"Tracy Falbe - The Rys Chronicles 1 - Union of Renegades" - читать интересную книгу автора (Falbe Tracy)

be flying blindly through the dark. In his other hand, his sword was out
and ready, waiting only to reach land and seek out the enemy.
Obediently, Starfield surged ahead and the water was soon flowing
around DreibrandтАЩs feet. The water jumped over the tops of his boots, and
he shivered from the sudden coldness that contrasted to the excited sweat
beneath his clothing and armor.
The twang and whistle of countless arrows soon sang through the air.
One glanced off DreibrandтАЩs shield and he asked the war god Golan to
spare him from lucky shots in the night. A few cries of pain rose from the
ranks, and one horse squealed from a terrible wound.
Dreibrand felt as if he was in the middle of the river for hours, although
he knew the river was narrow and shallow compared to the greatness it
achieved farther south. Finally the agony of anticipation ended, and his
horse lurched up the bank. Dreibrand yelled and water splashed in every
direction as the soldiers all around him rushed out of the water.
 The Bostas swarmed on the shore, hoping to drive back the invaders
while they were still in the water. Fighters on horseback and on foot
hurled themselves at the Atrophane, and the crash of weapons erupted
loudly. The dark made the struggle desperate and difficult, and
combatants could barely see with whom they exchanged blows.
Knowing that only enemies could be in front of him, Dreibrand slashed
with abandon, cutting down anyone who defied him. His powerful steed
trampled and leaped over Bostas, and Dreibrand steadily gained a hold on
the muddy bank.
A bleak gray line emerged in the east and lighted a depressing scene for
the Bostas. Wherever the river could be forded, Atrophane soldiers pushed
across the water on their horses or on rafts, and twenty times as many
soldiers waited behind those already in the river. When defenders beheld
the very vastness of the Atrophane Horde, their hearts usually quailed, and
like those before them, the Bostas sensed the futility of their courage. For
decades now the Atrophane had been rolling westward, expanding their
Empire, and their reputation for victory was well established.
Despite a certainty of defeat, the Bostas decided that the Atrophane
would have to buy their victory with blood. More than able to pay, the
Atrophane smashed the valiant resistance and pushed the Bostas back
toward their stronghold. The relatively small force of Bosta defenders
could not repel the thousands of well-trained and heavily armed
Atrophane. As the Bostas retreated to rally at their fortress, Atrophane
foot soldiers were tripping over the thick sprawl of bodies on the
riverbank.
Assembling the soldiers specifically under his command, Dreibrand
charged after the Bostas just long enough to make sure they were serious
about their retreat, and then he relented. He had accomplished his
mission to win the opposite bank, and now he must secure their position
and wait for the rest of the Horde to catch up. The engineers would have
to ferry across the battering rams and assemble the siege engines before
they could advance on the fortress.
The day had barely begun and bits of fog still lingered along the river.
Panting, Dreibrand slung his shield over his back and pulled out a cloth to
clean the blood from his sword. The gleam of the expensive steel returned