"Mickey Zucker Reichert - Renshai 02 - The Western Wizard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichert Mickey Zucker)

king's features then, "But should my man win, your tribe must leave the Northlands and never return.''



At twenty-nine, Colbey had already been the Renshai's most accomplished sword master for fifteen
years. Yet their spokesman had chosen a challenger from the ranks at random with a bored nonchalance
that enraged the king. A young woman faced and defeated the king's champion. Then, in an ugly gesture
of defiance that had galled even Colbey, she had lopped the head from the king's warrior, stealing from
him the glory that came with death. The Renshai had won a homeland that never again bore any name but
Devil's Island. And twenty years later, when the massed armies of the North slaughtered the Renshai,
they never truly broke the king's promise. GeneralIKing Siderin of the Eastlands had steered the
Northern king to the loophole in his vow. By attacking at night, the Northmen had allowed the Renshai to
live their "days in peace."



Colbey drew a long sword from each hip sheath, watching the familiar glow of starlight on the blades.
Even after sixty-five years, the beauty of the sight never dimmed, nor the excitement that thrilled through
him at the melody of steel rasping from its sheath. But the joy of other things had disappeared. Thoughts
of some of the Renshai's actions sickened him, especially the ritual mutilations that had led to their exile.
Yet there was a beauty and integrity to the Renshai that outsiders rarely understood. They remained loyal
to one another to the extreme of cutting down one of their own from behind to prevent his dying of illness
or infection, for a coward's death would doom a warrior to Hel. Their honor forbade them from using
anything but their own individual, physical skills in war; therefore, they shunned armor, group strategies,
and any weapon that did not require a direct, hand-to-hand technique. Rache had died of King Siderin's
poison. And that, Colbey had found the most distasteful weapon of all.
 Still, despite the many laws that bound the Renshai, they never expected their enemies to follow the
same code of ethics. A man who dies fighting with his principles intact dies in glory. To expect enemies to
follow the same code of honor defiles that honor, reducing it to a set of arbitrary rules.



With that thought, Colbey launched into a svergelse, a series of sword maneuvers practiced alone.
Though swifter than his heartbeats, the perfect, committed figures came easily, along with a memory that,
to his mind, defined the Renshai's creed. Before Colbey's birth, the tribe had worshiped the god Odin as
their patron. Then, one day, Colbey's elders swore that Thor's wife Sif appeared before them, promising
that a child born that day would become the most skilled sword master in history. Three babies joined
the tribe that day. The first, a boy, barely met the Renshai's definition of average before his death in a
childhood combat. The second, a girl called Kelrhyne, was hardy and robust. Clearly the object of Sif's
promise, she perfected her first sword maneuver before the other two pulled to a stand. She had breezed
through the Renshai training as though it was created solely for her. The third child born had been
Colbey.



The swords whirled about Colbey, veering with a speed that kept them invisible. Even the flashes of
starlight shifted too quickly to betray their positions. He recalled how, at five years old, he had been told
about Sif s promise. Immediately, he had made a vow. If Kelrhyne was destined by gods to become the
most skilled sword master in history, then, by setting his goal to best her, he would become the finest
swordsman possible, constrained only by time. Now, remembering, Colbey smiled, spinning into a