Готовый перевод Общий файл / Does Force Bind to Responsibility?: Глава 11

Глава 11

There was a quiet panic in the village.

A few days earlier, when the former captives of the cruel "master" of the place had come to the settlement, the herbalist's daughter, Annika, had raved about the noble monsters. About how the good monsters had defeated the evil men and set the unfortunates free. The usual unbelievable tale of miraculous salvation. The only difference was that the heroes and villains switched places.

No one shared Annika's enthusiasm, especially her mother, and for good reason.

Once upon a time, she happened to fall into the hands of goblins. She was one of several people dragged by the evil creatures into their settlement. It was pure luck that she survived: when it was her turn to be roasted alive, the adventurers came to the green-skinned lair on a punitive mission. And though many years have passed since then, every moment of captivity was vivid in the memory of the elderly woman.

Her daughter was incredibly lucky to be alive, and it was a blessing. The mother can only hope that Annika will not encounter any more monsters. Let the child believe in fairy tales if she wants to. And let those fairy tales remain fairy tales.

Nothing remarkable happened in a few days. The new arrivals were put to work, and life began to fall into a routine. But one fine early morning the fisherman Palt returned much earlier than usual. The man, disheveled, exhausted, ran into the village and collapsed on the ground, shouting.

"Monsters are coming!"

At first no one understood what he meant. Of course, to be on the safe side, the gate was closed immediately, and a patrol was set up. Who knows - what if wolves or other magical beasts. The fisherman was examined, but there were no wounds, and even his clothes were no more shabby than usual. The boy just kept repeating like a maniac.

"They're coming here. They're coming for us."

The headman, looking at the panic brewing - and how could he not, considering where they lived - shook Palt by the scruff of the neck.

"Hey, stop being hysterical. Who goes where, why?"

Palt just looked at the crowd with goofy eyes and kept repeating.

"They're coming here, now we're really screwed. The end. It's over."

A bucket of water brought by one of the villagers helped. After being doused with ice-cold water, Palt came to his senses somehow.

"Well?" the headman asked angrily.

"Ah... I was on my way to check my fishing gear, and when I got to the river, they were already there. Huge goblins, huge, even taller than me. I ran, but they caught up with me, I thought that was it. I was scared shitless, and their leader asked me who I was and where I was from. I told him, and he let me go and told me to tell everyone that they would be here soon."

"Just like that?" The headman was incredulous.

The case was very strange. Goblins never let go of their prey. No goblins, no half-human from these parts would do that. Maybe the ogres could, but they lived at the other end of the forest. And there's no mistaking them for goblins.

"Yeah," Palt replied. "I told you, they let me go and tell everybody. Told they were coming this way."

"When are they coming?"

"They said this afternoon."

By this time all the villagers had gathered in the village square. Everyone dropped everything and decided to find out what was causing such a commotion in the village. Those who arrived later missed the beginning, but from the words of the others, they also had a rough idea of what had happened.

In the silence that followed the last words, a child's voice rang out.

"I know them, they saved us all!"

The headman barked angrily at Hannah.

"Get your child out of here! It's no time for her ramblings now."

Annika started to speak again, but her mother shushed her and led her into the house. The girl tried to object, but received a slap and start criing.

As he watched the mother and daughter depart, the headman glanced at the crowd. A hundred and fifty people, not counting those who had hidden in their homes with their children. An aging falsetto was heard from the crowd.

"And I told you that Akuro was protecting us! You were all so happy that he was dead, and now there's no one to protect us!"

"Shut up, you idiot!" the headman was furious. "Shut up, or I swear I'll choke you myself."

He looked again at the crowd.

"I know what you're thinking. But we have nowhere to run, and even if we did, we wouldn't get far. The only hope is that these monsters can talk. Maybe we can convince them to leave us alone. And if not, well, let's fight back. We all have something to defend. We've had enough of one bastard slave-trader."

There was no determination in the villagers' eyes, there was a murmur, but the headman had known them for a long time. There was really nowhere to go, almost all of them had families and young children. Even if nothing happened on the way, who would welcome them in neighboring settlements? And those who would be ready to leave their families and run away by themselves were not here.

Of course, everyone wanted to believe that everything would be all right. But it was the second time in a few days that the mysterious monsters had made themselves known. And this time, they sent a very concrete sign that people wouldn't be left alone.

