"07 - The Bellmaker UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacques Brian)

The drawbridge thudded down onto the moatbank, and the rat horde came pouring out intent on catching the escaped prisoners. Spitting water and mud, Silvamord splashed up and down screeching, "Help! Save me, you fools ... Glubble ... I can't swim!"

Trie rats halted, fearful of ignoring the Foxwolf's mate. Several long pikes and spears were stretched out quickly into the water, one so hastily that it clouted the drowning fox, half stunning her.

Nagru came bounding out over the drawbridge in time

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to see Silvamord hauled dripping from the moat. Her bedraggled skirt of tails clung wetly as she buffeted the head .of a rat called Crookneck, shouting, "I said save me, you addle-brained toad, not brain me!"

As she sank exhausted to the grassy bank, Nagru berated her. "Idiot, why did you let them escape?"

"Why did I let them escape?" she shrieked, spitting moat water and mud at him venomously. "Where were you, bogbrains? Still swilling wine and feeding your face?"

Nagru sighted the receding figures vanishing into the trees on the wooded hillside. He pointed to a group of twoscore or more rats standing on the bank. "You lot, follow me. I'll catch them!"

Silvamord tottered upright at the water's edge, foot-paws seeking purchase in the wet grass. The Foxwolf could not resist giving her a hefty slap on the back. "You stay here and dry off, vixen!"

She overbalanced and toppled back, screeching, into the moat.

The four otters rushed Serena along at a cracking pace. Truffen was seated on the sturdy shoulders of a young male called Trout lad. Muta brought up the rear; for all her seasons and girth, she was still nimble and swift. Tree shadows threw alternating patterns of sun and shade over the Southswarders as they fled up the thick-timbered hillside.

Nagru halted at the bottom of the causeway steps leading down from the castle plateau. His keen eyes picked up the movements of the small group racing up the wooded tor across the valley. A rat Captain named

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Gatchag stuck his sword into the ground and sank down on his haunches beside the quivering weapon, shaking his head knowingly. "Huh, they're away like two brace o' woodpigeons. Nah! You won't catch 'em now. Take my word fer it!"

Swift as a flash, the Urgan Nagru grabbed Gatchag's sword and slew him with a single, powerful slash. The shock that ran through the rats was registered in a single moan, like a sudden gale running through long wheat. Nagru threw the blade down on the lifeless body.

"Anybeast got more strong opinions to voice can join him! Up on your paws, slopmouths, before I let daylight into some of your skulls! Mingol, take twelve and circle right. Riveneye, take another twelve and circle in from the left. The rest of you follow me. We'll go straight up after them. If we shift fast enough, they'll be cut off from three ways. In my horde, a slow rat is a dead one. Now move!"

Rab Streambattle and six of his otters watched anxiously as the fugitives toiled uphill. Rab's mate, Iris, fitted a stone to her sling. "Those rats are coming on fast, Rab. They're going to pincer in front of our lot before they get hereЧwhat'll we do?"

The otter leader loosed an arrow, picking off one of Mingol's front-runners. Laying another shaft on his bowstring he took aim and said, "We'll have to buy them some time by holding off the rats. Lay on and make every shot count!"

The otters attacked with a will. Arrows, slingstones, and short javelins whipped skillfully down the wooded slope to left and right, peppering the horderats and har-

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rying their pincer movement. Rab hurtled forward and reached the fugitives. He ran past them, calling out, "Keep goingЧthere's help ahead, mates. Hurry! Nagru's right behind you. I'll keep him busy!"

Rab Streambattle was a warrior who did not know the meaning of fear. The most skilled weaponbeast among otters, now he showed his mettle. Planting both footpaws firmly, he threw off his quiver and with a speed born of desperation began zipping arrows into the ranks of Nagru's rats.

The Foxwolf was sorry he had not slain the fierce otter on first sight. Leaping to one side he dodged behind a scrub oak, leaving the rat immediately behind to die by the arrow that was meant for him. Another rat screamed and leaped high, transfixed by Rab's next shaft. Nagru cursed silently, wishing he had brought a bow and arrows along. Hailing his claws wildly, he shouted, "Idiots! Move about, duck and dodge, use your arrows and spearsЧhe's only one otter!"

A deadly shot from Rab pinned a rat to a rowan tree. Grim faced, he called out as he strung another arrow, "Aye, I'm only one otter, but here I stand. Try an' pass, scum!"