• Пожаловаться

Mickey Reichert: Flight of the Renshai

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Mickey Reichert: Flight of the Renshai» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. категория: Фэнтези / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Mickey Reichert Flight of the Renshai

Flight of the Renshai: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Flight of the Renshai»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

Mickey Reichert: другие книги автора


Кто написал Flight of the Renshai? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

Flight of the Renshai — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Flight of the Renshai», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Panic seized Arturo in a grip like ice. I'm going to die.We're all going to die. He had known it for some time now, but the deeper realization of all that death entailed had not struck him until that moment. Another enemy sword sped toward him. He dodged, and the blade slammed the rail with a ringing clout, the vibration aching through his body. He raised his own sword, his elbow thumping Jhirban's corpse and rendering his movement awkward, useless. Again a sword jabbed toward him. Caught between the press of battle and the corpse, Arturo leaped to the gunwale. The sword stabbed beneath him, opening its wielder's defenses. Arturo swept in, slamming his blade down on the man's leather-helmeted skull.

The impact shuddered through his arms. The pirate collapsed, and the momentum knocked Arturo off-balance. He teetered on the gunwale, certain a fall in either direction would seal his doom. Swords seemed to spring at him from every direction. His equilibrium lost, he knew he would fall on all of them, skewered like a target on an army of pikes. Fear left him awash in ice, then disappeared abruptly, leaving relieved acceptance in its wake. It's over. The pain, he knew, could not last long.

"MODI!" Trygg appeared suddenly, soaring between his charge and the sea of blades.

"No!" The sacrifice shocked and horrified Arturo. "No! No! No!"

Trygg's body crashed into Arturo, rolling onto the waiting blades. The impact drove Arturo backward. He fell into empty air, catching a glimpse of the brilliant blue of the water before his head struck the Seven's rail and he knew no more.

CHAPTER 2

Skill has no limits, and anything will come with practice. If it does not, look to your own dedication and will.

-Colbey Calistinsson

The sun beamed down upon the Fields of Wrath, glazing the thatch roofs of the simple Renshai cottages. In a patch of ground trampled to mud, Saviar Ra-khirsson practiced the complicated maneuvers he had learned that day in a wild flurry of svergelse. His swords pranced and twined through the air with a speed that made them appear liquid. He whirled on well-muscled legs, oblivious to the sweat trickling over his entire body. His red-blond hair grew moist, sheened with golden highlights, and droplets flew with every motion. His deadly dance was as much prayer as practice, a tribute to Modi, god of wrath, and his mother goddess, Sif. Six months past his eighteenth birthday, Saviar had finally nearly mastered the sequence of training that would allow him to be considered a man among Renshai. He had only to demonstrate his skills to his torke, his teachers, to achieve his goal; and he begged the gods for the agility and focus to pass this vital test in the next few months.

The comings and goings of Renshai around him seemed to disappear as Saviar concentrated on his task, but a nearer movement caught his attention. Something threatened off his left flank. Immediately, Saviar spun to meet another sword in the hand of his brother, Calistin. Steel chimed against steel, live and sharp. Renshai never lowered themselves to dulled or wooden practice blades. A Renshai who could not dodge quickly enough deserved to die. Renshai defense relied wholly on speed and dexterity. They shunned armor as cowardly, and even clothing or jewelry that might accidentally help fend off a blow had no place in their society. Life consisted of thrust and parry, the lethality of a blade, the music of clashing steel.

The impact vibrated through Saviar's hand, and he found himself face-to-face with Calistin. Though only nine months younger, his brother stood a full head shorter than Saviar. Yellow hair in need of cutting flashed around childlike features that wore an expression of calm intensity. As fast as it had woven into battle, Calistin's sword retreated and reappeared. Saviar sprang to the right, barely catching the other blade on his own. It scratched down the length to his hilt. Anticipating a disarming maneuver, he bullied forward, attempting to off-balance his smaller opponent. Calistin gave no ground, instead leaping nimbly aside. The tip of his blade flicked under Saviar's crossguard to tap the hilt. Saviar tightened his grip, too late. The sword flew from his hand.