The headman looked firmly at the people.

"Take anything you can use as a weapon. Axes, pitchforks, stakes, everything. Take it and go up the wall."

People began to return to their homes with a grim grumble. The stronger men and women returned, armed with pitchforks, scythes, and other tools that could be used as weapons. After an hour, fewer than a hundred people had gathered on and under the walls. The mood was far from rosy.

The headman shook his head sorrowfully. He disapproved of those who had chosen to hide and wait, hoping for a miracle. Condemned, but understood.

A tense wait ensued. By noon the panic had subsided, and that was understandable. He hoped that no one would show up, no matter what Pelt had said or what he himself had been told.

At noon the monsters came.

From around the bend in the road, humanoid creatures appeared. They were tall, broad-shouldered, and lumpy with muscles. Almost all were bare-chested, their thighs covered by some sort of wide pants or skirt of tattered leather. Each carried an axe, and some even two. The headman understood why they were called goblins. Because of the swamp color of their skin and the fangs protruding from their mighty jaws. There was probably nothing else of goblins about them.

The visitors staggered to within striking distance of the walls and paused to stare at the terrified faces of the defenders. They reeked of superiority and overwhelming power. After a couple of minutes of a staring game in which the men were clearly losing, the toughest of them all stepped forward. He came almost close to the gate, looked up, and barked in an articulate voice.

"Who's in charge here?"

All eyes turned to the headman. The headman sighed and climbed the wall at the gate.

"I am in charge here. Who are you and what do you want from us?"

"I am Jay-Gul. We are Orcs. This forest is ours now. And everything near it, along with the villages on the edge, is ours, too."

"The whole forest? There are twenty of you..." said the headman hesitantly.

"There are twenty of us here. There are thousands of us in the forest. You'll soon see that."

There were many whispers. Thousands? Could there be such a thing? Could it be mere bluster?

"Anyway, man. The boss says these lands belong to us now. You can take it and obey us. You can get the hell out of here, we won't chase you. You can fight."

The headman hesitated.

"What will you demand if we agree?"

Now the big guy was thinking. After a short pause, he answered.

"Here will be our camp. You will obey our boss. Share your food if necessary. And we'll protect you."

"Protect from whom?"

"Yes "#; % from everyone. Whoever comes here to fight, gets a "#;%@". Easy."

"Uh... I guess we could discuss the details," the headman began, but the green man interrupted him.

"#@%& the details. I come back tomorrow for an answer."

The orc waved his hand, showing that the conversation was over, and along with the others went on the road back into the woods.

The headman, feeling a hundred stares on him, declared.

"Well," he turned to those present and confidently continued. "Gather all of you in the square tonight. It's not a decision I can make for everyone. We will discuss."

* * *

It took Talik and the rest of the group three days to reach the estate, beyond which lay the Plains of Katze. They walked. Bryce had sold both horse and carriage. When Talik asked why they wouldn't leave a comfortable transport, they looked incredulous at first, but then Daimon explained.

A wagon, of course, is an extremely convenient thing if you travel across the plains and generally in the settled lands. The adventurers, on the other hand, mostly work in the middle of nowhere. In places where it is difficult to walk, let alone ride. No one will carry a horse and cart through impassable swamps, thickets, gorges, and so on. And leaving the transport unattended is the same as throwing it away.

Talik was new to such long hikes. Of course, living in a megalopolis, he sometimes had to walk considerable distances. Still, there was no comparison. In a metropolis you are never alone, there is always something to look at, everything is constantly changing. There are cars whizzing by, advertisements flashing, info boards broadcasting the latest news. You always have access to the Internet with you, either through your implants or a smartphone.

Here everything was much more monotonous and... slower, or something. Without the continuous flow of information from all sides, time was barely stretched out. It had been very easy and natural for Talik to get used to the views of nature a few days ago, and now he felt an acute hunger for information.

He never once felt tired, even after a day on his feet from dawn till dusk. It was boring. His traveling companions saved their breath, and they had known each other for a long time, so they didn't talk much on the way. When they stopped for a night, communication still was limited to the routine. Although it was in the evenings that Talik could stick to Daimon with questions.

This guy didn't know many of the legends of interest to Talik, but he was aware of what was going on in the so-called "now". Talik learned many interesting details. Since Daimon was not prejudiced against any of the continent's countries (well, except the Theocracy), his point of view seemed most complete.

