Chernevog

Cover Chernevog
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Genres: Fiction
But he's not fighting us, he doesn't act as if he understands anything— “Don't put on with us,” Pyetr said, “damn it all.” He had his sword in his hand. Everything about him said he was ready to use it: Sasha wished he would, before Chernevog recovered his wits and wanted their hearts stopped.
But Chernevog looked up, cradling his wounded hands one in the other, his face white with pain, eyes holding only bewilderment.
Pyetr's sword trembled, rose in a wide, glittering sweep, and with a sudden
...wrench of Pyetr's arm, hit the ground at Chernevog's knee.
“Hell!” Pyetr said in disgust.
Chernevog had never flinched, only looked at them with that terrible lost expression.
“Is he doing that?” Pyetr asked angrily. “Is he wishing at us?”
Sasha said, “I'm not sure.”
Pyetr came back to him, and turned and looked again at Chernevog, the sword still in his hand. “He is doing it, dammit.”
The books, Chernevog's with them, were all lying out in the brush somewhere—Sasha tried not to think about that.
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