"Christopher Stasheff - Rogue Wizard 07 - A Wizard In Midgard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

A Wizard In MidgardA Wizard In Midgard
The Sixth Chronicle of Magnus D'Armand, Rogue Wizard
By Christopher Stasheff
ISBN: 0-812-54927-9


1
Magnus walked down the road, swinging his staff in time to his footsteps and
surveying the countryside. It was a neat patchwork of green and gold, even an.
oblong of red here and there, depending on which crop was growing where.
But as he'd seen from orbit, most of the workers in the fields seemed to be very
big-six and a half feet or taller-or else very short-less than five feet or even
smaller. There were children in the field, some stooping to hoe like the adults,
some running around in play. If it hadn't been for their games, Magnus might
have thought them to be dwarves, too. As it was, he had to look closely to see
if the short people had the proportions of adult dwarves or of ordinary
children. They were all dressed in worn, patched tunics and leggins, most of
which were gray or tan. Some of the garments had once had some color, but were
now worn almost as gray as the others.
As he watched, an overseer spoke sharply to one of the tall men, hefting a
cudgel in a threatening manner. The tall man cringed and nodded quickly, then
turned back to work, stooping and hoeing with renewed vigor.
Magnus was outraged. Bad enough that any man should have to fear another that
way, but worse when the slave was so much bigger and stronger, and easily the
master in an even fightl But he realized that was his own bias, projecting his
own situation into them, for he was seven feet tall himself. Something hard
cracked on the side of his head.
Pain wracked his skull, and Magnus stumbled and fell to his knees, the whole
world swimming about him even as he realized he'd let himself become distracted,
lowered his vigilance-but his staff snapped up to guard position by sheer
reflex. He hadn't even seen his attacker approach, hadn't heard his footsteps
coming up from behindl Another stick swung at him, but he felt it coming and
managed to swing his staff to deflect the worst of it. A fist hooked into his
face, snapping his head up, and rage broke loose. Magnus surged to his feet,
roaring. The world still wobbled, but he lashed out with his staff blindly. It
connected, someone shouted with pain, and Magnus snapped back to guard, head
clearing, pivoting about, ready for the next blow.
There were a dozen of them who had come up cat footed behind him, all about five
and a half feet tall, all grim and hard, dressed in tunics and bias-hosen of
bright colors and stout cloth, each with a staff or a cudgel, three at the back
with swords, two with bows.
Magnus read their intent by their armament alone-to capture him if they could
and kill him if they could not. Half a dozen of them stepped in, sticks
slashing. Magnus caught one on his staff, another, a third, but two more struck
his shoulders and one his head, hard. The world swam again, panic churned up
from the depths, and Magnus realized he was fully justified in using his psi
powers. He projected raw emotion broadcast, a numbing fear, and swung his staff
like a baseball bat. It struck one man in the ribs, knocking him into another;
both fell, bringing down a third, and the rest ran, howling with fear. But pain
exploded on the back of Magnus's head, a thud resounded through his skull, and