- Commander! Here, here we are! Where have you both disappeared to? - Arnot joyfully patted Oydar on the shoulder and hesitantly touched Ned's shoulder. - We didn't know what to think! We were deciding whether to go to the camp or wait for you. The guys have returned from the city. What are we going to do?
"Bring me those who walked around the city. Let them tell us what they saw," Ned commanded.
Ned settled down in a clearing, leaning his back against a huge oak tree, feeling the gnarled trunk with the back of his head, tore off a blade of grass and began to gnaw on it, thinking about the future, the past, and everything in general. Thoughts flowed lazily, his head was empty, as if he had freed himself from some stone that was constantly lying on his soul. What would happen ahead was unclear, but Ned had already achieved something - he did not allow the Black to enslave his soul. However - maybe it was too early to rejoice?
- Hello, commander! - the voice of Harol, a swordsman, one of the first to enter the reconnaissance group, was heard. - How well you have settled here! And we are running around the city like moose!
"And you join us," Ned nodded, looking at the smiling soldier, "if we have something to eat, it will be really good. Where are the other guys?"
- They're coming. There they are, - he pointed at the guys crawling out of the bushes. - Hey, guys, come to us!
The soldiers sat in a circle, looking at their sergeant, and after they had sat down, Ned asked:
- So, guys, any leads?
- No, commander, - sighed one of the guys, a tall, thin crossbowman named Yustan, - these demons have arranged everything so that you can't get close. You can't take them by starvation either - the river runs through the city, and since it's a river, there are fish and crayfish. And the main thing is the water. Poison the river? That much poison isn't enough. There's a grate across the river that goes into the water. Ostar dived - the grate went all the way to the bottom. The wall is high, you can't just climb up. There are archers on the wall. Lots of archers. That's all. There's nothing to cheer about.
- What's going on at the gate?
- There are two gates - southern and northern. A lattice and a door that rises upward, or I don't know what to call it, but it's a terrible structure. It's difficult to break through, if at all possible.
- What about the prisoners? We have orders to take two Isfirians.
- It's difficult. They hardly ever leave the city, and if they do, it's in a large detachment, like the one that left at dawn. By the way, commander, where did that detachment go? The archers you ran after?
- Hmm... disappeared, - Ned answered vaguely, exchanging glances with the grinning Oydar, - that's not the point. We need prisoners. Let's think about how to get them.
- What should we think? - one of the fighters, the long-armed, stocky swordsman Ugras, shrugged. - Sit in the bushes opposite the gate and sit there until one of the Isfirians crawls out. Then take him.
- How can we take them when they only leave in a detachment? What are you talking about, Ugras? - snorted Yustan. - Think before you blurt out something!
- Think of something else! - Ugras was offended. - You're so smart, aren't you? I don't see any other way out than to sit and wait. They'll show up at the gates one day anyway, and then we'll take them. Commander, there's no other way to take prisoners.
"There's no other way," Ned said thoughtfully. "Listen, guys, five of us go to the southern gate, the rest stay here with me. We'll watch and wait."
- Commander, what about some food? We're so hungry our stomachs are squealing. - The dark-haired crossbowman curled his lips. - We'll freeze to death here without food. Maybe I'll go hunt while you're sitting in the bushes?
"They've already scared away all the game here," Ned shrugged. "Besides, what if you get ambushed? Do you want your belly ripped open for food? Where will you store the food then?"
"Well, yeah… I don't really want to die because of food," the guy admitted to the laughter of his comrades, "but I really want to eat…"
- What I suggest is that there are some mushrooms growing there, maybe we should pick some and fry them quietly over the fire? - suggested Arnot. - Mushrooms are delicious! Filling! I always loved mushrooms - my mother cooked them well.
- Can you tell the poisonous from the non-poisonous? - Ned grinned. - Have you ever picked them yourself? Do you even know that there are mushrooms that can kill you in a minute? You just turn blue, twitch your legs - and you're done. Dead. So don't even think about eating unknown mushrooms! And besides - you can't light a fire. They'll see, send a squad to check - and these mushrooms will come back to haunt us. Here's what - Oydar and Arnot are coming with me, we'll crawl around the area, try to find something to eat and at the same time, maybe we'll meet some of the locals. Well, not all of them went into slavery, hiding somewhere in the woods. And you split into two groups and go to the gate. If you see that you can capture someone - go ahead, take them. But only for sure. Split up so that there are crossbowmen in each group - shoot them from the bushes, if necessary. Don't get into trouble, I need living fighters.
- How will we find each other? You leave now, we hide in the bushes - and how will we meet later?
- Do you see that tree? The oak? It's the tallest in this forest. Let's meet under it if we get lost. That's it, we're going our separate ways. Oydar, Arnot, follow me...
* * *
- What do you plan to do next? - Zaid was gloomy and focused as never before, and, staring at the table, did not look at Heverad. - Nulan, we have no chance. We need to leave.
- Where to go? - the colonel asked just as sullenly. - Our ships have sailed away. Where should we go?
