"David Gemmell - Rigante 4 - Stormrider" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

'Am I really like Bane?' he asked.
'Yes. Very brave.'
'I don't feel brave. I feel very frightened.'
'Trust me, my friend. I know you are brave. I can tell. My uncle Jaim gave me a magic eye. I can
always see the truth.'
'Where did he get it?'
Kaelin smiled, remembering the day Jaim told him the same story. 'He found it in a secret well,
that could only be seen when the moon was new. It was left there by a mighty wizard.'
'Where do you keep it?' asked Feargol, suddenly yawning.
'Keep it?'
'The magic eye.'
'Ah! I keep it here,' said Kaelin, tapping the centre of his forehead.
'I can't see it.'
'That's because it's magical. You can only see it when the moon is new, and when a white owl flies
overhead.'
Feargol yawned again. 'I have a magic eye,' he said. 'Daddy told me not to tell anyone.' The room
was warm now, and dancing fire shadows flickered on the walls. Kaelin sat quietly as the boy fell
asleep.
Kaelin Ring had no magical powers. He did not dream of future events, nor did he see ghosts. And
yet he knew with grim certainty that the bear would return. It was not fear which filled him with
this sense of foreboding. He knew that for sure. All his own fears had vanished the moment he had
found little Feargol alive.
The bear would simply come back to feed. In doing so he would scent Kaelin and the boy. Like all
the local highlanders Kaelin knew the bears which roamed his territory. In this area there was
only one huge grizzly. The locals called him Hang-lip. At some point in his young life he had been
in a fight, and his lower lip had been half cut away. It hung now from his jaw, flapping as he
walked. Kaelin had seen him often. He was big. On his hind legs he would reach almost eight feet -
ten if he stretched his paws high. He lived alone. Finbarr had told Kaelin that Hang-lip had
killed another bear in his territory - old Shabba. The news had saddened Kaelin, for Shabba had
held a place in his heart. The old bear had once ransacked a camp of Kaelin's, and this had caused
much merriment to Chara Jace, who, safe in a tree, had watched the whole scene. It was the first
time Kaelin and Chara had been alone together. Old Shabba had ambled over to where Kaelin lay and
sniffed his face before wandering off. And Hang-lip had killed him. 'I should have hunted him down
then,' thought Kaelin. Bears would fight, but generally when one ran the other would let it go.
Not Hang-lip. He was a killer. Now he had killed humans, and dined on their bodies. Jaim had once
told Kaelin that in such circumstances bears developed a rare taste for human flesh, and would
continue to hunt people. Kaelin had no idea if this were true. Jaim was a wonderful storyteller,
and, like all storytellers, had a curious disregard for truth. What Kaelin did know, however, was
that a musket ball was unlikely to kill such a beast instantly. The bear's ribs were immensely
powerful, and any ball that struck one would bounce away. It would be a rare shot that found a way
to a bear's heart.
The night wore on. Kaelin kept the fire blazing, and moved his position so that he was close to
the entrance. From here he could see the edge of the trees, and listen for sounds of the bear's
return. He was tired now, and longed for an hour's sleep. His mind wandered, and he thought of
Jaim Grymauch, recalling the great fight he had had with the Varlish champion, Gorain. What a day
that had been. The Bishop of Eldacre had invited Gorain and another champion, the legendary Chain
Shada, to fight at the Highland Games. The bishop had wanted to see the clansmen humbled, and
reinforce belief in Varlish superiority. It would have worked, too. But the one-eyed Jaim had
fought Gorain to a standstill before knocking him out of the circle and into the crowd. It was a
colossal moment, and Kaelin would treasure it all his life.