"08 - Winter Warriors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)
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\viewkind4\uc1\pard\cbpat2\li1810\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-3\b\f0\fs30 David Gemmell \par
Winter Warriors\par
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Chapter One\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\i0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li5\ri5\sb475\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 The night sky over the mountains was clear and bright, the stars like diamonds on sable. It was a late winter \expndtw-3 night of cold and terrible beauty, the snow hanging heavy \expndtw0 on the branches of pine and cedar. There was no colour here, no sense of life. The land lay silent, save for the occasional crack of an overladen branch, or the soft, whispering sound of fallen snow being drifted by the harsh north wind.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi197\li10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-1\fs21 A hooded rider on a dark horse emerged from the tree \expndtw0 line, his mount plodding slowly through the thick snow. Bent low over the saddle he rode on, his head bowed against the wind, his gloved hands holding his snow-crowned grey cloak tightly at the neck. As he came into \expndtw-4 the open he seemed to become a focus for the angry wind, \expndtw0 which howled around him. Undaunted he urged the \expndtw-2 horse on. A white owl launched itself from a high treetop \expndtw0 and glided down past the horse and rider. A thin rat scurried across the moonlit snow, swerving as the owl's talons touched its back. The swerve almost carried it \expndtw-7 clear.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li211\sl-250\slmult0\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-7\fs21 Almost.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi192\li14\ri14\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 In this frozen place \i almost \i0 was a death sentence. Everything here was black and white, sharp and clearly \expndtw-1 defined, with no delicate shades of grey. Stark contrasts. \expndtw0 Success or failure, life or death. No second chances, no \expndtw-9 excuses.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi197\ri24\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 As the owl flew away with its prey the rider glanced \expndtw-1 up. In a world without colour his bright blue eyes shone \expndtw0 silver-grey in a face dark as ebony. The black man touched heels to his tired mount, steering the animal towards the woods. 'We are both tired,' whispered the rider, patting the gelding's long neck. 'But we'll stop \expndtw-2 soon.'\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi178\ri14\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Nogusta looked at the sky. It was still clear. No fresh snow tonight, he thought, which meant that the tracks they were following would still be visible come dawn. Moonlight filtered through the tall trees and Nogusta \expndtw-2 began to seek a resting place. Despite the heavy, hooded \expndtw0 grey cloak and the black woollen shirt and leggings he \expndtw-1 was cold all the way to the bone. But it was his ears that \expndtw-2 were suffering the most. Under normal circumstances he \expndtw0 would have wrapped his scarf around his face. Not a \expndtw-4 wise move, however, when tracking three desperate men. \expndtw0 He needed to be alert for every sound and movement. \expndtw-1 These men had already killed, and would not hesitate to \expndtw-3 do so again.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi173\li19\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-2\fs21 Looping the reins over his pommel he lifted his hands to his ears, rubbing at the skin. The pain was intense. Do \expndtw0 not fear the cold, he warned himself. The cold is life. Fear should come only when his body stopped fighting the cold. When it began to feel warm and drowsy. For death's icy dagger lay waiting within that illusory \expndtw-2 warmth. The horse plodded on, following the tracks like \expndtw0 a hound. Nogusta hauled him to a stop. Somewhere up ahead the killers would be camped for the night. He sniffed the air, but could not pick up the scent of \expndtw-2 woodsmoke. They would have to light a fire. Otherwise \expndtw-3 they would be dead.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi187\li62\ri10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Nogusta was in no condition to tackle them now. Swinging away from the trail he rode deeper into the\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li34\sb144\qc\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-17\fs21 10\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\ri14\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-4\fs21 woods, seeking a sheltered hollow, or a cliff wall, where \expndtw-2 he could build his own fire and rest.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi192\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-2\fs21 The horse stumbled in deep snow, but steadied itself. \expndtw-3 Nogusta almost fell from the saddle. As he righted him\-self he caught a glimpse of a cabin wall through a gap in \expndtw-1 the trees. Almost entirely snow covered it was near in\-\expndtw0 visible, and had the horse not balked he would have ridden past it. Dismounting Nogusta led the exhausted \expndtw-1 gelding to the deserted building. The door was hanging \expndtw-2 on one leather hinge, the other having rotted away. The \expndtw-3 cabin was long and narrow beneath a sod roof, and there \expndtw-2 was a lean-to at the side, out of the wind. Here Nogusta \expndtw0 unsaddled the horse and rubbed him down. Filling a feedbag with grain he looped it over the beast's ears, \expndtw-2 then covered his broad back with a blanket.