Novel 1. Mercenary Company "Bright Heads". Full novel
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Аннотация:
The Daertian Empire collapsed centuries ago, but there is no peace in the ancient lands. Fragments of the vanished state continue to fight for power. There is always work for mercenaries in the borderlands, but the "Bright Heads" Mercenary Company is an unusual unit. It has only three members, and the tasks it performs are specific. Track down the monster, catch the criminal, protect an important person from an assassination attempt. One day fate brings the company face to face with a dangerous enemy - an alien from a world without magic, turned assassin. He is armed with incredible skills and technological marvels, and in his presence magic is useless. And most importantly - behind his back there are serious shadow forces...
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Novel 1. Mercenary Company "Bright Heads".
Prologue. The man who killed the past
When someone needed to describe Odisyotl, the word "gray" was quite enough. Not in the sense that the city was unremarkable - it is the largest port of the northern archipelago, after all - but in the most literal sense. Under an eternally gray sky full of clouds, buildings of gray stone rose, roads covered with gray asphalt stretched, gray waves of the bay beat against gray concrete piers. When it started to rain, slanting gray streams whipping from the clouds were added to all this. The only exception was, oddly enough, cars. Perhaps it was an unconscious protest - but the people of Odisjotle were very fond of brightly colored cars. Ruby red, light green, ultramarine cars filled the main highways during rush hours, which made them look like colorful ribbons, traditionally used to wrap holiday gifts. The black police car looked out of place among them, like a piece of coal thrown into a pile of gems.
Sigi Hoffmainen, as Chief Inspector, was at the wheel. Leafing through the papers given to him just before his departure, he entrusted his young partner.
- Have you read everything? - Sigi asked without taking his eyes off the road. Despite the working siren, not all drivers hurried to give way, so the inspector had to be on the alert. He did not want to throw work to his colleagues from the highway patrol.
- Yeah, - growled partner, Leif Bjarnison. The guy got his inspector's badge quite recently, and so far he took his job very seriously. Now he shuffled the sheets he had already read in order to take them up again.
- So, we have an elf-foreigner's corpse on our liner and in our port. Any other details?
- Not much, - Leif sighed. - The deceased is someone called Hoelmar Victor Aurelison, a storyteller by profession. Do you know anything about it?
- I've never heard of it, - Hoffmainen shook his chin. - But judging by the fact that the corpse in the first-class cabin is rather profitable job. What's more?
- Patrol arrived first, examined the crime scene. They said on the phone that it looked like a suicide.
- Yes, the opinion of the guys in caps is very valuable to us, - the chief inspector snorted, changing lanes to the left. Turning off the siren, he turned to the port.
The ocean liner "Crown of Ice" towered over the dock like a black-and-white rock. Such can be seen in the fjords - when the snow covers the entire upper half of the rock, but cannot stay on the smooth stones closer to the water. The bow of the ship was decorated with a "slingshot" of flagpoles - on one the native banner of the kingdom was languidly flying, on the other, the striped flag of the People's Democratic Republic was also reluctantly, as if lazily splashing. The liner ran between Odisjotl and Elvart on a weekly basis, and taking to consideration the strained relationship between the two countries, such a gesture of courtesy was practically necessary. Right on the pier was a black patrol car, decorated with a scarlet flasher and a white "Police" lettering along the side. Ludrian workers were dragging some boxes past it. There were many of these small, thin lizard people in the city, but it was almost impossible to see them outside the port. That's why Leif stared at them with interest, but his older comrade with dislike. Two decades ago, Inspector Hoffmainen managed to take part in the Second East Ludrian War as a light infantry sergeant, so for him the sight of upright bipedal lizards has awoken not the most pleasant memories of humid forests filled with traps and hostile natives.
- Sir. - The patrolman, who was on duty at the passenger ladder, threw up his hand to the visor. Sigi simply nodded to him, and the policeman, without further ado, led the inspectors to the correct deck. In front of the cabin door where the murder (or suicide) took place, another uniformed officer was on guard. For some reason, a ship's steward hovered next to him - very sad and dejected.
- Is he a witness or else? - Siggi nodded at the steward.
- Yes, sir, - the patrolman replied. - Found the body.
- Any other of them?
- No, sir. We interviewed neighbors from other cabins - no one heard or saw anything.
- This is not enough. Fine, let's see.
The dead man lay face down in the middle of the living room. Leif, of course, had seen elves before. In photographs and drawings. And it cannot be said that now he had a chance to see a living elf for the first time - since Mr. Aurelison was, without a doubt, dead. The Chief Inspector didn't put on gloves, he just squatted down beside the body and examined it. An ancient dagger stuck in the elf's chest. The dead man's right hand was still clutching the handle resting on the floor.
- Yes...- drawled Hoffmainen, straightening up. - He could well have thrown himself at the knife. But with the same success he could be stabbed and laid in this position. Leif, what else do you see interesting here?
There were enough interesting things. Directly in front of the deceased a gilded frame on a stand stood - and it was empty. Some kind of fringe ran along its inner edge - probably, a canvas was cut out of the frame. Nearby on the floor was a silver ice bucket, which contained soot. With the same soot on the white wall of the cabin, someone brought out a few incomprehensible words.
- Is that... elvish? - Leif suggested timidly.
- Yes, it is, - his senior partner confirmed.
- Do you read Elvish?
- Of course not, - Sigi snorted. - Who learns Elvish these days, apart from elves themselves? Any elf knows several human languages.
- Experts will arrive soon, but they are just coroners... - the young inspector said slowly. Rubbing his chin, he examined the mysterious black letters. - At the city university, someone should know the language. At the Department of Linguistics or History. We should give them a call...
- It's worth calling, but not to the university. - Hoffmainen suddenly grinned wryly. - Let's go to the office...
When he got to the phone, the chief inspector dialed a number that, judging by the length, was an ordinary city number, not from the emergency services. He listened to beeps for a long time, then said into the phone:
- Hey, are you sober now? Are you? Well, tell me, what was the name of the god of rain and wind among the Ludrians? Well? No, not like this. On the letter "K". Eight syllables. Yes, right. Now I believe you. Yes, I'm exactly piece of that. I need help. There is nothing wrong, just a piece of advice. No, not by phone. Will you come? In the port, the "Crown of Ice" liner. Meet me at the ramp. Yes, investigation. Yes, they will pay. Police Department. Okay, I'll pay. Yes, my salary is enough. Good, I'm waiting.
Hanging up the phone, he explained to his partner:
- An old friend of mine. We came across after the army. While we wait, let's check if there is a person among the passengers who could know Elvish.
