"Robert B. Marks - Demonbane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marks Robert B)

muscles and kidneys, and then he struggled to his knees.

Blinking, he wondered where he was and how he had gotten there. The road did not look familiar at all,
and there were no visible landmarks. He scratched his head, trying to think, and winced for a moment
when his fingernails ran over a tender spot.

Siggard was a large man, well grown, with a full brown beard. But now his usually placid gray eyes were
haggard and his beard was in a tangle. He shook his head; he knew he had been at the field of
Blackmarch, a shield-man in the army of Earl Edgewulf. And they had been fighting someone, but who he
could not say.

Groaning, Siggard gained his feet. He would first have to find his way to the battlefield and try to rejoin
the army, but what he truly wished was to rejoin his family in BearтАЩs Hill. That would have to wait until
the fighting was done, though.

Taking stock of his gear, he noticed his sword was rather more notched than the last time he
remembered, and his leather jerkin and trousers were ragged but intact. Where his coat of mail had
gotten to, he had no idea. His wide shield was also missing.

Cloaked in a mist drawn eerie in the moonlight, Siggard tried to get his bearings, but no matter which
way he turned, he couldnтАЩt tell where Blackmarch might lie. Finally, he picked a direction and began
walking.
 How long he walked before he reached the gallows, Siggard could not say, though it seemed hours.
Regardless, he found himself facing a fork in the road. To one side of the road there was a three-way
sign, but it was too dark to read it. On the other side stood a gibbet, a decaying corpse dangling from it
by a worn hemp rope.

Unbidden, the words of one of his comrades in arms came back to him. тАЬHanged men have angry souls,
you know,тАЭ old Banagar had said. тАЬThatтАЩs why they hoist them at crossroads. That way they canтАЩt find
their way back for vengeance.тАЭ Banagar had always been rather morbid, he reflected.

Siggard shook his head, trying to ignore the stench of putrefying flesh. The road had to lead to a town
somewhere, even if it was in the twice-damned underworld itself. So all he had to do was pick a
direction and follow it.

He looked up at the corpse and smiled. тАЬI donтАЩt suppose youтАЩd know the way to Blackmarch, eh?тАЭ

The corpseтАЩs rotting head turned and glared at him.

Siggard leapt back in shock, drawing his sword and staring at the gibbet. The body dangled, lifeless, as
it had before Siggard had spoken, and as it no doubt had long before the soldier had even arrived.

Siggard felt a chill go down his spine as he looked at the corpse. He prayed silently to the gods to let him
see his family again, just one more time. He didnтАЩt want to die here, trapped among lost spirits.

His sword still drawn, Siggard backed down one of the paths, finally turning once the gibbet had
vanished in the mist. The ethereal fog curled around him as he walked, Siggard mouthing a silent prayer
with every step.

The path twisted and turned among the trees, and the dirt crunched under SiggardтАЩs boots. For a