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:
For more than a week the black ship drifted, usually becalmed, for the wind had dropped to almost nothing. By Hawkmoon's reckoning they were drifting close to the channel that separated the Black Sea from the Azov Sea, near to Kerch, where Coryanthum had been recruited.
D'Averc lounged in a hammock he had hung for himself amidships, occasionally coughing theatrically and remarking on his boredom. Oladahn sat often in the crownest, scanning the sea, while Hawkmoon paced the decks, beginning to wonder if his plan had had any substance to it other than his need to know what had become of Yisselda. He was even beginning to doubt that the ring had been hers, deciding that perhaps several such rings had been made in the Kamarg over the years.
Then, one morning, a sail appeared on the horizon, coming from the northwest. Oladahn saw it first and called to Hawkmoon to come on deck. Hawkmoon rushed up and peered ahead. It might be the ship they awaited.
"Get below," he called. "Everybody get below."
Oladahn scrambled down the rigging, while D'Averc, suddenly active, swung out of his hammock and strolled to the ladder that led belowdecks. They met in the darkness of the central hold and waited…
An hour seemed to pass before they heard timber bump against timber and knew that the other ship had drawn alongside. It might still be an innocent vessel curious about a ship drifting apparently unmanned.
Not much later Hawkmoon heard the sound of booted feet on the deck above; a slow, measured tread that went the length of the whole deck and back again.
Then there was silence as the man above either entered a cabin or climbed to the bridge.
Tension grew as the sound of the footsteps came again, this time walking directly toward the central hold.
Hawkmoon saw a silhouette above, peering down into the darkness where they crouched. The figure paused, then began to descend the ladder. As he did so, Hawkmoon crept forward.
When the newcomer had reached the bottom, Hawkmoon sprang, his arm encircling the man's throat. He was a giant, more than six and a half feet tall, with a huge black bushy beard and plaited hair, wearing a brass breastplate over his shirt of black silk.
He growled in surprise and swung around, carrying Hawkmoon with him. The giant was incredibly strong. His huge fingers went up to Hawkmoon's arm and began to prise it loose.
"Quick-help me hold him," Hawkmoon cried, and his friends rushed forward to fling themselves on the giant and bear him down.
D'Averc drew his sword. Wearing his boar mask and the metal finery of Granbretan, he looked dangerous and terrible as he delicately placed the tip of his sword against the giant's throat.
"Your name?" D'Averc demanded, his voice booming in his helmet.
"Captain Shagarov. Where is my crew?"
The black-bearded giant glared up at them, unabashed by his capture. "Where is my crew?"
"You mean the madmen you sent akilling?" Oladahn said. "They are drowned, all but one, and he told us of your evil treachery."
"Fools!" Shagarov cursed. "You are three men. Did you think to trap me-when I have a shipful of fighters aboard my other ship?"
"We have disposed of one shipload, as you'll note," D'Averc told him with a chuckle. "Now that we are used to the work, doubtless we can dispose of another."
For a moment fear crept into Shagarov's eyes; then his expression hardened. "I do not believe you. Those who sailed this ship lived only to kill. How could you…?"
"Well, we did," D'Averc said. He turned his great, helmeted head toward Hawkmoon. "Shall we go on deck and put the rest of our plan into operation?"
"A moment." Hawkmoon bent close to Shagarov.
"I want to question him. Shagarov-did your men capture a girl at any time?"
"They had orders not to kill any girl but to bring them to me."
"Why?"
"I know not-I was ordered to send girls to himand girls I sent him." Shagarov laughed. "You'll not keep me for long, you know. You'll all three be dead within an hour. The men will get suspicious."
"Why didn't you bring any of them aboard with you? Perhaps because they are not madmen-because even they might be disgusted by what they found?"
Shagarov shrugged. "They'll come when I yell."
"Possibly," said D'Averc. "Rise, please."
"These girls," Hawkmoon continued. "Where did you send them-and to whom?"
"Inland, of course, to my master-the Mad God."
"So you do serve the Mad God-you are not deceiving people into believing these acts of piracy are committed by his followers."
"Aye-I serve him, though I'm no cult member. His agents pay me well to raid the seas and send the booty to him."
"Why this way?"
Shagarov sneered. "The cult has no sailing men.
Some one of them hit this plan to raise money-though I know not the purpose for the loot-and approached me." He rose to his feet, towering over them. "Come -let's go up. It will amuse me to see what you do."
D'Averc nodded to the other two, who went back into the shadows and produced long, unlit brands, one for each of them. D'Averc prodded at Shagarov to follow Oladahn up the companionway.
Slowly they climbed to the deck, to emerge at last in the sunlight and see a big, handsome three-master anchored beside them.
The men on board the other ship understood at once what had happened and made to move forward, but Hawkmoon dug his sword into Shagarov's ribs and called, "Do not move, or we will kill your captain."
"Kill me-and they kill you," Shagarov rumbled.
Who gains?"
"Silence," said Hawkmoon. "Oladahn, light the brands."
Oladahn applied flint and tinder to the first brand.
It flared into life. He lit the others off it and handed one each to his companions.
"Now," Hawkmoon said. "This ship is covered in oil. Once we touch our brands to it, the whole vessel goes up in flames-and most likely your ship too. So we advise you to make no move toward rescuing your captain."
"So we all burn," Shagarov said. "You're as mad as the ones you slew."
Hawkmoon shook his head. "Oladahn, ready the skiff."
Oladahn went aft to the furthermost hatch, swinging a derrick over it, hauling back the hatch cover, and then disappearing below, taking the cable with him.
Hawkmoon saw the men on the other ship begin to stir and he moved the brand menacingly. The heat from it turned his face dark red, and the flames reflected fiercely in his eyes.
Now Oladahn reemerged and began to work the specially geared winch with one hand while holding his brand with the other. Slowly something began to appear in the hatch, something that barely cleared the wide opening.
Shagarov grunted in surprise as he saw that it was a large skiff in which three horses were harnessed, looking frightened and bewildered as the were hauled to the deck and then swung out over the sea.
Oladahn stopped his work and leaned back on the winch, panting and sweating, but made sure to keep the brand well away from the timber of the deck.
Shagarov scowled. "An elaborate plan-but you are still only three men. What do you intend to do now?"
"Hang you," said Hawkmoon. "Before the eyes of your crew. Two things motivated me in laying this trap for you. One-I needed information. Two-I determined to give you justice."
"Whose justice?" Shagarov bellowed, his eyes full of fear. "Why involve yourselves in the affairs of others? We did no harm to you. Whose justice?"
"Hawkmoon's justice," said the pale-faced Duke of Koln. Caught by the rays of the sun, the sinister black jewel in his forehead seemed to glow with life.
"Men!" Shagarov screamed across the water. "Men -rescue me. Attack them."
D'Averc called back, "If you move toward him, we kill him and set the ship ablaze. You gain nothing. If you'd save your own lives and your ship, you'll shove off and leave us. Our quarrel is with Shagarov."