"Edmond Hamilton - The Monsters of Juntonheim" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Edmond)

I am no Jotun, I said earnestly. I have but newly come to this land, from far across the outer ice.

She laughed scornfully. Do you think I believe that you have come from beyond frozen Niffleheim?
Your lie is not even clever. Why do you delay in killing me? Death is preferable to your touch, Jotun.
And the death of Freya will soon be avenged.

Freya? I gasped.


This woman was Freya, whom the old Vikings had worshipped Freya of the white hands, loveliest of
the Aesir? It was impossible! She was real, warm, panting with hate as she sought to free herself. Yet
she had spoken of Asgard. That distant eyrie of gray castle was Asgard, just as the legends had
described it, even to the flying rainbow bridge that connected it with the mainland.


I can't understand, Freya, I faltered, still holding her. My name is Keith Masters. I came from beyond
the ice Niffleheim, as you call it.

For a moment, doubt softened her stony blue eyes. Then she looked past me, and they became bitter
and hate-filled again.


You need lie no longer. Here are your Jotun comrades now, come to help you.

I turned, appalled. Eight men were approaching stealthily, after tethering their horses at the edge of the
forest. They were taller even than I. Their hair was black as mine, and hung down in shaggy locks from
under cap-like metal helmets. They wore armor tunics of overlapping metal scales, and high buskins on
their feet, and carried swords and shields. Their faces were black-bearded, brutal.


He is the man kill him! a brawny man bellowed, pointing to me with his sword.


They rushed forward. Freya's sword lay near my feet. I released the woman and snatched up the
weapon. As I faced the Jotuns, I glimpsed Freya staring in wonder from me to the charging barbarians. I
heard their captain shouting orders.


Strike them both down. Be sure the man does not escape!

They came at me in a bunch. The light, straight sword in my hand flashed out viciously. I was a fair hand
with a saber, for it was a sport I had practiced in university days. Except for its straightness, this sword
was like the blades I had used.


It bit through a Jotun throat, then swung in a slicing slash at his nearest comrade's neck. Both men
crumpled, but the others came on. I knew I was done for. Real life isn't like the movies. One man just
can't stand off six in a sword fight.