"George R. R. Martin - Ice Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

hardly weighs anything at all. I'll take Adara. The rest of you take horses,
or a wagon, or go on foot. But go, damn, you, _go_."
"We will see," their father said non-committally. "You take Adara, and
keep her safe for us."
"Yes," Hal agreed. He turned and smiled at her. "Come, child. Uncle Hal
is going to take you for a ride on Brimstone."
Adara looked at him very seriously. "No," she said. She turned and
slipped through the door and began to run.
They came after her, of course, Hal and her father and even Geoff. But
her father wasted time standing in the door, shouting at her to come back, and
when he began to run he was ponderous and clumsy, while Adara was indeed small
and light and fleet of foot. Hal and Geoff stayed with her longer, but Hal was
weak, and Geoff soon winded himself, though he sprinted hard at her heels for
a few moments. By the time Adara reached the nearest wheat field, the three of
them were well behind her. She quickly lost herself amid the grain, and they
searched for hours in vain while she made her way carefully towards the woods.
When dusk fell, they brought out lanterns and torches and continued
their search. From time to time she heard her father swearing, or Hal calling
out her name. She stayed high in the branches of the oak she had climbed, and
smiled down at their lights as they combed back and forth through the fields.
Finally she drifted off to sleep, dreaming about the coming of winter and
wondering how she would live until her birthday. It was still a long time
away.
Dawn woke her; dawn and a noise in the sky.
Adara yawned and blinked, and heard it again. She shinnied to the
uppermost limb of the tree, as high as it would bear her, and pushed aside the
leaves.
There were dragons in the sky.
She had never seen beasts quite like these. Their scales were dark and
sooty, not green like the dragon Hal rode. One was a rust color and one was
the shade of dried blood and one was black as coal. All of them had eyes like
glowing embers, and steam rose from their nostrils, and their tails flicked
back and forth as their dark, leathery wings beat the air. The rust-colored
one opened its mouth and roared, and the forest shook to its challenge, and
even the branch that held Adara trembled just a little. The black one made a
noise too, and when it opened its maw a spear of flame lanced out, all orange
and blue, and touched the trees below. Leaves withered and blackened, and
smoke began to rise from where the dragon's breath had fallen. The one the
color of blood flew close overhead, its wings creaking and straining, its
mouth half-open. Between its yellowed teeth Adara saw soot and cinders, and
the wind stirred by its passage was fire and sandpaper, raw and chafing
against her skin. She cringed.
On the backs of the dragons rode men with whip and lance, in uniforms
of black-and-orange, their faces hidden behind dark helmets. The one on the
rust dragon gestured with his lance, pointing at the farm buildings across the
fields. Adara looked.
Hal came up to meet them.
His green dragon was as large as their own, but somehow it seemed small
to Adara as she watched it climb upwards from the farm. With its wings fully
extended, it was plain to see how badly injured it was; the right wing tip was