"Kim Hunter - [The Red Pavillions 01] - Knight's Dawn v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kim Hunter - [The Red Pavillions 01] - Knight's Dawn)

СWhy choose me?Т asked Soldier. СI might be one of those two kinds of men.Т
СYou? You are as much a curiosity as I am, with your blue eyes and no name. You have just as many problems.Т
СI suppose youТre right,Т sighed Soldier.
The donkey was carrying him up a slope now, about two miles beyond the city. It was a grassy hill with smooth granite rocks occasionally rising above the turf, like whales breaking the surface of the sea. Soldier could see a gallows on the crest of the hill, with a hanged figure dangling from a rope. This was his destination, but it seemed he could not get any nearer to it, no matter how hard he tried. After a while Soldier realised that the problem was not one of magic, but one of perspective. The gallows were so tall, the hanged man so large, that Soldier had been further away than he realised. When he reached the corpse he saw that the victim was at least nine feet tall. Not only that, the man had extremities disproportionate even to this large body. The cadaverТs hands and feet were quite huge.
The corpse was in about its third day and therefore relatively fresh.
СAbout the same time a hare should be hung before jugging it,Т said the raven. СThree-day-old flesh is sometimes as tasty to humans as it is to birds.Т
СYou stay away from this corpse,Т warned Soldier. СI donТt think I could stomach watching you pick at his eyes.Т
СHe hasnТt got any,Т pointed out the raven. СNor a few other parts as well.Т
Soldier stared and saw that a particular item of the body had already been cut from its roots.
СWell, letТs get on with it.Т
Soldier opened the bag of tools he had been given by Spagg and took out a pruning saw. He then began the grisly task of sawing off the giantТs right hand. It was a slow business, for the body kept swaying back and forth. To reach the hand Soldier found he had to sit on the giantТs right foot, like a child sits on a playground swing. Even so, try as he might he could not get through the thick bone with the saw, and finished up hacking through it with a hand-axe from the bag. Spagg had asked him only to use an axe in an emergency, because it spoiled the look of the goods on display. However, this was definitely an emergency. Soldier was getting hot and thirsty, and this one set of hands was taking up much of his day. He had hoped to return with a whole sackful by the time the evening came around.
Finally, both hands had been removed, just as some troops came nding by.
СWhat dТyou think youТre up to?Т asked the sergeant-at-arms.
СOfficial business,Т said Soldier, producing his baton. СI work for Spagg, the hand-of-glory merchant.Т
The sergeant wrinkled his nose. СThat flea-bitten cur? All right then, but donТt hang about here all day. A rogue Hannack has been been seen in the district.Т
СA Hannack?Т
СYou donТt know who the Hannacks are?Т said the sergeant and his men laughed. СYou will know, if any of them find you, especially with that beard you seem to love so much.Т
СWhat does that mean?Т
The sergeant said, СYou notice me and my men have smooth shiny chins? ThereТs a reason for that. Hannacks donТt fight so hard when a manТs clean-shaven. You still look puzzled. Well, youТll find out. Tell that whoreson Spagg to employ someone with a bit of nonce in future. Idiots like you should not be wandering about out here. Not that it matters. One blue-eyed stranger more or less makes no difference to me.Т
With that the sergeant-at-arms called his troops to follow him and they rode back towards the city.
Soldier spent the remainder of the day gathering more hands from various corpses. Not as many as he would have liked, but then the giant had taken up a good deal of his time and energy. Towards evening the sun turned to blood again. As the donkey was plodding along, back down a track towards the castle, a figure appeared on horseback to the west. Soldier saw the horseman ride to the top of a ridge, where he sat and stared at the hand-gatherer on his slow-moving donkey.
СHannack,Т said the raven. СNow youТre for it!Т
Soldier bristled with annoyance. СPeople keep telling me that, but who or what in Guthrum is a Hannack?Т
At that moment the bareback rider spurred his horse and came charging down the ridge towards Soldier. Soldier noticed that the Hannack was riding a wild horse, hairier and stockier than those mounts used by Guthrumite troops. The rider himself looked just as savage as his mount. He appeared naked, but strangely his skin was loose on his body. It seemed wrinkled and folded, and it rippled in the wind. In the warriorТs left hand was a warhammer, one side blunt, the other side spiked. His expression was formed into a brutal mask: his battle face. He handled his mount with accomplished ease, as if the beast were joined to him at the thighs and shared the same brain.
His head was startlingly bald.
СHere he comes,Т cried the raven, Сwearing the skin of a defeated enemy.Т
So thatТs what it is, thought Soldier, a cape of human skin.
СWhat does he want from me?Т cried Soldier. СIТm obviously very poor.Т
СYour chin,Т replied the raven. СHe wants your lower jaw, Soldier.Т
Warriors were warriors, but there were those who tried to look handsome and bold, and those who tried to look as fearsome as possible. Hannacks were obviously into the more gory side of war.
