"McCammon, Robert R. - The Wolf's Hour" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCammon Robert R)

The train roared into the eastern tunnel, and continued its journey to Minsk. A single red lamp swung back and forth on the railing of its last freight car.
The smoke that had settled along the gulley had the sour tang of burned green timber. Mikhail walked into it, following the tracks, and he could feel the heat of the trainТs passage. Cinders still spun to earth, a night of dying stars. УNikita!Ф he called. УWhere areЧФ
A dark, powerful form leaped at him.
The black wolf planted its paws on MikhailТs shoulders and drove him down to the earth. Then the wolf stood astride his chest, its slanted eyes staring fixedly into his face, and its jaws opened to show clean white fangs.
УStop it,Ф Mikhail said. He grasped NikitaТs muzzle and pushed the wolfТs head astride. The wolf snarled, snapping at his face. УWill you stop it?Ф Mikhail demanded. УYouТre about to squash me!Ф
The wolf showed its fangs again, right in front of MikhailТs nose, and then a wet pink tongue came out and licked across MikhailТs face. Mikhail yelped and tried to shove the beast off, but NikitaТs weight was solid. Finally, Nikita stepped off MikhailТs chest, and the boy sat up knowing he would find paw bruises on his flesh the next morning. Nikita ran in a circle, snapping at his tall just for the fun of it, and then he leaped into the high weeds on the gulleyТs side and rolled in them. УYouТre crazy!Ф Mikhail said, getting to his feet.
As Nikita rolled in the weeds, his body began to change again. There was a cracking sound of sinews lengthening, of bones being rejointed. Nikita gave a small mutter of pain, and Mikhail walked away a few yards to give him privacy. In another thirty seconds or so, Mikhail heard Nikita say quietly, УDamn.Ф
The Mongol walked past Mikhail, on his way uphill toward his cast-off robe. УI tripped over my own damned feet,Ф he said. УThey always get in the way.Ф
Mikhail got in pace beside him. The black smoke was rising out of the gulley now, and the scorched iron smell of civilization was going with it. УI donТt understand,Ф he said. УWhat were you trying to do?Ф
УI told you. To be fast.Ф He glanced back, in the direction the train had gone. УItТll be back, tomorrow night. And the night after that. IТll try again.Ф He reached his robe, picked it up, and put it around his shoulders. Mikhail was watching him blankly, still not fully comprehending. УWiktor will tell you a story, if you ask,Ф Nikita said. УHe says the old man who led the pack when Wiktor came in remembered someone who could will the change in twenty-four seconds. Can you imagine that? From human to wolf in twenty-four seconds? Wiktor himself canТt beat half a minute! And IЧwell, IТm pathetic.Ф
УNo, youТre not. YouТre fast.Ф
УNot fast enough,Ф Nikita said forcefully. УIТm not the quickest, IТm not the strongest, IТm not the smartest. And all my life, even when I was a boy your age breaking my ass in a coal mine, I wanted to be something special. You work at the bottom of a mine shaft long enough, you dream of being a bird. Maybe I still have that dreamЧonly I want my legs to be wings.Ф
УWhat does it matter, whether youТre the quickest orЧФ
УIt matters to me,Ф he interrupted. УIt gives me a purpose. Do you see?Ф He went on without waiting for the boy to respond. УI come here during the summer, but only at night. I donТt want the engineer to see me. I am getting faster; itТs just that my legs havenТt figured out how to fly yet.Ф He motioned down the tracks toward the distant eastern tunnel. УSome night IТm going to beat the train. IТm going to start right here, as a man, and before the train reaches the other tunnel IТm going to cross the tracks in front of the engine as a wolf.Ф
УCross the tracks?Ф
УYes. On all fours,Ф Nikita said. УNow weТd better find something for the pack to eat, or weТll be looking all night.Ф He started walking away, downhill toward the east, and Mikhail followed him. A little more than a half mile from where Nikita had chased the train, they found a crushed rabbit lying on the tracks. It was a fresh kill, its eyes bulging as if still mesmerized by the glowing yellow orb of the monster that had passed over it. The rabbit was a small find, but it was a beginning. Nikita picked it up by the ears and carried it at his side, swinging it like a broken toy as they continued their search.
