"Sterling E. Lanier - Hieros 01 - Hiero's Journey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lanier Sterling E)

The Forest of the Taig
THE SIGN OF THE FISHHOOK
COMPUTER MAN. THOUGHT HIERO. THAT SOUNDS CRISP,
efficient, and what's more, important. Also, his negative side added, mainly
meaningless as yet.
Under his calloused buttocks, the bull morse, whose name was Klootz, ambled
slowly along the dirt track, trying to snatch a mouthful of browse from
neighboring trees whenever possible. His protruding blubber lips were as good
as a hand for this purpose.
Per Hiero Desteen, Secondary Priest-Exorcist, Primary Rover, and Senior
Killman, abandoned his brooding and straightened in the high-cantled saddle.
The morse also stopped his leaf-snatching and came alert, rack of
forward-pointing, palmate antlers lifting. Although the wide-spread beams were
in the velvet and soft now, the great black beast, larger than any
long-extinct draft horse, was an even more murderous fighter with his sharp,
splayed hooves.
Hiero listened intently and reined Klootz to a halt. A dim uproar was growing
increasingly louder ahead, a swell of bawling and aaahing noises, and the
ground began to tremble. Hiero knew the sound well and so did the morse.
Although it was late August here in the far North, the buffer were already
moving south in their autumn migration, as they had for uncounted thousands of
years.
Morse and rider tried to peer through the road's border of larch or aider. The
deeper gloom of the big pines and scrub
2 HIERO'S JOURNEY
palmetto beyond prevented any sight going further, but the noise was getting
steadily louder.
Hiero tried a mind probe on Klootz, to see if he was getting a fix on the
herd's position. The greatest danger lay in being trapped in front of a
wide-ranging herd, with the concomitant inability to get away to either side.
The buffer were not particularly mean, but they weren't especially bright
either, and they slowed down for almost nothing except fire.
The morse's mind conveyed uneasiness. He felt that they were in the wrong
place at the wrong time. Hiero decided not to delay any longer and turned
south off the trail, allowing Klootz to pick a way, and hopefully letting them
get off at an angle to the oncoming buffer.
Just as they left the last sight of the road, Hiero looked back. A line of
great, brown, rounded heads, some of them carrying six-foot, polished, yellow
horns, broke through the undergrowth onto the road as he watched. The grunting
and bawling was now very loud indeed. An apparently endless supply of buffer
followed the huge herd bulls.
Hiero kicked the morse hard and also applied the goad of his mind.
Come on, stupid, he urged. Find a place where they'll have to split, or we've
had it.
Klootz broke into a shambling trot, which moved the great body along at a
surprising rate. Avoiding trees and crushing bushes aside, the huge animal
paced along through the forest, looking deceptively slow. Hiero rode easily,
watching for overhanging branches, even though the morse was trained to avoid
them.
The man's leather boots, deer-hide breeches, and jacket gave him a good deal