The city below was agonisingly close. The red pavilions of the Carthagans even closer. Soldier attempted to spur the donkey on to greater speeds than the languid step it had been giving him until now. The donkey was not used to such treatment. When riders kicked it in the ribs it was inclined to stop and fume at the mistreatment. It did so now. Soldier yelled at it, kicking harder. It grew mental roots from its hooves and prepared to lock itself to the earth.
Soldier leaped from the animalТs back and with his tools in one fist and sack of severed hands in the other, he began running down towards the gates. There were guards there who stared at him, being run down by a savage horseman, but they made no effort to send out help. They simply watched, with horrified interest, as the thundering hooves of the HannackТs mount gained on Soldier. Some of the Carthagans had come out of their pavilions and were pointing and gesticulating, yelling for their comrades to come and watch the single combat. One of them cried that it was not so much a combat as a murder. They were convinced the Hannack would kill the dark-haired man with the thick black beard.
SoldierТs breath came out in short bursts. He knew he was not going to make it through the gates. Nowhere near. He dropped the sack of hands and reached into the bag of tools. There he grasped the hand-axe he had used to chop the extremities from the giantТs arms. With this weapon in his grasp he took a firm stance and waited for the horseman. There was the thought in his mind that he was a hardened veteran of war. He should know what to do in these circumstances. And indeed, he did. He could not go for the man with a small weapon. He had to hit the mount, wound it, bring it down and the man with it.
The Hannack bore down on him with ferocious intent. There was no savage glee or joy-of-battle in his face: only concentrated sense of purpose. Soldier could see this fierce lone warrior was set on killing him.
As the speed of the HannackТs charger increased, the warriorТs second skin flapped in the wind. He looked like some horrible dead man, risen from the grave. Soldier set his feet squarely on the ground and swung his hand-axe back and forth, ready to deliver a blow. His fear was now gone and had been replaced by a coolness. What remained was a keen series of thoughts, assessing the situation as it progressed. Yes, he knew he had always been a soldier, for though his memory had gone the skills of his trade remained.
СWell done, friend,Т yelled one of the guards at the gate in admiration. СIt would have been useless to run.Т
The Hannack was almost upon him. Soldier swung sideways with the little axe, aiming for the horseТs outstretched nose. The Hannack was lightning fast and swerved to protect his mount. SoldierТs swing carried through, missing his original target, but striking the HannackТs thigh. There came a yell of pain from the attacking warrior, who turned on his mount to a position where he could strike down. However, SoldierТs left arm went up to protect his vulnerable temple. This left the lower part of SoldierТs face as the only real target. For reasons of his own the Hannack stayed his hand, did not smash his warhammer into SoldierТs hairy jaw. Instead, the frustrated warrior tried for SoldierТs right shoulder.
He missed, because at that moment the donkey, either terrified by the fracas, or simply enraged by all this unnecessary activity, charged past the steedТs flank and lashed out with his hind hooves. He struck the HannackТs mount on the rump. The horse shied and bolted forwards, causing the Hannack clutch at the reins. In doing so the warrior dropped his warhammer. Soldier immediately picked up this weapon, longer than the hand-axe and far more deadly, and began wielding it himself. The horseman saw that he had to arm himself again and drew a broadbladed sword slung from the side of his charger. As he did so, he found himself in a storm of arrows, which were now coming from the direction of the nearest red pavilion. Carthagan archers had fetched their weapons and were raining missiles down on the Hannack. One struck him in the shoulder. He pulled it out, gave Soldier a frustrated, if not longing look, and then rode off towards the hill country to the north.
Soldier breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the dust clouds fly from the horseТs hooves in the blood-red light of the dying sun.
He patted the donkey on the rump. СYou saved my skin there, old fellah. Extra hay for you tonight.Т
СAn extra something for your other helper?Т suggested the raven, who had flown back again. СI was going to fly at the face of that Hannack, but the donkey got in the way.Т
СOh, IТm certain you were,Т said Soldier, sarcastically.
СNo, really, I was.Т
СLetТs forget it, shall we?Т
Soldier wrapped the HannackТs warhammer in a piece of sacking. He would keep this prize. It might come in useful to him later, since his empty scabbard attested to the fact that his own sword was lost. Soldier then led the donkey towards the city gates. On the way he expressed his appreciation to the stocky Carthagan archers, who had assisted him.
СI owe you my life,Т Soldier shouted.
One of the archers shook his head.
СCourage needs assistance from time to time. You are no Guthrumite, for otherwise you would have fled the Hannack.Т
Soldier went over to this short, square, narrow-eyed man. His chest was bare and the muscles stood so proud of his form they might have been embossed by a sculptor used to working in bronze. Soldier was quite envious of his physique, yet he was only one of hundreds of others with similar physical qualities.
СYou donТt think much of Guthrumites then?Т