– You know where – to the capital. To Genel. To build up muscle there, and only then to attack the enemy. What, did you think that you could destroy a hundred-thousand-strong invasion army with the forces of just one Corps? Well, yes, we defeated Kheragh's army, which was four times larger than us. So what? And nothing. There, they locked themselves in the city and sit there, spitting on us. We cannot storm the city. The Corps will remain on its walls. In the form of corpses. We have no siege weapons, no assault ladders. Making assault equipment takes time, tools. We don't have time. They have already summoned large forces here, they will squash us like mice. Even if we took this city – what's the point? Why do we need it? Their task is to drag us out to storm, pinch us on the walls, make us get bogged down in battles and wait for the rest of the armies to arrive. Then we will have a hard time. So, I suggest we get out of here as quickly as possible and get the hell out of here towards the capital. Far? Well, yes, far. But we'll get there in a month or two. Is it hard? It's harder to die here.
- I agree with Zaid! - Evore nodded. - We need to leave. And create an army based on the Corps. We did a great job - we pulled the troops away from the capital. I'm sure that crowds of freaks are rushing here now to hang our guts on the trees. These armies will not go to the capital before they crush us, so there is time to regroup the armies of Zamar. We will come to the capital, go to an audience with the king, explain the situation. You will go and explain. They will believe you. We will create an army anew.
"They'll still go to the capital, just on our trail," Heverad muttered, "and do you really think that if I go to the king and say that I need to take control of Zamar's army into my own hands, he'll immediately hand over the reins to me? Here, take it, command all the armed forces? Command it however you want?"
- Why not? - Evor shrugged. - They called you to the very top, didn't they? Remember what the general suggested? Why not take advantage of it? We are the most combat-ready force in the kingdom right now. Perhaps the only combat-ready force. So why not use our power? To change power...
- What are you implying... this is treason! - Heverad said harshly. - Zayd, what, you too?...
- Yes, it is treason! - Evor twisted his lips. - What, abandon us to our fate, without the support of cavalry, other armies - what is THAT? Come on, stop pretending to be an innocent girl! What, have you never thought about climbing to the very top? Now is the time! The kingdom itself is falling into your hands! You need to enter the capital, seize the key posts, kill this demon Iunacor and put on the crown. The military will follow you, they will support you.
"They will support!" echoed Zaid.
- No. Gentlemen, I heard nothing, and you said nothing! As for leaving - yes, we will have to leave here, as hard as it is to admit. However, we need another three days. Don't forget - we have wounded on our hands. In three days, those who cannot walk must be raised to their feet. I doubt that we will be able to do it in three days. Mages cannot heal for long - they need to recuperate, you know. So we sit in place and do not stick our heads out. That's it, disperse, prepare to leave. That's it, I said it! Forget about your nonsense! - The colonel angrily waved his hand, and his two subordinates silently got up and left the tent. The colonel was left alone, sullenly peering at the tabletop of the camp table, cut with a sharp knife, and thinking about what was said.
Heverad himself had thought about the possibility of rebellion more than once. And each time his thoughts came down to two points:
1. An officer's honor. Oath and all that.
2. Blood. There will be a lot of blood. And not of enemies - of the inhabitants of Zamara. Besides - where is the guarantee of victory in the rebellion? A five-thousand-strong Corps, whatever it may be, cannot compete with the army of the state. It will still crush with its power. The resources of the state are incomparable with the resources of one person, even if he is not poor and knows how to do the job.
The first point is easy to overcome – an oath is an oath, but... in general, if there is a sufficient chance of success, you can take a risk...
The second point worried him much more. Now the colonel had a good income, lived comfortably, had a tidy sum in the imperial bank. But what if troubles began? And suddenly he lost? He would lose everything! Did he need this? In order to start a business, he had to calculate everything carefully. Was it worth developing? Or was there any other way out other than THIS? In any case, he could only find out once he got to the capital. There was no other way.
It's hard. It will be very hard. Walking every day for a month and a half is not like lying on a ship. But... there is no other way out. After all, on the other hand, he can lose everything even without a civil war. Money, power, his estates and his business - all in vain if Isfir wins. So, it is necessary to make sure that everything that hinders victory is destroyed. Even if it is the king himself...
Shaking his head, Heverad drove away the seditious thoughts, stood up and left the tent - he needed to check the condition of the wounded and figure out when the Corps could finally set out on a campaign. He needed to hurry as much as possible, he felt that the Isfir armies had moved from their places and were moving here to crush the last stronghold of resistance in Zamara - the Marine Corps.
* * *
- Finally, we're leaving here! There's nothing to do here, in this backwater! Away from the soldiers, away from this little town!
- Mom, what about Ned! How will he find me when he comes back? - Sanda was desperate. - I can't just up and leave!
- I don't know any Ned and I don't want to! We're moving! Father will stay here for now, he'll sell the pastry shop, and I'll find the right premises in the capital. We'll open our own business. Birna, your cousin, will help us - she's at court, one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, so she can do a lot. She's been calling us to the capital for a long time, but I didn't want to leave our familiar place, and now, after the well-known events, it's time! There we'll find you a good groom, marry you off, and you'll live properly, as befits the descendants of Nitul! You'll finally give birth to a granddaughter for me!
- Mom, are you crazy?! I'm married! Are you all right in the head? Are you overheated in the sun? If you do have a granddaughter, it will be Ned's!
