"Flint, Kenneth C - Gods of Eire 02 - Champions of the Sidhe UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Kenneth C)

It drove straight into the face of the man with a harsh cry and a flutter of broad wings. The amazed Fomor saw it was a raven, larger than a hawk. It tore savagely at the warrior, great talons gripping his hands while a gleaming, sharp beak jabbed at his face. Helpless to fight it off, he flailed wildly, then dropped his spear and staggered back. The bird pulled away and left him to retreat, hands pressed to a face streaming with blood. It glided to the back of the courtyard, opposite Lugh, and settled lightly to the ground.

As the raven touched the earth, a strange glow arose from it, as if the sleek blue-black feathers had turned suddenly to silver flame. The glow grew quickly, swallowing up the form, then rose in a column taller than a man. It flared, then faded away, shrinking back to reveal a new form now, a tall and slender form wrapped in a clinging cloak of deepest black.

The face of a woman showed above the cloak, high-browed, hollow-cheeked, and pointed-chinned. Black hair was pulled back and tightly braided at the nape of the neck, giving the head an even harsher look, like the raven's skull. Dark eyes glinted like polished biack stones from deep behind the brows, fixing on the Fomor with the hungry look a raptor has for its helpless prey. The thin mouth smiled, and the fine, sharp

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teeth parted as if ready for the taste of a victims flesh. The arms unfolded, lifting from a gaunt, almost skeletal frame. The limbs revealed by the warrior's tunic that she wore were lank and wiry, like knotted cord. At each bony hip hung a sheathed longsword.

"Our number is four," the one called Lugh quietly announced.

"It is the Morrigan!" another of the Fomor gasped, voice touched with awe. The name and carnivorous reputation of this de Dannan warrior was well known to them. She was one of the few for whom the cruel beings had any fear. The Fomor officer was stili quite unimpressed. "The Morrigan too," he said carelessly. He looked back toward Lugh. "So, is that it, then? Or are some more of your little band going to be leaping at us from somewhere?" The young warrior shook his head. "No more." "Too bad," the captain said with mock regret. Then the tiny mouth turned upward in a cruel smile. "But it's enough. We'll earn a fine reward for killing such a group of rebel champions." "Leave this place now," Lugh told him. He drew his sword in a swift, single move. The blade glowed brightly and an aura of power from it seemed to envelop the young warrior. The boyish manner fell away and his voice turned deadly cold. "This weapon is called the Answerer. Leave here or, from now on, it will do my speaking for me."

The captain looked from the bright weapon to the suddenly determined face. He hesitated, feeling a faint, chill ripple of fear wash through him.

But he shook it off Years of casual brutality had taught him that these weak and cowardly de Dananns had no chance of standing up against the Fomor power. He laughed again.

"Boy," he said in a blustering voice, "in a moment your sword will be hanging at my side!" He turned and shouted the order to his men. "AH right, attack them now!"

Lugh and his companions made no move to meet the attack.

This forced the Fomor to divide and charge four different ways.

The captain, easily the most skilled fighter of the group,

drove forward to engage Lugh himself. He struck with his full

power, expecting to finish the overconfident youth quickly. He

was astonished to find his opponent swinging his own weapon

in a lightning move that parried the sword thrust easily. He

redoubled his effort, realizing he faced a trained adversary.

Gilla the Clown downed one of his own charging Fomor with

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the throw of an apple, driving the hard sphere into his victims eye. He then dropped from the wall to the yard with an agility surprising to the Fomor, landing in a fighting position, sword in hand, to face three more attackers.