In particular, the aristocracy's relationship to the crown became clearer. No one would obey the king simply because he wanted to. A serious military force had to be attached to the crown. In normal times, the king was supported by the most highborn nobles with their armies. This was enough to ensure the full obedience of the smaller noble families. These smaller clans could, in theory, stand up to the supreme power if they united. However, riven by petty squabbles, mutual distrust, a desire to break out higher, they would not last a few days in one formation. There would have been a squabble for supremacy, at the very least. And betrayal for personal gain.

It would take something really serious to unite the lesser nobles against the crown. And it is the job of a wise king to prevent such a thing.

But that was in ordinary times. Now, in the blessed kingdom of Re-Estiz, there was the same war for power. The king was old and ill, and there were three legitimate candidates, each with his own flair.

The eldest son was supported by the oldest, most militarily reputable families, descendants of those who had once conquered this land. Their military strength on the scale of the kingdom could only compare to their own hubris. The eldest prince himself had neither a great intellect nor any political accomplishments, but he was extremely convenient for the militarists.

The nobility, who made gold and intrigue their weapons, bet on the middle son. This candidate for the throne, unlike the first, did not have much military power under his belt. But this did not make him a mere rival in the struggle for power. His invisible influence extended farther than pikemen and mounted knights could reach.

The third candidate was a princess. Beautiful, as princesses should be, Daimon had even seen her from afar once. As a lady, she had rather low political weight. The nobles viewed her solely as a way to become related to the crown, a one-time card. And yet - she was truly loved by the people. And not just for her pretty eyes. She offered a lot of initiatives aimed at making life easier for the common people. And even if the vast majority of these initiatives were sabotaged at all levels, the part that gained force could not be ignored. For example, the abolition of peasant ownership. The peasant now had the right to leave the vicinity of the village without having to ask the feudal lord for permission. Also, the peasant could now possess the property themselves. There was also a fixed limit of tax penalties in peacetime. The same goes for the legislated duties of feudal lords to maintain order on their lands.

Of course, it could not bring her popularity among the nobility. But it would also be a foolish idea to press directly on a person for whom half the country would rise in one day.

The fact that the king was in no hurry to name a specific heir to the crown added drama to the situation.

Daimon told it all a little differently, but that's the way Talik understood the whole picture.

Rivalry at the top is eternal. Regardless of the world.

During the journey, Talik could hardly keep himself from pestering Era with talk. She had made it clear early on that she was not interested in Talik as a companion. Still, he couldn't help it. Era beckoned him. So intimately unapproachable, a figure concealed by a wide erudition. Rather, she was even closest to the notion of a "normal girl" in Talik's usual sense.

And like any normal girl, she was cold to him. It gnawed him, settling in his chest a rattling mixture of the usual hopelessness and hope.

What attracted him besides sensual interest? Era was a magician, after all. Not a button smasher, but someone who understood how it worked. And though the magic available to her was frankly worthless by the standards of Yggdrassil, her skills were a personal achievement. Talik had decided long ago that once things were back to normal, he would try to get everything she knew about magic out of her.

'Well, yes, I realize she's not the only magician in the world, there are cooler ones. Common sense, fuck off, please. I like her, that's all.'

At the end of the third day, a manor house appeared from the hill. It wasn't as big as Talik had expected, just a three-story building. Two stories of stone, the third of wood. Nearby were several outbuildings. The grounds of the manor are surrounded by a relatively low, one and a half tall, but solid wall with spikes on top. Literally a kilometer from the estate was visible village, rather large by local standards, almost a hundred houses. The village was fenced with a log paling, from which immediately began squares of fields and a couple of orchards.

The travelers breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the gate. There was no problem - the guards clearly knew who they were and why they were here. They were allowed into the courtyard, and after a few minutes, a servant jumped out of the main house, inviting them inside.

Talik noticed that the interior of the house was not particularly bright either. The owner of the house clearly wanted to emphasize his status: there were paintings and tapestries in the corridors, while the reception hall, a huge room two stories high, had carpets and skins decorating the floor and walls. On the walls hung the heads of some beasts and painted weapons. But these efforts did not conceal the wooden floor, the cracks in the walls, the soot where the torches were held.

If he wanted to make an impression, why not do a proper renovation instead of all these decorations?