The smell of the rabbitТs blood made MikhailТs mouth water. He could almost feel a bestial growl strain to leave his throat. He was becoming more like the pack every passing day. The change was waiting for him, like a dark friend. All he had to do was reach out for it, and embrace it; it was that close, and it was eager. But he didnТt know how to control it. He had no idea how to Уwill the change,Ф as the others seemed to. Was it like a command, or a dream? He feared losing the last of being a human; the full change would take him to a place where he dared not go. Not yet; not just yet.
He was salivating. There was a growl; not his throat, but his stomach. He was still more boy than wolf, after all.
On many nights during that long, drought-plagued summer, Mikhail hunted with Nikita along the railroad tracks. Once, in early August, they found a small deer suffering, two of its legs severed by the trainТs wheels. Nikita had bent down and looked into that deerТs shock-silvered eyes, and Mikhail had watched him reach gentle hands out to stroke the animalТs flanks. Nikita had spoken quietly to the deer, trying to calm itЧand then he placed his hands on the deerТs skull and gave it a sharp, violent twist. The deer had slumped, its neck broken, all suffering ended. And that, Nikita told him, was the meaning of mercy.
The train kept to its schedule. Some nights it roared down the hill, from tunnel to tunnel; other nights its brakes screamed and hurled sparks. Mikhail sat on the embankment, in the shelter of the pines, and watched as Nikita raced it along the rails, his body twisting, fighting for balance as the change swept over him. It always seemed to be his legs, the earth-rooted wings, that refused to let him fly. Nikita was getting faster, but never fast enough; the train invariably outpaced him, and left him in its smoke as it thundered into the eastern tunnel.
August ended, and the summerТs final train rumbled away toward Minsk, its red lantern swinging on the last car like a scarlet grin. Nikita, his shoulders slumped, trotted back to where heТd left his robe, and Mikhail watched his body shed its glossy black hair. Nikita, man-shaped again, put on his robe and breathed the smokeТs bitter odor as if breathing the sweat of a fierce and respected enemy. УWell,Ф he said at last, Уsummer will come again.Ф
They went home, walking toward autumn.


4

Winter, the cruel white lady, closed her fist around the forest, and sealed it in ice. Cold cracked trees, ponds were white slabs, and the sky glowered with low clouds and mist. For day upon day, the sun remained a stranger, and the whole world was a sea of snow and black, leafless trees. Even the crows, those ebony-gowned diplomats, froze where they perched, or fought to reach the sun on freezing wings. Only the snow hares scurried in the blank silence of the forest, and as the winds swept down from Siberia even the hares shivered in their burrows.
So, too, the pack shivered in the depths of the white palace. They crowded together, ghost-breathed, around the pine-knot flames. MikhailТs education, however, went on; Wiktor was a hard taskmaster, and he and the boy huddled close as Mikhail recited Shakespeare, the works of Dante, mathematics problems, and European history.
On a day in January, Pauli and Nikita went outside to find more firewood. Wiktor told them to stay close to the white palace and within sight of each other. The mist had descended, making visibility difficult, but the fire had to be tended. And not half an hour had passed before Nikita came back into the den, moving like a numb sleepwalker, his eyebrows and hair silvered with ice. He carried an armload of sticks, which fell to his feet as he continued on into the circle of the fire. His eyes were dazed. Wiktor stood up and said, УWhereТs Pauli?Ф
She had been within twenty feet of him, Nikita said. Twenty feet. They had been talking, trying to warm each other with words. And then, quite suddenly, Pauli simply hadnТt answered. There had been no cry for help, no sounds of a struggle in the mist. One moment Pauli had been there, the nextЕ
Nikita took Wiktor and Franco up to show them. They found bright gouts of blood on the snow, less than forty yards from the ice-domed palace. PauliТs robe was nearby, also splattered with gore. On the ground lay a few sticks, like bleached bones. PauliТs footprints ended where the paw prints of the berserker came out of a thicket of thorns. In the snow was the furrow of a body being dragged, over a hillock and down into dense woods. They found some of PauliТs insides, purple as bruises on the snow. The berserkerТs tracks and the furrow of PauliТs dragged body went on, through the forest. Wiktor, Franco, and Nikita threw aside their robes and, shivering, changed shapes in the clinging mist. Three wolvesЧone gray, one pale brown, one blackЧloped through the drifts on the berserkerТs trail. A mile to the east they found one of PauliТs arms, blue as marble, wedged between two rocks. It had been ripped loose from the shoulder. They came to a place of cliffs, where the wind had swept the jagged rocks clean of snow, and the berserkerТs tracks ended as did all traces of PauliТs corpse.
