"John Marco - Tyrants and Kings 1 - The Jackal of Nar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marco John)

done things we're not proud of, things we won't tell our parents when we
return home. Maybe even things we'll have to answer for to our own God.
Tonight I'll let Dinadin mourn, but tomorrow I must have him back. He
must again be the one who makes our regiment want to fight. He must hate
the Drol again, hate Voris and his warriors.
Still, I can't help but wonder if Dinadin is right. I hear the men talking,
and I fear I am losing them all. Worse, there is nothing I can say to them.
Even I don't know why we're fighting. We're propping up an evil man, only
so another evil man can extend his overgrown empire. Father is right about
the emperor. He wants something here. But what he seeks is a mystery, and
while he waits comfortably in his palace, we die. None of the men believe
our cause is just, and even Lucyler has doubts about his Daegog. He knows
the royal line of Lucel-Lor is doomed, that the Drol and their revolution will
sweep away the old order eventually. Yet he and the other loyalists fight on
for their fat king, and we of Nar fight with them, just to make our own
despot richer. I hate the Drol, but they are right about one thing. The
emperor will suck the blood out of the Triin.
But, Journal, I should be quiet about such things. And tonight I need to
rest. This evening is peaceful. I can hear the sounds of the valley creatures
and the stray calls of my name in the woods, but they don't frighten me.
Only thoughts of the wolves that might come keep me from sleeping. Today's
dead are all buried, and I can smell the fatty grease of the roasting wild
birds we've caught. A pipe would be welcome now, or the wines of
Ackle-Nye. If my sleep is peaceful I may dream of them both.
 And tomorrow we'll begin again, maybe for the last time. If the Wolf of the
valley knows how weak we are, he'll surely come in force enough to crush
us. We'll do our best to stand, and hope the horsemen promised by Gayle
will arrive in time to save us. We hear little in the valley, and the horsemen
can't travel quickly here. I only wish it were my own horsemen coming to
our rescue rather than those of that rogue. It would indeed be a tale for him
to tell that he had saved me.
If we make it through the fight tomorrow, I'll send another message to
Father. I'll tell him that we've come to depend on the House of Gayle for
survival. I can think of nothing else that will rouse him to our aid. I know he
doesn't want this war, but I'm here and he must help me. If no more troops
are sent, all the valley will fall back into the hands of the Wolf. We'll lose
this war and Father's argument with the emperor will be our deaths. If we
are to survive, I must convince Father this war is worth fighting.
CHAPTER ONE
Richius awoke to the smell of kerosene. A familiar cry sounded in the
distance. He knew what it was before his eyes snapped open.
Oh, God, no...
He was on his feet in an instant. Around him the trench bloomed big and
black. The yellow fingers of a new day's sun had barely begun to scratch at
the horizon. He squinted hard, struggling to see down the earthen corridor.
Dying torches tossed their light onto men in muddy uniforms, a group of
soldiers huddling at the trench's other end. Richius slogged toward them.
"Lucyler, what's happening?" he called, sighting his bone-colored friend.
"It is Jimsin," said Lucyler. "Got him while he slept."
Richius pushed his way into the armored circle. At the center writhed what