A large table was already covered with tablecloths in the hall, but there was no food on it yet. At the head of the table sat a thin, aged man with a long moustache.

"I suppose you are the adventurers the guild promised to send. I am Baron Gall, the owner of this region. Sit down. Dinner is almost ready. You can leave your gear at the entrance, they'll take it to your rooms."

The adventurers removed their backpacks and bags and sat down at the table. Daimon crossed his fingers and leaned his elbows on the tabletop.

"I am Daimon, lord Gall, and this is my team, Era, Bryce, and Thaler. If you don't mind, I'd like to get right to the point. I have some questions about your... Contract."

"Do you respect a time? I like that. Ask your questions."

"The order states that we need to catch and kill a necromancer who poses a threat to your region. We can do it much faster if we know some details - who this necromancer is, what he threatens, where he might be. That's it."

Baron thought about it.

"I met this necromancer a month ago. He appeared under the guise of a traveler, a student of the Imperial Academy, who got into trouble and was lost from his caravan. He was an interesting, noble, and open-minded man. I offered him a place to stay with me. A few days later, the peasants began to complain of strange noises from the cemetery. The guards found the graves there desecrated. Of course, I immediately questioned my guest, but he swore that he had had nothing to do with it. Anyway, I asked him to leave my land. He disappeared that night, and some of the villagers saw him heading in the direction of the Katze Plains, and not away from them as one would expect. After that, some dead men rose up in the cemetery and made quite a mess of the village nearby, you could see it."

"The place was consecrated by a high-ranking priest from E-Rantel, and such a thing could not have happened by itself, not even under the influence of the curse of the plains. Nine peasants and two guards died before the threat was neutralized. Now more than forty people are sick with some kind of disease, of which the local herbalist says it is of magical origin. I have sent for the priest; he has not yet deigned to arrive." - He gritted his teeth.

"I made inquiries at the place where this student was supposedly going. They know nothing of this man. I believe that he is responsible for the misfortunes of my lands and wish him dead. If he is alive, he needs a water, food, and a place to sleep. Under these circumstances, I suppose you will have to look close to my settlements. I do not think a living man would be able to go deep into the plains."

" I understand you, Lord Gaul," Daimon replied. "Thank you for the detailed information. We will begin our search tomorrow. Do you have any belongings from your guest? Something he used or, better yet, his personal belongings?"

"No personal belongings left, but I'll instruct the servants to look for something... Lingerie, dishes, maybe we'll find something. Oh, he borrowed a desk set. We'll get it for you."

"It would help a lot in the search, we would appreciate it."

"If you need anything else, let me know right away."

At this time, several servants appeared from the depths of the house with trays. The adventurers, with the exception of Talik, clearly perked up. Era cooked comparatively well... for a camping trip. It couldn't be compared to a well-cooked meal from the kitchen.

And Talik didn't care. He had not yet learned to distinguish between "more tasty" and "less tasty. He was happy to eat anything.

* * *

After dinner, the adventurers gathered in one of the rooms assigned to them. It was like the rest of the manor, simple but pretentious. Era sat on the bed, and the others took the chairs beside it. Daimon paused for a moment and began the 'council'.

"What do you think about it? Surely everyone has an opinion, please share it."

Era raised her hand, and Daimon nodded,

"I'm not sure it would be that easy to find him from a trace of magic. If our target showed any common sense, we won't find invisible traces. And it's hard enough with personal things, and here... I think we should check all the local cemeteries ourselves. I don't know about necromancy, but there might be other clues."

"Got it. Bryce, what do you think?"

"It's nothing new. I'll run through the villages, ask around for the oddities. Bounty hunting, as usual."

"Taler, do you have any thoughts?" Daimon looked intently at the new member of the team.

Thaler chewed his lips, looking away, and then answered.

"I'm new to this, so don't judge me harshly. I... I think the conclusion is premature. To me, his guilt is not obvious, and I think it makes sense to talk to him first."

Bryce snorted.

"That's a lot of coincidencesfor doubts, kid. We might talk to this "traveler," but only if he surrenders. Otherwise, to talk to a hostile mage is only to give him time to kill you."

" I told you, don't judge me harshly. Daimon asked, I answered. Anyway, if it comes to a fight, I know my job very well. You can rely on me."

