"Paul Thompson - [Elven Nations Trilogy 1] - Firstborn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Paul B)

only three feet long when strung, the powerful recursive bow could put an
iron-tipped arrow through a thick tree trunk. Kith-Kanan tied the quiver to
his belt. Taking the stout boar spear in both hands, he jammed it as high as
he could into the burned tree. He stuffed his belongings back in the sack
and hung the sack from the spear shaft. That ought to keep his things safe
from prowling animals.
Kith-Kanan squinted into the late afternoon sun. Using it as a guide,
he decided to strike out to the north a short distance to see if he could flush
any game. Arcuballis was safe enough, he figured; few predators would
dare tangle with a griffon. He put his back to the shattered tree and dove
into the deeply shadowed forest.
Though the elf prince was used to the woods, at least the woods
around Silvanost, he found this forest strangely different. The trees were
widely spaced, but their thick foliage made it nearly as dim as twilight
down below. So dense was the roof of leaves, the forest floor was nearly
barren. Some ferns and bracken grew between the great trees, but no
heavy undergrowth. The soil was thickly carpeted with dead leaves and
velvety moss. And even though the high branches stirred in the wind, it
was very still where Kith-Kanan walked. Very still indeed. Rings of
red-gilled mushrooms, a favorite food of deer and wild boar, grew
undisturbed around the bases of the trees. The silence soon grew
oppressive.
Kith-Kanan paused a hundred paces from the clearing and drew his
sword. He cut a hunter's sign, a "blaze," into the gray-brown bark of a
hundred-foot-high oak tree. Beneath the bark, the white flesh of the tree
was hard and tough. The elven blade chipped away at it, and the sound of
iron on wood echoed through the forest. His marker made, Kith-Kanan
sheathed his sword and continued on, bow in hand.
The forest seemed devoid of animals. Except for the crow he'd seen,
no other creature, furred or winged, showed itself. Every thirty yards or
so he made another blaze so as not to lose his way, for the darkness was
increasing. It was at least four hours until sunset, yet the shadowed
recesses of the forest were dimming to twilight. Kith-Kanan mopped the
sweat from his brow and knelt in the fallen leaves. He brushed them
aside, looking for signs of grazing by deer or wild pigs. The moss was
unbroken.
By the time Kith-Kanan had made his tenth blaze, it was dark as
night. He leaned against an ash tree and tried to see through the closely
growing branches overhead. At this point he'd just as soon have squirrel
for dinner as venison. That was growing more likely, too.
Tiny points of sunlight filtered through the leaves, dancing as the
wind stirred the branches. It was almost like seeing the stars, only these
points of light moved. The effect was quite hypnotic, which only made
Kith-Kanan more tired than he already was. He'd dozed only fitfully in the
saddle and had eaten nearly nothing since the day before. Perhaps he'd
stop for a moment. Take a bit of rest. Overhead the points of light danced
and swayed.
Kith-Kanan's sword, resting in the crook of his arm, slipped from his
grasp and fell to the ground, sticking point first in the soft soil.
Points of light. Dancing. How very tired he was! His knees folded,