- How do you talk to your mother?! Shameless woman! This is all due to the influence of your so-called baseless husband! I'm sure he won't come back! Either they'll kill you, or he'll find himself some slut and roll around with her in a roadside ditch, like all baseless people do! Wait, wait, what do you mean - "granddaughter from Ned"?! Are you hinting that you're pregnant from this bastard? Oh gods! Why am I being punished like this?!
- Don't whine. Alas, I'm not pregnant, - Sanda said sullenly, - I'm a fool. I went to a magician, and he protected me from pregnancy. And why did I do that? If Ned dies, at least something of him would be left for me... I'm a fool, a fool!
Sanda began to cry bitterly, and her mother turned away and, smiling triumphantly, said:
- You do have a drop of sense after all. Thank you, gods, for putting a sensible thought into the head of the obstinate one! By the way - with enough persistence and enough investment of money, the entry in the temple book of Selera can disappear. And then you are pure and innocent again. No one will know that you got mixed up with this idiot.
- And virginity? What nonsense are you talking? - Sanda wiped the tears from her eyes and stared stubbornly at her mother's face. - How is it that no one will find out?
- If you don't tell him, he won't know, - the mother winked triumphantly, - and virginity? That's all nonsense. I'll teach you what to do on your wedding night so that your husband believes that you're a virgin. Besides, there are midwives, and they know how to make you look like a virgin again. It hurts a little, but then... No one will ever be able to tell the difference between fake virginity and real virginity, believe me...
- Hmm... - Sanda looked at her mother with new eyes. She always thought that her conservative and strict mother had always been a model of morality. And now she had revealed herself to her from a different side.
- Why are you looking at me like that? - the mother smirked. - It's time to grow up! The fact that some homeless boy climbed on you doesn't mean that you've become an adult. You have the body of a grown woman, but your brain... Anyway, listen to me, and everything will be fine. We're leaving for the capital in the morning. The horses are ready, the van is cleaned - we'll go in a caravan, together with the mail van. It's guarded, because these are troubled times, you never know what might happen along the way. Girl, don't cry! The capital is everything! The capital is life, the capital is the lights of balls, these are brilliant gentlemen, after whom you won't even look at your dull, unwashed sergeant!
- He washed himself. He always washed himself! - Sanda pouted resentfully. - He always smelled good! Don't slander! And anyway - if it's so nice in the capital - why did you come here? Why did you make your father live here?
- It's none of your business, - the woman narrowed her eyes and sighed slightly, - someday, maybe you'll find out. Or maybe not. Pack your things - we're leaving. That's it, we've had enough of this pastry shop. Your father is interested in it, but I'm not. I'm still young, just a little over thirty, and I'm forced to get bogged down in this hole! Run to your room and get ready.
* * *
Estrog wasn't just seething with rage. This rage was raging in his soul, burning it, bubbling and depositing itself in his brain like lava ready to burst through a volcano.
He hated the whole world – even more than before. He was in pain – his broken, twisted joints, which the mages-healers had never been able to straighten, worked with difficulty – creaked, clicked and ached with every movement. Hadar never thought that he would experience such pain. After all, he deserved more! He, a mage of the tenth category. And perhaps already eleventh! Almost an archmage, and some vile Zamar bastard turns him into a walking wreck?!
Estrog was in so much pain, he was so intoxicated by his insult… that he almost enjoyed it. Now he had a goal. Now he had to get the highest pleasure by brutally killing his enemy. Life without an enemy – what could be more boring? These countless stupid slaves, tortured by him out of boredom – I was fed up! Boring screams, the same prayers, the same sounds and sighs emitted by a body from which life was leaving – boring. It was boring to live! And now it had become interesting for him to live. If only he could get his former health back…
Estrog touched his gums, from which new teeth had already appeared – the gums were bleeding, and the magician spat bloody saliva onto the floor of the van, cursing foully, like a longshoreman. Soon, soon he would arrive in the capital, find the most powerful magician-healer that existed, find a surgeon who would cut and break his limbs, fix his face – and he would become a handsome man again. Maybe not the same as before, but at least those around him would not be afraid of him. Appearance is also a weapon. Having the appearance of a harmless bookworm, you can gain the trust of anyone, create the image of a harmless, quiet guy, and then ... then - whatever!
Soon, soon... never mind, revenge will endure. Hadar remembered the smell of this magician well, the smell of his aura - tart, clean, as if the aura smelled of wormwood. Everyone perceives someone else's aura in their own way. Estrog also felt it as a smell. However, he also remembered the color of the aura - black and red, with blue flashes. Blue is the color of the demon lord.
Estrog was very envious of this man – to command demons – what could be more wonderful? If only he could… if only he could… if only he knew the right spells! What if he could force this demonologist to tell him his secrets? Make him work for him? Why not? It's dangerous! So what? But what would be the result! Find him, get closer, and… But how to find him? Easily. Option one: Isfir won the war. Then gather all the magicians who participated in the Battle of Estkar on the Zamar side and start questioning them – with prejudice. They will tell everything. And here he is, here – the demonologist, on a chain, with his tongue cut out. Without a tongue, he will not be able to cast spells. But he will be able to write scrolls. And in them, he will tell everything he knows – especially if he is slightly tortured every day. Not to death, but so… so that he does not forget who his master is. Oooo… how many new, interesting tortures Hadar has prepared for him!
