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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 209 из 216It was notrue arrow, but magical energy shaped into a bolt. It stopped short of its target, so suddenly that it seemed to splat against an invisible wall. Now shaped more like a plate than an arrow, the missile fell to the ground and seared the earth beneath it as it cooled.
Tzigone kept singing. A pair of centaurs came to her call, their thundering hooves echoing above the sound of battle. She grimaced. These creatures had little to do with men and were more likely to side with the beleaguered elf. But the centaurs took one look at the men engaging the laraken and decided that the foes of their foes were worth supporting. Leveling wooden staffs at the elf and her wemic guard, they charged forward like jousting knights.
Mbatu reached over his shoulder for his great broadsword. He thrust Kiva aside and stepped into the line of attack. With a roar, he swept his sword up in a rising circle, catching the oncoming staff and forcing it up. He reared, raking at the centaur's chest with his forepaws.
But the centaur also reared, and his hoofs slashed and pounded at the wemic. Both combatants dropped their weapons, grappling like wrestlers with their manlike arms while pounding and lashing at each other with the weapons of lion and steed.
Mbatu leaped up, digging his hind claws deep into the centaur's belly and pulling the massive creature down with him. The snap of the centaur's leg sent a surge of triumph through him, and he ignored the heavy impact. He rolled aside and seized his discarded sword. As he rose beside the struggling centaur, he slashed the creature hard across its throat with one forepaw. Four deep lines opened and welled with blood.
A heavy thud jolted Mbatu. Dimly he recognized that this wasn't the first such blow, and he whirled to face the second centaur, his sword lifted to attack.
But there was no power to his blow. Mbatu felt strangely weak, and he struggled to draw air into his aching chest. The centaur swung his staff again and smacked Mbatu hard against his flank. The wemic spat at the centaur's hooves in defiance and noticed that his spittle was thick and red.
The wemic lifted his hand to his face. His mane was sodden with blood. The centaur's hooves had left a deep slash on the left side of his head and removed most of one ear. In his battle lust, Mbatu hadn't noticed.
But there had been other wounds, and he felt them now as he and the centaur circled each other warily. Several ribs had been cracked. One had pierced a lung. He was drowning in his own blood even as he fought.
Tzigone kept singing. A pair of centaurs came to her call, their thundering hooves echoing above the sound of battle. She grimaced. These creatures had little to do with men and were more likely to side with the beleaguered elf. But the centaurs took one look at the men engaging the laraken and decided that the foes of their foes were worth supporting. Leveling wooden staffs at the elf and her wemic guard, they charged forward like jousting knights.
Mbatu reached over his shoulder for his great broadsword. He thrust Kiva aside and stepped into the line of attack. With a roar, he swept his sword up in a rising circle, catching the oncoming staff and forcing it up. He reared, raking at the centaur's chest with his forepaws.
But the centaur also reared, and his hoofs slashed and pounded at the wemic. Both combatants dropped their weapons, grappling like wrestlers with their manlike arms while pounding and lashing at each other with the weapons of lion and steed.
Mbatu leaped up, digging his hind claws deep into the centaur's belly and pulling the massive creature down with him. The snap of the centaur's leg sent a surge of triumph through him, and he ignored the heavy impact. He rolled aside and seized his discarded sword. As he rose beside the struggling centaur, he slashed the creature hard across its throat with one forepaw. Four deep lines opened and welled with blood.
A heavy thud jolted Mbatu. Dimly he recognized that this wasn't the first such blow, and he whirled to face the second centaur, his sword lifted to attack.
But there was no power to his blow. Mbatu felt strangely weak, and he struggled to draw air into his aching chest. The centaur swung his staff again and smacked Mbatu hard against his flank. The wemic spat at the centaur's hooves in defiance and noticed that his spittle was thick and red.
The wemic lifted his hand to his face. His mane was sodden with blood. The centaur's hooves had left a deep slash on the left side of his head and removed most of one ear. In his battle lust, Mbatu hadn't noticed.
But there had been other wounds, and he felt them now as he and the centaur circled each other warily. Several ribs had been cracked. One had pierced a lung. He was drowning in his own blood even as he fought.