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

A cry in the unhuman uproar startled me. I whirled around. A horse and rider were charging along the
edge of the cliff, coming from the south.


Good Lord! I gasped. Must everything be like a dream?

The rider of that charging black steed was a young woman, but like none I had ever seen before. She
wore a winged metal helmet, beneath which her bright yellow hair streamed like flame in the wind. Blue
eyes flared hatred out of a beautiful, angry face. Her dress was a gleaming brynja, or coat of ringed
mail, over a kirtle. Her white knees were bare, gripping the saddle. As she urged her mount down upon
me, a straight, light sword flashed in her hand.


You dare spy upon Asgard, Jotun dog! she cried fiercely in a language that was remarkably close to
Norwegian. Death for that!

Then that high eyrie of great gray castles was Asgard, home of the legendary Aesir! And this wrathful
Viking maid took me for a Jotun, one of the race who were mortal enemies of the Aesir! Was I
dreaming all this, or had I actually stumbled somehow into the land of ancient Viking legend?


Then I woke to realization of my peril. As the woman's sword stabbed toward my breast, I ducked
under it. I felt the blade scream above my head as her horse thundered past. Swiftly I reached up and
grabbed her outstretched mail-clad arm. My hold tore her from the saddle.


The sword flew from her grasp as she fell. But she was up and darting toward it in a single motion. I
leaped after her and caught her before she could reach the weapon. She fought like a tigress. The
strength of her slender, mail-clad body was amazing. Her small fist struck my mouth furiously.


Scum of Jotunheim! she hissed. I finally succeeded in pinning her arms to her sides. Her white face,
inches away from my own, was blazing with rage, her sea-blue eyes stormy in wild anger. She was
beautiful, with a vibrant loveliness like that of a tempest. Her helmeted, golden head came only to my
chin, but her blue eyes glared into mine without a trace of fear.


You'll dangle from the walls of Asgard for daring to lay hands on me, Jotun! she snapped.


She spoke a strangely antique form of the Norwegian tongue. I answered in the Norwegian I knew.


Why did you try to kill me? I asked. I'm not your enemy.

You are a Jotun, an enemy to the Aesir, she declared. You have the dark hair of a true Jotun dog,
even though you have chosen to dress in outlandish garments. And you dared spy on Asgard!

In the old legends, I remembered, the mighty Aesir had been fair-haired. Their mortal enemies, the
Jotuns, had been dark-haired.