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

Here in the boiling cauldron of the main battlefield, bloody conflict
stretched out on every side. A crushing mob of fighting troops and shying
mounts churned to pulp what had been fields of crops just hours before. The
cacophonous, roaring din was endless, the tart aroma of death soured the back
of her throat.

A thirty-strong flying wedge bristling with steel, the Wolverines kept in
tight formation, powering through the struggling mass like some giant
multi-stinged insect. Near the wedge's spearhead, Coilla helped clear their
path, lashing out with her sword at enemy flesh obstructing the way.
Too fast to properly digest, a succession of hellish tableaux vivants flashed
past her. A defender with a hatchet buried in its shoulder; one of her own
side, gore-encrusted hands covering his eyes; another silently shrieking, a
red stump in lieu of an arm; one of theirs staring down at a hole the size of
a fist in its chest; a headless body, gushing crimson as it staggered. A face
cut to ribbons by the slashing of her blade.

An infinity later the Wolverines arrived at the foot of the hill and began to
climb as they fought.

A brief hiatus in the butchery allowed Stryke to check again the progress of
his band. They were cleaving through knots of defenders about halfway up the
hill.

He turned back and surveyed the massive wooden-walled stronghold topping the
rise. There was a way to go before they reached its gates, and several score
more of the enemy to overcome. But it seemed to Stryke that their ranks were
thinning.

Filling his lungs with frigid air, he felt again the intensity of life that
came when death was this close.

Coilla arrived, panting, the rest of the troop close behind.

'Took your time,' he commented drily. 'Thought I'd have to storm the place
alone.'

She jabbed a thumb at the milling chaos below. 'Weren't keen on letting us
through.'

They exchanged smiles that were almost crazed.

Bloodlust's on her too, he thought. Good.

Alfray, custodian of the Wolverines' banner, joined them and drove the flag's
spar into the semi-frozen earth. The warband's two dozen common soldiers
formed a defensive ring around the officers. Noticing one of the grunts had
taken a pernicious-looking head wound, Alfray pulled a field dressing from his
hip bag and went to staunch the blood.