For the next few hours, the trio of wolves searched in widening circles that took them farther and farther away from the white palace. Once Franco thought he saw a huge red shape standing on an outcropping of rock above them, but the blowing snow obscured his sight for a few seconds and when he could see clearly again the shape was gone. Nikita picked up PauliТs scentЧa musky summer-grass smellЧin the crosscurrent of wind, and they tracked it another half mile to the north before they found her head lying at the bottom of a ravine, her skull gnawed open and her brains gone.
The berserkerТs tracks led them to the edge of a rocky chasm, then they vanished on the stones. Caves pocked the chasmТs sides; it would be a treacherous climb down, but it could be done. Any of those caves might be the berserkerТs den. But if not, Wiktor, Nikita, and Franco might break their necks for naught. It was snowing harder; the iron smell of a blizzard grayed the air. Wiktor signaled with a snort and toss of his head, and they turned back for the long journey home.
All this Wiktor related as the pack crouched around the fire. When he finished he moved away, sitting in a corner by himself. He chewed on a warthogТs bones and stared at the empty pallet where Pauli used to lie, his eyes burning in the cold gloom.
УI say we go out and hunt the bastard down!Ф Franco shouted as the blizzard roared beyond the walls. УWe canТt just sit here, likeЕ likeЕФ
УLike human beings?Ф Wiktor asked quietly. He picked up a small twig from the fire and watched it burn.
УLike cowards!Ф Franco said. УFirst Belyi, then the Garden ransacked, now Pauli gone! It wonТt stop until it kills all of us!Ф
УWe canТt go out in this storm,Ф Nikita observed, sitting on his haunches. УThe berserker canТt either.Ф
УWeТve got to find it and kill it!Ф Franco paced in front of the fire, almost stepping on Mikhail. УIf I could just get my claws in its damned throat, IТdЧФ
Renati snorted derisively. УYouТd be its breakfast.Ф
УYou shut up, you old hag! Who asked you to speak?Ф
Renati was on her feet in an instant. She stepped toward him, and he whirled toward her. Russet hair rose and rippled on the backs of RenatiТs hands, her fingers starting to curve into claws.
УStop it,Ф Wiktor said. Renati glanced at him, her facial bones already beginning to warp. УRenati, please stop it,Ф he repeated.
УLet her kill him,Ф Alekza said, her ice-blue eyes cold in her beautiful face. УHe deserves to die.Ф
УRenati?Ф Wiktor stood up. RenatiТs spine had begun to bow over.
УCome on, come on!Ф Franco sneered. He held up his right hand, which was covered with light brown hair and had already grown talons. УIТm ready for you!Ф
УStop it!Ф Wiktor shouted, and the sound of his voice made Mikhail jump; it was his schoolmasterТs thunder. The voice echoed between the walls. УIf we kill each other, the berserker wins. He can come right in here and take our den if weТre lying dead. So stop it, both of you. WeТve got to think like humans, not act like beasts.Ф
Renati blinked, her mouth and jaw misshapen. A little ooze of saliva trickled over her lower lip, down her russet-haired chin, and hung for a second before it dripped off. And then her face began to return to its human side again, the muscles writhing under the flesh, the fangs retreating with wet clicking sounds. The wolf hair dissolved to a stubble and went away. Renati scratched the backs of her hands as the last of the hair irritated her flesh. УYou little bastard,Ф she said, her stare still directed at Franco. УYou show me respect, do you understand?Ф
Franco grunted and gave her a chilly smile. He motioned disdainfully at her with his right hand, now human and pale once more, and he walked away from the fireТs heat. The musky smell of enraged animals lingered in the chamber.
Wiktor stood between Renati and Franco; he waited until their tempers had cooled, and then he said, УWeТre a family, not enemies. The berserker would like for us to turn on each other; it would make his task so much easier.Ф He tossed the burning twig into the fire. УBut FrancoТs right. WeТve got to find the berserker and kill it. If we donТt, itТll kill us, one by one.Ф