"David Gemmell - The Damned 02 - The Swords Of Night And Day" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

тАШStay calm and think,тАЩ he said.

The snarling faces came again. Hostile warriors all around him, hacking and slashing. He
fought them with two deadly, razor sharp blades. The enemy fell back. He did not seek to escape
then, but hurled himself at them, seeking to reach . . . to reach . . .
 The memory faded. Anger swelled, but he let it flow over him and away. Holding to the memory of the
scene, he analysed what he did remember. He had been bone weary, his swords unnaturally heavy. No,
he realized, not just weary.

I was old!

The shock of the memory made him rise again and return to the mirror. The face he saw was young,
the skin unlined, the close-cropped hair dark and shining with health.

The image returned with sickening intensity.

A broad-bladed spear plunged into his side. He winced at the pain of it, the hot, agonizing rush
of blood over ripped flesh. The spear all but disembowelled him. A mortal wound. He killed the
wielder with a reverse cut, and staggered on. The Zharn king screamed at his guards to protect
him. Four of them charged - huge men bearing bronze axes. They died bravely. The last managed
to bury an axe blade into his right shoulder, almost severing the arm. The Zharn king shouted a
war cry and leapt to attack him. Mortally wounded, he swayed from the kingтАЩs plunging spear, the
sword in his left hand cleaving through the kingтАЩs side, slicing through his backbone. With an
awful cry of pain and despair the Zharn king fell.

The man looked down at the skin of his shoulder. It was unmarked. As was his side. There was not a
scar upon his flesh. Was he seeing visions of the future, then? Was this how he was to die?

A cold breeze blew in from the balcony. He rose and searched the room. By the far wall was a tall
chest of drawers. The top drawer contained carefully folded clothing. Removing the first item, he saw that
it was a thigh-length tunic of fine blue wool. He pulled it on, then opened the second drawer. Here he
found several pairs of leggings, some in wool, others in soft leather. Choosing a pair in dark, polished
leather, he donned them. They fitted perfectly.

Hearing footsteps outside his door he stepped away from the chest and waited, his mind tense, his
body relaxed.

An elderly man entered, bearing a tray on which was set a plate of cured meats, and smoked cheeses.
The man glanced at him nervously, but said nothing. He moved to the larger table, set down the tray and
backed away towards the door.

тАШWait!тАЩ

The elderly man stopped, eyes downcast.

тАШWho are you?тАЩ

Mumbling something under his breath, the tray-bearer rushed from the room. Only after he had
departed did the man manage to piece together the answer he had given. The words were familiar, but