"Glad to hear it," summed up Daimon. "So, Bryce, you're going on a scouting trip early in the morning. Look through the cemeteries and note where the graves are desecrated, so that we don't waste time."

"I will, leader."

"Era, you try to squeeze something out of the writing set, start today if you're not too tired"

"I was hoping to get some sleep, but okay, I'll get to it now."

"Okay. I'll go talk to the commander of the local soldiers myself. Tell them to be ready for trouble, just in case."

Bryce stretched out skeptically.

"What good are they if the shitty undead killed two of them?"

" Shitty undead?" Daimon raised an eyebrow. "Remind me again how we got beaten up by shitty undead in the Cursed Forests"

"That's different, leader. If the same undead comes in here as out there, I'll fuck such a quest."

Taler could hardly suppress a chuckle, and the others noticed it.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. That sounded so familiar. Don't mind me. Do you have any instructions for me?"

Daimon asked doubtfully.

"Do you have any ideas on how you can help not in combat?"

"Well, I can try to brew some holy water..."

"Holy water?" Three pairs of astonished eyes stared at Taler. "What do you mean?"

Taler was embarrassed.

"Well, in short, to charge the water with Light Power. The undead don't really like to be exposed to such water. It can be useful."

"I've never heard of it, but I'd love to see what you can make," Daimon said with satisfaction. "Do you need any ingredients to make it?"

"A couple of bottles, preferably fragile, so it's easy to break. But I could do with a wineskin, in principle..."

"Bryce quickly unhooked the waterskin from his backpack and handed it to Taler. He accepted and nodded."

"That'll work, I think."

Dimon summed it up.

"Everyone knows what to do. We'll start at dawn. Now, everyone except Era, go to the rooms and sleep."

* * *

Later, as Talik was settling into his assigned room, Spy approached him.

"Your Holiness, forgive me for disturbing you. I think someone is watching this house."

"Talik arched an eyebrow and looked around reflexively."

"Who?"

" I can't tell yet. There, outside the window," the elf pointed upward, "there's a bird flying. It's been following the same route since we arrived. I guess it's the same one, too, I can tell by the feathers."

"Really," Talik said in surprise. "Then check the area around, please. If you find someone suspicious, disarm and report at once. If you get into a fight and realize you're not strong enough, get out. No heroics."

"I obey, Your Holiness."

The elf disappeared, and Talik picked up the bag of water Bryce had given him.

How can I sanctify it so that I don't get totally busted...

In the usual game, he had the ability to sanctify water, this ability was opened by any supporter at level 60, regardless of the class. It was not very useful, though. Blessed water retained its properties for no more than a day and took up a lot of space in the inventory. One could put up with it if it was of any use at high levels. Holy Water was designed as a debuff and "damage over time" on the undead, but without the investment of extra talent points, it had a vanishingly weak effect. Well, on undead comparable to the caster level, of course.

How it would work in a world with such weak monsters was to be found out. Talik put the wineskin on the table, concentrated, and made a couple of passes over it, applying a "spell" from the game's arsenal. The wineskin flickered with a barely perceptible light and quickly returned to its original state.

Talik unsealed it and poured some of the water into a glass and examined the contents skeptically. The water was slightly luminescent. It was especially noticeable in the gathering dusk.

He just blurted it out. Now I can't get away with it, I have to show it. Okay, I'll say something about restrictions.

He poured the water back into the waterskin and collapsed on the bed to wait. There was nothing to do; he had already made contact with the City. Contacting the former NPCs just to chat was a stupid idea. These fellows saw some sacred meaning in his every sneeze, and he could not have idle chitchat with them.

After a while, he realized that he felt some uneasiness at the edge of his consciousness. It was hard to tell what it was exactly. It just seemed like he was missing something.

Hmm...

[message]

"Spy, what do you have there?"

"Nothing serious, Your Holiness. I found no sign of anyone who could control the bird, and the bird itself has disappeared."

"I see. You say it's nothing serious, but what's about not serious?"

"Weak undead headed from the east in your direction. Seven units of 25-28 levels. Ghouls, or something like that, will be here in about an hour at this rate. Any orders about them?"

"Where are they going, to the settlement or to the estate?"

"It's hard to say yet."

"Make sure they come to the manor."

"It will be done, Your Holiness."

Talik interrupted the [message].