They didn't have to wait long. Three quarters of an hour later, a dark blue sports car stopped at the barrier blocking the entrance to the port, once expensive and fashionable, but now turned into a well-groomed, but obviously worn-out wreck. Such machines with chopped hull contours were popular about thirty years ago. The watchman left the guardhouse, looked in the window from the driver's side, listened to something. Shaking his head, he raised the striped beam. The car drove inside, braked near the pier. The door clicked open. And Leif caught his breath for a moment. An elf got out of the car. Elf woman. The most real and, unlike Mr. Aurelison, alive. Inspector Bjarnison had heard before that elven women were almost always unbelievably beautiful, but he thought it was a tale. Like the fact that all northerners have beards. However, Sigi's friend fully confirmed this tale. By human standards, for Leif she was somewhere in mid thirties or so. The elf was dressed in a white blouse with a red tie, a blue formal suit with a tight skirt above the knee, tight black stockings and dark red shoes with a small but noticeable heel. She carried a small purse over her shoulder, thin-rimmed oval glasses on her nose, and black leather gloves on her hands. The lapel of the jacket was decorated with a gold brooch in the shape of a vine. The woman's wavy blond hair fell freely on her back, only at the temples the strands were gathered into thin braids that covered her head like a wreath, connecting into one at the back of her head.
- Good afternoon, gentlemen, - she said in a high, melodious voice as she approached the policemen.
- And you too. - Sigi smiled. In a month of joint service, Leif had not yet seen his senior comrade smile like that - sincerely and openly. - Meet this partner of mine, Leif Bjarnison.
- Detective Valria Anna Valthritdotir. - The woman smiled too - an incredibly charming soft smile - and held out her hand to the inspector. - The official consultant of the city police. Nice to meet you.
Leif returned the handshake and... shuddered, meeting the detective's eyes. For a second it seemed to him that the elf had completely white eyes. Like covered with cataractas, even without pupils. But almost immediately he noticed that the pupils were still in place, and they were surrounded by faded violet halos - as if the iris had faded in the sun.
- What a cute boy. - Still smiling, Valria turned to the Chief Inspector. - That's rare in the police. You spoil them quickly. For half a year they lose their sparkle in their eyes, start smoking and drinking no worse than me.
- Fru Walthritdotir, I'm not a...
- I don't care how old you are, boy, - the elf interrupted Leif, waving her hand. - I'm older anyway. Don't be offended. Better show me what's happened here.
On the way to the cabin, Sigi quickly told the elf everything that he knew, and that the police could find out on the spot. The deceased was seen at breakfast. He left there alone. He communicated with several people, one of whom could know Elvish - he turned out to be a professor of Elvart University, Hans Ebenrare, a historian.
- First suspect, - Sigi immediately pointed out.
- Is anything valuable missing from the cabin? - the woman asked.
- We don't know. There is still no inventory.
In the first-class cabin, the detective took only a brief glance at the body of her fellow elf, then immediately strode to the wall with the inscription, clattering her sharp heels. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the crooked and lopsided black letters for a long time. Finally, she said softly, without turning around:
- Where is this professor?
- Twenty-fifth cabin, two doors from here, - said Sigi. None of the passengers were allowed ashore.
The long pointed ears of the elf, peeking out from the lush golden mane of hair, lowered, pressed to the head. Without saying anything else, the detective quickly walked out into the corridor. The police rushed after her. Reaching the door with the copper number "25", the woman knocked on it with bent fingers.
- Who is there? Police? - asked a wary voice from behind the sash.
Valria took a step back, resting her shoulder blades against the wall of the corridor. Taking a deep breath, she rushed forward and slammed her shoulder into the door. The thin sash gave way - with a crunch the tongue of the lock flew out of the groove, the door swung open inward, hitting the person standing behind it. The detective stormed into the hallway, where an elderly, overweight man was writhing on the floor, groaning and holding his face.
- Gotcha, you bastard! - the woman pressed her knee into the stomach of the lying man, grabbed his shoulders with her hands. At the same time, the detective's narrow skirt was indecently pulled up. - Where did you hide it?
- I do not understand what are you talking about! - murmured the owner of the cabin. - How dare you... Oh!
Valria leaned over sharply and bit the man's ear. She growled hoarsely:
- You killed an elf, you piece of shit. But what's worse, you killed the storyteller, a part of our past. I want to rip your throat out, you round-eared mayfly shit, and I still haven't done it just because of these two officers waiting in the hallway. But if you carry on being silent, they will close the door and leave for a smoke. Do you understand, mayfly?
- In... in... in the bedroom... hid among his papers! the scientist stammered. - A big black tube...
- That's much better, - the elf said calming down with amazing speed, in a completely even voice. She stood up, dusted off her knees, pulled up her gloves. Nodded to the cops:
- Continue on your own.
Soon Professor Ebenrare came down the gangplank in handcuffs, escorted by a couple of patrolmen. The inspector and the elf watched this from the upper deck.
- You really... don't like humans that much, do you? - Leif glanced sideways at the woman. She pulled out a metal cigarette case from the inner pocket of her jacket, took out a simple cigarette from there, lit a lighter from the lighter brought by Sigi. She suddenly laughed.
- Of course not, Inspector. I like humans. Seriously, I spent my whole life among you, you are closer to me than my elf relatives.
- And then what...
- Just quoted a few of our racists from a thousand years ago. About round ears and "mayfly" - they came up with this.
- So you played. - The young policeman let out a sigh of relief.
- A little. Still, this bastard thought that some picture is worth more than the life of its owner. He deserved a thrashing. And he really killed the storyteller.
- Are storytellers important to elves?
- Yes. They are... something between chroniclers, skalds and antiquarians, who keep the past of our people. And we have nothing but the past left.
- How did you understand that it was time to take the pirate by the beard? - Sigi hid the lighter. - What was the inscription on there?
- An attempt to portray a suicide note. - The detective leaned against the bulwark and shrugged. - Like, tired of life, he decided to burn the last find and commit suicide. In general, it sounds stupid, but ... it was also written ...
- With mistakes? - Leif suggested.
- Perfectly correct. - Valria shook her head, exhaling a puff of tobacco smoke. - Only using expressions from two different dialects. The principalities of the elves are closed little worlds, where the language has changed a little bit for the centuries of isolation. In the inscription on the wall, "fire" was written in one dialect and "death" in another. A native speaker would never write like that. Linguist too. But someone who knows the ancient language superficially... for example, a historian...
The patrol car with the arrested man had already left a long time ago, but they were still standing near the gangway, looking at the port, listening to the whistles of steamers and the cries of seagulls.
- Why are your eyes white? - Leif suddenly asked, realizing that a couple more minutes, and he would not be able to muster up the courage for this question.
- Because I'm very old. - The detective looked at the inspector with a good-natured grin. - Have you ever heard how elves grow old, young man? I will not become gray and wrinkled with age, but my eyes are fading little by little. Grey, if you like. When they completely fade, I will fall asleep and not wake up. This is elven old age...
- What is your...
