"Brian Jacques - Redwall 10 - The Long Patrol" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacques Brian)

"I, Byral Fleetclaw, claim the right. The blood of Greatrats runs in my veins,
and I would fight to the death him who opposes me!"

"I, Damug Warfang, challenge that right. My blood is pure Greatrat, and I will
prove it over your dead carcass!"

A mighty roar arose from the Rapscallion army, then the hordes rushed forward
like autumn leaves upon the gale, surrounding the two brothers as they strode
to the place of combat.

A ring had been marked out higher up on the shore. There the contestants
stood, facing each other. Damug smiled wolf-ishly at his brother, Byral, who
smirked and spat upon the ground between them. Wagers of food and weapons,
plunder and strong drink were being yelled out between supporters of one or
the other.

Two seconds entered the circle and prepared both brothers for the strange
combat that would settle the leadership of the Rapscallion hordes. A short
length of tough vinerope was tied around both rats' left footpaws, attaching
them one to the other, so they could not run away. They were issued their
weapons: a short, stout hardwood club and a cord apiece. The cords were about
two swordblades' length, each with a boulder twice the size of a good apple
attached to its end.

Damug and Byral drew back from each other, stretching the footpaw rope tight.
Gripping their clubs firmly, they glared fiercely at each other, winding the
cords around their paws a few turns so they would not lose them.

Now all eyes were on the old ferret who had announced Gormad Tunn's death, as
he drew forth a scrap of red silk and threw it upward. Caught on the breeze
for a moment, it seemed to float in midair, then it dropped to the floor of
the ring. A wild cheer arose from a thousand throats as the fight started.
Brandishing their clubs and whirling the boulder-laden cords, the two
Greatrats circled, each seeking an opening, while the bloodthirsty onlookers
roared encouragement.

"Crack 'is skull, ByralтАФgo on, you kin do it!"

"Go fer 'is ribs wid yer club, Damug! Belt 'im a good 'un!"

"Swing up wid yer stone, smash 'is jaw!"

"Fling the club straight betwixt 'is eyes!"

Being fairly equally matched, each gave as good as he got. Soon Byral and
Damug were both aching from hefty blows dealt by their clubs, but as yet
neither had room to bring cord

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