Estrog's eyes grew moist as he imagined torturing the Zamar magician, and he began to breathe quickly, excited by the images that came to his mind. Then he calmed down and began to think again.
Option two - Isfir, as it used to be, was thrown out of Zamara. Then - a trip to the capital of Zamara under a false name. Especially since after the "repair" of Estrog no one will recognize him. And there... there money will do everything. And Hadar had enough money. He received a large salary, in addition - he received an inheritance from several rich single aristocrats, seduced by his angelic appearance. These elderly ladies, who rashly made a will in favor of a polite and very skilled guy in bed, very soon went to another world. Of course, for natural reasons - her heart stopped in her sleep, fell down the stairs and broke her neck, kicked by a horse that suddenly went crazy when the owner approached her carriage - they died, and the fortune remained with her lover. It happens... Of course, some talk began - three dead ladies in a row is a bit too much, but... there is no evidence? And how can you think that such a nice, polite young man is actually a cruel killer?
So – go to the capital of Zamara, look for traces. And start with the Marine Corps. Ask around, buy people, sniff out. Find out who this magician is, and then – who is dear to this magician, who are his close people, and… strike! Strike suddenly, cruelly! Torture his loved ones in front of the magician, and then… then… then everything will be fine! Ancient knowledge and… power! Limitless, secret and cruel! The power of Estrog. And then he will remember everything about his family, who expelled him from their womb! Creatures unworthy of bearing the name Estrog! Hypocritical mother! Soldier father! Brothers and sisters, whom he would gladly crucify on the gates of the family estate! Creatures… all the creatures! Bastards who do not understand his subtle, sublime soul, unworthy of his pity. Never mind, never mind… see you later. Perhaps fate is giving Hadar a chance. The main thing is not to miss it.
* * *
"Stop!" Ned raised his hand in warning, and his two friends froze behind him. "Don't move! I'll go alone and see what's going on."
- Maybe we should all go? - Arnot asked hesitantly. - Why are you alone... what if there are a bunch of Isfirs there?
- So he'll kill them all! - Oydar winked frivolously and sat down on a stump, sighing with relief. - He's trampled all over his feet today. It's almost lunchtime, and there's no lunch in sight. And the village looks like it's dead. There's no one here.
"No, then no," Ned shook his head, "sit here, I'll shout if anything happens. I'll call."
Leaving the boys at the edge of the forest, Ned walked openly through the clearing to the nearest house, cut from thick logs. The house was quite large, two stories high, and this surprised him – in a village, and two stories high? Why? However, he soon understood why. Each house was something between a dwelling and a fortress. You could sit out a long time in such a house, unless, of course, they set it on fire… Narrow loophole windows, strong doors made of thick wood – it seemed that the residents were expecting someone to come and rob them, and were preparing for it in advance.
The first floor was where they kept cattle, horses, and stored firewood and hay. The second floor was where they lived. Apart from firewood and rotten hay, there was nothing left – as if everything had been taken out. I wonder what was in the other houses? However, there were only three houses left in the entire village, and instead of the other two dozen, piles of coals were visible, which smelled strongly of burning and decay.
Ned walked up to one of the piles, poked it with the toe of his boot, and a skull rolled out, staring at the boy with empty eye sockets. The top of the skull was split, so it was clear how its owner died - a sword or an axe. The blow was so strong that it almost broke the skull in two.
Entering the nearest surviving house, he looked around – it was quiet and empty. Someone had taken away everything that could be taken away. And they had taken it away a long time ago, perhaps years ago. It was no wonder that the piles of coals were so thickly overgrown with grass, through which Ned barely managed to push through, pouring seeds down his collar and hooking his cuffs full of thorns. The village had been empty for a long time, it was obvious from everything.
Ned walked out into the street, waved his hand, whistled, as he used to do when he was driving the cows, and in a couple of minutes the out-of-breath guys were standing in front of him:
- So what's going on here? Did you find any food?
- What food is there... just bones. Don't you want to gnaw on some? - Ned, with a crooked grin, pushed a huge human bone towards Oydar, which had fallen out of the mound that used to be his house, and the guy winced in pain:
- What jokes you have! I almost lost my appetite! What kind of village is this? How far are we? About fifteen from the city, right? It's such a remote place - you wouldn't believe it!
- It seems to me - this is not an ordinary village, - Arnot said thoughtfully, looking around, - I heard stories about such remote villages, whose inhabitants lived exclusively by robbery. And what - the road is not so far, they robbed, then hid in the forest. The places here are remote, so it is not easy to find.
- Found, as you can see, - Ned shrugged. - You can't live long by plundering. What happened here - we will never know. And it looks like we won't find any food here either. Or people. It was a mistake to go this way, we should have moved towards the fields. I thought that maybe someone was hiding in the forest, not everyone was taken into slavery by the Isfirians. But you see what's happening here... let's go back.
