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

Now that youth stirred in his saddle, and his hand jerked a little in the direction of his sword hilt. He
reddened and quickly dropped it on the saddle horn, darting a glance at Yonan to see if his
overeagerness for a face-off had been detected.

After all, battle skill was all he could bring to bear against the enemy. He carried always the burden of
his lack of talent. Allthat fortune had been bestowed upon his twin sister. However, fortune had at least
favored him with a natural ability with sword and dart gun.

After it had been realized that he was one of them, Keris had been allowed to continue with them, mainly
because this was a land where no sane man rode alone. But that he was steadily ignored by both his
father and his grandfather made him very sure that there was going to be a harsh reckoning sooner or
later.
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Before them, swirls of mist arose from humps on the plain which spoke of former buildings. Keris
remembered one of the many legends which were part of the Valley lore of his childhood тАФ that a man
oathed to a duty and slain before he had accomplished it continued to exist as a thin shadow of himself
until his purpose was accomplished.

Perhaps they stood now on what was once a battlefield. Not for the first time Keris knew the pinch of
loss which had been his when he came squalling into the world. Half-blood, yes, but his half of that blood
did not carry with it the Power тАФ not as it had with his sister. He had the appearance of his father, but
not even the limited gifts Kyllan knew тАФ nothing of his mother's strong talents.

Simon Tregarth straightened in the saddle, brought his mail wreathing about lower face and throat.
Perhaps to ride on was rank folly, but his years of battle with the Dark forces had taught him that
confrontation was the best of answers. Kyllan's Renthan had swung around and was now facing due
north as his rider also made ready for action.

The Gray Ones arose out of the misty mounds silent as those swirls of fog, coming in their hideous
fashion, some on two feet, some on feet and hands, their dirty gray coats matted with burrs and dried
mud. It was plain that they had come from some distance and with haste. At what summoning?

Simon sent his stallion down from the hillock and directed the rest of the squad to close in a circle with
that high ground to their backs. The count of the attacking force was somewhat reassuring. This was not
a full pack and Simon was sure that they came to this brush already weary. He shot.

The dart from his weapon caught the leader of the pack in the shoulder and the creature howled
"Yasaaahhhh!" The three of the Valley broke line to use their own most potent arms тАФ the flame whips
тАФ and each found its mark.

The Gray Ones wavered. Either these had a caution not usually known to their kind or else they had
some order keeping them from moving in. But the fact that they occupied this territory was an added
worry. Gray Ones normally fought by haunting the night, patrolling camps, pulling down stragglers, not
this openly.