"Rawn, Melanie - Dragon Star 1 - Stronghold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

"Now that you mention it, no. But I'll keep an eye on him just the same. He's still young enough to be dealt quite a wallop by a pretty girl."
Feylin gave him one of her patient looks. "The man is thrice a husband and five times a father. Really, Walvis, you can be absurd at times."
64 Melanie Rawn
"Attack," Kazander had been bidden. "AttackЧbut don't damage my younglings unnecessarily. They may get irritated and forget to check their own blows. Goddess forfend that any of your great warriors go home to their mothers with so much as a bloody nose."
He almost wished this could be a real battle. The Lady ChaylaЧto whom, in the way of his people, he had already given a secret name to be whispered only when her body graced his sleeping silks in the marriage tentЧwas watching from the crest of a dune nearby. He wished he could show her all his prowess, all his strength and cunning. Failing that, he could almost hope to take some small wound of valor, so that he might know the touch of her hands healing him.
Kazander knew how preposterousЧnot to mention dangerousЧsuch thoughts were when excited by the granddaughter of Chaynal of Radzyn. But the girl enchanted him. It was not that he didn't cherish his wives. All three of them were strong, beautiful, intelligent women. But ChaylaЧyoung as she was, he had found in her the proverbial ricsina, the knife that pierces the heart. He had no hope that time and knowledge of him might allow the same to happen to her.
Her life would be elsewhere. Sunrunner, physician, wife to some great lord with a castle and a hundred servants, bedecked in silks and jewels, an important force in the princedoms. The Isulk'im had rejected that sort of life many generations ago, when the faradh'im had come and sorcerers had been banished. It was too much to hope that somewhere in Chayla there lingered a few drops of ancestral blood that might cause her to hear the Desert's call of passion and freedom.
However futile Kazander knew his desires to be, still he wanted to impress her. So he bade his warriors attack as the athri had commandedЧmentioning that any man who disappointed him would be taken back to the Long Sand flung across his saddle like a sack of grain.
Kazander's fifty would defend the red flag against Remagev's eighty and attempt to seize their blue banner. Simple enough, but Kazander knew the mischievous workings of Lady Feylin's mind and understood that whatever move the blues made
STRONGHOLD 65
was to be countered at once, spontaneously, as in the heat of real battle. That was the lesson she intended him to provide these children.
Only the blue center charged. Kazander yelled and swung his swordЧcareful to bruise, not breakЧand urged his gray stallion deeper into the fray, keeping an eye on the two flanks that waited for some signal to attack. The blues fell back to regroup. Kazander sighed, knowing he was supposed to pursue and let the flanks set upon him from either sideЧFeylin's "dragon wings." He gave the order, but with a variation. The Isulk'im shrieked battle cries like enraged dragons, cloaks streaming behind them, as the west flank of the Remagev forces descended on them. But the blues found a third of their prey taking off at a full gallop across the plain. As he fought, Kazander snatched glances at the merry chase his horsemen led the frustrated blues, and grinned.
All at once the eastern cavalry began driving the Isulk'im back. The blue center pushed forward, led by a tall youth who bellowed "Eztiel Grib!"Ч"All victory to Grib." Kazander shouted a warning at his youngest wife's brother, who carried the red banner. But it was too late. Sethric of Grib grabbed the pennant and galloped away with it behind the lines.
The rules said Kazander should give in, for his flag had been seized. He only smiled. Battles were not fought over trophies. He turned in his saddle as a youth challenged him from the right, and casually unhorsed the boy with a thrust of blunted sword against armored chest. A sore backside and a shallow pinprick would be humiliating but not fatal souvenirs.
Kazander broke free of the battle and called to his galloping warriors. They wheeled their horses with instant obedience and followed the sound of the konus1 voice. Sixteen riders were not quite enough for this, but they would have to do. In a variation of the maneuver used the previous day, the Isulk'im escaped their pursuers in a blinding whirl of sand and formed a half-circle outside the blue half-circle. Now the Remagev troops had to fight both forward and backward. Kazander hoped Feylin would forgive him for ruining her little demonstration, but the lesson he intended to teach was the more important one. Capturing a banner had nothing to do with winning a battle.
66 Melanie Rawn
His smugness evaporated as he heard thunder on the ground behind him. Sethric had come back. Cursing, Kazander assessed the situation once more while chewing on his mustache and fending off a determined young man who seemed to have forgotten that his thrusts should not have lethal intent. Growling, Kazander taught him a painful lesson with the flat of his sword and shouted another order. The Isulki half-circle split in the middle, creating a pathway for their beleaguered comrades. All Kazander's men were soon free. They regrouped, turned, and waited for the blues to charge them once more.
Exhilarated by the return of Sethric's wing, the Remagev forces did not pause to organize themselves but instead rode whooping and cheering toward the Isulk'im at top speed. Kazander exchanged a grin with his brother-by-marriage.
"The girl is mine, Visian," he cautionedЧand then led his men in a single line through the oncoming blues and up the slope of the dune. Before Walvis or Feylin or Chayla could react with more than disbelief, all three were lifted from their saddles and clutched to the chests of Isulk'im.
"Put me down!" Feylin raged. "Kazander! How dare you!" But Walvis was laughing uproariously as they were carried away.