- Ned, at least let me look around the house! Maybe we'll find something! Come on, Ned, come on, okay? I'll just poke around a little! Maybe there's some treasure there! Can you imagine - we find treasure, and we're rich! What if this really is a village of robbers?
- Yes, go, go! - spat Ned, looking at Oydar, who was flushed with excitement. - Just don't complain if you get bitten by rabid rats there. And you won't find anything there except dust, cobwebs and mouse droppings.
- Whatever I find, I'll find! - Oydar grinned. - I have a nose for treasure! I'll definitely find something. I know where people hide money and valuables.
"How do you know that?" Ned asked curiously. "You're making me think..."
- Well, yes, yes! - Oydar flared up. - It was! I stole when I was left without means of support, when they were looking for me to kill me. I lived in one gang for six months, they stole. They taught me how to find hidden things. Do you want me to teach you too? Just for fun.
- Hmm... I'm not really planning on joining a gang, but... teach me, - Ned chuckled, - knowledge is never superfluous. Let's go.
They walked resolutely towards a lonely house, around which a forest of tall grass had grown, in which insects were buzzing and there was a tart smell of something that caught the throat.
- You see the grass, - Oydar squinted. - Do you know what it is? Mazis. This is how it grows. You can collect it, dry it, grind it... and you can stuff it into a pipe. You can fly into the sky with one pipe, that's for sure! Look at those fat, juicy bushes. Listen, maybe they were growing mazis here? Actually, it's prohibited by law. It's been prohibited for a long time. That's the reason - the soldiers came and destroyed everything here, along with the drug plantations. Easy. And the mazis dealers must be wealthy... there's definitely a treasure somewhere. So... what do we have here? Wow, what space! This isn't like sitting in city cages! These people didn't skimp on building their house. Look at the ceilings! How high! Soooo... there must be a cellar around here somewhere. Definitely. No house was ever built without a cellar... there! Arnot, help me, stop staring at the walls. Lift the lid, it's heavy. Yeah, like that... I wish I could shine something on it. It's dark.
- Now someone from the darkness will bite you on the ass. Or on the front, - Arnot stated cheerfully. - I won't climb into that darkness! You came up with it - you climb there. Imagine - you go down, and there's a nest of snakes. Do you know what a nest is? It's when all the snakes crawl into some hole and sit there in winter. There can be hundreds of snakes in such a hole. My neighbor told me about it. As soon as you go down - and they all come at you - bam! And they'll bite. And we'll bury you next to those bones. And no one will know where your grave is...
- You're a bastard, Arnie, - Oydar said sullenly, pale, - you know that I'm afraid of snakes. Well, no, I'm not afraid, but I really don't respect them. They're so slippery, cold, and they hiss... brrr! - The guy shuddered and stepped back from the dark mouth of the cellar. - No, I won't go there until there's light. Let's go climb into the attic.
- You go to the attic, - suggested Ned, - I won't climb. You'll only get dirty, and then you won't be able to clean your chain mail. Have a poke around and come back. Arnie, you go to the barn behind the house, there used to be a stable there, I think. Maybe you'll find a torch, otherwise our treasure hunter won't calm down, he'll whine until he climbs down into the hole.
- Right now! - Arnot nodded and, striding lightly, ran out of the house. Ned looked after the guy and grinned - during the time that Arnot was a soldier, the guy had changed quite a lot. From a flabby city boy he had turned into a strong, sinewy guy, ready for any surprises. Even his movements had changed - they became economical, stingy, precise. The Corps knows how to break people to suit itself, to make strong cogs out of them in a huge fighting machine.
The boys left the room, and Ned was left alone. A strange sensation suddenly came over him. A look. He felt someone's look, as if someone was looking at him from somewhere hidden, examining him like a small fly. But there was no one around, no one who could see him. Ghosts, maybe? The souls of the dead and the restless?
They said that if a person is not buried properly, with rituals and offerings to the goddess Death, she does not take the souls and does not take them to the chambers befitting this soul. Even the underworld does not accept those who deserve it. Restless souls wander the earth, harm people or just hang out where they flew out of their bodies. It is quite possible... Or maybe the gods are looking at him? From somewhere above, from the heavens?
"Look!" Arnot yelled, appearing behind Ned and holding out something long. Ned winced and half pulled his sword out of its scabbard.
- Are you crazy? Why are you yelling like that? - Ned barked. - What if I blew your head off right now! You have to scream like you're being killed! Demon take you...
Ned suddenly fell silent and froze, looking at the runes on the sword - they were glowing! And they were glowing so brightly, with a light he had never seen before. Ned stared at the sword in bewilderment for a few seconds, then slid it back into its sheath, listening to Arnot stammering an apology:
- What did I... I wasn't thinking... Sorry. Look - a lantern, oil! Let's light it now and go! I have a flint, so we can go into a snake pit. Why were you looking at the blade? What did you see there?
"Oh, nothing," Ned said evasively. "Go ahead, light it up."
Arnot flicked the flint for a few minutes, trying to get a spark, then blew on the cotton wool, kindling the flame, then tried to light the wick of the lamp, and finally the smoky flame finally rose and fluttered over the copper vessel.
- Hey, Oida, it's time to go to the snake pit! - Arnot shouted, looking with pleasure at the flame extracted from the lamp. - Where have you been? Stop collecting dust, let's go here!