Daimon 19, Era 15, Bryce level 17. Technically, the undead of such caliber would smudge them and not notice them, but they have me.

Talik was looking forward to his first adventure together. Of course, that wasn't very fair. Given his hundredth level, but no one knew that yet. Especially since his case was more of a safety net, he wasn't going to personally punch small ghouls in the face anyway. Good company, in any case, is more interesting than the balance. And besides, he wanted to see the adventurers in action. He was fairly certain they would be brought in to clean up the "invasion" of the undead. And, of course, he hoped that his usefulness in battle would break the ice in relationship with Era.

Only three things remained unclear - who was watching them, whether it was connected with the visit of an extremely powerful undead by local standards, and whether this anxiety was a reaction of the "new" organism to the presence of undead. If the latter is true, that's pretty good radar.

And who was watching, he'll see later. If it was Talik who was being followed (which is unlikely, he hasn't left much of a trace yet), he wasn't going to hide forever anyway. His presence in the world will be discovered one way or another by those concerned. If not already detected.

The portals, for example. Talik didn't like them for a reason. Any kind of spatial magic, unless it was a super level, could be detected in multiple ways. If someone tried hard enough, they could even detect an exit point. And a couple of times he'd run into a well-prepared ambush, and once he'd lost a few levels and a lot of expensive gear.

So if there is a power comparable to the Dawn Mist here, it already knows about the use of portal magic. Considering the fact that the "isekai" here consistently appear at least once every two hundred years, anyone can put two and two together and figure out what's going on.

All that's left is to provoke them into any contact and find out who we have to deal with.

* * *

Era wrestled with the writing, trying to extract the "echoes of power" from them. Only an amateur would think that such a thing was easy.

Use one type of reagent to find out if an object was actually touched by a dark-powered magician. A negative result is absolutely no guarantee that there was no interaction. It simply means that the magic is not imprinted on the object. The most common result, in fact. The object had to be strongly influenced so that something would remain in it. For example, if you wrote a spell scroll with a pen once, the pen MAY have retained its imprint. Or, more precisely, it MAY be detectable.

Then use other reagents to find out what kind of magic left an imprint. And do not confuse the magic of Light with the magic of Life or Water, for example. The reaction is almost the same.

Using third reagents, find out how much force was applied during the interaction and for how much time. A layman will always overlook this question, and in vain. Because without this analysis it is impossible to be sure whether the object interacted with one mage or several. And if one managed to pick out one echo of power among all the imprints, that leaves the most interesting part.

An echo of power remembers whose it is, in fact, a part of the owner. Based on previous analyses, by imagining who left the imprint, a piece of its essence can be used to reach the imprint itself and make a divination. Which, theoretically, can give an indication of where the magician is at the moment of divination.

Era struggled with the first stage, having already consumed nearly a third of the minerals. Not very expensive and not very rare in their natural form, but to grind them to the right condition is a titanic task. If she uses up all of them, she'll have to grind the next stockpile for a week. And this reagent is needed for quite a number of procedures...

The wicked pen and inkwell did not produce a definite result, either negative or positive. Overall the situation was normal, but it was late at night and she wanted to sleep. Era was annoyed as hell. If she hadn't been ironclad in Daimon and the fact that he never set tasks for nothing, she would have given up long ago and fallen asleep.

She didn't even pay attention to the sound of the alarm and the shouting outside the window. It was only after a minute, realizing that some noise was adding to the annoyance, that Era finally noticed the alarm outside. She habitually covered the loose powders with the lid and went to the window.

The manor guards were running around the courtyard with torches in visible disarray. One of them, clearly the commander, gesticulated widely and swore profusely, giving instructions on where to go and what to do.

"What the hell is going on here?" Sorceress raised an eyebrow.

She listened to her internal sensations. Not that her power source was very sensitive, but she could sometimes sense the presence of magic nearby. The core was silent, and it was hoped that it would be without magical creatures.

There was a demanding knock at the door, and Era routinely channeled power into her palm. After her recent adventure with the slave trader, it had become a reflex. The next time something like that happened, her lightning would strike without the slightest hesitation.

"Era, this is Daimon. There is some very strong undead coming, so get ready to fight. I'll be in the courtyard in a minute," and the heavy footsteps sounded as they moved swiftly away.

What the... I knew it, I knew it. You can't work with aristocrats. It's always trouble, and then they'll be late with the payment. Damn it.

