The Protectors war читать онлайн

ts buzzed and burrowed and bit amid the mysterious rustles and clicks of any forest at night- though these days that could include the movements of large carnivores with intent to harm.Men are more dangerous, he thought whimsically. They'll go for your throat when they aren't hungry.He could smell the intense yeasty smell of the dirt scuffed up beneath him as he crawled into position where grass and thistles stood tall. Training could let you move soundlessly; it didn't make you any lighter, and John Hordle had reached seven inches over six feet when he turned twenty in the year of the Change. He'd never been fat, but the only time he'd been under two hundred fifty pounds was that winter and spring, when the rations on the Isle of Wight had gotten just short of starvation amid hard labor and wet chill.A soundless alert went among the men of his squad as boots tramped through the night, tense expectancy as a pair of sentries made their rounds between the raiding party and its target, tramping along the low ridge between the water and the house.Vicious SIDs, he thought, motionless but acutely conscious of the speeding of the blood beating in his ears. Or Varangians, as Sir Nigel prefers. More dignified, I suppose.The armor of the big men who paced by was enameled a dull matte green; they wore steel breast- and backplates, mail sleeves and leggings, and rounded sallet helmets with flares to protect the neck. That color didn't reflect much, but moonlight still glinted on steel-the honed edges of broad ax blades. Those were long-hafted weapons meant to be swung two-handed; the trademark of their unit."Hun er sviska!" one said, murmuring and shaping the air with his free hand. Which meant, roughly: What a stunner!Special Icela