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

himself. The recognition shocked him. He was feeling sorry for himself, drowning in a mind-wrecking
pool of self-pity.
As he saw that feeling clearly, anger blazed through him - anger and self-loathing at his own weakness.
Unable to face what might happen, he had nearly given up before anything happened at all.

He glared round at the mountains, letting his anger grow, to fuel his determination and courage. 'Do your
worst,' he said aloud to the glittering, indifferent rock. 'Here I come.'



First, he knew, he had to find shelter for the rest of the night. Perhaps, because these ancient mountains
were cracked and pitted with age, there might be a crevice, even a cave, on the slopes sweeping down
to the plateau. Like - up there?

His eyes, straining to penetrate the darkness, followed the line of the steepest slope up many metres, to
what seemed to be a narrow ledge, flat and gleaming in the starlight. Behind it was a patch of darkness so
deeply black that it could be some kind of opening.

The climb was not difficult for him, even barefoot. His fingers and toes found plenty of holds among the
creases and bumps of the rock face. And the effort warmed him, so that he was no longer shivering when
he reached the ledge and found that his guess had been correct. The opening was a small cave -
cramped, but a protection from the wind.

The thought struck him that this plateau might have been chosen as the starting point for the Ordeal
because it offered this shelter. And that seemed even more likely when, inside the inky darkness of the
cave, his hand brushed over a heap of dry twigs, as if someone had supplied the means for a fire.

It took a long time, and much patient concentration, before friction of one twig on another produced a
thin spiral of smoke. He did not see it, but he smelled it, and it inspired him to greater efforts. He did see
the faint, ruddy glow that finally appeared. And soon after, the cave was glowing with the light from a
small fire, and Keill was curled beside it, feeling warm and relaxed and pleased with himself, drifting
almost at once into a contented sleep.

2. The Descent



The light from an ice-blue morning sky brought him creeping painfully out of his nest. The fire had died
during the night, but the cave had retained enough warmth to protect his body heat - though not enough
to keep him from feeling chilled, cramped and stiff. But a basic Legion routine of exercises, even on that
narrow ledge, soon restored his circulation and loosened his muscles.

He looked around at the mighty peaks, lustrous and dazzling in the sunlight, and took a deep breath of
the crisp air. Time to get going - first of all, by climbing back down to the plateau.

He was gripping the lip of the ledge, his feet reaching down for a toe-hold, when the creature exploded
out of the sky with a grating scream, and struck at him like a spear.

A mountain wyvern, which Keill had seen only in museums. A squat, scaly body, half as tall as he was,
with vast black leathery wings and talons that could chip even the rock of the Iron Mountains. And a