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

weapon to replace the one he had lost. He found one; whirling, he dove for the
hilt of the Sword of Bheleu.
Garth could not allow that. He knew how dangerous the great sword could
be. He could not let a human, particularly one already almost berserk, get
hold of it. He dove after Herrenmer.
The guardsman was much closer; before Garth had covered half the
intervening distance, the man's hands closed on the hilt. He screamed and
immediately released it again, his palms smoking; the stench of burning flesh
reached Garth's nostrils. It was too late to halt his own lunge, however, and
he, too, grabbed the hilt.
 He felt no pain, though the hilt was hot in his grasp. Instead, a wave
of strength surged through him, filling him with fiery exultation. The red gem
glowed more brightly than the dying flames of the Baron's garments, more
vividly red than the blood that was pooled on the mansion's threshold.
Garth stood, the sword clutched in both hands; around him were the five
remaining guardsmen, while Herrenmer lay crying at Garth's feet, the man's
scorched hands held out before him. A foot or two away lay the smoking remains
of the Baron. The sight of the dead enemy seemed a very good thing to Garth at
that moment. He laughed in triumph. He had conquered! He was master of the
village and could do with it whatever he pleased. He could destroy it all if
he chose-and that was exactly what he chose!
Still laughing, he whirled, sword held out before him, and cut down the
remaining humans. The blade sheared through armor and flesh and bone as easily
as through air, leaving a trail of sparks behind. When he had completed the
circuit, slicing open all five bellies before anyone could react, he plunged
the point through Herrenmer's chest.
The captain gasped and twitched, then lay still; the other five took a
few seconds longer to die. Garth pulled the sword free and looked about him.
The overmen-his overmen-were staring at him openmouthed with surprise.
They did not understand who led them, he realized. He cried out to them, "I am
Bheleu, god of destruction! Death and desolation are my companions, woe and
hatred my tools! Follow me now to glory such as you have never imagined!"
Some of the overmen still seemed uncertain; he lifted the sword above
his head, blood dripping from the blade, so that the light of the jewel could
shine on them. "Skelleth is ours," he cried. "Ours to destroy! These humans
have fought us, defied us; let us teach them the consequences of their
defiance!"
The uncertainties were fading; enthusiasm flickered in the circle of the
overmen's red eyes.
"Burn the village!" Bheleu called through Garth's mouth.
"Burn the village!" a few of the warriors answered.
"Slaughter the humans!"
"Kill the humans!"
They were with him now; the overman-god laughed, and the sword flamed
over his head. He plunged it down, slamming the point into the threshold of
the Baron's mansion; the stone step exploded into red-hot splinters, spraying
up around him, but leaving him unscathed. The shards that landed inside the
building set a dozen small fires on the wooden floor.
"Go, then! Kill and burn!"
The answering shout was wordless; the overmen turned away and ran with