The Mad God's Amulet
- Автор: Муркок Майкл
- Серия: The History of the Runestaff #2
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Фэнтези
Электронная книга - «The Mad God's Amulet». Краткое содержание книги:
He wheeled about, running from the warriors, leaped to the rail, and grabbed a rope that trailed from the crosstrees. Then he flung himself into space.
He prayed that the rope would be long enough as he hurtled through the air, then let go, diving, it appeared, over the side of the ship. His grasping hands just managed to catch the rail of the enemy ship as he fell. He hauled himself onto the deck and began slashing at the grappling ropes, yelling, "OladahnD'Averc! Quickly-follow me!"
From the rigging of the other ship the two men saw him and began climbing higher, to walk precariously along the mainmast's yardarm while the men of the Mad God swarmed behind them.
The Mad God's ship was already beginning to slide away, the gap between it and Smiling Girl widening rapidly.
D'Averc jumped first, diving for the black-sailed ship's rigging arid clutching a rope one-handed, to swing for an instant, threatening to drop to his death.
Oladahn followed him, cutting loose a rope and swinging across the gap, to slide down the rope and land on the deck, where he fell spread-eagled on his face.
Several of the insane warriors tried to follow, and a number actually managed to reach the deck of their own ship. Still laughing, they came at Hawkmoon in a bunch, doubtless judging Oladahn dead.
Hawkmoon was hard put to defend himself. A blade slashed his arm, another caught his face below the visor. Then suddenly, from above, a body dropped into the center of the naked warriors and began hewing around him, almost as much a maniac as they.
It was D'Averc in his boar-headed armor, streaming with the blood of those he had slain. And now, at the back of their attackers came Oladahn, evidently only winded by his fall, yelling a wild mountain battle cry.
Soon every one of the madmen who had managed to reach the ship was dead. The others were leaping from the deck of Smiling Girl into the water, still laughing weirdly, trying to swim after the ship.
Looking back at Smiling Girl, Hawkmoon saw that miraculously most of her crew had apparently survived-at the last minute they had climbed to the safety of the mizzen mast.
D'Averc raced forward and took the wheel of the Mad God's ship, cutting the lashings and steering from the vainly swimming men.
"Well," breathed Oladahn, sheathing his sword and inspecting his cuts, "we seem to have escaped lightly-and with a better ship."
"With luck we'll beat Smiling Girl into port,"
Hawkmoon grinned. "I hope she's still bound for Crimia, for she has all our possessions on board."
Skillfully, D'Averc was turning the ship about, toward the north. The single sail bulged as it caught the wind and the boat left the swimming madmen behind. Even as they drowned, they continued to laugh.
After they had helped D'Averc relash the wheel so that the ship continued roughly on course, they began to explore the ship. It was crammed with treasure evidently pillaged from a score of ships, but also there were all kinds of useless things-broken weapons and ships' instruments, bundles of clothing-and here and there a rotting corpse or a dismembered body, all piled together in the holds.
The three men decided to get rid of the corpses first, wrapping them in cloaks or bundling up the various limbs in rags and tossing them overboard. It was disgusting work and took a long time, for some of the remains were hidden under mounds of other things.
Suddenly Oladahn paused as he worked, his eyes fixed on a severed human hand that had become mummified in some way. Reluctantly, he picked it up, inspecting a ring on the little finger. He glanced at Hawkmoon.
"Duke Dorian…"
"What is it? Do not bother to save the ring. Just get rid of the thing."
"No-it is the ring itself. Look-it has a peculiar design…"
Impatiently Hawkmoon crossed the dimly lit hold and peered at the thing, gasping as he recognized it.
"No! It cannot be!"
The ring was Yisselda's. It was the ring Count Brass had placed on her finger to mark her betrothal to Dorian Hawkmoon.
Numbed with horror, Hawkmoon took the mummified hand, a look of incomprehension on his face.
"What is it?" Oladahn whispered. "What is it that so disturbs you?"
"It is hers. It is Yisselda's."
"But how could she have come to be sailing this ocean so many hundreds of miles from the Kamarg?
It is not possible, Duke Dorian."
"The ring is hers." Hawkmoon gazed at the hand, inspecting it eagerly as realization struck him. "Butthe hand is not. See, the ring barely fits the little finger. Count Brass placed it on the middle finger, and even then it was a loose fit. This is the hand of some thief." He wrenched the precious ring from the finger and threw the hand down. "Someone who was in the Kamarg, perhaps, and stole the ring…" He shook his head. "It's unlikely. But what is the explanation?"
"Perhaps she journeyed this way-seeking you, maybe," Oladahn suggested.
"She'd be foolish if she did. But it is just possible.
However, if that's the case, where is Yisselda now?"
Oladahn was about to speak, when there came a low, terrifying chuckling sound from above. They looked up at the entrance to the hold.
A mad, grinning face looked down at them. Somehow one of the insane warriors had managed to catch the ship. Now he prepared to leap down on them.
Hawkmoon just managed to draw his sword as the madman attacked, sword slashing. Metal hit metal.
Oladahn drew his own blade, and D'Averc came rushing up, but Hawkmoon shouted, "Take him alive! We must take him alive!"
As Hawkmoon engaged the madman, D'Averc and Oladahn resheathed their swords and fell on the warrior's back, grasping his arms. Twice he shook them off, but then he went down kicking as they wound length after length of rope around him. And then he lay still, chuckling up at them, his eyes unseeing, his mouth foam-flecked.
"What use is he alive?" D'Averc asked with polite curiosity. "Why not cut his throat and have done with him?"
"This," Hawkmoon said, "is a ring I found just now." He held it up. "It belongs to Yisselda, Count Brass's daughter. I want to know how these men got it."
"Strange," D'Averc said frowning. "I believe the girl still in the Kamarg, nursing her father."
"So Count Brass is wounded?"
D'Averc smiled. "Aye. But the Kamarg still holds against us. I'd sought to disturb you, Duke Dorian. I do not know how badly Count Brass is hurt, but he still lives. And that wise man of his, Bowgentle, helps him command his troops. The last I heard, it was stalemate between the Dark Empire and the Kamarg."
"And you heard nothing of Yisselda? Nothing of her leaving the Kamarg?"
"No," said D'Averc, frowning. "But I seem to remember… As, yes-a man serving in Count Brass's army. I believe he was approached and persuaded to try to kidnap the girl, but the attempt was unsuccessful."
"How do you know?"
"Juan Zhinaga-the man-disappeared. Presumably Count Brass discovered his perfidy and slew him."
"I find it hard to believe that Zhinaga should be a traitor. I knew the man slightly-a captain of cavalry, he was."
"Captured by us in the second battle against the Kamarg." D'Averc smiled. "I believe he was a German, and we had some of his family in our safekeeping…"