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:
Within two hours it was dark and they decided it was safe to camp.
Three days later they contemplated the rocky side of a mountain and knew that they would have to abandon both beasts and chariot if they were to cross the range at all. They would have to travel on foot; there was no alternative.
The terrain had become increasingly difficult for the mutant jaguars, and the mountainside ahead was impossible for them to climb dragging the chariot.
They had tried to find a pass, had wasted two days looking for one, but there was none.
Meanwhile, if they were pursued, their pursuers would be almost upon them by now. There was no doubt in their minds that Hawkmoon had been recognized as the man whom the King-Emperor Huon had sworn to destroy. Therefore, Dark Empire warriors, interested in elevating themselves in the eyes of their master, would be eager to seek him out.
So they began to climb, stumbling up the steep face of the mountain, leaving the unharnessed beasts behind them.
When they were nearing a ledge that seemed to extend for some distance around the mountain and offer a relatively easy path, they heard the rattle of weapons and hooves and saw the same walrus-masked riders who had pursued them on the plain come riding from behind some rocks below.
"Their javelins are bound to get us at this range,"
D'Averc said grimly. "And there's no cover."
But Hawkmoon smiled thinly. "There is still one thing," he said, and raised his voice. "At them, my beasts-kill them, my cats! Obey me, in the name of the amulet!"
The mutant cats turned their baleful eyes on the newcomers, who were so jubilant at seeing their victims exposed that they hardly noticed the horned jaguars. The leader raised his javelin.
And the cats leaped.
Yisselda did not look back as the terrified screams filled the air and the bloodcurdling snarls echoed through the quiet mountains as the Mad God's beasts first killed and then fed.
By the next day they had crossed the mountains and come to a green valley with a little red town that was very peaceful.
D'Averc looked down at the town and held out his hand to Oladahn. "The jewels, if you please, friend Oladahn. By the Runestaff, I feel naked in just shirt and britches!" He took the jewels, tossed them in his palm, winked at Hawkmoon, and set off for the village.
They lay in the grass and watched him walk down whistling and enter the street; then he disappeared.
They waited for four hours. Hawkmoon's face began to grow grim, and he glanced resentfully at Oladahn, who pursed his lips and shrugged.
And then D'Averc reappeared, but he had others with him. With a shock, Hawkmoon realized they were Dark Empire troops. Men of the feared Order of the Wolf, Baron Meliadus's old order. Had they recognized D'Averc and captured him? But no-on the contrary, D'Averc seemed quite friendly with them. He waved, turned on his heel, and began to walk up the hill to where they were hidden, a large bundle on his back. Hawkmoon was puzzled, for the wolf masks had gone back into the village, allowing D'Averc to go free.
"He can talk, can D'Averc," grinned Oladahn. "He must have convinced them he was an innocent traveler. Doubtless the Dark Empire is still using the soft approach in Carpathia."
"Perhaps," said Hawkmoon, not entirely convinced.
When D'Averc came back he flung down his bundle and pulled it open, displaying several shirts and a pair of britches, as well as a number of different foodstuffs-cheeses, bread, sausages, cold meat, and the like. He handed back most of Oladahn's jewels to him. "I purchased them relatively cheaply," he said, then frowned as he saw Hawkmoon's expression.
"What is it, Duke Dorian? Not satisfied? I could not get the Lady Yisselda a gown, I regret, but the britches and shirt should fit her."
"Dark Empire men," said Hawkmoon, jerking his thumb at the village. "You seemed very friendly with them."
"I was worried, I'll admit," D'Averc said, "but they seem to be cautious of violence, are in Carpathia to tell the folk of the benefits of Dark Empire rule. Apparently the King of Carpathia is entertaining one of their nobles. The usual technique-gold before violence. They asked me a few questions but were not unduly suspicious. They say they're warring in Shekia, have almost subdued that nation but for a key city or two."
"You did not mention us?" Hawkmoon said.
"Of course not."
Half-satisfied, Hawkmoon relaxed a little.
D'Averc picked up the cloth in which he'd wrapped his bundle. "Look-four cloaks with hoods, such as the holy men in these parts wear. They'll hide our faces well enough. I heard there's a larger town about a day's walk further south. It's a town where they trade horses. We can get there by tomorrow and buy steeds. Is it a good idea?"
Hawkmoon nodded slowly. "Aye. We need horses."
The town was called Zorvanemi, and it bustled with folk of all sorts come to sell and to buy horses. Just outside the main town were the stockyards, and here were many kinds of horseflesh, from thoroughbreds to plow horses.
They arrived too late in the evening to buy, and they put up at an inn on the edge of town, close to the stockyards, so that they could buy what they wanted and be away early in the morning. Here and there they saw small groups of Dark Empire soldiers, but the soldiers paid no attention to the cowled holy men who mingled with the crowd; there were several deputations from different monasteries in the area, and one more went unnoticed.
In the warmth of the inn's public room they ordered hot wine and food and consulted a map they had bought, speaking softly, discussing their best route through to southern France.
A little later the door of the inn was pushed open, and the cold night air swept in. Over the sounds of conversation and occasional laughter, they heard the coarse tones of a man yelling for wine for himself and his comrades and suggesting to the landlord that girls should be found for them as well.
Hawkmoon glanced up and was instantly on his guard. The men who had entered were soldiers in the Order of the Boar, the order that D'Averc had belonged to. With their squat, armored bodies and heavy helmet masks, they looked, in the half-light, exactly like the animals they represented, as if so many boars had learned to talk and walk on their hind legs.
The landlord was plainly nervous, clearing his throat several times and asking them what wine they preferred.
"Strong wine, plentiful wine," shouted the leader.
"And the same goes for the women. Where are your women? I hope they're lovelier than your horses.
Come man, be quick. We've spent all day buying horseflesh and helping this town's prosperity-now you'll do us a favor."
The boar warriors were evidently here to buy steeds for the Dark Empire troops-probably those bent on conquering Shekia, which lay just across the border.
Hawkmoon, Yisselda, Oladahn, and D'Averc drew their cowls surreptitiously about their heads and sipped at their wine without looking up.
There were three serving wenches in the public room, as well as two men and the landlord himself. As one passed, the boar warrior grabbed her and pressed the snout of his mask against her cheek.
"Give an old pig a kiss, little girl," he roared.
She wriggled and tried to get free, but he held her tight. Now there was silence everywhere else in the tavern, and tension.
"Come outside with me," the boar leader continued.
"I'm in a rutting mood."
"Oh, no, please let me go," the girl sobbed. "I'm to be married next week."
"Married, eh?" guffawed the warrior. "Well, let me teach you a thing or two for you to teach your husband."
The girl screamed and continued to resist. No one else in the tavern moved.