"Gardner F. Fox - Kothar 01 - Kothar Barbarian Swordsman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fox Gardner F)

Kothar grinned wryly, "And after I have helped queen Elfa, what of the
sword?"

"It shall be your fee."

The young barbarian nodded, "It shall be my fee."

The lich turned and moved with those strangely thumping footsteps
across the tomb. Its rotted hands moved and its withered tongue clacked,
and sounds issued from the throat that was little more than bones. The
words it spoke reverberated throughout the cairn, they brought down tiny
showers of dirt from the root-pierced ceiling, they made the death-slab
shake.

Yet they also opened an invisible door and caused a pallid glimmer by
which Kothar could see, past the burial garments which still encased
Afgorkon, an opening door and a chamber where lay a sword in a
scabbard chained to a great leather belt on top of two chests heavy with
jewels and golden coins of a kind no man had looked upon for half a
million years.

"Stand," growled Afgorkon, and Kothar went rigid.

The lich stepped into that dim light and lifted up the scabbard and the
sword Frostfire with its thick leather belt and carried them on the bones
and dried flesh of its hands out into the dimmer light of the tomb, and
placed them in the outstretched palms of the Cumberian.

The sword made a solid weight in his hands; its length was of bluish
steel, and it had a golden cross-hilt. Witch-blade it might be, yet it had
weight and substance, and its hilt made of silvery gold contained an angry
red jewel set in its pommel. His big hand went around the haft and drew
the shining blade partially from the scabbard. There were rune words
there, words in a language so old no man could know their meaning. The
edges looked biting sharp, boned to the keenness of a razor.

His hand clanged the blade back into its scabbard.

Afgorkon watched him with empty eye sockets. "The words say, 'I was
made before the world was born, for the mage Afgorkon.' Aie, the sword
was mine, for I was a warrior as well as a magician in that long-ago time.
Though it was made by magic, there is no magic in it, or at least I do not
think so, though magic can enter it and be retained by it, as no ordinary
steel will do."

The barbarian asked, "How can you part with it?"

A dry chuckle resounded in the crypt. "I have other weapons now that I
am dead to this world. Where I exist, the blade Frostfire cannot, and so—I