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

Was Bran who first snatched his spear, and at that instant the great bear came charging into the little
encampment.
Like a jealous guardian of the forest privacy he was, angered at the intrusion of men into his wood, and bent
on doing death on them all. Up on his two hind legs he was so that he towered over all; a shaggy brown beast
rising eight feet in height. A fleeing ring ouzel hurtled across the little clearing on blurring wings, and a sizable
shrew, fearing the bear more than the evidence of its nose, rushed in among the men, headed directly for the
fire. It swerved sharply, skidded, and was a brown streak that vanished into the forest again.
Bran could not cast or make a running stab; the bear was already too close, and coming. The weapon-man
swung his spear to get it in line with the beast even as he backed a pace. One paw the size of BranтАЩs head
snapped the spear, bringing a grunt of pain from him as the haft slammed into his hip. The spear broke, for all
its being good seasoned ash.
And then the bear caught Roich, who screamed out in a voice not a manтАЩs.
Ere Midhir could abandon dagger and draw sword, the furs flew in a rustle from the lad at his side, and
clumbed to the earth. Surely it was worse than unwise for that tall, beautifully constructed youth to do what
he did then, all in an instant; he drew both sword and foot-long knife at the same time as he rushed to
RoichтАЩs aid.
That writhing weapon-man had managed to strike the bear in the nose with no more than his knuckly fist, yet
with an angry and pained roar the beast hurled him aside. His gaze lit instantly on that which moved: the
rushing youth. A huge shaggy arm leaped out to grasp him. The beast emitted such a fierce growling that it
might have been heard through all Connacht, and he moved on the youth as if he had a mind not to stop and
tear him up at all, but to swallow him at the one mouthful.
The mailed young man reacted in the manner of a seasoned warrior. So deeply did he chop into the furry arm
that the bearтАЩs instant yanking back of his limb tore the sword from itтАЩs weilderтАЩs grasp. The brute had
shriekedтАФbut attacked in bleeding rage, rather than fled. The other arm swept forth, and then the wounded
one as well. The sword dropped free of riven flesh while the animal seized the source of its pain.
Instantly the young man was being crushed against the great beast, which sought his face or neck with its
terrible jaws. Was well for the Connachtish youth he had not removed his coat of linked steel chain, else the
awful claws would have ribboned his back and torn him to the bone.
Only just was the youth able to wedge an arm beneath the bruteтАЩs chin, and his body quivered with strain
while he held the yellow-white teeth scant inches from his face. At the same time, his legs braced and the
calves knotting within deerskin leggings, the youth plunged his dagger again and again into his ferocious
antagonist.
The immediate effect was precious little, though the bear issued more screams of rage that blasted the
humanтАЩs eardrums and fanned his face with the charnel-house breath of the beast; this omnivorous creature
must have come recently from its winterтАЩs nap and found meat almost at once. Now it sought more. Its prey
was incredibly strongly held, squeezed in his carapace of steel linksтАФand in imminent danger now of being
crushed even as a steelbacked beetle. His entire body quivered in the strain of muscular tension. Surely his
life was measured in seconds.
Straining to keep massively powerful jaws and great teeth from his face, he desperately re-directed the aim of
his daggerтАФand plunged it into one glaring feral eye.
Long was the blade, and deep he drove it.
Steel point sundered eyeball and drove back within that vulnerable hollow to pierce smallish animal brain.
Reflexively the beast hurled its foe from it, for it was sorely stricken enow to give over battle in favour of
sensible flight. The valiant youth was propelled mightily backward against Bran. Both fell. Past them stamped
leather-shod feet, and Midhir drove the dagger-long wedge of a spearblade solidly into the brute.
The leaf-shaped blade of iron directly pierced the beastтАЩs heart.
Bleeding in a dozen places, the brown bear fell, rolled, clawed snarling at itself and the earth and air. Its roars
and snarls diminished in strength and volume. And then its legs were kicking loosely, aimlessly. It died.
тАЬTh-thanks be to ye, Midhir mac Fionn!тАЭ the youth gasped in a strained voice, when Midhir helped him to his
feet.