"Sara Douglass - The Axis Trilogy 2 - Enchanter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Douglass Sara)

But Azhure, for all her effort in drawing, aiming and releasing the arrow, could
not give the arrow the same power as SpikeFeather had, and the arrow head
only penetrated the target superficially. It hung there for a long moment, then
slowly slipped from the target and tumbled to the floor.
"I hit it!" Azhure cried triumphantly, lowering the bow and turning to
SpikeFeather, who stood with an expression.of absolute amazement on his face.
"It stuck for a moment. It didl" She laughed with joy. "Is the bow mine,
SpikeFeather?"
She spun around in an excited circle until she faced SpikeFeather again.
"Well?"
SpikeFeather lowered his eyes to the woman before him. If he hadn't
witnessed it himself he would never have believed it. It wasn't simply Azhure's
strength in drawing the bow and loosing the arrow, it was also the fact that she
had actually hit the target she'd aimed at. It usually took a novice Icarii archer
several weeks of practice before they even got an arrow within spitting distance
of a ceiling target - and the Icarii were flight intuitive. Was it simply luck?
SpikeFeather looked at the magnificent bow that Azhure clutched
possessively to her side. It was one of the most valuable and treasured items in
the Strike Force's arsenal. What had he done*
Azhure s smile died and her eyes narrowed as she watched the welter of
emotions play across SpikeFeather's face; emotions mirrored on the faces of the
eleven Icarii who stood at his back. EvenSong looked as though she had
swallowed the arrow instead of simply watching it hit the target.
Azhure stepped over and lifted another arrow from the quiver on
SpikeFeather's back. He flinched a little as her hand brushed the downy red
feathers on the back of his neck.
"No fluke," she said, her eyes unexpectedly dark as she stared into
SpikeFeather's face. "If I miss this time then I will return the bow. But if I hit the
target, then you will not only fashion me the quiver to sling across my back, but
fletch the arrows to go in it with your own flight feathers, SpikeFeather
TrueSong. Dyed the same blue as my eyes, I think."
Then, in a movement almost as elegant as SpikeFeather's, Azhure notched
the arrow, raised the bow, sighted, and loosed the arrow. This time it struck the
target true, the solid thunk as it penetrated deep into the golden orb audible
around the chamber.
"The Wolven is mine," Azhure said into the utter silence. "I think it likes me.
It felt easier the second time."
SpikeFeather dropped his eyes to Azhure, then bowed deep before her, his
wings sweeping a wide arc on the floor behind him. When he straightened, his
eyes were solemn. "The Wolven is yours, Azhure. I will fashion you a quiver to
hold arrows fletched with feathers from my own wings. You are an archer-born,
Azhure, and I will welcome you whenever you wish to train with my Wing."
"Yes," Azhure said to the handsome birdman. "I would like to return and
train with your command, SpikeFeather TrueSong."
"Then make sure that when the time arrives, you deal death with the
Wolven, Azhure. That is why it was crafted."
Later, the muscles in her back, arms and chest burning with the effort
required to use the bow, Azhure mounted the ladder, the bow slung across her
back. SpikeFeather caught her arm. "Azhure, you speak to Axis SunSoar more
than most. When will he visit the Strike Force? When?"