Saviar drew his other sword, even as he dove in to catch the weapon he had lost. Allowing it to touch the ground would gravely dishonor it. Calistin wove a silver web of steel in front of Saviar, forcing him backward, then snatched the hilt from the air himself. Now, with two weapons to one, Calistin charged his brother, his own second sword still in its sheath.

Though accustomed to his little brother's superior skill, Saviar still found it irritating. Rejecting the mistake that had lost him battles in the past, he did not charge in anger. Instead, he focused on Calistin's every precise, lightning movement, prepared only to defend himself. Calistin kept his own sword high, Saviar's captured one low. His attacks came so swiftly, Saviar found himself losing track of the blades despite his concentration. He met the first blade with his own, ducking the second. Sword against sword, he used his superior strength to shove Calistin backward. The younger Renshai caught his balance with a single, delicate step. He did not even seem to shift his weight before diving in again, a blurred whirl of motion. As always, he moved with the speed of a tornado and with deadly accuracy. One sword disarmed Saviar a second time, while the other ended its course at the redhead's neck. Bested, Saviar froze, glaring at his brother through eyes so pale blue they were nearly white, a perfect match to those of their paternal grandfather, Knight-Captain Kedrin.

"Got you," Calistin said with maddening smugness as he easily caught the flying weapon in a hand already burdened. He now held three swords to none.

Saviar shoved aside the hovering blade at his throat and wished he could bury a fist in his brother's self-satisfied face. Even if his parents had allowed it, he would miss. Calistin's swift grace would make him look like a lumbering fool in comparison. "Sure, okay. You got me. Hurray for you." He glowered at features that barely resembled his own, baby soft with blunt cheekbones and long lashes. Calistin had blue eyes, too; but his were darker, like their mother's, and held a hint of stony gray. "Now give me back my damned swords."

Calistin tossed the weapons, and Saviar caught their hilts as he had practiced so many times, nearly since birth. He slammed both blades back into their sheaths, his ardor for training lost.

Calistin watched his brother's every movement. Even standing still, he seemed to exude a grace that Saviar tried his hardest not to covet. The gods had bestowed on the youngest of three brothers every possible gift that might make him the consummate Renshai. He personified quickness and agility and had achieved the sequence of skills that earned him adult status at the youngest age of any Renshai, just thirteen. He sported the sinewy, light-boned figure, the classical golden hair, fair skin, and pale eyes; and his features even bore some resemblance to the greatest Renshai in history, the hero, Colbey, who now lived among the gods. Like all Renshai, Saviar and Calistin were each named for a brave warrior who had died in battle and earned a place in Valhalla among the Einherjar; but Calistin had received the honored name of Colbey's own father. Calistin was the best; worse, he knew it. "Renshai maneuvers rely on speed, never strength."

Saviar continued to glare. It was an oft-quoted truth every Renshai appreciated. "I know that."

"But you're still trying to defeat me with size and muscle, Savi."

It was true, which only made the words sting more. Saviar had inherited their father's strapping build, as well as his stunning good looks; but those things seemed more curse than blessing to a Renshai. The Renshai leaders had found them worthy of the tribe, despite being half-breeds; but Saviar often thought he would have done better following his grandfather and father into the Knights of Erythane instead. His bulk fit their ranks better, and the constant attention of women embarrassed and distracted him from the swordwork that was supposed to be the only thing in life that mattered. Saviar often wondered how two boys with the exact same bloodline could wind up looking so completely different. "You're my brother, Calistin, not my torke. My baby brother, at that."

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Flight of the Renshai»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Flight of the Renshai» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Mickey Reichert: The beasts of Barakhai
The beasts of Barakhai
Mickey Reichert
Mickey Reichert: Godslayer
Godslayer
Mickey Reichert
Mickey Reichert: Dragonrank master
Dragonrank master
Mickey Reichert
Mickey Reichert: The legend of Nightfall
The legend of Nightfall
Mickey Reichert
Mickey Reichert: I, Robot: To Protect
I, Robot: To Protect
Mickey Reichert
Отзывы о книге «Flight of the Renshai»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Flight of the Renshai» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.