"Fiona McIntosh - The Quickening - 01 - Myrren's Gift" - читать интересную книгу автора (McIntosh Fiona)

again should the battle resume today. In his heart Thirsk knew the two armies were bleeding and
wearied; all of the men were now keen to acknowledge the outcome of yet another battle between these
ancient enemies and return to their towns and villages. Many would not be going home, of course, and
their widows and mothers, sisters and betrothed were mostly from Briavel.

And yet, as Fergys Thirsk slipped further into death’s cool embrace, most from his side knew it would be
later argued in the taverns that it was the great realm of Morgravia that had suffered the loss on this
occasion.

The General looked wearily back at his oldest and closest friend.

“It’s over for them.” King Magnus of Morgravia finally said.
Thirsk tried to nod. relieved that Magnus had navigated his way out of the shocked stupor; there were
things to be said and little time. “But Valor will try to fight on.” Fergys cautioned. “He will want Briavel to
salvage some face.”

The King sighed. “And do we allow him to?”

“You always have in the past, your majesty. Pull back our men completely and let him have the news of
my injury and subsequent passing.” his dying companion replied, shivering now from pain cutting through
the earlier numbness. “It will be a proud moment for them and then we can all go home.” he added,
knowing full well he would go home shrouded in black linens and tied to his horse.

The battle was won. Morgravia had prevailed as it usually did under General Thirsk. It had not always
been so. however. There were centuries previous when Briavel had triumphed. These nations had shared
a long and colorful hate.

“I wonder why I give him quarter—a weakness, do you think?” Magnus pondered.

Fergys wanted to tell his King that it was not weakness but compassion that saw today’s Morgravia
resist the temptation of out-and-out slaughter. That and the fact that Magnus had never had to watch his
best friend die before—suddenly the battle had taken second place in the King’s priorities. And if
compassion was a weakness, then Fergys loved his King for the contradictions in his character that could
see him willingly pass sentence of death on a Morgravian criminal while, on the battlefield, sparing the
lives of his enemies. It was this enigmatic mix of impulsiveness and honor, stubbornness and flexibility that
had drawn Fergys to Magnus from childhood.

Thirsk noticed his own breathing was becoming shallower. He had witnessed this many times previously
on the battlefield as he held the hands of the dying and heard their last labored words. Now it was his
turn. Death was beckoning but it would have to wait just a little while longer.

There was more to be said even though it hurt deeply to talk. “If there is weakness in this, then it is
shared equally among us all.” Fergys responded. “Without it. Briavel and Morgravia would not enjoy this
regular opportunity to send their young men thundering on fine steeds across the moors to kill each
other.”

Magnus nodded. Fergys Thirsk never willingly went to battle; he cared too much for the sanctity of peace
and the preservation of lives, particularly those of Morgravian men. But history attested to Fergys Thirsk
being the most successful of the campaigners to lead Morgravia. He was legend amongst his men.