Ray Bradbury. The Dragon

Даниил Серебряный
                Ray Bradbury
                http://blogs.myspace.com/mysteryal

                The Dragon
                1955

     The  night  blew in the short grass on the moor; there was no other motion.
It  had  been years since a single bird had flown by in the great blind shell of
sky.  Long ago a few small stones had simulated life when they crumbled and fell
into  dust.  Now  only the night moved in the souls of the two men bent by their
lonely fire in the wilderness; darkness pumped quietly in their veins and ticked
silently in their temples and their wrists.
     Firelight  fled  up  and  down their wild faces and welled in their eyes in
orange  tatters.  They  listened  to  each other's faint, cool breathing and the
lizard blink of their eyelids. At last, one man poked the fire with his sword.
     "Don't, idiot; you'll give us away!"
     "No  matter,"  said  the  second  man.  "The dragon can smell us miles off,
anyway. God's breath, it's cold. I wish I was back at the castle."
     "It's death, not sleep, we're after...."
     "Why? Why? The dragon never sets foot in the town!"
     "Quiet, fool! He eats men travelling alone from our town to the next!"
     "Let them be eaten and let us get home!"
     "Wait now; listen!"
     The two men froze.
     They  waited  a  long  time,  but there was only the shake of their horses'
nervous  skin like black velvet tambourines jingling the silver stirrup buckles,
softly, softly.
     "Ah." The second man sighed. "What a land of nightmares. Everything happens
here.  Someone  blows  out  the  sun;  it's  night. And then, and then, oh. God,
listen! This dragon, they say his eyes are fire. His breath a white gas; you can
see  him bum across the dark lands. He runs with sulphur and thunder and kindles
the  grass.  Sheep  panic  and  die  insane.  Women  deliver forth monsters. The
dragon's  fury  is  such  that  tower  walls shake back to dust. His victims, at
sunrise,  are  strewn  hither and thither on the hills. How many knights, I ask,
have gone for this monster and failed, even as we shall fail?"
     "Enough of that!"
     "More than enough! Out here in this desolation I cannot tell what year this
is!"
     "Nine hundred years since the Nativity."
     "No, no," whispered the second man, eyes shut. "On this moor is no Time, is
only  Forever.  I  feel  if  I  ran back on the road the town would be gone, the
people  yet  unborn,  things changed, the castles unquarried from the rocks, the
timbers  still uncut from the forests; don't ask how I know, the moor knows, and
tells me. And here we sit alone in the land of the fire dragon. God save us!"
     "Be you afraid, then gird on your armour!"
     "What  use?  The  dragon  runs  from  nowhere; we cannot guess its home. It
vanishes  in  fog, we know not where it goes. Aye, on with our armour, we'll die
well-dressed."
     Half  into his silver corselet, the second man stopped again and turned his
head.
     Across the dim country, full of night and nothingness from the heart of the
moor itself, the wind sprang full of dust from clocks that used dust for telling
time.  There were black suns burning in the heart of this new wind and a million
burnt  leaves  shaken from some autumn tree beyond the horizon. This wind melted
landscapes,  lengthened bones like white wax, made the blood roil and thicken to
a  muddy  deposit in the brain. The wind was a thousand souls dying and all time
confused and in transit. It was a fog inside of a mist inside of a darkness, and
this  place  was  no  man's place and there was no year or hour at all, but only
these  men  in  a  faceless  emptiness of sudden frost, storm, and white thunder
which moved behind the great falling pane of green glass that was the lightning.
A  squall  of rain drenched the turf, all faded away until there was unbreathing
hush and the two men waiting alone with their warmth in a cool season.
     "There," whispered the first man. "Oh, there..."
     Miles off, rushing with a great chant and a roar - the dragon.
     In  silence,  the men buckled on their armour and mounted their horses. The
midnight  wilderness  was  split  by  a  monstrous  gushing as the dragon roared
nearer,  nearer; its Hashing yellow glare spurted above a hill and then, fold on
fold  of  dark body, distantly seen, therefore indistinct, flowed over that hill
and plunged vanishing into a valley.
     "Quick!"
     They spurred their horses forward to a small hollow.
     "This is where it passes!"
     They  seized  their  lances  with mailed fists, and blinded their horses by
flipping the visors down over their eyes.
     "Lord!'
     "Yes, let us use His name."
     On  the  instant, the dragon rounded a hill. Its monstrous amber eye fed on
them, fired their armour in red glints and glitters. With a terrible wailing cry
and a grinding rush it flung itself forward.
     "Mercy, God!'
     The  lance  struck  under  the unlidded yellow eye, buckled, tossed the man
through  the  air.  The  dragon  hit,  spilled him over, down, ground him under.
Passing, the black brunt of its shoulder smashed the remaining horse and rider a
hundred  feet  against  the  side  of  a  boulder,  wailing, wailing, the dragon
shrieking, the fire all about, around, under it, a pink, yellow, orange sun-fire
with great soft plumes of blinding smoke.
     "Did you see it?" cried a voice. "Just like I told you!"
     "The same! The same! A knight in armour, by the Lord, Harry! We hit him!"
     "You goin' to stop?"
     "Did  once;  found  nothing.  Don't  like  to  stop on this moor. I get the
willies. Got a feel, it has."
     "But we hit something'."
     "Gave him plenty of whistle; chap wouldn't budge."
     A steaming blast cut the mist aside.
     "We'll make Stokely on time. More coal, eh, Fred?"
     Another  whistle shook dew from the empty sky. The night train, in fire and
fury, shot through a gully, up a rise, and vanished over cold earth, towards the
north, leaving black smoke and steam to dissolve in the numbed air minutes after
it had passed and gone for ever.