"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 01 - The Bronze Axe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

dank snakes.
Blade soon discovered that the forest, so formidable from afar, was really a series of interconnecting
clearings. He made his way skillfully through the maze, pausing now and again to let the sullen and fearful
girl catch up. Taleen, trying to follow exactly in his footsteps, did not always succeed. She caught her
dress on the edge of a bramble thicket and Blade, impatiently, went back to free her. There was a long
glistening red scratch on the inside of one tender thigh. He tore a small piece from her linen frock and
wiped the blood away and felt her tremble. His own brawny naked body was scratched in a score of
places.
For a moment they halted by the brambles, silent and unmoving. The chanting was very near now, a
high pitched litany that was not melodic and yet bore a kernel of some dark and fearful tune. There was
hand clapping, and a hint of contrapuntal values, and Blade began to make out individual voices. The
fire—it must be huge—blazed through the black tree stalks like an ominous beacon.
The challenge, because it was spoken softly and without intonation, an arid voice devoid of color,
was more frightening than if it had been screeched.
"Who comes? Who dares to defile the Mysteries, to invade the Sacred Grove? Speak!"
The voice came from behind a tree. It was ascetic, neuter, betraying no sex. Taleen gasped in terror
and clung to Blade. He pushed her away, whispered "stay" and stalked toward the tree. He saw a
glimmer of white in the gloom. He held the sword in readiness.
The voice, steady and dry and without fear, said: "Stop! Do not approach me. I am a Dru, of the
Drus of Alb, and whoever disobeys me will suffer the abiding curse of all the Gods for all time. He will
know eternal darkness and peace will elude him forever. Stop! I command it."
It was a formidable curse. Blade kept going. The voice, suddenly pitching up into panic, squealed,
and the white thing moved around the bole of the huge tree to confront Blade.
"Die, then! You who will not listen to wisdom. Die!"
There was a flutter of white robes in the moonlight. A glint of golden dagger. The weapon struck at
Blade, a powerful and well aimed blow. Hollow, fanatic eyes gleamed at him from the shadows of a deep
cowl. "Die then. Die—die—die!" It was the larger chant made small and scored for one voice.
Blade parried the blow and finished matters with a vicious backhand stroke that bit into the Dru's
throat just below the chin. Arterial blood, bright in the moonlight, spurted to drench the white robe. The
Dru went to his knees, staring in astonishment at his bloody hands, words and blood burbling from the
hole in his throat in a scarlet froth. Blade, afraid that the Dru would yet manage a cry of warning, struck
again with the sword, this time from the side and below the ear. It was a near decapitating stroke. The
Dru sank into the blood and twitched and died.
Blade stooped and pulled away the cowl, curious to see what manner of men these Drus were.
The head was long and closely shaven, the stubble showing gray. I have killed an old man, thought
Blade. Regrettable, but not cause for too much concern. The man had attacked him. The golden dagger
was shining now at Blade's feet and he saw that only the hilt and flange were of gold—the point and
cutting edge were of bronze and would have killed him easily enough.
Old man? Something about the dead face gave Blade pause. He did not pick up the dagger, but
instead reached to rip open the front of the white robe, where a scarlet circle was emblazoned over the
heart. Inside the circle, still visible through the blood, was an emblem of an oak tree worked in golden
thread.
The cloth came away in his hand. Blade stared down at the withered breasts. An old woman!
 Behind him Taleen said: "Frigga protect us now. You have killed her. You have murdered a Dru! We
will both be cursed forever—after we are killed and eaten."
Blade did not allow either his face or voice to betray the slight nausea he felt. He did not like killing
women—even old women who were trying to kill him.
His tone sharp, he said: "Stop talking nonsense, princess. Nothing is going to happen to you. I wish it
had not happened, but it has and we must make the best of it. Why did you not warn me that some of the
Drus were women—I would have been more careful." He stroked his black stubbled chin and stared at