- You're talking to a woman, young man. - The elf narrowed her eyes slightly, but a soft smile still played on her lips. - A lot of. In that picture that the professor stole - do you remember what was depicted?
- Yes. - Leif shuddered, remembering the black and red stains on the canvas.
- I saw it myself. Do you want to listen to the tales of the old elf? About the last knight-queen of the continent and about the first queen-sorceress? About the fire in the sky and the death of dragons?
- Of course I want, Fru Veltritdotir!
- Well then, hand over the report - and take me to the Ludrian restaurant. - The elf flicked her cigarette overboard. - At your expense, of course, Inspector. Otherwise, I won't expect such a thing from your senior colleague... A drink and a portion of fried pork in sweet and sour sauce is on you, and a whole evening of entertaining stories is on me...
Part 1. No-man's land.
Chapter 1
Master Carlon woke up from the fact that someone persistently poked a finger into his left cheek. For a full minute, the retired warmage tried to ignore the jabs, wincing in his sleep and twitching his nose. Until he emerged from a slumber enough to remember that he had fallen asleep alone, in a room locked from the inside... Startled, the master opened his eyes and saw in front of him a young woman's face of amazing beauty - fair skin, high cheekbones, a neat nose, large violet-colored eyes, all this framed by lush golden hair, scattered over her shoulders. Long and pointed elven ears peeked out from under her hair. The spectacle would be simply amazing if Carlon did not know who was in front of him.
- You! - The magician jerked to the side and predictably slammed his shoulder into the wall. - Oh, damn...
- Good morning, Carlon, - the girl said cheerfully to him and moved away from the bed. She sat down on the only chair in the room, crossed her legs. The magician got out of the blanket and sat up too. Pulling up his underpants, he stared gloomily at the uninvited guest, muttered:
- Valria. How did you get here? I locked myself up for the night.
Just in case, he glanced at the window, covered with cheap, cloudy glass. The window was closed.
- I got a spare key from the innkeeper. - The golden-haired elf shrugged her shoulders with a charming smile. - Next time, rent a room with a bolt.
- I'll learn this. - The master paused, looking expectantly at his interlocutor. She, still smiling, began to straighten her cuffs. The guest was dressed simply and elegantly - a white blouse with a turn-down collar, gray trousers, a green vest with gilded buttons and small shoulder pads made of fine embossed leather, high boots covering the knees in front. The costume perfectly suited the tall and slender elfess, only it was already noticeably worn, especially the boots and vest.
- Well? - finally, Carlon could not stand it. - What happened this time? You're out of enchanted arrows again, and the shop refuses to trade with you, right? Or has the amulet on the hat run out? Something so important that you stumbled into the living room in dirty boots?
- My boots are cleaner than you. - The girl snorted. - A round-eared barbarian who takes a bath once a month has no right to talk to me about cleanliness.
- The round-eared barbarian studied for ten years as a military magician, and during these ten years of study he read more books than you did in your hundred years of life ... - Carlon, against his will, began to get inflamed - as always when talking with Valria. He did not care that the interlocutor was decades older than him - she looked like a twenty-year-old girl and behaved according to her appearance.
- Yeah, that's enough! - The elf unexpectedly forced a smile off her face and threw up her hands in conciliation. - Sorry, I don't have much time, so I'll get down to business. I want to hire you for one task. Need magical support and advice. Silver payment.
- I refuse. - Carlon finally remembered that he was sitting on the bed almost naked, and bent over his shirt.
- You don't need money? - Valria arched a golden eyebrow.
- No. I just got back to the city yesterday. - The magician put his hands into the sleeves, fussed with bone buttons. - I spent a week shaking on a cart at the tail of a merchant caravan, collecting all the dust on myself. We walked through the Dead Line, twice we had to drive away some kind of rubbish. I want to eat, sleep and have fun.
The elf got up, stepped towards the table, fished Carlon's skinny purse out of the traveling bag lying on it, and opened it.
- Hey! - the magician was indignant. - Hands off!
- Not much. - The girl poured three silver coins and a handful of copper coins into her palm. - If you do not throw out the item "have fun" from your plans, then it will last for a week, at most.
Carlon did not admit that he had a couple more coins hidden in secluded places - Valria herself knew that he is not a fool. Instead, the master asked:
- What can you offer?
- The task is for three days, no longer. - The girl poured the coins back into the magician's purse, turned to him. - Payment has not yet been settled, but my forecasts are half a gold crown per person, plus military booty is possible.
- Oh ... - The magician rubbed the back of his head. - Okay. When and where is the meeting with the employer?
- He's already downstairs, Dallan entertaining him.
- Crap! - Carlon let out a few savory curses, not at all embarrassed by the presence of a girl. Hastily putting on his shoes, he splashed cold water in his face from a basin in the corner of the room, in the absence of a mirror he simply felt his beard and mustache - they did not seem to have grown much since the last haircut.
- Well, you are growing a belly, a learned person, - the elf who was watching him from the threshold noticed.
- Go to the demons, - Carlon snapped.
- Come on, I know that for magicians, a beard and belly are mandatory attributes of the profession.
To restrain himself, the master began to rinse his mouth with water and a refreshing powder. In the meantime, the girl pulled out gloves from behind her belt and pulled them on - unlike the rest of her wardrobe, they were brand new, made of thick brown leather, with hard gaiters almost to the elbow. Carlon has long noticed that the elf rarely takes off her gloves, and even eats in them in front of strangers. Probably, the girl did not want people to see the rough calluses from weapons exercises on her long and thin fingers.
- Have you gone already? - she asked when the mage had finished dressing.
- Yes.
Together they descended the narrow stairs to the dining room of the inn. Carlon glared at the traitorous innkeeper, who hastened to turn away. Valria, however, gave the owner of the inn a smile, led the magician across the hall to a private office. Here, in a not-so-high class establishment, it was just a cramped room with a table and a couple of benches. In the office they were really already waiting. On one bench sat a tall, but thin as a stick, old man with a gray goatee, on the opposite - a girl in a man's black suit, who could be mistaken for Valria's older sister. Also slender, golden-haired and fair-skinned - but a head shorter, noticeably wider in the shoulders, more lean than graceful. And most importantly - not an elf. The hair gathered in a ponytail left open ears - ordinary, human. The girl sat with her arms folded across her chest, her face and dark green eyes expressed serene calmness. She answered Carlon's greeting with a nod.
- Good morning, Mr. Sandr. - The elf sat down opposite the old man, so that Carlon had to sit down on the bench next to him. - You already know me, but I'll introduce myself again. I am the captain of the "Bright Heads" mercenary company Valria, daughter of Valtryt. This, - she pointed to the green-eyed girl, - is my second-in-command, Company Sergeant Dallan an Balran.
