"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 3 - Sword Of Bheleu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

hidden in the crowds-and the crowds were themselves a problem, blocking every
avenue of retreat save one, keeping the overmen bottled up in the market where
they were easy targets.
More arrows flew, whistling and buzzing; the thumping of bowstrings was
now coming in a steady, uneven rhythm. Around him, the overmen were shouting;
he heard a cry of pain and the growling of a warbeast.
It was far too late now to prevent bloodshed; despite his good
intentions, the sword had overcome him, and this peaceful mission had become a
battle. That being so, Garth told himself, it was a battle he intended to win.
The anger still seethed in him; it had been far too long since the, overmen of
the Northern Waste had won a battle, and this seemed a good place to start.
He looked around; the situation was bad. His troops, completely
untrained, were milling about in confusion as arrows rained down on them from
every side; half the mounted overmen had followed his example and dismounted,
but the others were still on their warbeasts, looking about in dazed
confusion. The villagers, soldiers and civilians alike, were staying well
back, letting their archers deal with the invaders. None of the overmen had
yet taken any action to remedy their vulnerable position.
"Ho, overmen of Ordunin!" Garth bellowed at the top of his lungs. "The
battle is begun, whether we want it or no! Advance, then, and kill the
guardsmen!" He gave this order, not because he considered the soldiers a
threat, but because the archers would be reluctant to shoot into a melee
involving their own comrades. It was the simplest order he could think of that
would serve a useful purpose at this point. Once he had his overmen acting
together again and responding to his commands, he could worry about better
tactics.
Confused and angry, the overmen were glad to obey; now that they had a
direction, they charged forward around the warbeasts that blocked their way.
The mounted warriors did not seem to hear Garth's order; they continued to
look about in confusion. As Garth watched, an arrow caught one young overman
in the throat; soundlessly, he slid sideways out of the saddle, blood welling
in his mouth, his red eyes wide with shock.
The overmen who had dismounted joined their companions in the charge,
leaving their beasts behind. Garth suddenly realized that none of them really
knew how to control the great animals.
The best thing for morale, Garth knew, would be to join the charge
himself; there were tactical considerations, however, that were more
important. As he had hoped, the archers were slackening their fire for fear of
hitting their townsmen; but when the overmen had wiped out the humans-as they
inevitably would do-the archers would again have a clear field of fire. The
bowmen remained, therefore, the biggest threat, and Garth knew his best weapon
was the warbeasts. It was time to pit the two against each other. When the
first overmen reached the human soldiers, Garth spotted the location of one
archer as the man leaned out from behind a chimney to release another arrow.
With a wordless growl, Garth pointed this out to Koros, then ordered the
warbeast, "Kill!"
The monstrous animal roared in response, a sound that drowned out the
growing clamor of the battle for a moment, then turned and leaped onto the
back of its neighboring kin. From there it sprang upward in a magnificent jump
that landed it on the roof where the bowman lurked. Shards of splintered slate