"Stan Nicholls - Orcs First Blood 01 - Bodyguard of Lightning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nicholls Stan)

[Chapter 1]

Stryke couldn't see the ground for corpses.

He was deafened by screams and clashing steel. Despite the cold, sweat stung
his eyes. His muscles burned and his body ached. Blood, mud and splashed
brains flecked his jerkin. And now two more of the loathsome, soft pink
creatures were moving in on him with murder in their eyes.

He savoured the joy.

His footing unsure, he stumbled and almost fell, pure instinct bringing up his
sword to meet the first swinging blade. The impact jarred but checked the
blow. He nimbly retreated a pace, dropped into a half crouch and lunged
forward again, below his opponent's guard. The sword rammed into the enemy's
stomach. Stryke quickly raked it upward, deep and hard, until it struck a rib,
tumbling guts. The creature went down, a stupefied expression on its face.

There was no time to relish the kill. The second attacker was on him,
clutching a two-handed broadsword, its glinting tip just beyond the limit of
Stryke's reach. Mindful of its fellow's fate, this one was more cautious.
Stryke went on the offensive, engaging his assailant's blade with a rain of
aggressive swipes. They parried and thrusted, moving in a slow, cumbersome
dance, their boots seeking purchase on bodies of friend and foe alike.

Stryke's weapon was better suited to fencing. The size and weight of the
creature's broadsword made it awkward to use in close combat. Designed for
hacking, it needed to be swung in a wider arc. After several passes the
creature strained with effort, huffing clouds of icy breath. Stryke kept
harrying from a distance, awaiting his chance.

In desperation, the creature lurched toward him, its sword slashing at his
face. It missed, but came close enough for him to feel the displaced air.
Momentum carried the stroke on, lifting the creature's arms high and leaving
its chest unprotected. Stryke's blade found its heart, triggering a scarlet
eruption. The creature spiralled into the trampling melee.

Glancing down the hill, Stryke could make out the Wolverines, embroiled in the
greater battle on the plain below.

He returned to the slaughter.

Coilla looked up and saw Stryke on the hill above, not far from the walls of
the settlement, savagely laying into a group of defenders.

She cursed his damned impatience.

But for the moment their leader would have to look after himself. The warband
had some serious resistance to overcome before they could get to him.