The old man raised his eyebrows. "And he knows the Old Elven language," the mage immediately understood. "Dallan an Balran" from the literary elvish language was translated as "The ninth of eight." Of course, it could not be a name, especially a human one.
- And, finally, our third partner, a military magician of the third stage, master Karlon. - The elf threw up her hands. - He is from the middle class, therefore without a surname.
- Specialization - support on the first line, - added Carlon, already habitually suppressing an outburst of irritation. - But over the years of post-war practice, I have mastered a lot outside of my specialty.
- Very nice. - The old man replied without a smile.
- Well, since we all know each other now, let's talk about business issues. - Valria leaned over the table and unscrewed the bronze candlestick hanging on the wall in two movements. Taking a bottle stopper from her pocket, she plugged the auditory hole hidden behind the candlestick. Mr. Sandr nodded approvingly, put a tiny hourglass on the table. The clock exuded magical energy. Carlon immediately recognized them as a simple amulet against eavesdropping and peeping. However, simple does not mean cheap.
- We are talking about big money, - the old man began right off the bat, looking only at Valria. - This is one of the reasons why I turned to you. I need honest and reliable people, and your reputation in this regard is impeccable. And the small number of your "company" is only for the better. The detachment is in this room at full strength, isn't it?
- Even in the expanded one, - the elf girl nodded. - Master Carlon on a one-time contract.
- So much the better, - repeated Mr. Sandr.
- I want to remind. - Valria leaned forward with a serious look. - My company's impeccable reputation is largely based on the fact that we don't take on the dirty work. All within the laws of the Duchy and the Empire. I also reserve the right to refund the advance and terminate the task at any time.
- I know, - the old man assured, lowering his chin a little. - I was making inquiries about you, and we already talked yesterday... Nothing illegal or morally dubious. So, if really...
There was a knock on the door, and Sandr interrupted himself in mid-sentence. The servant who came in put a dish of baked mutton ribs on the table, and a jug of wine sat next to it. Valria immediately grabbed one rib from the dish, dug her teeth into the flesh, tore off a piece, chewed it. By some miracle, she managed not to stain her gloves or even her lips.
- All my life I thought that elves do not eat meat, - Mr. Sandr remarked, not without curiosity.
- Only those who worship the old forest gods, - Valria explained without looking up at him. "Again, she didn't really eat for a couple of days," Carlon realized. "She spent the last of her money on new gloves. Here is the windy head ... ". - Even among them, only the most pious. I am anointed by birth in the temple of the One Creator, so no problem.
She took another bite and with her mouth full asked:
- You go on, I'm listening.
- So, I represent one of the major merchants of our duchy, - the old man began. - Who exactly is not important. Not so long ago, an interesting paper fell into the hands of my owner. Do you know that ten years ago, during the war, the line of contact between the troops of the Empire and the Western Coalition passed along the western border of our duchy?
- Of course. Now there is the beginning of the neutral zone.
- And it was there that the imperial troops broke through the defenses of the Coalition, wedged into the lands of the Iderling kingdom. Why did this happen? - The old man took a jug and poured himself some wine - a little, literally for a couple of sips. - Because the kingdom owes the troops a year's salary. The Iderling generals promised that the money would soon arrive from the capital and that the soldiers would finally be paid. But the money didn't show up. Riots began, desertion began - and the Empire took advantage of this. However, the money did exist. They just didn't get into the troops.
- And not because they were plundered by royal officials, am I right? - The elf took another rib, but did not eat. Now the girl did not hide her interest. Her silent friend, without further questions, shifted the rest of the meat onto two plates, served them to the magician and the guest, leaving nothing for herself. Carlon shook his head and handed the plate back to the green-eyed girl. She lowered her eyelids for a moment, expressing her gratitude.
- You're right, captain. - Mr. Sandr was not interested in food either. - My master has obtained a secret report from the royal office that the salaries for an entire army were secretly delivered to the front line, in one of the strongholds of the kingdom, in the midst of battles. From the fort the money was to be sent to different regiments. But this did not happen. The fort was suddenly attacked by imperial troops, and a battle ensued in which both sides used now-forbidden forms of magic. The fort was destroyed, however, and the attackers were killed almost all. The retreating Imperials did not take any trophies. The area around the fort became very dangerous for humans. Now this place is the very heart of the no man's land. We have every reason to believe that the gold is still there. Somewhere in the cellars of the fortress.
- And the gold belongs to the kingdom. - The elf moved her ears, removed the golden bangs that fell on her forehead. - So, from the point of view of imperial laws, it belongs to no one.
- The treasure belongs to the finder, minus the tax to the treasury. - For the first time in the entire conversation, the old man grinned--a very unpleasant grin. It contrasted markedly with the charming smile that never left Valria's lips. - According to my master, the information about the lost salary was hidden by the royal authorities. Iderlings cannot send troops into no man's land to get money. And individual adventurers did not meddle in the fort - the reputation of the place is very bad.
- But do you think we'll go there? - the girl put the baked rib aside, intertwined her fingers in front of her face.
- Why not? - The old man threw up his hands. - In ten years outdoors, any dangerous magic will wear off. The living creatures there are probably unpleasant, but no one is forcing you to fight with it. I don't expect the three of you to haul a cartload of gold from a dangerous area. Your task is reconnaissance. Find out what condition the fort is in, whether there is gold, where exactly it is stored, whether access to it is free. Are there any other valuables worth grabbing. After your report, I will assemble a larger expedition and send it out for prize. You will receive one percent of any profit from this case. Well, I will not count every coin in the chests, of course. I hope you have roomy pockets ...
- Prepaid expense? - the elf asked shortly. The tips of her sharp ears began to move again - they trembled lightly.
- Three gold crowns ahead. - Mr. Sandr laid out the coins on the table without unnecessary ceremony. The girl immediately moved them to her, handed one to her partner, the other to the magician. Said:
- Well, perhaps we agree. - She glanced at her partners one by one. - Do we agree?
The sergeant nodded silently. During the conversation, she managed to gnaw on the ribs and now looked even more serene and indifferent than usual. Carlon stroked his beard:
- In principle, I agree... But I would like to know in advance what kind of magical threats may be encountered in the area of the fort.
- After signing the contract, I will provide you with all the information that my master could get, - Mr. Sandr promised.
- Perfect! - the elf exclaimed with sudden enthusiasm, clapping her hands. - Get paper and pen. And Mr. Sandr...
- Yes captain?
- You still don't eat, I'll take your ribs?...
