"Quickening - 01 - Myrren's Gift" - читать интересную книгу автора (McIntosh Fiona)

WylТs gaze rested firmly on Gueryn. УI understand.Ф

УGood. Your sensibility in this will protect you.Ф

УDo I need protection?Ф Wyl asked, surprised.

Gueryn wished he could take back the warning. It was ill-timed but he was always honest with his charge. УI donТt know yet. You are being brought to Pearlis to learn your craft and follow in your fatherТs proud footsteps. You must consider the city your home now. You understand this? Argorn must rest in your mind as a country property you may return to from time to time. Home is Stoneheart now.Ф He watched the sorrow as those last words took a firm hold on the boy. It was said now. Had to be aired, best out in the open and accepted. УThe other reason the King is keen to have you in the capital is, I suspect, because he is concerned at his sonТs wayward manner.Ф

УOh?Ф

УCelimus needs someone to temper his ways. The King has been told you possess a similar countenance to your father and I gather this pleases him greatly. He has hopes that you and his son will become as close friends as he and Fergys were.Ф Gueryn waited for Wyl to comment but the boy said nothing. УAnyway, friendship can never be forced, so letТs just keep an open mind and see how it all pans out. I shall be with you the whole time.Ф

Wyl bit his lip and nodded. УLetТs not tarry then. Gueryn.Ф

The soldier nodded in return and dug his heels into the side of his horse as the boy kicked into a gallop.



Wyl remembered that ride into Pearlis as if it were yesterday. It had been three moons now since his fatherТs death and. although he was now used to the routine of the palace and his role. Wyl hated his new life. If not for his overwhelming sense of duty he would have run away.

He scowled as an exasperated Gueryn struck him a blow on his wrist. УYouТre not concentrating. Wyl. On the battlefield that slip could have cost you a hand.Ф

The soldier deliberately struck again but this time Wyl countered just as ferociously, his wooden sword making a loud clacking sound as he pressed back against his opponent.

УBetter!Ф Gueryn called, relieved. УAgain!Ф

From out of the corner of his eye. Wyl could see that Prince Celimus had sidled up to a few of the flatterers he usually surrounded himself with. Wyl doubled his efforts and Gueryn was prudent enough to not criticize further.

About time, the soldier thought as he increased his speed, stepping up the session to a combat level rather than just a drill. He was pleased to see the boy relax slightlyЧa good sign that he was no longer concerned with who was watching but folly attendant on defending himself. Gueryn then upped the skills still further, delivering a frighteningly fast series of slashes and thrusts that would have challenged a battle-hardened soldier, let alone a fourteen-year-old boy. Those around them in the practice courtyard had fallen silent and various trainers and other lads wandered over to watch what was clearly a fight to the Уdeath.Ф

Wyl. sweating lightly now in the chill morning, stepped back, feinted, moved to his left, parried, and then dodged back to his original position, feinting once again before he saw the gap and struck hard and fast. He crouched nimbly to avoid the low. normally УfatalФ slash he had already anticipated from his wily opponent and then struck upward with force, two-handed. Suddenly Gueryn was on his back panting and WylТs piece of timber was at his throat.

There was murder in the boyТs eyes and if they had been on the field. Gueryn believed he would be drawing his last breath. Gueryn also knew Wyl had genuinely bested him. despite his smaller stature and strength, with a blaze of raw anger. He realized he would have to counsel him on this and explain that Wyl needed to fight clear-headed. Fighting decisions were always based on training and intuition rather than just pure emotion. That approach only worked once; Gueryn knew that when wave after wave of soldiers were bearing down, it was the cool, emotionless approach that won the day.

He stared back at Wyl, forcing him to give way. Onlookers were clapping and whistling their appreciation of the demonstration. Wyl regained his composure and pulled Gueryn to his feet. He glanced toward the smirking Prince, anticipating some snide comment to humiliate him in front of his peers.

The Prince was predictable in this. УCan you do that with a real sword. Wyl?Ф Celimus inquired innocently.

It was Gueryn, smacking the dust from his clothes, who replied. УWell, I wouldnТt want to take him on with a blade,Ф he said, hoping to deflect attention. He laughed and clapped Wyl on the back.

УNo? But I shall,Ф Celimus interjected, his smile broad and anything but genuine. The PrinceТs voice was sly now. УWhat do you say, Wyl?Ф

Gueryn held his breath. This was the most direct provocation that Wyl had encountered from the Prince, who had spent much of the time since their arrival simply baiting the youngster.

Wyl regarded the heir to the throne coolly. GuerynТs hand was on his shoulder, squeezing hard. They did not permit the lads to drill against each other with anything but wooden or blunted swords and this rule was especially rigid where Celimus was concerned.

Wyl looked away, hating to back down from that clear, defiant gaze. УIТm not allowed to fight you, your highness.Ф

УOh, thatТs right,Ф the Prince said, as though suddenly reminded of the palace rules. УYouТd better remember it too, General.Ф Celimus laced the final word with as much sarcasm as he could.