"David Gemmell - Drenai Tales 05 - In the Realm of the Wolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

gaze to the headstone. Forty feet away. At that distance the barbed bolt would
punch through Waylander's back, ripping through the lungs and exiting through
the chest. Even if he missed the heart his victim would die within minutes,
choking on his own blood.
Kreeg was anxious for the kill to be over and his eyes sought out the tall
man.
He was not in sight.
Kreeg blinked. The clearing was empty.
'You missed your chance,' came a cold voice.
Kreeg swung, trying to bring the crossbow to bear. He had one glimpse of his
victim, arm raised, something shining in his hand. The arm swept down. It was
as if a bolt of pure sunlight had exploded within Kreeg's skull. There was no
pain, no other sensation. He felt the crossbow slipping from his hands, and
the world spinning.
His last thought was about luck.
It had not changed at all.
Waylander knelt by the body and lifted the ornate crossbow the man had held.
The shoulder-stock of ebony had been expertly crafted, and embossed with
swirling gold. The bow itself was of steel, most likely Ventrian, for its
finish was silky smooth and there was not a blemish to be seen. Putting aside
the weapon he returned his scrutiny to the corpse. The man was lean and tough,
his face hard, the chin square, the mouth thin. Waylander was sure he had
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never seen him before. Leaning forward he dragged his knife clear of the man's
eye-socket, wiping the blade across the grass. Drying the knife against the
dead man's tunic he slipped it once more into the black leather sheath
strapped to his left forearm.
A swift search of the man's clothing revealed nothing, save four copper coins
and a hidden knife, hanging from a thong at his throat. Taking hold of the
leaf-green tunic Waylander hauled the corpse upright, hoisting the body over
his right shoulder. Foxes and wolves would fight over the remains, and he
wanted no such squabbles near Danyal's grave.
Slowly he made his way to the second waterfall, hurling the body out over the
rim and watching it plummet to the rushing stream below. At first the impact
wedged the corpse against two boulders, but slowly the pull of the water
exerted itself and Kreeg's lifeless form floated away, face-down towards the
distant river. Retrieving his own crossbow, and taking up the assassin's
weapon, Waylander made his way back to the cabin.
Smoke was lazily drifting up from the stone chimney and he paused at the edge
of the trees, staring without pleasure at the home he had crafted for Danyal
and himself. Built against the base of a rearing cliff, protected from above
by an overhang of rock, the log cabin was sixty feet long, with three large,
shuttered windows and one door. The ground before it had been cleared of all
trees, bushes and boulders, and no one could approach within a hundred feet
without being seen.
The cabin was a fortress, and yet there was beauty also. Danyal had covered
the corner joints with mottled stones of red and blue, and planted flowers
beneath the windows, roses that climbed and clung to the wooden walls, pink
and gold against the harsh, ridged bark.
Waylander scanned the open ground, searching the tree line for any second