"Clayton Emery - Netheril 03 - Mortal Consequences" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

rough hoof worn from mountain climbing. That small target was all he needed.
Gritting his teeth against pain, he snaked Harvester past tough roots and hooked the barb behind the
yak-man's hock. A savage yank severed the tendon, and the creature was ham-strung. He toppled into
a compatriot with a bawl like a slaughtered ox.
Knucklebones heard the cry and took heart. Together they might subdue these queer people and
escape. Pressing one hand against the bloody-nosed yak, she slithered around his wide ribs after
another foe. She found one shorter and slimmer than the others, probably a female, but the cow saw
her at the same time, and whipped up a staff topped by a tiny hourglass. Knucklebones had only a
second to wonder what it wasтАФ
тАФthen she was standing in the village in the valley. Beside her, Sunbright asked a milkmaid where
lay the path to the dwarves' high caves. The milkmaid had blue eyes, and rubbed the tip of her nose.
Knucklebones saw freckles on her hand, smelled manure, and bread baking in a cottage, and heard
milk sloshing in the pail.
But how could this image be real? What happened to the mountain and yak-men and snow? The
sun was warm on her neck. The maid's dog snuffled her hand, and she felt its warm tongue on her
fingers. How had she been transported three days into the past, and many miles distant?
The staff bore an hourglass, she recalled. Some magic time spell? Had it sent her mind into the
past?
Images and thoughts tumbled in her mind, then a staff smacked the top of her head with a fierce
crunch. The milkmaid's farm winked into blackness.
*****
Sunbright saw his lover struck down, saw her drop as if lifeless. Rage overcame sense, and he
reared upright with a roar. Bushes and snow flew as he hoisted Harvester in the air, slung it far behind
to shear at the bull neck of the nearest of the four yak-men, but was undone again. All four turned on
him. The tornado-spewing staff aimed, puffed like a dragon, and the barbarian was blown backward to
sprawl on the snow-slick path.
His head slammed stone, his burned neck sent jolts of lightning coursing through his frame. Before
he could rise, the yak-woman stamped forward with her staff, and knocked Harvester from his numbed
hands. A tremendous hoof stamped on his chest, and drove out his wind. Through a gray fog loomed
the calm, deadly face of an otherworldly executioner. The yak-woman drew a curved scimitar, and
coolly aimed to split his throat.
Sunbright bucked against the hoof, got nowhere, gasped, and drew no breath into his squashed
chest. He flailed his arms uselessly. He'd die now, and Knucklebones next. So ended all his mad
quests.
Obscured by snow, the curved blade topped its arch, came whistling aroundтАФ
тАФand three crossbow bolts buried themselves to their feathers in the yak-woman's breast.
 Chapter 3
Pinned by a hoof, stunned by a head blow, half-blinded by snow and pain, Sunbright saw the yak-
woman's brown eyes roll white as she died. A thin trickle of blood stained her round nostrilsтАФsign of
lung punctureтАФ then she slumped onto the snow and collapsed in a heap. Her curved sword landed in
the snow without a sound.
Another yak-man cast right and left for danger, whipped his staff through the air, rumbled a
gurgling command to his two comrades. A black crossbow bolt slammed into the side of his neck and
cut his orders off. His black-nailed hand grabbed the shaft.
Glimpsing this in seconds, Sunbright rolled, scurried on knees and elbows to grab Harvester of
Blood lying on the narrow path, its imprint outlined in snow. Keeping low, he shouted, "Knuckle',
watch for arrows! Someone's killing them!"
There was no answer, and a spasm of fear clutched his heart. Was she just being silent for the fight?
Or had she been killed, or pitched off the mountain? Perhaps she lay bleeding. He mustтАФ
A brawny hand clamped onto his shoulder from behind, and he was hurled flat, so hard his spine