She quickly pulled on her robe and picked up her new staff. It was weak compared to her previous favorite, but it was new, unscratched by magic. That was the eternal problem with wizards of great power - even very good wood burned with mana current, becoming flimsy and losing its original abilities as a conductor. She could not yet afford a staff of any other material.

The rest of the adventurers were already present in the courtyard. Everyone was packed, even that weirdo Thaler didn't look as if he'd just regained his sight yesterday.

"There you are. All right. In a nutshell, seven undead were spotted in the vicinity. At least, according to the sentinel, they're ghouls. I don't know if I can trust him, but don't underestimate the threat. They come straight here and will soon be at the walls. The guard's job is to prevent them from getting over the wall and fleeing if any of them make it through. We'll deal with the ones who get over. Any questions?"

"Daimon, ghouls are a little out of our caliber," Bryce remarked cautiously. "We can handle seven of them one by one. But if there are more than two in one place, we're screwed, you know that."

"Yes. So if more than one breaks through, we'll retreat to the house and take them in the corridors. The guards already know what to do, all the servants are getting ready to flee."

"So be it," Bryce agreed, and then he continued. "Second question. Does this Gaul understand that we're not going to take this fight for free? We've been contracted for a very different task."

"He understands. I'm not sure he'll pay right away, but the Guild will bill him. Yes, I know you don't like it," he gestured to Bryce, who barely inhaled. "We have a very good chance of winning anyway. If we leave, we won't win anything."

Bryce raised his palms in silence. Daimon listened and continued.

"Taler, what's up with your, what's it called, "holy water"? It's not dancing with skeletons, any advantage will come in handy."

Taler picked up the waterskin.

"Here. I'm not sure if it will work, but it's worth a try. The ritual... was exhausting."

Era silently let the discharge pass from her palm to the top of the staff. After the flash and the pop, there was a thick smell of thunder. The guards on the walls turned anxiously.

She had nothing to add. Daimon always tried to make time for a pre-fight briefing, it became a sort of tradition. It was very reassuring in any situation. Now Era was fully confident in her abilities and the ensuing picture of the battle.

It did not take long to wait for the first enemy. From one of the walls came the sound of anxious screams and the clang of weapons. The guards were doing their duty fair, but dealing with the high-ranking undead without magical equipment... They didn't stand a chance. They began to rapidly retreat from the section of the wall.

And at that moment, Era displeased the situation even more. It wasn't a ghoul.

The long, deceptively thin arms appeared above the wall, followed immediately by an indescribably ugly head, covered with blisters and sores. Half of its face was an open mouth, from which a bluish, elbow-length tongue dangled through a real pile of crooked, sharp teeth. The undead seemed to pelt the entire courtyard with a heavy stench with a noisy inhale and exhale.

With an elusive movement, the undead stretched out a long arm and clawed at the head of the hesitant guard. There was a wet crunch mixed with a metallic clang, and in the next moment a human body in armor flew like a wet rag into the courtyard.

The creature licked its bloody paw and squealed deafeningly. Quickly the rest of its torso appeared. It was just as thin, covered in solid sores, with an eerily swollen, throbbing belly. As it tumbled over the wall, the monster clearly caught on one of the long prongs and twitched rapidly, trying to get off it.

Daimon instantly weighed the situation and roared loudly.

"Get off the walls! Everybody in the house, now!"

There was no need to repeat it, the guards drifted off the walls and quickly made their way into the house. Daimon beckoned to the older man.

"We talked about barricades and stakes. Get started right away. We'll hold them off as long as we can, but don't expect miracles!"

The soldier nodded and rushed into the building. Soon there were commands as short as barks and the clatter of furniture. The adventurers retreated to the entrance of the building.

Meanwhile, with the same unhurried grace, the rest of the creatures appeared over the walls, surveying the courtyard.

"Bryce," Daimon commanded. "Run around the place, see if they're still coming in."

Bryce nodded and was about to run, but Taler interfered.

"There is no need. I feel there are no others."

"Are you sure?" Daimon turned to him very seriously.

"Absolutely."

"I'll trust your instincts. Bryce, then hides and wait for the right moment. As you always do."

The assassin disappeared. Era, as usual, failed to keep track of the moment. There he was, she blinked, and he was gone.

"Era, check them.'

