The Riftwar Saga Series Books 2 and 3: Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist
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Название: The Riftwar Saga Series Books 2 and 3: Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon
Автор: Raymond E. Feist
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Героическая фантастика
isbn: 9780007509805
isbn:
‘We set sail and headed down the coast. The rest you know. I guess they judged you would not expect an attack from seaward.’
Fannon said, ‘They judged correctly. Since their last raid we’ve patrolled the forests heavily. They couldn’t get within a day’s march of Crydee without our knowing. This way they caught us unawares.’ The old Swordmaster sounded tired and bitter. ‘Now the town is destroyed, and we’ve a courtyard filled with terrified townsmen.’
Trask also sounded bitter. ‘They put most of their men ashore quickly, but left two dozen to slaughter my men.’ An expression of pain crossed his face. ‘They were a hard lot, my lads, but on the whole good enough men. We didn’t know what was happening until the first of my boys began to fall from the spars with Tsurani arrows in them, waving like little flags as they hit the water. We thought they were going to have us take them out again. My boys put up a struggle then, you can bet. But they didn’t start soon enough. Marlinspikes and belayin’ pins can’t stand up to men with swords and bows.’
Trask sighed deeply, the pain on his face as much from his story as from his injury. ‘Thirty-five men. Dock rats, cutthroats, and murderers all, but they were my crew. I was the only one allowed to go killing them. I cracked the skull of the first Tsurani who came at me, took his sword, and killed another. But the third one knocked it from my hand and ran me through.’ He barked a short, harsh-sounding laugh. ‘I broke his neck. I passed out for a time. They must have thought me dead. The next I knew, the fires were going and I started yelling. Then I saw you come up the gangway.’
Arutha said, ‘You’re a bold man, Amos Trask.’
A look of deep pain crossed the large man’s face. ‘Not bold enough to keep my ship, Highness. Now I’m nothing more than another beached sailor.’
Tully said, ‘Enough for now. Arutha, you need rest.’ He put his hand on Amos Trask’s shoulder. ‘Captain, you’d do well to follow his example. Your wound is more serious than you admit. I’ll take you to a room where you can rest.’
The captain rose, and Arutha said, ‘Captain Trask.’
‘Yes, Highness?’
‘We have need of good men here in Crydee.’
A glimmer of humor crossed the seaman’s face. ‘I thank you, Highness. Without a ship, though, I don’t know what use I could be.’
Arutha said, ‘Between Fannon and myself, we’ll find enough to keep you busy.’
The man bowed slightly, restricted by his wounded side. He left with Tully. Carline kissed Arutha on the cheek, saying, ‘Rest now.’ She took away the broth and was escorted from the room by Fannon. Arutha was asleep before the door closed.
• CHAPTER SEVENTEEN •
Attack
CARLINE LUNGED.
She thrust the point of her sword in a low line, aiming a killing blow for the stomach. Roland barely avoided the thrust by a strong beat of his blade, knocking hers out of line. He sprang back and for a moment was off balance. Carline saw the hesitation and lunged forward again.
Roland laughed as he suddenly leaped away, knocking her blade aside once more, then stepping outside her guard. Quickly tossing his sword from right hand to left, he reached out and caught her sword arm at the wrist, pulling her, in turn, off balance. He swung her about, stepping behind her. He wrapped his left arm around her waist, being careful of his sword edge, and pulled her tightly to him. She struggled against his superior strength, but while he was behind her, she could inflict no more than angry curses on him. ‘It was a trick! A loathsome trick,’ she spat.
She kicked helplessly as he laughed. ‘Don’t overextend yourself that way, even when it looks like a clean kill. You’ve good speed, but you press too much. Learn patience. Wait for a clear opening, then attack. You overbalance that much and you’re dead.’ He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and pushed her unceremoniously away.
Carline stumbled forward, regained her balance, and turned. ‘Roguel. Make free with the royal person, will you?’ She advanced on him, sword at the ready, slowly circling to the left. With her father away, Carline had pestered Arutha into allowing Roland to teach her swordplay. Her final argument had been, ‘What do I do if the Tsurani enter the castle? Attack them with embroidery needles?’ Arutha had relented more from tiring of the constant nagging than from any conviction she would have to use the weapon.
Suddenly Carline launched a furious attack in high line, forcing Roland to retreat across the small court behind the keep. He found himself backed against a low wall and waited. She lunged again, and he nimbly stepped aside, the padded point of her rapier striking the wall an instant after he vacated the spot. He jumped past her, playfully swatting her across the rump with the flat of his blade as he took up position behind her. ‘And don’t lose your temper, or you’ll lose your head as well.’
‘Oh!’ she cried, spinning to face him. Her expression was caught halfway between anger and amusement. ‘You monster!’
Roland stood ready, a look of mock contrition on his face. She measured the distance between them and began to advance slowly. She was wearing tight-fitting men’s trousers – to the despair of Lady Marna – and a man’s tunic cinched at the waist by her sword belt. In the last year her figure had filled out, and the snug costume bordered on the scandalous. Now eighteen years of age, there was nothing about Carline that was girlish. The specially crafted boots she wore, black, ankle-high, carefully beat upon the ground as she stepped the distance between them, and her long, lustrous dark hair was tied into a single braid that swung freely about her shoulders.
Roland welcomed these sessions with her. They had rediscovered much of their former playful fun in them, and Roland held the guarded hope her feelings for him might be developing into something more than friendship. In the year since Lyam’s departure they had practiced together, or had gone riding when it was considered safe, near the castle. The time with her had nourished a sense of companionship between them he had previously been unable to bring about. While more serious than before, she had regained her spark and sense of humor.
Roland stood lost in reflection a moment. The little-girl Princess, spoiled and indulged, was gone. The child grown petulant and demanding from the boredom of her role was now a thing of the past. In her stead was a young woman of strong mind and will, tempered by harsh lessons.
Roland blinked and found himself with her sword’s point at his throat. He playfully threw down his own weapon and said, ‘Lady, I yield!’
She laughed. ‘What were you daydreaming about, Roland?’
He gently pushed СКАЧАТЬ