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

The light surged and sputtered before Colbey. Still uncertain of his role, he finally decided to bring a
sword stroke through the image. As tentative as the decision seemed, Colbey never jabbed or cut
without a full commitment to the blow and its consequences. The blade cleaved the glow. Fully powered,
it met no resistance. A gold-white star flashed from the steel like a highlight, then disappeared, and the
glimmer flared suddenly into the form of a woman in black leather.



The functional battle garb detracted nothing from a face and figure that redefined Colbey's feminine ideal.
Long blonde hair spilled free in the spring wind, so thick and saffron that it seemed like strands of spun,
metallic gold. She clutched a gleaming broadsword that lashed abruptly for Colbey's head.



For a fraction of a heartbeat, Colbey hesitated. The lack of reaction from the spectators told him that he
alone saw the image. If she did not exist, he had nothing to fear from her attack. If she was a
manifestation of his goddess, then he would die on her sword with honor. But not without a bold and
glorious fight! She deserves that much. And so do I.



Colbey flicked his left sword into a block, boring in rather than retreating or dodging. Her blow crashed
against his left blade with an unexpected strength. His right sword swept beneath her guard. She leapt
backward into a crouched defense, her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure over features that clearly
revealed surprise. She skipped to the left, as light and quick as an animal and with a grace that might have
sent a practiced dancer into a jealous rage. Colbey did not press his offensive, instead using the instant to
assess her potential. Already, he could tell mat she would prove the most potent threat he had ever
faced. And the challenge thrilled him.



The woman remained crouched, patient as eternity. Colbey waited, too, content to enjoy the fatal beauty
of even her slightest movements. He made an almost imperceptible gesture, indicating that she should
take the next attack.



The woman laughed, the sound deep and resonant yet still somehow feminine. Suddenly, she lunged.
Colbey sidestepped the jab, then returned a double stroke of his own. She met the attack with a snaking
parry that redirected both of his blades.



Now, Colbey laughed, too, feeling carefree and as vibrant as a child. More than fifty years had passed
since any opponent could meet him stroke for stroke. Even the next best Renshai had never returned
more than one attack for every two. He rescued his left sword from her maneuver, using what little
remained of its momentum to catch the knurling of her hilt near her fingers. Torn from her hands, the
sword pinwheeled between them. Colbey's other blade driven toward her abdomen seemed certain to
land.