"Mercedes Lackey - Flights of Fantasy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

belt. A disintegrating leather sheath had pro-ted the sword. The metal
framework for a leather-covered helmet still shielded the skull. Bui might
tell himself that the spear was for the seals that winter would bring to the
shore, but the only use for the sword and helm was when went to kill men.
The Althing had not judged him outlaw, but Bui had heard stories enough to
know how to live like one. He turned from the fell, with the pale menace of
the glacier on its horizon, to the long dun slopes that stretched toward the
sea. The air was so clear he could glimpse the green
of the vale. Inner vision supplied the long, turf-roofed shape of the farm,
his farm, where his mother labored, a thrall once more.
"Odin, hear me! Show me how to take back my land!" He raised the sword to the
sky.
As if the action had invoked them, black specks appeared in the sky. One, two,
threeтАФ Heart pounding, Bui counted as nine ravens plummeted earthward, rolling
in the air and pulling up in a long swoop, only to spiral downward, wings half
folded once more. Breathless, he watched the aerial display until on some
silent signal they all circled above him, and then flapped away across the
fell.
"Hrafna-guth, Raven-god," Bui whispered, remembering his dream, "Let your
birds show me the way, and they shall never lack for an offering."
As the nights grew longer, the air became clamorous with the cries of
migrating waterfowl. Bui spent most of the daylight hours beside the lake,
using nets and his sling to bring down ducks of all kinds and geese as well:
He built a second structure of turf to smoke the meat, and cured the skins of
the eider-duck with the feathers on to serve as bedding.
His activities very quickly attracted the ravens, and he and they began to
learn each other's ways. Now, when he set out for a day's hunting a black
speck would soon appear, checking at regular intervals until he made a
kill. Usually it was one of the pair that "owned" Hrafnfjall that came first.
When there was a carcass, one bird would summon the other. Necks stretched
upward, feathers fluffed aggressively and standing up like two ears on either
side of the head, they strutted around the meat, and any younger birds that
might be present would back away, bowing and bobbing, and waiting patiently
to pick over whatever "Harek" and "Hild" might leave.
"Why don't you stick up for yourselves, you stupid birds?" Bui swore at the
others. "They don't deserve to get it all."
But it was only when a young raven arrived before its elders, and even then,
only if its yelling succeeded in summoning an overwhelming number of its
fellows, that it would feed. At such times, Bui would watch in satisfaction as
the older pair, coming late to the feast, were forced to take their turn with
the rest. He took to hiding carcasses under piles of stones until he saw one
of the wanderers, and soon he found that although the mated pair made their
patrols no more often than before, wherever he went, one of the young birds
always seemed to be near. With time, he was able to distinguish some
from among themтАФone had a bent foot, another was large, with a rough head, and
then there was his friend, the bold bird with the white spot on its tail.
The weather grew cooler, and sometimes sleet came mixed with the frequent
rains. The migra-
tory flocks departed, and Bui decided that he would have to risk a journey to
the shore. He had fashioned a net of sinew for fishing, and with a great deal