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi192\li5\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-4\fs21 Leaving the horse to feed Nogusta moved round to the \expndtw0 front of the building and eased his way over the snow \expndtw-2 that had piled up in the doorway. The interior was dark, \expndtw-1 but he could just make out the grey stone of the hearth. \expndtw0 As was customary in the wild a fire had been laid, but \expndtw-4 snow had drifted down the chimney and half covered the \expndtw0 wood. Carefully Nogusta cleaned it out, then re-laid \expndtw-3 the fire. Taking his tinder box from his pouch he opened \expndtw0 it and hesitated. The tinder would burn for only a few seconds. If the thin kindling wood did not catch fire \expndtw-4 immediately it might take him hours to start a blaze with \expndtw0 knife and flint. And he needed a fire desperately. The \expndtw-1 cold was making him tremble now. He struck the flint. \expndtw0 The tinder burst into flame. Holding it to the thin \expndtw-3 kindling wood he whispered a prayer to his star. Flames \expndtw0 licked up, then surged through the dry wood. Nogusta settled back and breathed a sigh of relief, and, as the fire flared, he looked around him, studying the room. The cabin had been neatly built by a man who cared.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\ri10\sb149\qc\cf1\lang1033\fs21 ii\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li5\ri24\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 The joints were well crafted, as was the furniture, a bench table, four chairs and a narrow bed. Shelves had been set on the north wall. They were bare now. There \expndtw-3 was only one window, the shutters closed tight. One side \expndtw0 of the hearth was filled with logs. An old spider's web \expndtw-3 stretched across them.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi168\li5\ri14\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 The empty shelves and lack of personal belongings \expndtw-2 showed that the man who had built the cabin had chosen \expndtw0 to move on. Nogusta wondered why. The construction \expndtw-1 of the cabin showed a neat man, a patient man. Not one \expndtw0 to be easily deterred. Nogusta scanned the walls. There \expndtw-3 was no sign of a woman's presence here. The builder had \expndtw0 been a man alone. Probably a trapper. And when he had finally left - perhaps the mountains were trapped out - he had carefully laid a fire for the next person to \expndtw-3 find his home. A considerate man. Nogusta felt welcome \expndtw0 in the cabin, as if greeted by the owner. It was a good \expndtw-10 feeling.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi187\li34\ri10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Nogusta rose and walked out to where his horse was patiently waiting. Removing the empty feedbag he \expndtw-2 stroked his neck. There was no need to hobble him. The \expndtw0 gelding would not leave this place of shelter. The stone \expndtw-1 chimney jutted from the wooden wall of the cabin here, \expndtw-3 and soon the fire would heat the stones. 'You will be safe \expndtw-1 here for the night, my friend,' Nogusta told the gelding.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi178\li48\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-2\fs21 Gathering his saddlebags he returned to the cabin and \expndtw0 heaved the door back into place, wedging it against the \expndtw-2 twisted frame. Then he pulled a chair up to the fire. The \expndtw-4 cold stones of the hearth were sucking almost all the heat \expndtw0 from the fire. 'Be patient,' he told himself. Minutes passed. He saw a woodlouse run along a log as the flames licked up. Nogusta drew his sword and held \expndtw-1 the blade against the wood, offering the insect a way of \expndtw0 escape. The woodlouse approached the blade, then\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li48\sb144\qc\cf1\lang1033\fs21 iz\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\ri10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 turned away from it, toppling into the fire. 'Fool,' said Nogusta. 'The blade was life.'\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi197\li10\ri5\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Ts that how you knew the robbers were in the north \expndtw-1 pasture?'\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li216\sl-250\slmult0\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-4\fs21 'Yes.'\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'But don't you want to keep it?'\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi202\li10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'It chose you, Nogusta. You saw the magic. Always \expndtw-4 the talisman chooses. It has done so for hundreds of years. \expndtw-2 And - if the Source wills - it will choose one of your own \expndtw-3 sons.'\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li211\sl-250\slmult0\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-2\fs21 If the Source wills . . .\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-1\fs21 But the Source had not willed.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi192\li14\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Nogusta curled his hand around the talisman, and stared into the fire, hoping for a vision. None came.