"Douglas Hill - Last Legionary 0 - Young Legionary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hill Douglas)

and sense of order. These equalities too seemed bred into them, almost like mutations. But they also
formed the basis of the Legion training, which began, for every individual, in infancy. And yet the
Legions were well aware that each individual has different capabilities, different aptitudes. It was usually
clear, early in a child's life, where his or her special talents lay. Then their more specialized training would
take different directions, after a series of verifying tests.

And for those children who showed high potential for advanced levels of combat training, the first of
those tests - and one of the most demanding - was the Ordeal.



Commander Maron's flyer had been out of sight for many long moments, but still Keill remained
motionless. The bitter wind howled around him, but he barely noticed it. He felt paralyzed, like a machine
with a broken connection. He did not seem able to think. Only fragments of half-thoughts formed in his
mind - and behind them were feelings, and imaginings, swarming like misshapen, menacing monsters.

He could not collect his thoughts, because he did not dare to confront his feelings. So he stood, numbly,
staring into nothingness, on the edge of panic.

But self-preservation is a powerful force, especially in a child of Moros. Keill's instincts gathered to jolt
him back to reality. And the jolt took the form of an unbidden mental image of his father - tall, straight,
with kindly eyes that could see deep into the hearts of people. He heard his father's voice, a memory of
words that lie had first heard years before.

'Your feelings are like wild creatures. Try to crush them, or to pretend they aren't there, and they'll fight
you - and they'll get stronger. You have to accept them, know and understand them. Your feelings
belong to you: you can't belong to them. Let them come out where you can see them - and then master
them, and make them do your bidding.'

The words echoed through the dazed turmoil of Keill's mind. The basic, most deep-rooted quality of the
people of Moros - self-mastery. He had nearly lost it. And you could not do that on Moros, especially in
the Iron Mountains, and survive.

He became aware that his body was shaking with spasms of uncontrolled shivering. Feeling Number
One, he told himself. Cold. A few more minutes of this, and I wouldn't be able to move if I wanted to.

But even then he remained still. Because in facing that feeling, of cold, he was forced to face another
feeling, the one that was the true cause of his numbed paralysis. Fear. He was wretchedly,
soul-destroyingly afraid.

He was afraid of the bleak, cold barrier of the high peaks. He was afraid of losing his way. He was afraid
of making some foolish slip or misjudgment, which in this environment could be instantly fatal. He was
afraid of the life forms that might be lurking in every shadow around him. Above all, he was afraid of the
nameless Something that Commander Maron had said was the deadliest danger any legionary could
face.

He was afraid of the known, and the unknown. He was afraid of dying, and of failure. He was afraid
even to begin the Ordeal, because he feared that he might not complete it.

And then, because he was at last confronting his feelings honestly, he recognized another emotion within