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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 11/751
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Ser
Waymar
met
it
with
steel
.
When
the
blades
met
,
there
was
no
ring
of
metal
on
metal
;
only
a
high
,
thin
sound
at
the
edge
of
hearing
,
like
an
animal
screaming
in
pain
.
Royce
checked
a
second
blow
,
and
a
third
,
then
fell
back
a
step
.
Another
flurry
of
blows
,
and
he
fell
back
again
.
Behind
him
,
to
right
,
to
left
,
all
around
him
,
the
watchers
stood
patient
,
faceless
,
silent
,
the
shifting
patterns
of
their
delicate
armor
making
them
all
but
invisible
in
the
wood
.
Yet
they
made
no
move
to
interfere
.
Again
and
again
the
swords
met
,
until
Will
wanted
to
cover
his
ears
against
the
strange
anguished
keening
of
their
clash
.
Ser
Waymar
was
panting
from
the
effort
now
,
his
breath
steaming
in
the
moonlight
.
His
blade
was
white
with
frost
;
the
Other
's
danced
with
pale
blue
light
.
Then
Royce
's
parry
came
a
beat
too
late
.
The
pale
sword
bit
through
the
ringmail
beneath
his
arm
.
The
young
lord
cried
out
in
pain
.
Blood
welled
between
the
rings
.
It
steamed
in
the
cold
,
and
the
droplets
seemed
red
as
fire
where
they
touched
the
snow
.
Ser
Waymar
's
fingers
brushed
his
side
.
His
moleskin
glove
came
away
soaked
with
red
.
The
Other
said
something
in
a
language
that
Will
did
not
know
,
his
voice
was
like
the
cracking
of
ice
on
a
winter
lake
,
and
the
words
were
mocking
.
Ser
Waymar
Royce
found
his
fury
.
"
For
Robert
!
"
he
shouted
,
and
he
came
up
snarling
,
lifting
the
frost-covered
longsword
with
both
hands
and
swinging
it
around
in
a
flat
sidearm
slash
with
all
his
weight
behind
it
.
The
Other
's
parry
was
almost
lazy
.
When
the
blades
touched
,
the
steel
shattered
.
A
scream
echoed
through
the
forest
night
,
and
the
longsword
shivered
into
a
hundred
brittle
pieces
,
the
shards
scattering
like
a
rain
of
needles
.
Royce
went
to
his
knees
,
shrieking
,
and
covered
his
eyes
.
Blood
welled
between
his
fingers
.
The
watchers
moved
forward
together
,
as
if
some
signal
had
been
given
.
Swords
rose
and
fell
,
all
in
a
deathly
silence
.
It
was
cold
butchery
.
The
pale
blades
sliced
through
ringmail
as
if
it
were
silk
.
Will
closed
his
eyes
.
Far
beneath
him
,
he
heard
their
voices
and
laughter
sharp
as
icicles
.