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi197\li14\ri5\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 From his saddlebag he took a small package and \expndtw-2 opened it. It contained several strips of dried, salted beef. \expndtw-3 Slowly he ate them.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi192\li14\ri10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Adding two logs to the fire he moved to the bed. The blankets were thin and dusty and he shook them out. Away from the blaze he shivered, then laughed at\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li10\ri14\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-1\fs21 himself. 'You are getting old,' he said. 'Once upon a time \expndtw0 the cold would not have affected you this way.'\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi202\ri5\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Back at the fire once more he put on his shirt. A face came into his mind, sharp featured and with an easy, friendly smile. Orendo the Scout. They had ridden together for almost twenty years, serving first the old king and then his warrior son. Nogusta had always liked \expndtw-1 Orendo. The man was a veteran, and when you gave him \expndtw0 an order you knew it would be carried out to the letter. And he had a heart. Once, several years back, Orendo had found a child lost in the snow, unconscious and half dead from the cold. He had carried him back to camp, then sat with him all night, warming blankets, rubbing the boy's frozen skin. The child had survived.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi187\li10\ri10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Nogusta sighed. Now Orendo was on the run with two other soldiers, having murdered a merchant and raped his daughter. She too had been left for dead, but \expndtw-2 the knife had missed her heart, and she had lived to name \expndtw0 her attackers.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi202\li14\ri10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'Don't bring them back,' the White Wolf had told him. 'I want them dead. No public trials. Bad for morale.' Nogusta had looked into the old man's pale, cold eyes.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li230\sl-250\slmult0\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-1\fs21 'Yes, my general.'\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi202\li29\ri5\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'You want to take Bison and Kebra with you?' asked \expndtw-2 the general.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li235\sl-250\slmult0\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'No. Orendo was Bison's friend. I'll do it alone.'\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi202\li34\ri5\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'Was Orendo not your friend also?' said Banelion, \expndtw-3 watching him closely.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li240\sl-250\slmult0\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'You want their heads as proof that I killed them?'\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi187\li38\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 'No. Your word is good enough for me,' said \expndtw-1 Banelion. That was a source of pride to Nogusta. He had \expndtw-2 served Banelion now for almost thirty-five years - almost \expndtw0 all his adult life. The general was not a man given to praise, but his men served him with an iron loyalty.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li48\sb187\qc\cf1\lang1033\expndtw-17\fs21 14\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li5\ri19\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Nogusta stared into the fire. It had been more than a surprise when Orendo had betrayed him. But then Orendo was being sent home. Like Bison and Kebra. \expndtw-2 And even the White Wolf himself.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi187\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 The king wanted the old men culled. The same old men who had fought for his father, saving the Drenai when all seemed lost. The same old men who had \expndtw-1 invaded Ventria, smashing the emperor's armies. Paid off \expndtw0 and retired. That was the rumour. Orendo had believed it, and had robbed the merchant. Yet it was hard to believe he had also taken part in the rape and attempted murder of the girl. But the evidence was overwhelming. She said he had not only been the instigator of the rape, \expndtw-1 it had been he who had plunged the knife into her breast.\cf0\lang2057\expndtw0\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\fi192\li10\ri10\sl-250\slmult0\qj\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Nogusta stared moodily into the fire. Had the crime shocked him? A good judge of men he would not have thought Orendo capable of such a vile act. But then all those years ago he had learned what \i good \i0 men were \expndtw-1 capable of. He had learned it in fire and blood and death. \expndtw0 He had learned it in the ruin of dreams and the shatter\-\expndtw-2 ing of hopes. Banking up the fire he moved the bed closer \expndtw-1 to the hearth. Pulling off his boots he lay down, covering \expndtw0 himself with the thin blankets.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
\pard\cbpat2\li216\sl-250\slmult0\cf1\lang1033\fs21 Outside the wind was howling.\cf0\lang2057\fs20\par
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