- I'm coming now! And you'll fall away, guys! - Oydar's voice was strange, as if it was stifled. Footsteps were heard on the ceiling, then legs appeared in the opening of the hatch leading to the attic, and finally all of Oydar appeared from the dark hole, descending and holding onto the ladder with one hand. In the other he held an oblong bundle, dirty, dusty - by the look of it - fabric wrapped in rope and covered in resin.
- Well, are you convinced? - Oydar triumphed, shaking the bundle, and Arnot's eyes widened in surprise:
- What is this? Where did you get it?
- In the attic, where else? - the guy grinned. - You didn't want to go there, so it's all mine! Okay - just kidding, just kidding - we'll share it among everyone.
"What's there to divide?" Arnot chuckled. "Maybe it's some kind of crap?"
- They won't hide shit on the main beam of the roof and cover it with matting. And they won't wrap it in material soaked in resin. And wrap it around with ropes! No, brothers, this is something valuable, believe the old thief!
- How old you are, - Arnot chuckled, - and you were a thief for only six months. What are you so cocky about!
- Six months for a thief are considered five years for an ordinary person. Most of them are caught in the first month and their hands are cut off. Or their head - depending on how "lucky" they are. So shut up, take a knife and cut the ropes. Let's all go outside, it's dark here, we'll drop something.
Oydar jumped out of the door, Arnot, blushing with anticipation of opening the treasure, followed him.
Ned followed, his heart aching with foreboding - his blade had a reason for glowing so brightly! Ned drew out his sword again and almost flinched - the runes were so bright that it was as if he were looking at the sun.
Ned closed his eyes, slid his sword into its sheath and hurried outside, just in time to see a flat wooden box, decorated with gold and bone-like inlay, emerge from a shabby cloth bundle. Ned's memories stirred, but he couldn't remember what kind of box it was or what it was for. The only thing he felt with his whole body, with his whole soul, was that the box was not a simple one, it was imbued with magic in every piece of it. The feeling was as if Ned was next to his spear, left in the base barracks for safekeeping, or next to the swords in which he felt the demons imprisoned there.
While Ned was walking, the guys were already unclicking the locks, made of white metal with a blackened finish, and with another push, the lid swung open with a light musical knock, revealing on the red velvet bed... a dagger.
The blade is about thirty centimeters long, double-edged, the handle is decorated with a scattering of transparent stones shining in the sunlight. There is an inscription in runes on the blade. What is written - Ned could not make out, it is far away. Besides - there is no time for inscriptions. A thought suddenly occurred to him:
"A dagger? What have I heard about a dagger... a dagger, a dagger... Oh gods! A dagger - a fortune teller!"
- Oida, don't touch it! Put the box on the bench! Don't take it out! Don't touch the dagger with your hands! - Ned screamed desperately, rushing towards the bench.
Too late. The guy is already holding a beautiful piece by an unknown jeweler in his hand and admiring the play of stones. Maybe it will work out? Maybe it's not the right time? – a thought flashed through his mind, and then a broken string seemed to ring in the air, strange, pleasant and unpleasant smells hung in the air, flashes of light began to play, and the blade, torn from Oydar's hands, hung in the air, shining like the sun.
- To me, quickly, quickly! - Ned barked, and only the habit of obeying orders, developed in the army service, was able to bring the guys out of their stupor, their eyes wide-open at the incredible miracle. Without taking their eyes off the dagger hanging in the air and starting to spin around its axis like a spindle, they went to Ned, who was standing in the middle of the road, between the surviving house and a pile of coals.
- Hurry up, you idiots! - Ned roared so loudly that his own ears began to ring, then he rushed towards his friends and, grabbing them by the sleeves, rushed forward as fast as he could. Having run about twenty steps, Ned pushed the guys towards each other and began to chant the spell of the sphere, protecting from any external influence. Despair overwhelmed him - would he make it in time or not?!
I made it.
Ned finished casting the spell when the first demon of the fifth circle burst out of the breach in the universe. A clot of malice, hatred and... hunger.
The demon wanted to eat, wanted to kill, and for him the soul of the magician was a satisfying, tasty, delicious object. There were other souls next to the magician - dull, not very tasty, but also desirable. For him, the soul of a simple person compared to the soul of a magician was as unattractive as empty liquid soup compared to a huge piece of meat. But when you are so hungry, why not quench at least a part of your hunger with this liquid soup? Of course, only after you eat a piece of meat... before your competitors eat it!
And the demon rushed towards the magician with all his might and at full speed. Strike! The immaterial body spread across the transparent surface, and the demon howled, squealed from unexpected pain and disappointment! The magician covered himself! It hid, that damned food! Strike, another strike, another – the invisible dome rang, sparkled, but held, despite the fact that hundreds and thousands of demons rushed at it, rushing into the spatial rift. They could not move aside, could not fly away to feed on other souls while a delicious dinner stood before them. They simply did not have enough intelligence for that. A demon is the essence of malice and rage, but not intelligence.
