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

keeping up with him.
The day dragged on and grew hotter. Even down in the eternal shade
of the deep forest, Kith-Kanan sweltered, because no breeze stirred the air.
The lay of the land grew rougher, too, with hills and gullies running north
to south along his line of march. This encouraged him at first, because
very often springs and brooks could be found at the bottom of ravines. But
as he scrambled up one hill and down another, he found only moss and
stones and fallen trees.
After skidding down a hillside into the nineteenth gully, Kith-Kanan
paused to rest. He sat on a fallen tree, dropping the spear in front of him.
He licked his dry lips again and fought down the rising feeling that he had
made a grave mistake by running away. How could he have been so
foolish to abandon his life of privilege for this? As soon as he asked
himself the question the vision of Hermathya marrying his brother rose up
in his mind, horribly vivid. Pain and loss welled up inside. To dispel the
image, he stood up abruptly and started off again, shouldering his boar
spear. He took two steps across the bottom of the ravine, and his feet sank
an inch or so into mud, covered by a thin layer of dead leaves.
Where there's mud, thereтАЩs water, he realized happily. Kith-Kanan
went along the ravine to his right, looking for the water that must be there
somewhere. He could see the ravine widen up ahead. Perhaps there was a
pool, a pool of clear, sweet water . . . .
The ravine converged on several others, making a steepsided bowl in
the hills. Kith-Kanan slogged through the increasingly wet mud. He could
smell water ahead. Then he could see itяГзa small pool, undisturbed by a
ripple. The sight drew him like magic. The mud rose above his knees but
he plunged on, right to the center of the pool. Cupping his hands, he filled
them with water and raised them to his lips.
Immediately he spit the water out again. It tasted vile, like rotted
leaves. Kith-Kanan stared down at his reflection in the water. His face
twisted with frustrated rage. It was no use. He would just have to keep
going.
His leg wouldn't come up out of the pool. He tried the other. It was
also stuck. He strained so hard to pull them up, he nearly lost his balance.
Arms flailing, Kith-Kanan twisted his hips from side to side, trying to
work himself free. Instead he sank deeper into the mire. He glanced
around quickly for a tree branch to grab, or a trailing vine. The nearest
trees were ten feet away.
The mud was soon up to his waist. He began to sink even faster.
"Help!" he cried desperately. "Is there anyone to hear?"
A flock of crows settled on the hillside facing Kith-Kanan. They
watched with unnerving calm as he foundered in the killing mud.
You won't pick my eyes, he vowed silently. When the end comes, I'll
duck under the mud before I let you black carrion eaters pick me over.
тАЬThey're not really so bad once you get to know them," said a voice.
Kith-Kanan jerked as if struck by lightning.
"Who's there?" he shouted, looking around at the still trees. "Help!"
"I can help you. I don't know that I will." It was a high, childish voice,
full of smugness.
In replying, the speaker had given himself away. Kith-Kanan spotted