Kazander had plucked the Lady Chayla from her horse with exquisite care. She did not struggle the way that spitfire Feylin was doing, merely settled on his thigh, supported by his arm around her waist. Otherwise he kept his hands to himself. Her coiled golden braids were at his shoulder, within easy reach of his lips; he could smell the fresh scents of herb soap and Desert wind in her hair. Her buttocks were surprisingly well-muscled against his thigh, but he supposed that was to be expected; after all, as the granddaughter of Radzyn's lord, she would have been in the saddle from early childhood. It was a sweet, firm, supple armful he held, and he wondered if he could persuade Walvis to persuade Lord Maarken not to slay him for daring to touch her.
He slowed his horse and finally stopped. Chayla was still relaxed against him. He turned to Visian, who was losing his grip on the taller, heavier athri. With a grin Kazander was about to claim victoryЧfor he had stolen the real prizes of this little war.
AH at once the air left his lungs in a painful gasp, pro-
STRONGHOLD 67
pelled out of him by Chayla's elbow in his stomach. She slid neatly down to the sand, glaring up at this man who had been the first in her life ever to lay hands on her. She said nothing. She didn't have to. It was all in her eyes. He was incapable of responding in any case; he was too busy remembering how to breathe. But once his lungs had filled and there was only a dull ache in his belly, he could not help grinning down at her. Goddess, what a woman!
Late that night, after the banquet had been devoured and the battle analyzed a dozen times and the Isulk'im had taught Remagev's youthful warriors the steps of a traditional victory danceЧand enough wine had flowed to make everyone feel very brotherlyЧWalvis and Kazander took a tour of the walls.
"You went to a lot of trouble to get your hands on her," the athri scolded, laughing. "And after you swore not to touch!"
Kazander, knowing he'd been forgiven and greatly relieved that he would not be facing Lord Maarken across the latter's sword, gave a deep sigh. "For those sweet moments, I knew all the glories of the world. Although she may never forgive me."
"That's what the High Princess would call an absolutely certain betЧthe kind she wagers the whole princedom on." Walvis chuckled, leaning his elbows on the stone and looking out over the Desert night. "I hear you put yourself in the way of being treated by Chayla, not Feylin, afterward."
"A trifling cut that I didn't even feel until later. Not even a scar will be leftЧbut no gratitude to her for it! I swear to you, she pummeled my bruised and bleeding leg as if I were made of bread dough!"
"Well, let that be a lesson to behave yourself. Actually, I'm surprised she didn't pull a knife on you. Like all her family, she takes her cue from the High Prince and carries one in each boot. She knows how to use them, too."
He smote his forehead with the flat of his palm. "With her temper, I would sing like a virgin girl for the rest of my life!"
"Her restraint in the matter may indicate that she likes youЧeither that or she hesitated to geld a friend of mine."
"She-dragon," Kazander muttered.
"Unlike her sweet and ladylike mother, but entirely reminiscent of Princess Tobin. I was proud of herЧif she'd
68 Melanie Rawn
gotten free while you were still at a gallop, she might have hurt herself in the fall. Why did you pull such a stunt? Aside from getting around your promise not to touch her, I mean."
"The red pennant was takenЧand these children thought this was all there is to war," he answered forthrightly. "If prizes are the goal, then one should go for the most essential ones. But prizes are not the goal in battle. They should think about that over the next few days."
"That's so." Walvis put a hand on his shoulder. "And you're right to have taught that lesson. But my little wars are just skirmishes, Kazander. I never expect them to fight the real thing. No one does. That's what Rohan's being High Prince is all about."
The younger man nodded. "He is greatly revered among us, even more than his father who drove the Merida from Stronghold." Kazander hesitated. "ButЧand I would say this to no one but you, mighty athriЧit surpasses my understanding and that of our wisest ones why Prince Pol should take to wife the daughter of the snake who has given shelter to the Merida these many years."
"I would say this to no one but you, mighty korrusЧbut I've never understood it, myself. Princess Meiglan is beautiful and gentle and innocent of her father's wickedness. And marriage to bring alliances and peace is not uncommon. Still. . . ."
"The vermin still raid in the north. My great-grandfather fought them and killed many. My grandfather fought them and killed many more. My father was young but remembers your victory at Tiglath, where you killed hundreds. And yet they still raid in the north." Aware that his temper was seething, as always at the mere mention of the ancient enemy, he made an effort and said, "But perhaps it is as you say, and this alliance will bring peace one day."
"Is it true, do you suppose, that Prince Miyon has no sons to follow him?"
"That is the rumor. It's said there are bastards, but he keeps none of them at his court. If he dies without naming an heir, there will be war."
"Not if Pol claims Cunaxa on his wife's behalf," Walvis said musingly. "Rohan once told me that her marriage to Pol was a stroke of genius. But he never said whose."
"It is beyond my poor powers of understanding," Kazander sighed.
STRONGHOLD 69
Walvis changed the subject. "How long can you stay this time?"
"As long as it takes the Lady Chayla to forgive me." He grinned.
"I thought we agreed that would take forever! I'm not contributing my substance to feed your ravenous hordes or your flea-bitten horses while you make large eyes at her! You have ten days, and then I'm packing you back to your long-suffering wives."