"Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon - Mage Wars 01 - The Black Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

snapped the hand-crossbow onto its tension-buckle and leapt over the tree trunk to maul the remaining
two sacks of hay.
That was when the barrage began.
The tree-line to her left erupted with slung stones as the hidden miniature siege engines on the right
shredded their foliage. Zhaneel power-stroked high into the air and avoided major damage, although
some of the stones' stung her on the feet and flank. That put her in the open for the fan of firebolts from
the hillside, where she saw her objective—a gryphon. A real gryphon, under a wire net, staked out in a
very unflattering position.
Oh, no! I hadn't asked for that!
So Vikteren's promised surprise was that she wouldn't be rescuing a bundle of cloth called a
"gryphon"—she would have to deal with an actual one! But if Vikteren had gotten the cooperation of a
gryphon as a prisoner, then what else could he have—
A whistling flash from the sky was her only warning. Two broadwings—from Fourth Wing West, by
their wingtip markings—stooped down on her. They trailed white ribbons from their hind legs—sparring
markers. Simulated makaar!
So be it!

Amberdrake's hand tightened on Skan's shoulder, and he felt Skan's muscles tense up underneath
his fingers. The two "makaar" swooped down on Zhaneel from above, and he could not see any way that
she could escape them.
He couldn't, but she most clearly did!
She ducked—and rolled, so that the "makaar" missed her by a scant talon-length; as they shot past
her, she leapt up into the air behind them. By luck or incredible timing, she snagged the trailing white
streamer of one, and ripped it off.
The "dead makaar" spat out a good-natured curse and a laugh, then obligingly kited out of the way
of combat. It was a good thing he did so because Zhaneel had shot skyward, gaining altitude and speed,
and was just about to turn to make a second attack run. The second broadwing had tried to pursue her,
but his heavy body was just not capable of keeping up with her. If her objective had simply been to
survive this course, she would already have won.
But it wasn't, of course. She still had to "free the trapped gryphon," and get both of them off the
course "alive." The trapped one was Skan's old tent-mate Aubri, whose injuries still had him on the
"recovering" list, and who would not be able to move very quickly. Again, that was a reflection of reality;
any gryphon held captive would be injured, perhaps seriously, and his speed and movement would be
severely limited.
Aubri had volunteered for the ignominious position he was currently in partly out of boredom, partly
out of a wish to help Zhaneel, and partly because it pleased him to irk their commander in every way
possible. And Zhaneel's success in these special training bouts must be irking the very devil out of their
commander, who could hardly encompass the notion that a gryphon might have a mind of her own, and
must be in knots over one who had ideas of her own.
Zhaneel wheeled and started her dive. The "makaar," who had been trying vainly to pursue her,
suddenly realized that although he would be more than a match for her in a straight-on combat, he was
never going to be able to take her on in strike-and-run tactics.
And she was not going to let him close.
He turned, heading for a place that Amberdrake suspected held that young mage—would Zhaneel
see it, too?
Or would she be so involved in the immediate enemy that she would forget there were others on this
course?
Like a falcon stooping on her prey, her wings folded tightly along her back, and she held her talons
up against her body—but unlike the broad-wings, who held their talons ready to strike and bind, hers
were fisted. She had learned how to knock her foes out of the sky once, and now it was second nature