"Michael F. Flynn -- The Forest of Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flynn Michael)

The Forest of Time
Michael F. Flynn
Analog
June 1987
1988 Hugo Nominee (Novella)


It was the autumn of the year and the trees were already showing their death-colors.
Splashes of orange and red and gold rustled in the canopy overhead. Oberleutnant Rudolf
Knecht, Chief Scout of the Army of the Kittatinny, wore the same hues mottled for his uniform
as he rode through the forest. A scout's badge, carefully rusted to dullness, was pinned to
his battered campaign cap.

Knecht swayed easily to the rhythm of his horse's gait as he picked his way up the trail
toward Fox Gap Fortress. He kept a wary eye on the sur-rounding forest. Periodically, he
twisted in the saddle and gazed thought-fully at the trail where it switchbacked below. There
had been no sign of pursuit so far. Knecht believed his presence had gone undetected; but
even this close to home, it paid to be careful. The list of those who wanted Knecht dead was
a long one; and here, north of the Mountain, it was open season on Pennsylvanians.

There were few leaves on the forest floor, but the wind gathered them up and hurled
them in mad dances. The brown, dry, crisp leaves of death. Forerunners of what was to be.
Knecht bowed his head and pulled the jacket collar tighter about his neck.
Knecht felt the autumn. It was in his heart and in his bones. It was in the news he carried
homeward. Bad news even in the best of times, which these were not. Two knick regiments
had moved out of the Hudson Val-ley into the Poconos. They were camped with the
yankees. Brothers-in--arms, as if last spring's fighting had never happened. General
Schneider's fear: New York and the Wyoming had settled their quarrel and made com-mon
cause.
Common cause. Knecht chewed on a drooping moustache, now more grey than brown.
No need to ask the cause. There was little enough that yanks and knicks could agree on, but
killing Pennsylvanians was one.
He remembered that General Schneider was inspecting the fortress line and would
probably be waiting for him at Fox Gap. He did not feel the pleasure he usually felt on such
occasions. Na, Konrad, meiner Alt, he thought. What will you do now? What a burden I must
lay upon your shoul-ders. God help the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

He pulled in on the reins. There was a break in the trees here, and through it he could
see the flank of Kittatinny Mountain. A giant's wall, the ridge ran away, straight and true,
becoming bluer and hazier as its forested slopes faded into the distance. Spots of color
decorated the sheer face of the Mountain. Fox Gap, directly above him, was hidden by the
for-est canopy; but Knecht thought he could just make out the fortresses at Wind Gap and
Tott Gap.

As always, the view comforted him. There was no way across the Kit-tatinny, save
through the Gaps. And there was no way through the Gaps.
 Twenty years since anyone has tried, he thought. He kicked at the horse, and they
resumed their slow progress up the trail. Twenty years ago; and we blew the knick
riverboats off the water.