And then – something pulled the demons back. Like a stream of dirty water that has fallen on a city at the foot of a mountain, it flows noisily and drippingly into the sewers, leaving behind garbage, sticks and cobblestones. A whirlwind, a black whirlwind – swirled clots of pure entities, unclouded by kindness and humanity, and carried them away to where they broke through into the world of people.
The dagger, hanging in the air and spinning around its axis, faded, became black as coal, and a split second after the Black Mirror collapsed, fell down and, having stuck into the ground, remained sticking out, sparkling in the sun with precious stones.
A few more words, and the dome behind which the three people had managed to hide disappeared, and they breathed in the fresh forest air with pleasure, mixed with the smell of burning from the burnt houses.
It was stuffy in the dome, and Ned wiped the beads of sweat that had appeared on his forehead:
- It's all over. We're alive, thank the gods!
"No, what was that?!" Arnot croaked, clearing his throat as if he was coughing up a plug stuck in his throat. "What were those black things?"
"What things?" Ned didn't understand.
- Well, those that were flying around us? Why didn't they touch us? What was that?
- Blockhead! - Oydar commented on his friend's words with superiority. - Ned is a black magician! And these are demons. He made a dome, remember the one our magicians had? An impenetrable dome. That's why they couldn't get to us.
- Ned is a black magician? - Arnot's eyes widened. - I'm going to fall! Hold me five times! Ned is a magician?! Oh gods! What the hell is going on? Ned, my friend, why the hell are you running around with these pieces of iron if you're a magician? You could be living like... like... like a magician right now! There! The salary is like a colonel's!! The conditions are like a king's! Well, not a king, but... anyway - what the hell do you need this army for? If I could... if I knew how... - he hesitated, choosing his words, while Oydar narrowed his eyes mockingly and interrupted him with a grin:
- Yes, we know, we know! A house full of kids, and all the noise! I'm sick of you and your kids! I would... - he blushed slightly and interrupted himself. - It's not about me or you! Keep quiet about what you found out, or Ned will tear your head off, right, Ned? Right! Ned, but still, won't you explain what just happened? What was that anyway?
- I don't know for sure... - Ned explained tiredly, - I was told that I shouldn't touch a certain dagger, otherwise there would be trouble. When I saw you taking a certain dagger that somehow ended up in this strange village, I immediately remembered the prediction. And when the demons started crawling out of the hole in the universe, I acted unconsciously. First I created a dome, and when they covered it, I sent them back to the underworld with an eleventh-level spell. We are lucky that the demons of the highest circle didn't break out - didn't have time to break out. Otherwise, the dome might not have held up. I'm not as strong as I would like.
- Oh, Creator! I still can't believe it - Ned is a black magician! I imagined them completely different - these evil, cruel creatures, enjoying the suffering of those around them! But our Ned is completely different, completely. I feel - he is kind and good!
- You tell that to Zasler, - Oydar grinned, - and also to the hundred archers turned into bloody mush, there, on the road to the Corps camp. Our Ned can be... very strict. It's better not to offend him.
- That's for sure, - Ned frowned, - don't touch. And also - it's better not to blab. By the way, Oydar, you were very close to death for your big tongue.
"I can guess," the guy smiled crookedly, "well, the main thing is that I'm alive. Thank you, demonologist Ned!"
- Demonologist! Oh gods! I'm going to go crazy! And you both kept quiet! Well - Ned is understandable, but you, you, Oydar! A friend, so to speak. You're a filthy pig, not a friend. A beast!
- Yeah - I'll tell you - and he'll chop my head off, right? And then - yours. Demonologists have always been serious guys, they knew how to keep their secrets. At the slightest thing - head off. Broke a vow, betrayed - the blood will go to spells, soul to demons. Not a joke, I guess! Hmm... and why - were? Here he is, our demonologist! Ned, well tell me where you came from, will you? Please! We won't tell anyone!
- Arnot, hold him back... I'll chop his head off, - Ned asked. - Where did you run to?
- Of course - who the hell knows, maybe you're joking, maybe not. Better not to check! - Oydar shook his head, running away to what he considered a safe distance. - Okay, I won't ask about you. Tell me anyway, what was that thing!
- And you will understand? - Ned shook his head doubtfully. - If I don't understand myself... In general, it was an artifact of great power, opening the door to the space where the creatures we call demons live. For how long this artifact opens the door - I don't know. It's disposable. That is, they unload it, and... that's it. It's an ordinary dagger. Only blackened, like blued. While it's charged, you can't take it with your hands - if you take it, consider that you've launched a spell. The demons that escaped from the hole eat everything in sight, kill everyone they find. I believe that somehow this artifact ended up in this village. And perhaps not the only one. Maybe this village was one of the last strongholds of demonologists, who were persecuted. Or maybe there really were bandits living here who robbed a caravan with treasures taken from one of the demonologists' departments. Or they simply robbed someone - which is more likely, the demonologists were exterminated long ago. That's why they were all killed here. For this robbery. And what these robbers managed to hide - they didn't find. That's how the dagger ended up here. Let's go and have a look at it.
"I'm afraid of something…" admitted Arnot. "It even gives me goosebumps! What if the demons jump out again… or maybe they're hiding somewhere nearby? Under that bush? Go under the old barrel? We'll get there, and they'll… bam! And they'll bite into our insides!"
