Книга только для ознакомления
.
Skorm Bonelover, the Sorrow of Huma, the Dark
Lady's Liege Man, the legendary Eater of Enemies, dropped
to the ground with a whimper.
The fat cooper, axe in hand, stood panting over him.
Rhael ran down the hill, spear in hand.
"We won!" she cried exultantly.
Halting, she looked down at Skorm's shattered sword
and frowned. "That looks familiar," she said. "That's the
Protector's Sword of Office!"
Graym bent and pulled the skull off Skorm's face. He
was conscious again and looked pinched and scared, but
fairly ordinary beyond that.
"Protector!" Rhael gasped.
Darll kicked the Protector's sword hilt away from him
and stood watching over him.
Rhael was staring admiringly at an embarrassed Graym. "I
heard the noise. I saw the whole thing. You charged an
army by yourselves!"
Darll opened his mouth to explain, but Jarek trod on his
foot. "We toppled our barrels on them. Then Graym was the
first one down. Not even Darll could outrun him."
Rhael sighed. "What a wonderful idea. But your trade
goods - your ale - you sacrificed them for us?"
"One barrel made it," Jarek told her. "It rolled off to
one side and didn't hit anybody." He shook his head. "But I
bet all those other soldiers are drinking it now."
"There are no other soldiers, rock-brain!" Darll
growled. "This Protector and his friends built them out of
corpses, tugged on ropes to make them move, pretended to
train them. They wanted to scare everyone out of town,
then loot it, and it nearly worked
|
