"Andrew J. Offutt - Cormac 06 - The Undying Wizard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

A cry of rage was the reply from the archer; the dark, squat men of Pictdom were not known for sense of
humour.
In the Irish craft, a man called. тАЬA fine threat, Cormac. But... what do we do? There be fourteen of these
тАШsnail-shellsтАЩ as yeтАЩre after styling them, and us between them like a man running the Behlfires!тАЭ
The dark man named Cormac looked about.
Two Pictish boats trailed the little ship he commanded. Six paced it on either side. They might have been an
escort, save that the Picts were friend to none in the world but themselves. Cormac knew that an ancestor of
his had been friend and fighting companion to the last great Pictish king, Bran Mak Morn, years ago. That
meant nothing now, either to the squat swarthy men or to the current bearer of the name Cormac mac Art of
Connacht in Eirrin.
Small were the Pictish boats, of well-scraped hide rubbed with butter so that they were as if faced with glass
that sparkled in the sun flashing on the placid waters. In each were two Picts, armed with spear and
knifeтАФand oar. A few had bows and arrows. The two-man craft were light and swift-gliding. Full a handтАЩs
breadth had the sun moved in the sky since the little flotilla had intersected the shipтАЩs course. Nor did the
barrel-chested rowers seem in the least winded, nor minded to abandon their odd, paralleling chase.
тАЬAh for a wind,тАЭ Cormac said with anger and longing, тАЬa wind, that we might leave behind these apish scum
from TimeтАЩs dawn who seek our very hearts!тАЭ
He glowered ferociously about at the ringing skinboats, de curucis or curraghs: caracks. All remained just
outside the distance to which any sensible man would seek to speed a spear. And few used the bow, which
was a hunting tool, rather than a weapon of war.
Cormac snapped, тАЬA-port!тАЭ
The steersman responded at once. Swiftly his craft began to move away from the caracks on their right.
Nearly as swiftly, the Pictish boats to port swung away, nimble little craft rowed by experts.
In his anger and desperation Cormac himself snatched up arrow and bow of yew and sent a shaft at that
skinboat which seemed nearest. The Picts howled in derision; Cormac mac Art was an indifferent archer at
best.
тАЬWhat do we do?тАЭ
Cormac looked at the short, leather-capped warrior at his side. тАЬRow,тАЭ he said, in a snarl. тАЬGo on. And hope
for wind!тАЭ He glanced half the length of the ship at the druid.
The man in the robe of forest green either did not notice, or affected not to feel the accusing gaze. But he
made answer, staring straight before him as though talking to himself.
тАЬBehl and Crom,тАЭ he said, тАЬcede power asea to Manannan mac Lyr and the Morrigu of the waves. And
Manannan, as all seafarers know, is deaf from the roar of the surf.тАЭ
Cormac blinked. тАЬIn all my years asea,тАЭ he muttered, тАЬI never heard that.тАЭ
The warrior beside him smiled, but wisely kept silent.
тАЬCORMAC!тАЭ
The Gael spun at the alarmed shout of his name. Seeing the pointing finger, he wheeled. The Pictish boats to
starboard, all six, were closing on his ship. CormacтАЩs reaction was not understood by those possessed of
more patience and less experience and warlike joy than this Gael among Celts: Cormac grinned.
тАЬLugh!тАЭ he snapped. тАЬFerdiad!тАЭ
With grunts Lugh and Ferdiad shipped their oars, Ferdiad the first to starboard, Lugh the last. So had Cormac
placed them, after giving both careful instructions and some small rehearsal. These two were better archers
than their comrades along that side, and they knew their duties. Each man snatched up bow and clapped on
helmet; each wore a jerkin of well-boiled leather, and long bracers on both arms.
Lugh and Ferdiad moved quickly into position at the starboard hullтАЩs bulwark, looked, ducked, nocked, pulled
string, rose, released, ducked again. The shafts may perhaps have taught some small respect; otherwise
they were ineffective.
CormacтАЩs grin faltered not. HeтАЩd trained these two hunters well. No sooner were they again hunkered below
the top of the bulwark than four arrows whished over their heads. The Pictish shafts passed completely over
the ship. One persuaded a portside oarsman to helmet himself.