"Andre Norton - Witch World - The Warding of Witch World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

That might have been a signal. Yowling threats, the pack drew back, plainly unwilling. And,
against their usual custom, two of them picked up the last downed, though they left two other bodies
behind them.

The mist appeared to grow thicker. Kyllan unleashed what power he had and linked with the
Valley scouts. Together they were able to weave a probe тАФ not that it could do more than just let them
know for sure what they already guessed: that there was some Dark Power ahead which was determined
to keep its territory inviolate.

It was Urik, his great axe out of his shoulder sling, who swung his Torgian around, but Keris
moved with the swifter agility of youth. One of the mounds before them had cracked open as if some
planted seed was fiercely inspired to reach the upper world. From the riven soil emerged Sarn Riders,
their reptilian steeds' necks stretched to full length so that they could threaten with green-streaked fangs.
As did the Valley dwellers, the Sarn Riders carried whips with dark lashes тАФ but the force from those
was not marked by flame, rather by shadows. Shadows which could bite and tear and eat away the skin.

Simon shot, though he knew that there was little chance of his bolt dart going home. There was
always speculation that the Sarn Riders were not altogether material as this world knew that state of
nature.

He was aware that Kyllan, Sentkar, and Yonan were drawing swords. And the swords forged in
the Valley had more than just a cutting edge to protect their wielders.

Denner had bent a bow. He was a famous shot, Simon knew, but an arrow against these devils
was only a shaft of little power. As had Simon, he coolly picked a target and shot.

A Sarn lash flicked skyward so fast it was a mere trace in the air, to catch that arrow. There was
a burst of bluish fire. Then a line of flame ran down the whiplash before its owner could throw it from
him, and he doubled in upon his mount. There was no sound to be heard, but Simon swayed a little in his
saddle and Keris nearly fell from his. For the cry which had tortured their minds was enough to shake
them for that moment. And both rider and mount were now gone.

Stolidly Denner made ready a second arrow. There were, Keris noted, only five of the arrows
left and he was sure that in their way they were more precious than many a name-famed sword.

Denner was out of Lormt, that fabled cache of forgotten knowledge. When the Great Turning
had kept Estcarp from invasion from Karsten to the south, the force of the magic so deliberately
unleashed scored the earth itself and brought down one of Lormt's towers and part of the girding walls. It
was revealed that the masonry, thought to be so solid, really covered a veritable warren of sealed rooms
and passages, all of which appeared to be crammed with scrolls, books, and chests of strange
instruments for which there seemed no use.

The scholars who lived like gray-backed mice within those walls тАФ some for almost the extent of
their long lives тАФ had been so overwhelmed by the extent of these finds that they thought of little else
than burrowing a way into the next unsealed chamber.

Duratan, once of the Borders and at the time of the Turning marshal and protector of these
knowledge-mad delvers, had built up a small force of his own. From second and third sons drafted from
the surrounding farms, and from drifting Borderers whose companies had been rent apart during the