Chapter 2
The rest of the day and the whole evening the company spent on replenishing supplies. Valria exchanged one of the gold coins in the ducal bank and divided the silver into three parts. The purchase of provisions was undertaken by the elf herself - here she could be completely trusted. The sergeant went to the street of gunsmiths, but Carlon had to pretty much wander around the city, since the shops he needed were located in different quarters. The consumables associated with the craft of a magician were always the most expensive, and in order not to be left with an empty wallet, he had to be resourceful. In other circumstances, the master would save money - he could brew some useful elixirs himself, for example, from cheaper raw materials. However, there was no time for that now. The captain, fired up with enthusiasm, was about to set out in the morning. Seeing the radiant face of this pointy-eared adventurer, the magician was filled with foreboding. Again - as always, when he had to work with her. On the one hand, these forebodings were invariably justified. On the other hand, he is still alive, and so is the elf. Maybe it's not so bad...
Before going to bed, putting on glasses in a thick tin frame, Carlon read the papers handed over by the customer, dedicated to the purpose of their journey. Nothing particularly interesting was found in them. The pre-war stone fort was once a border fortress, then became a stronghold for the royal armies. A standard set of protective charms and amulets for its time. During the siege, the Imperials used a wide range of combat spells. But what it all turned into now, years later, even a magician more inquisitive than Carlon would not have undertaken to predict. Recordings were interrupted by an unsuccessful assault. After, obviously, no one followed the ruins of the fortress. Expeditions to those places, if any, did not leave any reports. Or the customer simply did not get to them.
After reading everything twice, the master blew out the candles, hid the glasses in a leather case and lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling beam. The thought was circling in his head that it was not too late to refuse. In the end, he is exhausted from the last contract, and he still has money. But ... with great reluctance, Carlon admitted to himself that he himself was interested in how everything would turn out. But what the magician did not admit was that he did not want to let the restless elf go on a dangerous task without supervision. Carlon drove this thought into the farthest corner of the subconscious and rammed there with his feet until he fell asleep.
The company failed to meet in the morning at the agreed place. With the first rays of the sun, an imperial dragon barge entered the city port, and the quarters adjacent to the embankment were tightly blocked. Firstly, there was no need to give the Coalition spies an extra opportunity to see the pride of the imperial fleet, and secondly, so that the dragons nesting on the barge would not devour someone. There have already been precedents. For a time, even local loaders were kicked out of the docks, and they stifled their drink in the halls of taverns, the fire of the Imperials, for a little while. Carlon rode for an hour on horseback through the free streets until he noticed a familiar golden-haired head flashing at the crossroads.
- While they were waiting for you, we managed to have breakfast for the second time, - Valria informed the magician who caught up with them. - All goes to good.
Both mercenaries led by horses - Dallan had a tall gray stallion, the elf, of course, had a snow-white thin-legged mare with a long mane. Getting ready to go, Valria added to her costume a light blue cloak and a brown hat with a dashingly folded brim on the right. The hat was decorated with a magnificent white feather and a round copper medallion on a ribbon. The same locket that Carlon had mentioned the previous morning. An insanely expensive and stunningly useless magical toy with the sole function of keeping the hat owner's hair clean in all conditions and never tangled. The former war mage knew exactly how much such a medallion cost, and how much it cost to recharge it every month - for him this served as more proof of Valria's empty head.
Unlike her partner, the sergeant completely changed her outfit. The green-eyed girl was dressed in a rather tight-fitting dark blue suit of a jacket with a stiff stand-up collar and trousers girded with a narrow belt. A light silver cuirass with a blue notch pattern covered only the chest and upper back, there were no shoulder pads and a lower plate protecting the stomach - although they could be attached to it. On the hands of the girl were long, to the elbow, leather gloves, reinforced with thin metal plates on the back of the hand and gaiters, which made them look like gauntlets, on her feet were high boots, also reinforced with metal in front. Moreover, silvery plates, looking like hoplite greaves, rose above the tops, covering the knees. Complementing the outfit is the same as the captain's light blue cloak, fastened to the cuirass with gilded clasps.
- All is ready? the mage asked, exchanging nods with the sergeant.
- Of course. - The elf unhooked a square bag from the saddle, handed it to the dismounted Carlon. - Your share of gourmet delicacies. I personally tried crackers - they don't serve them on the duke's table, I assure you.
- I have no doubts, - the master chuckled. - And this is for you.
He handed the elf three enchanted crossbow bolts, all bronze-tipped, of course. Iron and its derivatives, such as steel, do not tolerate any magic near them. Two arrows sported bright scarlet plumage, one blue.
- Fire and ice, - the girl nodded with a satisfied look, hiding the arrows in a case on her belt. - There was no wind?
- No, but I ordered for the future. I know how much you love them. They promised to deliver in a week. Now in the duchy they only conjure on fire, everything else is imported from the Empire. The demand is small.
They went on foot to the outpost in the suburbs, already on the merchant road they climbed into the saddles. Soon they had to turn off the well-worn road, and for several hours the small company made its way through the copses, moving away from the sea. The elf tried to entertain her companions with chatter about all sorts of nonsense, and she succeeded so much in this that Carlon began to have a headache at the mere sound of her voice. Unable to stand it, the magician tried to interrupt his companion:
- Listen, did you manage to make inquiries about our customer? At least some? You also have connections in the merchant guild and in the town hall.
- I tried, but to no avail, - Valria shrugged her shoulders. - In one evening, at least, I did not learn anything.
- So maybe it was worth the delay?
- Why? - the girl with a surprised look put two fingers to the tip of her nose and moved her sharp ears. Do you think we are being deceived?
Carlon took a deep breath. The elf smiled back.
- Do not worry. Even if there is no gold in the fort, or if it is a trap, the adventure will turn out great. And that's the most important thing, right?
- You do understand, - the magician said slowly, looking at the mane of his horse, - that this is precisely the reason why you have only two people in your company? And no one, except Dallan and me, agrees to go under your command even for gold?
- I don't need more, - the girl assured. - It's not my fault that the emperor's military cabinet does not issue patents for free detachments smaller than a company. I don't want to join someone else's group. But they turn to me with such orders, with which they don't go to ordinary mercenaries. And this, you see, is great.
Carlon was about to vigorously disagree, but changed his mind at the last moment. However, after these words, Valria took out a huge biscuit from her bag and began to gnaw it, gracefully pouring crumbs into the palm of her hand - which means that blissful silence reigned temporarily. The trio arrived at the border of the Duchy of Elvart just before sunset. Determining where the no man's land begins was not difficult even without border posts. Behind the wanderers, another forest was green, lush grass was rippling in the wind - and in front of them the ground was bare. Here and there, the blackened trunks of dead trees stuck out, which for the past ten years had not been touched by rot. In obedience to an old military habit, Carlon ran his fingers along the sling of equipment. Attached to the straps that crisscrossed his chest were pockets of amulets and flat leather flasks of potions. The magician remembered how during the war years some young dandies wore glass bottles like that. It was fun for them to fall prone under enemy fire. Especially on the hard rocky ground, baked from the blows of fiery magic. In addition, a wide infantry cleaver hung on the belt of the master, which did not need to be checked.
