"McKenna,.Juliet.E.-.Einarinn.02.-.Swordsman's.Oath" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

I leaned the edge of the blade into the soft skin of his neck to silence him.
Could he be trusted? I doubted it; what would a lad like this know of honor, in
a land where the so-called nobility change allegiance with every passing season,
scrambling for advantage with rival dukes who have wasted ten generations in a
futile struggle for a worthless throne?
УI swear,Ф he whimpered, desperately trying to swallow without cutting his own
throat.
The issue here wasnТt his honor, though, was it, but my integrity and
self-respect. How could I kill some idiot boy who was begging to surrender,
frantically offering me his paltry oath?
УLie down,Ф I snarled and he dropped into the filth as if heТd been clubbed.
Putting my boot heavy on his neck, I hurled his sword deep into a tangled
thicket of thorns. I laid my own blade against his face, one red-rimmed, crusted
eye blinking at the blood-clotted point as I stroked it slowly up his cheek.
УYou lie here and you donТt stir until you canТt hear my horseТs hoofbeats. If I
see you again this side of the Otherworld, IТll gut you like a herring, do you
hear me?Ф
He nodded frantically, eyes flickering between me and the crumpled heap of his
erstwhile leader, the life drained out of him into the clotted mud. I backed
away, ready to finish the lad if he was stupid enough to make a move. No, he had
that much wit at least, more motionless than the still-quivering corpse next to
him.
Checking there were no more surprises lurking among the unkempt hedgerows, I
walked slowly toward the horse, not wanting to spook it with the smell of blood.
However, it came readily enough; half a season on the road told it I meant
fodder and water. This was definitely a relief; my chances of getting a remount
in Lescar were about as slight as that boyТs chances of dying in his bed.
I spared a glance back before the curve of the road took me out of sight; the
lad was looting the body of his late friend. I rode on, unconcerned. Even if he
caught up with me, killing him would be no great task and no dishonor, since
heТd have forfeited any claim to mercy along with his oath. The horse halted,
raised its tail and dropped a heap of steaming gurry on the road, an entirely
fitting comment, in my opinion.
The fire in the blood that comes from a fight, however trivial, warmed me for a
while and in any case, this late in the season, the weather was increasingly
mild. Still, a little anger at myself for getting caught like that seared me as
the noon sun rode high above me, drawing wraiths of steam from the sodden
ground, the spring air full of the green promise of renewal. I found myself
gripped by sudden sadness and reined in to take a drink of water, trying to wash
the tight dryness from my throat.
How long would it be before I could think of Aiten without that strangling ache?
It was riding alone that was doing it, I realized, after so many years. I was
missing his endless supply of dubious jokes, his blade matching mine as we
protected each other in any fight we couldnТt talk our way out of. One of the
cornerstones of my life was gone, a certain loss of confidence leaving a hidden
hole threatening to trip me, even if it was apparent to no one but me.
I unlaced the neck of my coat; a warm garment in the spring sunshine. My fingers
caught in the thong of my medallion, the insignia I bore as a physical reminder
of the oaths I had sworn to my Prince and he in turn to me. I had AitenТs as
well, the bronze disc sewn inside my sword-belt, waiting for me to exact a