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

hurried out of the trench. Drol warriors were pouring out of the woods. Only a
few precious moments remained.
"One last blast, Cro, then we move," said Richius, his hand already poised
to undo the fuel line. "Lucyler, you and Ellis take the tank. We'll get the
cannon."
Lucyler put his hands around the fuel tank. Ellis did the same, his back
stooped for lifting. A chorus of Kalak broke from the ranks of the running
Drol.
"Get ready, Crodin," whispered Richius. "Ellis, give us all you can."
"Here's everything," Ellis answered, loosening the valve that fed the cannon
its combustible fuel. There was a hiss as the liquid swam through the line.
Crodin squeezed the trigger, coaxing a blast from the cannon like none
Richius had ever seen. It exploded all around them with a concussive boom.
Richius fell to his knees, gasping and clasping his ears. Beside him Lucyler
and Ellis were running for the rear trenches, the fuel tank in their hands.
"Richius!" cried Lucyler, dropping the tank.
Richius waved him onward. "Get moving!"
He staggered to his feet as Lucyler and Ellis hurried away, the heavy tank
dangling between them. A volley of arrows rose from the rear trenches to
cover their escape.
"Let's go, Richius," said Crodin, wrapping the hot metal cannon in a
swaddling of rags. He had already loosened the fittings that kept the cannon
secured to the deck. Richius had yet to remove the weapon's feed line.
Cursing, he fumbled to find the metal collar that fixed the line. Crodin shook
his end of the cannon.
"Forget the line," he shouted. "We'll drag it!"
Richius grabbed the cannon and lifted. He tucked the heavy weapon
beneath his arm and ran for the next trench, Crodin and the still-fastened fuel
line in tow. Barret was on its deck, waving and shouting. Behind them, the
cover provided by the last blast had dissipated. There was another shower of
arrows from Barret's men.
They were only yards from safety now. Soldiers scrambled out of the
trench to meet them. Richius gratefully let the others carry the cannon the few
remaining feet. Exhausted, he collapsed onto the deck next to Lucyler.
"You all right?" Lucyler asked quickly.
"Set up the cannon in the center of the trench," Richius gasped. "Have
Dinadin and Ellis man it."
Crodin was already working to settle the cannon into its new home,
propping the weapon into a makeshift stand Ellis had built from two swords.
The swords had been driven into the deck and fashioned into a "Y" so that
now the cannon rested uneasily in the notch. Dinadin was beside them,
cracking the knuckles of his trigger hand.
Richius looked out over the battlefield. Ten yards away, Drol warriors were
climbing into the forward trench, digging themselves in for protection. Already
Drol archers were sending their [тАФ тАФ ┬л .v . .c.i j ,i]
Dinadin had turned an unpleasant shade of gray. He tucked himself behind
the flame cannon.
"Take it slow," encouraged Richius. "That cannon isn't stable and we're
running out of fuel. IfтАФ"
A shout from the rear trenches made Richius stop. He turned and looked