"Karl Edward Wagner - Kane 03 - Bloodstone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wagner Karl Edward)

setting. Carefully he scraped free a last few stubborn flakes of bone-streaked clay from the inside of the
ring and held it before his finger. Whoever had worn this ring lost centuries past must have been a giant,
for its girth was several sizes too great for any normal finger to hold.

Uneasily the hunter recalled legends told by the Selonari of giants and demons who had stalked the
forests even before they had settled here. And there were tales among his own people regarding the
savage Rillyti, who supposedly never strayed far beyond the slimy shelter of their swamp.

But the hunter had a solid, practical mind. Saying a prayer to Ommem for protection, and to the spirit of
the rotted skeleton for pardon, he dropped the ring into his pouch. Mechanically he began to gut his kill,
all the while speculating pleasantly as to the price his find might bring him at the jewelers' market in
Breimen.
I

Death by Firelight




An ominous black shadow in the leaping firelight, the big man crouched enswathed in his cloak and
moodily sipped wine from a crockery mug lost in his huge fist. His close-fitting shirt and trousers of dark
leather were freshly stained with sweat and blood, and the right sleeve was rolled back from a
scarlet-streaked bandage encircling an arm thick with corded muscle. A belt bright with silver studs
crossed his massive chest, holding fast an empty sword scabbard behind his powerful right shoulder. The
sword itself stood before him, its point embedded in a gnarled tree root. Absently running a knuckle over
the short red beard that framed his rather brutal face, he brooded over the many nicks and red brown
smears that defaced the blade and cast shadows of violent combat by the flickering light. Seemingly he
was oblivious to the others as they greedily spread out the loot to divide among themselves.

The Ocalidad Mountain Range that guarded the northern coasts of the forestland now called Wollendan
had been infamous for its bandits long before the blond seafarers of the coast migrated through its passes
to carve out cities from the great forests of the south. The dark-haired forest-dwellers who grudgingly
yielded ground to their iron-guarded advance had made free use of the countless caves and unassailable
fortresses the mountains provided, before the intruders had ever landed on their shores. Never in the
memory of those who held the land had it been safe for a caravan to cross theOcalidadMountains. Yet
commerce must flow from seacoast inland and back again, and the rich trade with the fabled cities across
the seas made the gamble worth the effort. So men with wealth crossed the mountains, where men with
swords waited to strip them of it, and the history of their measures and countermeasures was as long and
colorful as it was bloody.

Earlier today this band had attacked a somewhat modest, pack train crossing from the south under a
small guard of armed men. The ensuing battle had ended little better than a draw for the bandits, who lost
a good number of men before the survivors of the caravan broke through the ambush to safety. In fleeing,
however, several loads of goods had been left behind by the merchants, and the brigands were content to
fall upon this booty and abandon further efforts against the remainder of the caravan. Retreating to their
camp as nightfall overtook them, the bandits were now engaged in the difficult and dangerous business of
dividing the spoils.

"A fine lot of jewelry here in this one pack," observed their leader, a scar-faced giant named Hechon.
"Someone's out a bundle of money here. Wonder what it was all going for. Hey... maybe all the rumors