"Sean Russell - The Swan's War 2 - Isle of Battle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russell Sean)

A man shot out of the shadow, sword raised. Alaan barely had time to pull his own
blade and dodge a vertical stroke. He slipped on the wet bottom, having stepped back
without thinking, and fought to regain his balance, barely parrying a thrust at his heart.
Alaan's own blade sank into the man's throat as he felt steel drive deep into his thigh
above the injured knee.
The man, dressed as a toy soldier, reached up and grabbed Alaan's blade, choking as he
did. In the pale light dark fluid ran down his hand, and he fell to his knees. Alaan yanked
his blade free and wallowed into the water, limping terribly. Across a few yards of open
water he forced his way into the reeds, looking back to see his track plainly marked
where he'd stirred up the bottom. The man lay at the swamp's edge, still gurgling and
choking.



21

Alaan pulled his bow free, ducked down and nocked an arrow. Others appeared,
catching up to the magnificent runner who now jay choking on the bank. Alaan shot the
first man and just missed another as they retreated up the bank into the protection of the
trees and the shadows.
Not waiting to see what the men would do, Alaan plunged into the reeds. His pursuers
were too close now, and he was wounded. He bulled through the rushes, trying to
balance on one leg, the sharp-edged reeds lacerating his hands. As his shoulders began
to ache, he pulled free of the cattails into open water.
"A staff," he muttered, barely able to go on.тАЭ I need a staff."
If anyone was close behind him now he would be caught out in the open, vulnerable. He
slipped down into the water and crossed the pool, half swimming, half pulling himself
along the bottom. His bowstring would be wet and useless now, but there was nothing
for it. He had to put some distance between himself and his hunters.
In the sky, goatsuckers dove and wheeled, crying forlornly, and frogs sang of their night
of love. A snake slid silently by. Alaan knew his hunters would be difficult to hear in this
place, but then he need not be so quiet himself, which had advantages when one was in
a hurry.
He reached a shallows and tried to stand on the soft bottom, lost his balance and toppled
into the water with a splash. He crawled on, dragging his injured leg, cursing under his
breath. A channel opened up to his left and he followed it, able to pull himself forward
now, letting his body half float, the weight of his sword and quiver dragging him down.
Alaan glanced up at the sky, hoping for clouds, but the moon, perfectly full, floated in a
clear, star-filled sky. He dragged himself into the rushes again, forcing his way through,
taking many turns and doing as little damage as he could. His bow was impeding his
progress and should have been cast aside, but he wanted to leave no markers of where
he'd beenтАФand he might have use for it yet. Again he found open water and went back
down to his half-swimming pose, digging his fingers into the soft muck of the bottom
and
тАЮ.*,

propelling himself forward. He glanced over his shoulder often, afraid that he'd been
found. Without the use of his bow he wouldn't have a chance. He wouldn't last long in a
sword fight, hobbled as he was.