The sorceress concentrated and let her long-formed magic off the leash. The staff obediently vibrated, releasing a blinding, twisting whip at the head of one of the monsters. It smelled of thunder and burning meat, but the monster seemed only enraged by the blow. Shaking its blackened head, it shook the surroundings with a high-pitched screech, then scrambled back up the wall as fast as it could. Unlike the first, it didn't get stuck on the spike, skirting around it with obvious conscientiousness.

Era liked what was happening less and less. She knew the effect of her spells accurately enough, and in this case, it went against normal. She began to quickly recall the interior layout of the building. There was no chance of victory here. Only fleeing.

Daimon seemed to agree. But knowing him, she knew this stubborn sheep wouldn't run away. Until he was sure that everyone who couldn't stand up for themselves had left the dangerous place, he would stand his ground to the death.

As she watched the monsters, despite their nightmarish, unsteady figures, climb over the walls with some grace, she remembered an old arrangement. Back at the beginning of her career, when she was a runaway undergrad, he'd said he could die like this. Covering a retreat. And he didn't want to drag those who had a chance to leave with him.

It was obvious they couldn't win, but... She didn't see in herself the willingness to leave him and run. Not after all they'd been through together. Well, she'd give it her all. Monsters kill fast, judging by that guard.

She turned to Taler, who was frowning.

"Taler, run. We can't withstand it. We'll hold them off as long as we can. You have no reason to die here with us."

However, the new member of the team, still maintaining an inimitable calm, surprisingly dropped.

"Run away? From them? Hmm..."

He whispered something and put his palms together.

In the next moment, it was as if a wave of power was spreading from him. Era had never felt anything like that before. It was as if a cool breeze had blown over her after a hot day. The spark of power that had been translating her thoughts into devastating spells suddenly turned into a roaring conflagration.

All the doubts, the fear, the sense of helplessness in front of unknown monsters seemed simply ridiculous. Her veins were filled with wild, frenzied power, just waiting for a willful command. Her body and mind became astonishingly light, her thoughts obedient, and her memory servilely highlighted every detail of known formulas.

Death? It's doesn't matter.

She drew up a new flux formula on the fly and directed the raging elemental toward the target. Oh, now it was real lightning, not a fake. A branching whip as thick as her arm struck the nearest monster, immediately swooping down to the next, and beyond. The sound made a cotton whistle settle in my ears that didn't let anything else through, but none of that mattered.

She felt the power, savored it, showering the undead with merciless, well-aimed blows. The bolts of lightning passed through the monsters' bodies, leaving holes in them and severing their limbs. Their movements seemed unsteady, their slowness no longer deceptive.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the actions of her companions. They were clearly on the move, too - Daimon was quickly at the center of the monsters' attention. Their attacks, once seemingly deadly, were playfully deflected with his shield or simply evaded them. He responded to every attack with his sword or his shield, and it was obvious that the monsters had a hard time staying on their feet.

Bryce flashed here and there as a tattered shadow. He appeared as if from nowhere behind the enemy's back, stabbing his daggers into the joints in a flash, then disappearing and reappearing to continue the deadly dance.

The monsters were not weak, oh no. They didn't give up easily. The undead doesn't know how to give up; they always fight to the very end, until they crumble to pieces or are put to rest. Their bodies were tougher than they looked.

Still, they didn't stand a chance. Under the furious lightning strikes, first one fell motionless, then another. Daimon counterattacked, ripping the belly of the third. Undead lost his balance, and Bryce's momentary hesitation was enough to slice through his neck vertebrae. Daimon severed the head from his body with the next lunge.

After a few minutes, there were no more creatures left that could even stand. Daimon and Bryce check the bodies, chopping off the ugly heads and limbs.

Era was stunned. The fire in her was still there, though it felt like it wouldn't stay with her for long. She was painfully reluctant to let go of that power and return to her usual state, which now seemed pathetic and worthless. The staff had crumbled into embers at the start of the fight, and from then on she beat it straight from her hands. Looking at them now, she was sorry to feel the flow of power literally slipping through her fingers.

"What was that...?" The question was unanswered, but an answer followed nonetheless.

"Blessings of the Old Ones. Isn't that cool?"

Taler walked past her to the rest of the guys, glancing over at her. She caught a fleeting, strange smile, and realized that now, at last, she could remember his face.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/82326/509761

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP