow’s coming

down.’

The fellow disappeared as suddenly as a blown candle flame. With a brief

prayer to all the saints at once, Domnall hurried over to the edge of the

loch - not Ness, sure enough, but a narrow finger of water that came right

up to his feet rather than lying below at the foot of a steep climb down. By

the light of the magical tree he found the scatter of boulders. The silver

horn lay waiting, chained with silver as well. When he picked it up and

blew, the sound seemed very small and thin to bring safety through the

rising storm, but after a few minutes he heard someone shouting.

‘Hola, hola! Where are you?’

‘Here on the shore!’ Domnall called back. ‘Follow the light of the fire.’

Out of the tendrilled snow shone a bobbing gleam, which proved to be a

lantern held aloft in someone’s hand. The magical fire behind cast just

enough light for Domnall to see a long narrow boat, with its wooden prow

carved like the head of a dragon, coming toward him. One man held the

lantern while six others rowed, chanting to keep time. As the boat drew

near, the oars swung up and began backing water, holding her steady as

her side hove to.

‘It’s a cold night to ask you to wade out to us,’ the lantern bearer called,

‘but we’re afraid to run her ashore with the rocks and all in the dark.’

‘Better I freeze seeking safety than freeze standing here like a dolt. I’m on

THE RED WYVERN

my way.’

He hitched his plaid up around his waist and bundled the cloak around it,

then stepped into the lake. The cold water stole his breath and drove claws

into his legs, but it stood shallow enough for him to reach the dragon boat,

where hands of flesh and blood reached down to pull him aboard.

‘Swing around, lads! Let’s get him to a fireside.’

Shivering and huddling in the dry part of his plaid, Domnall crouched in

the stern of the boat as they headed out from shore. In the yellow pool of

lantern light he could see the man who held it, a fellow on the short side

but stocky. He wore a hooded cloak, pinned with a silver brooch in the

shape of a dragon. In the uncertain light Domnall could just make out his

lined face and grizzled beard.

‘Where are we going, if I may ask?’ Domnall said.

‘The isle of Haen Marn.’

‘Ah.’ Domnall had never heard of the place in his life, and he’d spent all

twenty years of it in this corner of Alban. ‘My thanks.’

No one spoke to him again until they reached the dark island, looming

suddenly out of falling snow, a muffled but precipitous shape against the

night. A wooden jetty appeared as well, snow-shrouded in the lantern

light, and with a chant and yell from the oarsmen, the boat turned to. One

man rose, grabbed a hawser, and tossed it over one of the bollards on the

jetty to pull them in. With some help Domnall managed to scramble out,

but his feet and legs had gone numb and clumsy. The man with the lantern

hurried him along a gravelled path and up a slope, where he could see a

broad, squarish manse. Around the cracks of door and shutter gleamed

firelight.

‘We’ll get you warm soon enough,’ the lantern-bearer said, then banged

upon the door. ‘Open up! We’ve got a guest, and all by Evandar’s doing.’

‘Evandar? Is that the man of the Seelie Host? You know him?’

‘Better than I wish to, I’ll tell you, far far better than that. Now come in,

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

THEREDWYVERN1THEREDWYVERNBookOneOfTheDragonMageTHEREDWYVERN2THEREDWYVERN3ForJoClaytonFirstpublishedinGreatBritainbyVoyager1997Copyright©KatharineKerr1997TheAuthorassertsthemoralrighttobeidentifiedastheauthorofthisworkThisnovelisaworkoffiction.Thenames,charactersandincidentsportrayedinitaretheworkoft...

展开>> 收起<<

Katherine Kerr - Deverry 09 - The Dragon Mage 01 - The Red Wyvern.pdf

共425页,预览85页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Katherine Kerr - Deverry 09 - The Dragon Mage 01 - The Red Wyvern

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: