"Nancy Springer - Isle 03 - The Sable Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

elwedeyn steeds fleeing, their flanks dappled with blood drawn by tearing teeth, bursting their great
hearts and falling dead with shame and despair. His father, a giant gray form at his throatтАФ

"Trevyn!" Meg cried. "Beware!"

The vision vanished as Trevyn shook his head, dazed,



realizing that he had moved steps nearer to the seated leader. "He almost had me," he murmured. "Talk
to me, Meg." But before she could say a word the big wolf barked and the others sprang. Trevyn swung
his sword like a reaper cutting a swath, and the fight was joined.

The fine points of swordsmanship were of little use to Trevyn against tooth and claw. But quickness and
a long reach served him well. Though the wolves lunged at him in unison, none came nearer to him than
the length of his sword. Many fell back, yelping, and three toppled dead. At Trevyn's back, Meg held the
torch high. The wolves could not come at him from behind without treading in the fire. Yet they pressed
the fight like things possessed. Even the wounded attacked him. Half a dozen furry bodies now lay
scattered, and the living clawed over them in their frenzy to reach Trevyn. His flashing sword held them
off.

In his patch of moonlight, the wolf leader sat watching, but no longer at his ease. He growled with
displeasure and rose from his haunches, padding toward the fray. Trevyn noted the movement, and for an
instant his strength ebbed from him. That instant of hesitation nearly caused his doom. He felt jaws close
around his legs, striving to bring him down. He beat at the wolves with his sword, but they kept their
hold. They dragged him out from the fire, and he reeled as heavy bodies hit his back from above, teeth
and claws tore at his shoulders. He knew that if he went down he was finished. The gray leader's face
was before his, with bristly hair and long, snarling snout but something strangely human in the jaun┬мdiced
eyes. . . . What name of evil to put to this? It was over now, they were pulling his legs from under him. . .
.

A yell as fierce as any warrior's rang in Trevyn's ears, a comet of light flew past his cheek, and
unbelievably the grip on his legs was released. Entranced, he watched a howling wolf run madly by with
the fur of its back on fire. Meg stood before him, swinging a torch in either hand. She thrust the leaping
wolves in their gaping mouths, and they screamed and fell aside. Two circled around and came at her
from behind. Trevyn blinked and skewered them with his sword.

"Back!" he shouted, vaulting to her side. "Get back, Meg!" They edged back until they could feel the
warmth of



the fire behind them. Still the wolves lunged to the attack like mindless things, and still the bright sword
drew their life's blood. Then the leader barked, and they stopped, forming a ring just at the rim of the
firelight. The big wolf sat behind them, grinning with long white teeth. .

Trevyn blazed into thoughtless fury at this thing he feared and did not understand. He threw his sword to
the earth at his feet. "Come out, you!" he shouted. "Fight like other things of flesh! Rend me though you
will, I will wrestle you to the ground and break your foul neck with my unaided hands!"