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 heard the faint sounds of their battle shouts, coming over the howls and roars of the attackers, the crack of cannon and the shriek of flame-lances; heard the clatter of armor and the creak of metal; smelled beast and man and weapon, marching through the mud. And then he saw the black hordes pause as a wall of fire rose into the air before them and scarlet flamingoes flew over it, riders aiming flame-lances at the clanking ornithopters.
Hawkmoon ached to be free, to have the feel of a sword in his hand and a horse between his legs, to rally the men of the Kamarg, who, even leaderless, could still resist the Dark Empire, though their numbers were a fraction of the enemy's. He writhed in his chains, and he cursed in his fury and frustration.
Evening came, and the battle went on. Hawkmoon saw an ancient black tower struck by a million flames from the Dark Empire cannon, saw it sway, topple, and fall, crashing down to become rubble suddenly.
And the black hordes cheered.
Night fell, and the battle went on. The heat of it reached even to the three in the wagon and brought sweat to their faces. Around them the wolf guards sat laughing and talking, certain of victory. Their master had ridden his horse into the thick of his troops, the better to see how the battle went, and they brought out a skin of wine with long straws jutting from it so that they could suck the stuff through their masks. As the night grew longer, their talk and their laughter subsided until, strangely, they all slept.
Oladahn remarked on it. "Not like the vigilant wolves to sleep so hard. They must be confident."
Hawkmoon sighed. "Aye, but it does us no good. These damned chains are riveted so fast that we have no hope of escaping."
"What's this?" the voice was D'Averc's. "No longer optimistic, Hawkmoon? I find it hard to believe!"
"Away with you, D'Averc," Hawkmoon said as the man emerged from the darkness to stand beside the wagon." Back to lick the boots of your master."
"I had brought this," D'Averc said in a mockaggrieved tone, "to see if it would serve you." He displayed a bulky object in his hand. "After all, it was my medicine that drugged the guards."
Hawkmoon's eyes narrowed. "What's that in your hand?"
"A rarity I found on the battleground. Some great commander's I'd judge, for there are few of them to be found these days. It's a kind of flame-lance, though small enough to be carried in one hand.
"I've heard of them," Hawkmoon nodded. "But what use is it to me? I'm in chains, as you see."
"Aye, I noted that. If you'd take a risk, however, it might be that I could release you."
"Is this a new trap, D'Averc, that you and Meliadus have concocted between you?"
"I'm hurt, Hawkmoon. Why should you think that?"
"Because you betrayed us into Meliadus's hands.
You must have prepared the trap well ahead, when you spoke to those wolf warriors in that Carpathian village. You sent them to find their master and arranged to lead us to that camp where we could be most easily captured."
"Why, it sounds possible," agreed D'Averc.
"Though you could see it another way-the wolf warriors recognized me then and followed us, going later to warn their master. I heard the rumor at the camp that Meliadus had come to find you, decided to tell Meliadus I had led you into this trap so that one of us would be free at least." D'Averc paused. "How does that sound?"
"Glib."
"Well, yes, it does sound glib. Now, Hawkmoon, there is not much time. Shall I see if I can burn your chains without burning you, or would you rather keep your seats for fear of missing a development in the battle?"
"Burn the damned chains," Hawkmoon said, "for at least with my hands free I'll have a chance to choke you if you lie!"
D'Averc brought the little flame-lance up and directed it at an angle to Hawkmoon's fettered arms.
Then he touched a stud, and a beam of intense heat sprang from the muzzle. Hawkmoon felt pain sear his arm, but he gritted his teeth. The pain got worse until he felt he must cry out, and then there was a clatter as one of the links fell to the bottom of the wagon and he felt some of the weight leave him. An arm was free, his right arm. He rubbed it and almost yelled as he touched a part where the armor had been burned clean through.
"Hurry," murmured D'Averc. "Here, hold up another length of chain. It will be easier now."
At last Hawkmoon was free of the chain, and they set about releasing Yisselda and then Oladahn.
D'Averc was becoming noticeably more nervous by the time they had finished.
"I have your swords here," he said, "and new masks and horses. You must follow me. And hurry, before Meliadus comes back. I had, to tell you the truth, expected him before now."
They crept through the darkness to where the horses were tethered, donned the masks, strapped the swords to their waists, and climbed into their saddles.
Then they heard other steeds galloping up the hill road toward them, heard confused shouts and an angry bellow that could only be Meliadus's.
"Quick," D'Averc hissed. "We must ride-ride for the Kamarg!"
They kicked their horses into a wild gallop and began to career down the hill toward the main battlefield.
"Make way!" D'Averc screamed. "Make way! The force must move through. Reinforcements for the front!"
Men leaped aside for their horses as they thundered through the thick of the camp, cursing the four figures who rode so heedlessly.
"Make way!" D'Averc yelled. "A message for the Grand Commander!" He found time to turn his head and call to Hawkmoon, "It bores me to sustain the same lie!" He yelled again, "Make way! The potion for the plague-struck!"
Behind them they heard other horses as Meliadus and his men came in pursuit.
Ahead they could now see that the fighting still continued, but not with the intensity it had had earlier.
"Make way!" bellowed D'Averc. "Make way for Baron Meliadus!"
The horses leaped knots of men, swept around war engines, galloped through fires, drawing nearer and nearer to the Kamarg's towers, while behind them they could hear Meliadus yelling.
Now they reached a point where the horses galloped over corpses, the fallen of Granbretan, and the main force was now behind them.
"Get the masks off," D'Averc called. "It's our only chance. If the Kamargians recognize you and Yisselda in time, they'll hold their fire. If not…"
From out of the darkness came the bright beam of a flame-lance, narrowly missing D'Averc. Behind them other flame-lances shot their searing death, aimed doubtless by Meliadus's men. Hawkmoon grappled with the straps of his mask helm, managed at last to unloose it and fling it behind him.
"Stop!" The voice was Meliadus's, gaining on them now. "You'll perish by your own forces! Fools!"
More flame-lances had opened up from the Kamarg side, illuminating the night with ruddy light. The horses rode over the dead, finding it hard going.
D'Averc had his head down over his horse's neck, and Yisselda and Oladahn were crouching low, too, but Hawkmoon drew his sword and yelled, "Men of the Kamarg! It is Hawkmoon! Hawkmoon has returned!"
The flame-lances did not cease, but they were geting closer and closer to one of the towers now.
D'Averc straightened in his saddle.
"Kamargians! I bring you Hawkmoon, who will-" and fire splashed him. He flung up his arms, cried out, and began to topple from his saddle. Hawkmoon hastily drew alongside, steadying the body. The armor was red-hot, melted in places, but D'Averc seemed not wholly dead. A faint laugh came from the blistered lips. "A piece of serious misjudgement, linking my fortunes with yours, Hawkmoon…"
The other two came to a halt, their horses stamping in confusion. Behind them, Baron Meliadus and his men came closer.