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

to her—was she so caught up in the euphoria of combat that the "kill" was all she saw?

Skan held his breath as Zhaneel dropped down out of the sky. He was certain she had forgotten the
Journeyman mage, but he certainly had not forgotten her—and the best place for him was somewhere
near the staked-out "prisoner." She might get her immediate foe, but Vikteren would certainly get her—
But as the broadwing pumped frantically to evade her, she shot past him completely, ignoring him!
Instead, she stooped on an insignificant-looking mound of shrubbery, leveled out into a shallow
curve, and buffeted it with fists and wings until the illusion of brush dissolved and Vikteren tumbled out of
the way, laughing.
"All right!" he called, scrubbing dust out of his eyes with his fists. "Holy Kreeshta, you've got me
already! Give me a moment, will you?"
"You die twice, Mage!" she cried, as she leapt skyward again. She looked around for the second
"makaar," but the broadwing had followed the example of most makaar left to face a gryphon alone, and
had fled the scene, his ribbon and his "life" intact. Of course, unlike a real makaar, he would remain
unpunished for such desertion.
Skan rumbled approval deep in his chest, as she landed as close to the staked-out and netted
"prisoner" as possible—which in her case, was practically on top of him. There were probably traps all
around her, but she avoided setting any of them off, simply by dint of remaining within the narrow margins
that humans would have used while restraining the prisoner. A broadwing couldn't have pulled this off;
nor could a broadwing have used foreclaws as cleverly as she did, snipping the wire net free with special
scissors, then cutting the ropes holding Aubri down with a heavy knife she had already used once to
good effect.
Oh, clever, clever, little gryphon! he applauded mentally. Now, how do you guard the back of
the injured one? That will be the real test.

Zhaneel's gaze darted all over Aubri. "Can you fly?" she asked impatiently.
"No. Can't move any faster than a broken-legged horse, either. And my wounds are real, hey?"
Zhaneel spat a curse away from Aubri and looked around for anything she could use. Within a few
winglengths there were tree limbs, and she had the lengths of rope she'd just cut, as well as the remains of
the wire net. She grasped the lengths of rope readily available, coiled them up and held them to her keel.
"Two questions," she said. "How far can you jump, and can you hold a pole steady?"
Aubri narrowed his eyes, obviously trying to second-guess what this odd rescuer had in mind. He
also, just as obviously, gave up. "Could leap... maybe twice my length, if I had to. But I wouldn't enjoy it.
And I can hold a pole steady. I still feel strong enough to chew makaar."
"Good. Stay here." She parted her beak in what was meant to be a reassuring smile, then bunched
her legs up and concentrated. She leapt high into the air with her burden of cord. At the zenith of her
jump, she power-stroked out of Aubri's immediate area toward the tree limbs nearby.
Conventional gryphon-traps were usually built to fire sideways across a broad area, the kind she
had been stung by at the fake-soldiers' camp. Magical ones were often designed to detect a low flyer
approaching, shoot high up, blossom, and spread while falling. They could kill or maim at any point after
they deployed. Since Vikteren—a mage—was involved, she had every reason to assume she would be
facing both types.
So, the best way to sweep for traps is... to not be near them at all!
Within a few minutes, she had what she needed. A long branch, snapped off with her beak and
trimmed of snags, for Aubri to hold. At its narrowest end, it forked for two clawlengths, and she had
carved indentations for the two branches that were now tied across it. They were firmly in place.
Now to deliver my little nesting-gift.
A few minutes' more work, and the long pieces of rope were one very long length of
rope—inelegant, but effective. Zhaneel used four of her pre-knotted ties to bind up the foliage and small
branches she had trimmed scant minutes earlier to one end of the rope. She bobbed her head, measuring