The magician's companions also rattled their weapons without further ado. Sergeant Dallan, in addition to her long sword, took with her a hunting spear, now strapped to the saddle. This spear with a thick shaft and a crossbar behind the point was created for hunting big game, but in the Deadlands it will always find use too. Attached to Valria's saddle was an elven infantry crossbow. It differed from the imperial army crossbow, which fell out of use with the advent of gunpowder, by a complex mechanism for instantly pulling the bowstring. Another crossbow, a small cavalry one, with a flat magazine for five arrows, the girl constantly kept on her knees. On her left hip she dangled a bag-quiver with ordinary arrows, on her right - with enchanted ones. Behind the back, under the cloak, a case for two five-shot magazines was attached to the belt. Finally, at the pommel of the saddle was fixed a light long sword, fashionable among the nobles of the Empire, more suitable for thrusting than for any other fencing techniques.
- Shouldn't we be up for the night right now? - Carlon asked. - It's getting dark.
- No, I planned the route on purpose, - the elf shook her chin. - We'll drive for a couple more hours, set up camp at sunset. Close to the border Deadlands are not too dangerous. But if we move out in the morning, we will get to the fort before dark. This is more important.
The magician did not argue, and gave the horse a leg. The neutral zone met the wanderers with deceptive calmness. They plunged unhindered into the scorched lands, easily found a convenient hollow in which they set up camp when the sun's disk touched the horizon. Dry tree trunks rose around, but the travelers made a fire from the firewood they brought with them - it was not worth touching the trees in the Deadlands without extreme need. The bonfire was a worthwhile risk--the fire might draw unwanted attention to the camp, but it also served as a defense against far more potential dangers. While Carlon was cooking porridge in a camping pot, the elf dozed off, putting a rolled up blanket under her head and covering her face with a hat. Her friend devoted her free time to sword exercises. Without taking off her armor, the sergeant entered into a duel with several invisible opponents at once - and the magician only had to feel sorry for the girl's imaginary enemies. Usually, against the background of Valria, the swordswoman seemed less feminine, a little rough - but in battle this feeling disappeared. Each movement of Dallan was not only swift, but also graceful, each swing of the sword - verified to the split second. The master had no idea where the girl came from and what she did before meeting the elf friend, but he had no doubt that she had a personal fencing teacher. And that in itself can say a lot.
- Your sword is quite light, sergeant, - the mage finally noticed. Unlike Valria, he addressed the sergeant as a real military officer - he himself did not know why. Maybe because of her calm and serious nature. - Do you always hold it with both hands?
- Almost always, - the green-eyed girl replied calmly, without stopping. She didn't seem to be afraid to hold her breath. The girl's voice was low and soft, almost velvety. In this, she also differed from her partner. - Most of my opponents are stronger than me.
- However, if necessary, you can hold it with one hand?
- Yes. But I will quickly get tired, and the blows will be weaker. - As if to confirm her words, the girl made several stabbing attacks with her right hand, deftly threw the weapon into her left palm, and repeated the movements. She was quick and agile, even in a cuirass, but she really could hardly have pierced chain mail or leather armor with such injections.
- And the dagger? I haven't seen you practice with it in your left hand.
- I usually use the dagger separately when there is no sword. - The sergeant suddenly spun on her heels and froze, looking at the interlocutor. She put the blade on her shoulder. - But my left hand is also "working", I can deflect blows with it.
- How? - this conversation with Dallan was the longest for all the time of their acquaintance, and the magician asked the question more to continue the conversation than out of curiosity.
Instead of answering, the girl simply clenched her fingers into a fist and raised it, demonstrating the steel plate sewn onto the glove - from the wrist and almost to the elbow.
- Any serious blow, even with the bluntest blade, it will not withstand.
- My bones will not withstand a serious blow, they are too thin and fragile. - The swordswoman seemed to smile slightly. He wouldn't vouch for it - but the corners of her lips lifted for a moment, and something flashed in her eyes. - But the sliding one can be deflected, or simply deflect someone else's blade without the risk of cutting yourself.
- The porridge is ready. It's going to burn now, - the elf said muffledly from under the hat, and Carlon had to interrupt the conversation in order to remove the cauldron from the fire.
After supper they divided the watch. Valria was the first on the clock, her friend was the last. Carlon got the darkest hours before and after midnight. He didn't mind - it really was the right thing to do. At the appointed time, the elf woke him up by grabbing his nose with two fingers and tugging. Having listened to the well-deserved curses on her head, the girl climbed under the covers and immediately sniffed comfortably with her nose, putting her gloved hand on the butt of a magazine crossbow. The magician began to walk around the fire, sometimes throwing pieces of wood into it. The sky remained clear, but the young crescent of the moon gave almost no light. Outside the circle, lit by the fire, the darkness seemed impenetrable. Carlon was tempted to use the owl's eye spell to see through the darkness, but maintaining it required an expenditure of energy that should be saved for tomorrow. At some point, the master found himself sweating, and goosebumps ran down his back. "What nonsense. - he thought. - Like a rookie. You went through the war, what are you afraid of?" But the goosebumps turned into anxiety, anxiety turned into real fear. Carlon froze, clutching the cleaver handle in a sweaty palm. Outside the circle of light, something flickered, and there was a rustle, reminiscent of the steps of soft paws. The magician choked with horror, was dumbfounded ... and closed his eyes, hastily building a barrier in his mind. "You've let your guard down, fool! - he scolded himself. - Discipline of the mind!". The master could have understood earlier that the creeping fear that penetrated his soul was not real. Someone watching him from the darkness was trying to paralyze the mage with terror or send him into a stampede. After all, a person running without looking back is a convenient victim.
- Oh, you scum - whispered Carlon. Still standing like a pillar, not letting go of the handle of the cleaver, he cast a sidelong glance at his companions. The girls slept peacefully. Getting into the mind of a sleeping person is even easier, but this requires a completely different gift, from a different sphere of magical talents. So it's best not to wake them up. The master focused on his own feelings - and at the same moment an invisible wall, exposed around his mind, seemed to be hit by a cast-iron cannonball from a siege bombard. The magician grimaced at the phantom pain, clutching his head in his hands. The blow was full of wild, raw power - and Carlon realized that he was not dealing with a man. One of the rare creatures, endowed with innate abilities to manipulate the mind, crept up to the fire. That's because he was "lucky" - there are only a few such creatures in the neutral zone. A predator that preys on thought intrusion is both better and worse than a mage with the same powers. Carlon realized that he could not withstand another blow - his composure would collapse. Because the magician ... removed all the barriers and let the enemy inside. It hurt--it hurt like hell. It's like voluntarily sticking an arrow in your stomach. Having let the predator dive into his soul, Carlon began to build new walls - but not in front of him, but around him. A former war mage was building a labyrinth. Memories, feelings, emotions became the material for the walls. The night hunter darted among them, more and more lost - powerful, but stupid. When the beast was completely confused, Carlon parted his lips and croaked:
- Val... Valria! Va...
