"Amber Short Story 05 - Coming to a Cord (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"Why?" Luke asked.
"Because it isn't really a sword."
"What is it then?"
"Sorry," the sorcerer said, regarding the guisel, which was now
moving toward us. "Out of time. Got to find another mirror."
I could tell that he was, unaware of my presence, really teasing
Luke, because I had figured it out for myself and knew it would take
only a moment to tell him, if one could speak.
Then I was disengaging and dropping as fast as I could, for Luke was
swinging Werewindle, and I'd no desire to be severed. I really did not
know what would happen if this were to occur--if both segments would
wind up as wise, witty, and conscious as myself; or, perhaps, whether I
would be destroyed in the process. And having no desire to learn this
information firsthand, flight seemed most prudent.
I hit the floor before the blow fell. A section of the guisel's
head also dropped, still writhing. I squirmed toward Luke's nearest
ankle. Flora picked up a heavy chair and brought it down on the thing's
back with considerable force, despite her broken fingernail. And she
swung it a couple of more times, with some effect, while Luke was in the
process of cutting it in half.
I found my way to where I was headed, crawled up, and caught hold.
_Can you hear me, Luke?_ I tried then.
"Yes," he replied. "What are you?"
_Merlin's strangling cord, Frakir._
Luke swung at the hind section then as it whipped toward him, tiny
legs clawing. Then he whirled and halved the attacking forepart. Flora
struck its rear end again with the chair.
_I know what the sorcerer knew,_ I said.
"Oh, what's that?" he asked, slicing off another section and
slipping on its gooey exudation as he retreated.
_You might well be able to draw enough energy through Werewindle to
destroy a world._
"Really?" he said, struggling to regain his feet as a section of the
creature thrust itself upon him. "All right."
He touched it with the point of his blade and it withdrew from him
as if shocked. Then he rose to his feet.
"You're right," he said. "There's something to it." He touched the
attacking segment again and it vanished in a burst of blue fire.
"Flora! Get back!" he cried.
She did, and he proceeded to incinerate the section that had been
about to attack her. Then another that came at him.
"I'm getting the hang of it," he said, turning to get another
segment. "But I'm not quite sure why it works this way."
_It's not just a sword,_ I said.
"What is it, then?"
_Long before there was Werewindle, it was the spikard Rawg._
"Spikard? Like that strange ring Merlin picked up?"
_Exactly._
With rapid moves then, Luke disposed of the rest of the guisel.
"Thanks, Frakir," he said, "for telling me how the thing worked.