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

his fine costume. For a moment he slowed, his throbbing knee forcing him to take more
weight on his hands as he slid and scrambled over the rock.
The wind funneled up the gorge with an agonizing moan. Alaan clung to his place while
it shoved and tore at him, flailing his costume about his face. His arms trembled and his
knee throbbed. Above, he could hear voices, the words shattered and swept up into a
violent sky.
Is he among them? Alaan wondered. Had Hafydd come seeking him? Had he been lured
here away from the armies of the Prince of Innes?
The wind dropped away, growling down the slope, and Alaan followed it, his knee stiff
but bearing weight now. An arrow sparked off the stone by his hand and he jumped,
letting himself fall and slide a dozen feet to a ledge. Pulling his own bow over his head,
he nocked an arrow and shot the first man to appear above. The next he thought he
might have missed, though narrowly.
He pulled his bow back over his head and shoulder and went on, the way widening and
becoming easier. The advantage here was
oean Kussell

his, for he had been this way before and, as much as he could, had committed the path
to memory, though by moonlight everything seemed steeper and more dangerous.

A ledge should slope off to the right not far belowтАФthough when it didn't, he was
possessed by a sudden fear that he'd passed it when he let himself drop down to avoid
the arrows.

But no, there it was, much as he'd remembered, though appearing narrower now. He
swung himself onto the ledge around a buttress of stone and paused there a moment,
gazing up. He didn't have to wait long. The men-at-arms followed behind, climbing
down quickly, searching for holds and trying to watch for him at the same time. How the
lead men must be expecting an arrow at any second.

Alaan knew that Hafydd, if he were here, would not be among these. He would be safely
behind, letting his guards suffer the risks. Alaan barely had the heart to use his bow, but
he didn't want to make their pursuit seem too easy. Hafydd was suspicious by nature. So
Alaan stayed there awhile, and drove the men back up the draw, repelling two of their
attempts to rush him. And then he went on, trotting quickly along the ledge, his battered
knee having stiffened up again as he stood.

To his left the night world stretched awayтАФshadows like shale, mountains of jagged
moonlight. A cloud passed over the face of the moon, and Alaan was forced to grope
forward, barely able to discern the ledge. It would be easy to misstep in such light, to be
fooled and find oneself suddenly a creature of the airтАФfor a brief moment.

The cloud passed and he hurried on. Where the rock bent around a corner, he stopped
to look back. There they were, following quickly along, their costumes lending a
macabre air to the scene in the stark light; like a madman's painting. Alaan pressed
himself on. There was some distance yet to go, even to one who could find hidden
shortcuts.

The ledge led to another gully, though not so steep, with a slop-