"2 - Last Sword Of Power (v1.0)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

'Not even a little, to please me?'
'Not even a little.'
'Would you like some berries?'
'No, thank you. I must be heading back; I have work to do.'
.'Do I frighten you, Cormac Daemonsson?' He stopped in mid-turn, his throat tight.
'I am not . . . comfortable. No one speaks to me but I am used to that. I thank you for your courtesy.'
'Do you think I am pretty?'
'I think you are beautiful. Especially here, in the summer sunlight, with the breeze moving your hair. But I do not wish to cause you trouble.'
She rose smoothly and moved towards him and he backed away instinctively, but the oak barred his retreat. He felt her body press against his and his arms moved around her back, drawing her to him.
'Get away from my sister!' roared Agwaine and Alftruda leapt back with fear in her eyes.
'He cast a spell on me!' she shouted, running to Agwaine. The tall blond youth hurled her aside and drew a dagger from its sheath.
'You will die for this obscenity,' he hissed, advancing on Cormac.
Cormac's eyes flickered from the blade to Agwaine's angry face, reading the intent and seeing the blood-lust rising. He leapt to his right - to cannon into the huge figure of Lennox, whose brawny arms closed around him. Triumph blazed in Agwaine's eyes, but Cormac hammered his elbow into Lennox's belly and then up in a second strike, smashing the boy's nose. Lennox staggered back, almost blinded. Then Barta ran from the bushes, holding a thick branch above his head like a club. Cormac leapt feet first, his heel landing with sickening force against Barta's chin, and hurling him unconscious to the ground.
Cormac rolled to his feet, swinging to face Agwaine, his arm blocking the dagger blow aimed at his heart. His fist slammed against Agwaine's cheek, then his left foot powered into his enemy's groin.
Agwaine screamed once and fell to his knees, dropping the dagger. Cormac swept it up, grabbed Agwaine's long blond hair and hauled back his head, exposing the throat.
'No!' screamed Alftruda. Cormac blinked and took a deep, calming breath. Then he stood and hurled the dagger far out over the cliff-top.
'You lying slut!' he said, advancing on Alftruda. She sank to her knees, her eyes wide and terror-filled.
'Don't hurt me!'
Suddenly he laughed. 'Hurt you? I would not touch you if my life depended on it. A few moments ago you were beautiful. Now you are ugly, and will always be so.'
Her hands fled to her face, her fingers touching the skin - questing, seeking her beauty. Cormac shook his head. 'I am not talking of a spell,' he whispered. 'I have no spells.'
Turning, he looked upon his enemies. Lennox was sitting by the oak with blood streaming from his smashed nose, Barta was still unconscious and Agwaine was gone.
There was no sense of triumph, no joy in the victory.
For in defeating these boys. Cormac had sentenced himself to death.
Agwaine returned to the village and reported Corm-ac's attack to his father Calder, who summoned the village elders, demanding justice. Only Grysstha spoke up for Cormac.
'You ask for justice. For years your sons have tormented Cormac and he has had no aid. But he has borne it like a man. Now, when set upon by three bullies, he defends himself and faces execution? Every man here who votes for such a course should be ashamed.'
'He assaulted my daughter,' said Calder. 'Or are you forgetting that?'
'If he did,' said Grysstha, rising, 'he followed in the tracks of every other able-bodied youth within a day's riding distance!'
'How dare you?' stormed Calder.
'Dare? Do not speak to me of dares, you fat-bellied pig! I have followed you for thirty years, living only on your promises. But now I see you for what you are - a weak, greedy, fawning boot-licker. A pig who sired three toads and a rutting strumpet!'
Calder hurled himself across the circle of men but Grysstha's fist thundered into his chin, throwing him to the dirt floor. Pandemonium followed, with some of the councillors grabbing Grysstha and other holding the enraged leader. In the silence that followed Calder fought to control his temper, signalling to the men on either side of him to let him go.
'You are no longer welcome here, old cripple,' he said. 'You will leave this village as a Nithing. I will send word to all villages in the South Saxon and you will be welcome nowhere. And if I see you after today I shall take my axe to your neck. Go! Find the dog-child and stay with him. I want you there to see him die.'
Grysstha shrugged off the arms holding him and stalked from the Hall. In his own hut he gathered his meagre belongings, pushed his hand-axe into his belt and marched from the village. Evrin the baker, moved alongside him, pushing two black loaves into his arms.
'Walk with God,' Evrin whispered.
Grysstha nodded and marched on. He should have left a long time ago - and taken Cormac with him.
But loyalty was stronger than iron rings and Grysstha was pledged to Calder by Blood-Oath. Now he had broken his word and was Nithing in the eyes of the law. No one would ever trust him again, and his life was worthless.
Yet even so joy began to blossom in the old warrior's heart. The heavy mind-numbing years as a goatherd were behind him now, as was his allegiance to Calder. Grysstha filled his lungs with clean, fresh air, and climbed the hills towards the Cave of Sol Invictus.
Cormac was waiting for him there, sitting on the altar stone, the bones of his past scattered at his feet.
'You heard?' said Cormac, making room for the old man to sit beside him on the flat stone. Grysstha tore off a chunk of dark bread and passed it to the boy.
'Word filtered through,' he said. Cormac glanced at the blanket-sack Grysstha had dumped by the old bones of the warhound.
'Are we leaving?'
'We are, boy. We should have done it years ago. We'll head for Dubris and get some work - enough to earn passage to Gallia. Then I'll show you my old campaign trails.'
'They attacked me, Grysstha. After Alftruda put her arms around me.'
The old warrior looked into the boy's sad blue eyes. 'One more lesson in life, Cormac: women always bring trouble. Mind you, judging from the way Agwaine was walking he will not be thinking about girls for some time to come. How did you defeat all three?'
'I don't know, I just did it.'
"That's your father's blood. We'll make something of you yet, lad!'
Cormac glanced around the cave. 'I have never been here before. I was always afraid. Now I wonder why. Just old bones.' He scuffed his feet in the loose dirt and saw a glint of light. Leaning forward he pressed his fingers into the dust, coming up with a gold chain on which hung a round stone like a golden nugget veined with slender black lines.
'Well, that's a good omen,' muttered Grysstha. 'We've only been free men for an hour and already you find treasure.'
'Could it have been my mother's?'
'All things are possible.'
Cormac looped the chain over his head, tucking the golden stone under his shirt. It felt warm against his chest.