"Don't be afraid," Ned explained good-naturedly, heading for the bench where the dagger box lay, "these are fifth-circle demons, they'll tear you to pieces right away. This is a first-circle demon, unnoticeable, the size of a pea, it gets into your intestines and quietly eats them, and you writhe in pain. And the fifth circle - they just tear and throw.
"I'm going to puke," Arnot pleaded, "don't talk about these... pea-sized things anymore! How disgusting! Can't you see them?"
- Nope... almost impossible. Unless you're a mage. A black mage. And even then, they're so small that it's hard to see.
"And you can control them?" Arnot asked incredulously, with fear, looking with all his eyes at the one he considered his friend, a simple boy from a remote village.
"It seems like… I can," Ned nodded. He had no desire to go into details. Why would he want to tell his friends that he was possessed by a certain Black One, who was either a demon, or a demonologist, or… it was completely unclear who?
The polished wood box was beautiful. Even beautiful. It was a work of art in itself – not a box, but a casket, with a velvet bed for its contents – a precious and deadly artifact, made in the form of a dagger. Runes shone on the lid, saying:
"Touch with your hand and you will get what you deserve."
- What is written here, can you read it? - Oydar asked greedily. - What do they write here?
- Hmm... something like: "If you pick it up, you'll get something nasty," Ned smiled and added with surprise: - Guys, do you know what this is? I get it! It's a trap! It's a real trap!
- And I get it! - Oydar grinned, his eyes shining. - They throw it somewhere, into a city, for example, someone opens it, and... there is no city! Or rather, there is a city, but no people! Tell me, what is the range of the demons?
- That's the question... I don't know, Oida. And how long the spell works - I don't know. I know that it's limited in time. I read about it in old scrolls. But... no, I don't know, - Ned finished, - I don't want to speculate.
- But you still tell me, - asked Arnot, - you know hundreds of times more than us (Oydar glanced sideways and chuckled), who, if not you, can guess at this matter! Has the thought not occurred to you...
- She did, - Ned interrupted, - but it makes me cringe! Using the ancient weapon of the demonologists against the city garrison, is that what you meant? And if the demons don't go away at all? If they stay here, and the window to the underworld doesn't close? Then what? And besides - what makes you think there's anything else like this here? The same artifact?
- There was one, maybe one more, - Oydar confidently declared, - throw it into the fortress, and let them open the box! What a mess it will be!
- What are you happy about? - Ned got angry. - Can you imagine what will happen when hundreds of demons attack thousands of people? And by the way - there are probably not only Isfir's troops left in the city, there are also citizens - someone has to serve this very army!
- Whores? - Oydar curled his lips dismissively. - Who cares about them! And who cares about all the townspeople! If they didn't get out of town in time, didn't die in battle with the enemy - why should I feel sorry for them? Slaves are slaves. One more, one less. The women will give birth to more. But our lives, our comrades, with whom we go into battle, sleep, eat, and... in general - don't think about strangers. Think about your own! If the lives of unknown townspeople and ours - mine, Arnie, the colonel's and our entire crowd - are on the scale - what will you choose? You, perhaps, will leave alive - by some cunning sorcery, but what about us? We want to live, Ned! Ned, we are alive! Do you want Arnie to rot in the ground without having children, a home, or a wife? And me, do you not care about me? That's it... war is war. And there are victims, yes. Think about it.
"I don't know…" Ned muttered, confused. "It's too terrible a weapon, and the consequences will be unpredictable. Somehow I'm not ready to take responsibility… not yet. Thousands of lives…"
- Ned, can you look for these artifacts? - Arnot asked cautiously. - The thing is, even an ignorant person can find such an artifact. He will open it, discharge it... and die. And everyone nearby will die. Maybe you should look for it, and if you don't decide to use this nasty thing, then... you can destroy the artifact. How do they destroy them? With a spell? Or some other way?
- And with a spell, and something else, - Ned said sullenly, concentrating on what was said. In fact, Oydar was right. There is a war. And if the scales are between the lives of the comrades with whom he fought side by side and the lives of those behind the fortress walls - of course, the comrades will outweigh. There is no argument here. And there cannot be.
- Okay, - Ned sighed, - we'll look. I have a way to find the artifact. I won't tell you how, but... it's possible. I'll walk along the houses, go into them, and you'll look where I indicate. Why are you looking? Because I don't want to crawl through the web and get dirty. The world is divided into those who sense the artifact, and those who crawl through the trash, getting it, - Ned grinned. - Now pick up the box and the dagger, hide them in the bushes - we'll take them later - and go rummage through the trash. Is that clear?
- I see! - Oydar grinned happily. - I recognize Ned! Let's go!
"This… about the dagger… is it really safe to pick it up now?" Arnot asked cautiously, not moving from his spot.
"Exactly," Ned nodded, "don't be afraid, it's empty."
- Well, if Ned said - why are you shaking, Arnie? - Oydar chuckled, picked up the dagger and admired the play of its stones. - I wonder why they made such an expensive handle?
"So that all sorts of idiots would definitely pick it up and start looking at it," Arnot chuckled. "It seems they knew the human essence well…"