It seemed to the magician that he was whispering - but both girls instantly woke up from his words. Seeing how the master stands, staggering and holding his head, the elf jerked the lever of the crossbow, cocked the bowstring, and only after that she threw back the blanket. The sergeant was already on her feet, blade drawn in her hand. She even managed to put on her boots.
- There... - Carlon waved his hand in the direction where, as it seemed to him, the enemy was hiding. - Kill... quick...
The sergeant gave a short nod and plunged into the darkness without hesitation. The elf followed her with a crossbow at the ready. For another minute or two, the magician held the beast in a trap, then experienced a flash of sharp pain - someone else's pain. And contact with the mind of the night hunter was interrupted. Groaning, the magician fell to his knees. Convulsively, he felt for the necessary flask on the bandage, tore off the cap with his teeth, greedily drank a portion of the elixir that strengthens the nerves. By this time, the mercenaries had returned to the camp. Dallan carried in her free hand a large bundle that was dripping. Judging by the size, someone's head could fit in the bundle. Valria hurried to the magician, bent over him, took him by the shoulders. She asked without hiding her concern:
- How are you?
- I'm going to be sick now, - the master admitted, dropping to his heels. - I'm too old for this...
- Was it alone? This creature?
- If there was a flock, I would notice.
- Then lie down and sleep. - The girl helped him up and led him to his bed. - Right now. We'll take care.
- I... yes, perhaps, - the magician muttered in a slurred tongue. - Necessary. But if you suddenly feel... yourself ...
- I'll wake you up right away, - the elf promised, laying him on the blankets. Without any warning, the girl leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead. - Sleep well.
And although Carlon absolutely knew that the captain of the "Bright Heads did" not have a spark of magical talents, her kiss still seemed to have some kind of magical qualities. During the war, after such fights, the master was tormented by nightmares for weeks. This time he fell asleep instantly, and slept soundly, dreaming of something very pleasant - although in the morning he could not remember what it was...
Chapter 3
The night incident did not affect the plans of the detachment in any way. The elf woke Carlon in the dark, in a surprisingly merciful way - the captain carried a bowl of hot stew in front of his nose until the magician woke up from the smell. The travelers had breakfast and gathered quickly in order to move out at dawn and not lose an hour of daytime. Nevertheless, as soon as it began to get light, the first thing the master did was go to check on the corpse of their intruder. Apparently, once upon a time it was an ordinary domestic pig. Or one of the creature's ancestors was a pig. Pigs, of course, do not have a bone sting on the tail and small black scales instead of a skin, but in general the origin of the creature was still guessed. Carlon spat heartily at the decapitated remains before returning to camp. The girls were already in the saddles and were talking in an undertone about something, waiting for him. Taking his place in the saddle, the magician grumbled:
- If such "pigs" wander around in one day's march from the border, it's time for someone in the ducal palace to point to the gallows. Where are the patrols looking?
- I think it wandered in here recently in search of prey, - Valria shrugged. - Perhaps it was driven from his familiar places by someone bigger. I would look for traces - where the beast came from, was there one... I think I will return here after, if the military office gives an order for an investigation.
- We have proof. - Sergeant Dallan leaned over and patted the tightly zipped leather bag in which she had hidden the creature's head. - But it will soon start to stink.
- Then let's not delay. Forward! - the elf raised her hand theatrically and hit the horse with her heels - she did not wear spurs.
The sun rose to its zenith, and the detachment crossed the wasteland scorched by magic in a chain. The relatively safe "doors" of the neutral zone ended, the group went deeper into the very heart of the lands unfriendly to all living things. The company was led by Valria, unusually attentive and silent. The elf vigilantly looked around and listened - it was noticeable by the way the sharp tips of her long ears rose and fell. The girl constantly kept a loaded infantry crossbow on her knees. The second was the magician. Watching the captain from under half-closed eyelids, the master listened more to his inner feelings. He was not afraid to miss a material threat, relying entirely on his companions. Dallan closed the short column. The sergeant unhooked the spear from her saddle and placed it across the pommel.
The farther, the less monotonous the terrain became. There was no grass, but a tough thorny bush appeared, creeping along the ground, in places braiding dead trees. They had to dodge - in the thickets, horses could easily prick their legs into blood. From time to time there were crumbling ditches, funnels smoothed by time, round and elongated mounds of different heights. Some of them were mass graves, some were the remains of field fortifications. Once the detachment came across a completely normal-looking grove of two dozen young trees - healthy, with lush crowns. In their shadow, an equally ordinary lawn turned green, a spring spouted from the ground. A kind of oasis in the middle of the desert. The company traveled around this place in a wide arc. Valria looked over her shoulder for a long time, as if expecting the trees to give chase.
An hour later they got into trouble again. In appearance, the dry plain did not change a bit, but blue lightning the size of a fingernail danced around the magnificent white feather on the elf's hat. Carlon closed his eyes - and found that he continued to see lightning through his lowered eyelids. One of the signal wards in his baldric began to heat up. The magician pulled out a copper plate of the amulet, looked at it, hiding it from the blinding sun in his palms. Transparent pebbles set in copper shimmered the same color as lightning. Their light was also visible through the eyelids.
- We are not going further, - the master said resolutely to his companions. They turned their horses around without question. They had to return in their tracks and set a new detour, losing more than half an hour on this - but no one reproached the magician with a word. Valria gave him a questioning look as they walked, but Carlon just shook his head and there were no questions.
It was well past noon, and the captain sometimes stood up in her stirrups, looking for a convenient place to stop for lunch. But the bush fields and groves of dead trees looked too inhospitable. So, at the request of the elf, Dallan distributed crackers and thin pieces of dried meat to the detachment, which were eaten right on the go. While eating, the wanderers let their guard down a little and almost ran into a strange structure. Across their route, something like ship frames stuck out of the ground - two rows of black beams, curved towards each other. Only when he got close to them, Carlon realized that these were not beams ...
- Those are ribs, - Valria voiced his thoughts aloud. - Dragon ribs.
The elfess jumped down to the ground, walked over to the giant bones. Ignoring the warning exclamation of the magician, she put her hand on one of the ribs. She said quietly, without turning around:
- Poor fellow... Very young...
The dragon, judging by the size of the skeleton, was really small, almost a teenager. In any case, by the standards of land breeds. Most of the bones were covered with earth, even the skull was not visible. But to Carlon's surprise, Valria's voice trembled, as if she were standing over the body of a kinsman. The tips of the girl's ears drooped.
- Probably shot down during the war, - the master said the first thing that came to mind.
