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

tongue.



"Did someone get the child?"



"Sigurd's blow knocked him off the fjdrd. Then the woman killed Sigurd."



A third voice: "The boy's dead."



A "hew man continued the conversation. "Well, someone get down there and find the body, or it'll cost
us. Never saw a Renshai run from swordplay.''



One spat. "Cowards all. Dead cowards now."



The voices receded.
 The salt of the Amirannak Sea stung Rache's hand and the gash in his side. Ghosts of blood curled into
the water. And Rache began to cry.



Rache awakened bruised and battered in every limb, and the pain throughout his entire body made the
superficial gash in his side seem trivial. Despite the spring weather, he felt chilled, his clothing soaked
through, his skin macerated. He moved, feeling grit and seashell fragments shift beneath him. He opened
his eyes and discovered only dark sand; he lay, facedown on the shore. Gradually, memory returned. He
recalled swimming, longer, harder, farther than ever before. Disoriented by the darkness, Rache was
caught by the mainland tide, tossed repeatedly against the cliffs, fighting at first from strength of will, then
only from habit. Dimly, he remembered finding the open beach, hauling himself across the sand like a
cripple, and there surrendering to a deeper darkness.



Rache twisted his head. The midday sun glazed into his vision, blinding him. He flicked his lids closed
and sank back to the sand. Other memories assailed him then: hungry red flames consuming the only
world he knew as home; death screams in wild, savage triumph; the silver clang and beat of swordplay
that was deadly, beautiful music to the Renshai. Rache's fists cinched violently around sand, shell shards
biting into his palms. Again, he saw his father, silently trampled beneath a mass of flying swords, his
mother's shattered form on the cliffs, his sister's death nothing but a pain cry in his memory. Tears rose,
washing grit from Rache's eyes, but he fought them down. My parents died in valorous combat. The
brave dead should be glorified, never mourned. Though Rache believed the tenet, it was not enough to