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

One of the rare beams of last sunlight streamed down onto a flat boulder
perhaps twenty feet from the morse's left side. Upon it, arms crossed on his
breast and a thoroughly nasty smile on his face, stood the man of the gray
cloak, looking coldly at Hiero. Of the bear, there was no trace. Apparently
the two men and the morse were alone.
20 HIERO'S JOURNEY
"A priest, and one of some rank in your absurd hierarchy, I see," the cloaked
man, whose name was apparently S'nerg, went on. "We have seen few priests in
these parts, having a dislike for such vermin. When I have made an example of
you, little priest, we shall see fewer yet!"
As he listened, Hiero had been slowly tightening his hold on the thrower,
which lay across the saddle, facing the other way from his enemy. He was under
no illusions about his own safety despite the fact that S'nerg appeared
unarmed. From the almost visible aura the man radiated, the electric sense of
power, the Metz warrior-cleric knew he was in the presence of a great adept, a
mental master, who in his dark way was perhaps the equal of a Council member
or Grand Abbot. Against such, any physical weapons were a matter of luck.
Lowering his arms, S'nerg stepped from his rock and strode toward Hiero. As he
did, Hiero whipped the thrower up and tried to fire. His finger could not
reach the trigger. He was locked in a muscle spasm, the weapon's barrel
halfway aimed, but unable to move further. Despite his best efforts, he could
not move. He Ipoked down in agony at S'nerg, who stood calmly by his left leg,
serenely looking up at him, the power of his incredible mind alone holding
Hiero rigid. And not just Hiero. In a dim way the priest could feel the giant
morse straining to break a similar mental compulsion and no more able to do so
than his master. The sweat of his effort streaming into his eyes, Hiero fought
to break the bonds, using every technique he had been taught to free his own
will from the dreadful grip which the wizard had laid upon him. As Hiero
glared into the calm eyes of S'nerg, a shudder ran through his frame. The evil
master seemed to have no pupils, and his eyes were slanted, grayish pits of
emptiness, opening on a nameless void. Despite all his efforts, Hiero felt a
compulsion to dismount. He knew somehow that if he did, the control wouid grow
even stronger, that the mere fact that he sat high on the saddle helped in a
small way to limit S'nerg's power over him. Perhaps, a remote, absent corner
of his mind mused, even as he fought, the morse's physical vitality somehow
flowed into his master, helping him stay strong. As he stared down into the
awful, pale eyes, he noted in the same detached way that, despite the smile on
the cruel face, sculptured from sickly marble in appearance, beads of sweat
stood out on S'nerg's
THE SIGN OF THE FISHHOOK
21
forehead also. The strain was telling on him too. But Hiero could endure no
more. He began to sway in the saddle. "In the name of the Father," he gasped
aloud, fighting with his last strength. The Unclean adept's cold smile
deepened.
At this point Gorm suddenly returned. Even a smallish bear has very powerful
jaws, and they now clamped hard to a most sensitive portion of the sorcerer's
anatomy. He screamed in pain and fright, a curiously high tremolo note, and
his mental grip dissolved on the instant as he staggered and fell. Hiero's
strength surged back and so did all his other faculties. While Klootz still