"Andrew J. Offutt - Cormac 01 - The Mists of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

sweat-matted nigh to his shoulders within his robeтАЩs hood of hareтАЩs fur, had bossed his leatherncoat with two
great blunted cones of iron. Like huge shining blue nipples, they stood forth an inch from either side of his
chest. Another of the five had doffed his plain round helm, too, and was combing tangled wheaten locks with
his fingers.
The five stared at the meat, waiting. They swallowed repeatedly.
тАЬBest ye get that pot back on your head, Roich, and forget the beauty of your hair.тАЭ It was the
reddish-bearded man in chainmail who spoke. тАЬThis air does a sweaty crown no good, none at all.тАЭ
тАЬDamned thingтАЩs heavy,тАЭ Roich muttered, but he picked up his helmet.
тАЬThatтАЩs because yeтАЩve a neck like a chicken, Roich,тАЭ the man beside him said, he in the thick heavy cloak of
grey wolf and hare combined.
Roich pushed him angrily and the speaker chuckled, rocking on his buttocks.
тАЬTo gain MidhirтАЩs advice is one thing, Bran, but to have my ears wounded with that ravenтАЩs voice of yours is
more than a man can bear.тАЭ
Bran and Midhir chuckled.
The fifth among them wore an enveloping cloak of brown woollen, to which had been sewn a collar of badger.
Around his hair a narrow leathern binding, a sort of head-torc or niamh-lhamn; on his chest a sun-symbol on a
woven silver chain. He it was who spoke now:
тАЬItтАЩs with weapon-men of Art mac Comail I set forth as druid companion, and with children about a campfire I
find myself. Och, only the youngest among us keeps his peace as a man.тАЭ
тАЬOnce again Edar the Druid speaks sense and truth,тАЭ the mailed, reddish-bearded man called Midhir said.
The four of them looked at him the druid had singled out; a lad he was, his face showing only the adolescent
intimation of a beard to come. It would be black. Black the hair falling below his pot-like helm; nor was his
skin fair like BranтАЩs and MidhirтАЩs. Yet his eyes were grey-blue, the colour even in the light of the dancing fire
of good sword-steel. Was he wore the other coat of chainmail, over a shirt of soft doeskin and leggings of the
same. His gaze moved swiftly from one to the other of his тАШcompanions, returned to the elkтАЩs leg over the fire.
Praised for his mannish silence, he nevertheless spoke now.
тАЬMidhir...тАЬ he said, in, a voice not quite through its change to that of manhood, for he had recently reached
that age at which boys were called men whether they were ready or not, and were so called until old age
began to set inтАФusually at about forty, and usually not of long duration thereafter.
тАЬAye,тАЭ Midhir said, looking also at the meat.
Bucking up the knees of his crossed legs, he pressed with his heels. Chain rustled then as he thrust himself
easily to his feet without touching the ground with his hands, for all the weight of his muscular self and his
chaincoat and helm. His right hand pushed away his furs; his left went in to his hip and came forth with a long
dagger.
Behind him, a horse whickered. Another stamped. Midhir paused to glance at the four animals, staked out for
the grazing just without the fireтАЩs light. Nearby rested the two carts they had drawn hence from Cruachan. The
carts were empty.
Roich twisted half around. тАЬHeard they something I did not?тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs but happiness on them to have delivered the annual tribute to our king and have naught to pull but empty
carts,тАЭ Bran said. тАЬAnd less than a day from home.тАЭ
тАЬWeтАЩve been still and so have they,тАЭ Midhir said. тАЬMorelike they were startled by my getting up to test this
meat.тАЭ And he leaned in toward the haunch and leg of juicy elk.
It was then the thundersome roar exploded from the darkness of the woods. The noise seemed to shake the
very twigs of the trees with their fledgeling buds. With wild calls, startled birds vacated their nests. One of the
horses, the red-brown, reared and tugged at his leg-tether.
All five men were on their feet in an instant and staring into the darkness.
Mighty crashing noises, slavering snarls, and another roar announced the coming of... something. The menтАЩs
long spears stood from one of the carts like huge needles from a good wifeтАЩs cushion, and Roich and Bran
lurched into movement toward them as if shoved. Driven they were, indeed, by the weapon-manтАЩs training that
became as instinct.