- Yes, probably ... - the elf agreed. She walked along the skeleton to the last ribs, examined something there, beckoned to her companions. The magician dismounted, approached, leading the horse by the bridle. He saw what Valria was considering. Where the last ribs should have been, two short stumps protruded from the cracked soil. The edges of the cuts had not yet had time to darken, the bone seemed yellowish-white.
- Someone was here recently. - The girl sat down and carefully touched the cut with thin fingers, tightened into the thick leather of the glove. - A loner or a small detachment like ours, otherwise they would have taken everything away. Dragonbone is valued...
- Or someone scared them off, - Dallan put in. The sergeant remained in the saddle, ready to shield her comrades from any threat.
- Yes, or someone scared. - The elf straightened up. Her voice has already changed. - But mind you, there are no tools lying around. So they left without panic.
- Traces? - Carlon asked. Instead of answering, the girl hit the ground with her heel. She stepped back so that the barely noticeable dent, knocked out by the blow, became visible, ironically asked:
- Here? If we stay until the evening, I'll find something, I promise.
Of course, they did not linger - on the contrary, they increased their pace. After the dead dragon, they came across a broken artillery battery - perhaps even the dragon died attacking it. Cannon carriages, baskets of earth and palisade stakes rotted away, now the battery was a long earthen rampart, from which in some places protruded bombards eaten by rust.
- Judging by where the guns are looking, we are going to the battlefield, - said Carlon.
- Do you know what kind of battle was here? - Valria moved her horse to a walk, took out a flask of water.
- I have no idea. I fought in the south.
- The Imperial Seventh Army, supported by two cavalry corps of the Duchy, has stopped the advance of the army of the Royal Marshal de Abrozzi, - Dallan announced unexpectedly. - With the marshal were the king's plate cavalry, mercenary infantry from both republics, and a dozen dragonriders. Probably the one we saw is one of them.
- Do you remember the battle plan? - the elf girl clarified, pretending that she did not enjoy Carlon's surprise at all, but simply unscrewed the tight cap.
- No, I'm sorry.
- Then we don't know how wide the dead field is. - After drinking a couple of sips, Valria put away her flask, adjusted the quiver at her belt. - One more detour and we won't reach the fort before dusk. We're going straight. Scientist man, what do you think?
- In ten years, there are hardly corpse-eaters out there. - Carlon scratched his head. - Spirits, ghosts, petty demons won't appear in daylight. My opinion is that the risk is justified.
- Here you go. - The elf touched the brim of her hat with a smile. - Now if something happens, it's not all my fault. We can keep going.
A sure sign that a battle had once taken place in these parts was not the bones of fallen warriors, not scattered shields, helmets, fragments of armor, broken swords and spears, arrows sticking out of the ground. No, ten years later, the remains of the battle were mostly traces of excavations. Even here, in the neutral zone, those wishing to profit from the property of the dead penetrated. Some of the rectangular pits dug by the marauders had collapsed, others looked quite fresh.
- You know ... - Carlon said slowly, looking around. - I take back my words. Corpse-eaters can still be found here. They have something to eat.
- Yeah. - Valria didn't even let out a taunt about it. She drew back her infantry crossbow, unfastened both quiver-bags at her hips. Taking a large crossbow in her hands, she put the repeating crossbow on her knees and now controlled the horse with her legs.
The company probably reached the middle of the dead field, when something flashed on their right in the thickets of thorns. Despite the risk, the captain deviated from the direct path, wishing to know what it was. It turned out that the trunk of an arquebus lying on the ground was shining. There were no other traces of a person nearby - just a gun on the ground, that's all.
- Not rusty, - Carlon frowned.
The elf leaned out of the saddle, deftly picked up the arquebus, miraculously not losing her hat, and handed the trophy to her partner. She sniffed the section of the barrel, examined the matchlock, the gun stock. Ran a verdict:
- They shot from it. Not later than at night. There is a drop of blood on the butt. Haven't been able to reload.
- We can't help the owner of this thing, - Valria sighed. - Company, in battle order.
The detachment formed a wedge. Dallan was now leading the group, the mage and the elf moving behind her, keeping an eye on the flanks. The far part of the dead field was overgrown with bushes so densely that it was necessary to let the horses through, despite their plaintive neighing. Valria was turning her head more and more anxiously, spinning her ears like her white horse. Finally, she raised her clenched fist.
- Stop!
When the detachment stopped, the girl pulled out an enchanted arrow with scarlet plumage from her quiver and put it into her crossbow. She said cheerfully, with a slight smile:
- They are here. They creep, but I hear them in the bushes. A few behind, the rest on the sides. Ahead is quiet, only stinks of rot.
- They are leading us into an ambush, - Dallan nodded, removing a spear from her saddle pommel.
- Do you have a plan? - Carlon said it in such a way that Valria immediately understood that he was quite sure that she had no plan. Usually such a tone acted on the elf like a hole in a pentagram - on an imprisoned demon.
- Of course I have! - the girl pulled the cloak over her shoulder, stroked the bow of the crossbow. - We break through the right flank, go around the ambush and leave at a gallop. First I lead, then you, Dallan, and I cover. Carlon constantly stays in the center, helps according to circumstances.
- How exactly are we going to break through? - the master frowned.
- Like this. - The elf raised crossbow to her shoulder and pressed the trigger. An enchanted arrow flashed in the air in a red-gold stroke, hit somewhere in the bush a hundred paces from people. It rumbled, a sphere of dark crimson flame grew in the place of impact, burning dry branches flew in different directions.
- Forward! - Valria waved her hand. The sergeant promptly spurred the horse. Her tall warhorse, not noticing the pain from hundreds of needles that dug into his legs, broke a path for the rest in the thorny thickets. The detachment rushed straight to the bald patch scorched by an arrow. At full gallop, Valria managed to hang an infantry crossbow from her saddle and pick up a multi-shot one. Two gray figures of human size darted across the riders. Carlon did not really consider them - one immediately capsized with an arrow in her head, the other tried to block the path of the column, and received a spear in the chest. An inept horseman would have been knocked to the ground by such a blow, because the spear was not created for mounted combat, but Valria's green-eyed friend did not even stagger in the saddle. The corpse-eater flew back into the bushes with a spear wedged between its ribs, a rider in silver armor rushed past, drawing her sword. Other hunters howled behind them, realizing that their prey had deceived them. Branches crackled - the flock rushed in pursuit. But the flames also crackled - the dry thorn burned perfectly, in many places where the smoldering pieces of bushes fell, small fires took place. It could be played with. Carlon removed the flask marked with the required letter from the sling, pulled off the cap, spat inside, plugged the neck and threw the vessel over his left shoulder. Ten seconds later, the flask exploded, creating a cloud of black smoke, impenetrable and terribly acrid. The cloud stretched out to the sides, creating a barrier a hundred steps wide and fifty steps deep.