"Mickey Zucker Reichert - Renshai 01 - The Last Of The Renshai" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichert Mickey Zucker)

The woods seemed to close in on Rache, blotting the meager light of the moon. He sprinted over the
paths from memory, racing toward home and the sounds of battle growing louder.



"Modi!" The cry came from ahead, in the voice of Rache's sister. His heart leapt, despite the anguish in
the shout. I'm getting closer. They weren't caught asleep. Without enough breath for a battle cry, Rache
burst from the woods. Moonlight dazzled him, intensified by a myriad reflections off swords and shields.
Some of the enemy wore chain shirts that hung to their knees, but the Ren-shai disdained armor, shields,
and bows as cowards' toys. Swords dulled red with blood capered like living things, a fierce chaos of
slash and counter. Even the youngest Renshai outmaneuvered the enemy, Northmen each one, but Rache
counted four invaders for every friend.



A blade sliced for Rache's chest. He blocked, catching a stroke so powerful, his hands stung with the
impact. Ignoring the pain, he bore in. He slammed his foot onto the enemy's, crashed his knee into the
groin. The Northman off-balanced. Pressing his advantage, Rache cut for the neck. Before the blow
could fall, a hand clapped to Rache's forehead, and strong arms ripped him backward. Rache toppled,
scarcely managing to keep hold of his sword. A blade in his new opponent's hand whisked for his face.
Rache parried, rolling to his feet. A back-step realigned him, an enemy to either side.



Both sprang at him. Rache lunged, in a feint, for the man who had felled him. The other made a wild
attack for Rache's unshielded back. At the last instant, Rache spun and slashed at the one behind. The
sword whisked beneath the shield, opening the man's gut. He crumpled as Rache whirled back to his
other opponent with a frantic sweep meant only to force the enemy back.
 They squared off. Smoke burned Rache's eyes, and he gasped for each hot, dry breath. His chest felt on
fire; his lungs rattled as if filled with blood. Beyond his opponent, there was no sign of his sister. He could
see his mother engaged with three Northmen. His father, Kall-mir, wove an agile web of steel between
himself and his single opponent, driving his Northman to the edge of the woods.



Rache lunged.



Suddenly, Kallmir spun and caught Rache's enemy by the hair. With a single stroke, he decapitated the
Northman before placidly returning to his own battle.



Rache pulled his own thwarted thrust, for the moment without an adversary. He turned, scanning the
masses for an enemy, when a hand closed over his own. He whirled, sword poised, recognized his
mother and held the blow. "Mama?"