Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 13

Chapter 13. "Vietnamese Footlocker"

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:29

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Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 12:36

//Dreams again... Again these horrible dreams...

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:29

The words rolled around in her head, spoken in a terrible, cawing voice. It seemed if she strained her memory, she'd remember where the words came from. But because it was actually happening in a dream, the old words rumbled like a bell, shattering her consciousness, not letting her catch it in the trap of understanding.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:31

Horrible dreams...

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:31

Lena dreamt of a battle. No, not a battle... More like a bloody fight, a frenzied massacre in the darkness, illuminated only by the torn light of the torches. A series of images flashing in a stroboscopic kaleidoscope. Blood on wet wood. The crack of shields. The muffled sound of chopping leather armor with a subtle hint of metallic clang from the plates sewn between the leather and the quilted fabric. The girl had never heard the "sound" of cuirass being pierced through with a single blow of the claw. But at the same time, she knew exactly what it was, the short, tinny thud that made her blood run cold.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:34

They fought in the dungeon, dark and damp, amid the drops of water that fell from the high stone vault-not even seen in the light. Not people and monsters, but people and people, desperately, the way they fight in the last hour when there is no escape, and all that is left is to kill or be killed.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:35

The red flames of the torches leaped over the two blades, painting the gray steel with bloody reflections.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:35

A "rat" cleaver, not a simple one, but with a twisted shank, which bears more resemblance not to a rat's tail, but to a long, curved corkscrew. The blade is not simple either, it is longer and lighter than usual, and the blade is leaf-shaped, tapering towards the tip. This is more of a short sword for a not-very-strong but fast fighter.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:41

Against a cleaver an ordinary sword... No, an ordinary sword, except in length. It is really long, almost like a knight's sword, but for one hand, not even a hand and a half. The blade is straight, but the cross is saber-like, curved with two whiskers - ascending and descending, and the palm is additionally protected by a side cup in the form of a poplar leaf. You have to be a strong fighter to be able to easily twist such a thing with one hand...

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:43

The swords clash, scattering stars. They flash in bright dots and immediately go out like sparks in a strong wind. It is as if these flashes illuminate the weapons, and Lena sees that the second fighter's blade - the longer one - is actually very light. The sword has three full-length fuller, and they are not just chiseled out to lighten and strengthen the blade but pierce through the blade, interrupted by thin lintels. An artful, unique work. It is doubly unique because the blade is not a ceremonial one but a martial one.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:50

The fight went on. The dream was drawing in deeper and deeper. On the one hand, the action gained depth and became more detailed, like a single crystal of ice that begins to grow in cold water, multiplying and covering the surface with a matte film. On the other hand, Lena's mind seemed to dissolve in the animated picture, losing the ability to comprehend what she saw.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:51

The cleaver and the sword clash again and again. One of the fighters is definitely stronger. His blade seems openwork, shining through. The other is inferior in skill, but so far he manages to balance the odds with frenzied fury, just a crazy onslaught. The cleaver strikes nonstop, like a water hammer, with such force and frequency that the sword barely has time to put up a defense, let alone counterattack. And yet it has time. The incessant chopping runs seemingly from three sides at once - the cleaver aims at the right, the left, and the top. But a long strip of openwork metal invariably meets the enemy's blade. The fiery reflections on the steel seem to live a life of their own, dancing around the blades with red demons that are eternally hungry for blood.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 13:59

And here comes the climax. The attacker has exhausted himself, wasted all his strength in a furious onslaught, and is now doomed. A blow, another blow, a long blade catches the lunge with confident ease, takes it to the side, tearing the defense to shreds. Now the victim is doomed, and the grande arte of the fencer once again surpassed the skills of ordinary fighting with its two simple techniques - a direct strike and a direct deflection.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:36

This is a very important fight. Elena doesn't know why, but her whole being is chained to the image of a brutal duel in the middle of a common battle. The fighting skills of the girl from the other world are of little use here, but even her knowledge is enough to know that the fighter with the cleaver has lost. It is important, very important. For some reason, it is important. The images of the duelists are important, but they cannot be seen - dark shadows without clear outlines, gaps of darkness instead of faces. It seems that it's not people fighting but ghosts, embodiments of the elements or entities.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:38

The carved sword aims for a jab, and Lena knows, feels, that it will be a surgically precise blow to the abdomen. The embodiment of the mathematics of killing, combining anatomy and geometry. Just above the groin, under the conventional projection of the kidneys onto the abdominal wall, so the obliquely cut tip cuts through the aorta below the fork of the renal arteries. This is a very neat, "masterly", externally bloodless wound. And absolutely fatal - it is impossible to stop the internal bleeding.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:40

But the sword must be stopped, and the owner of the cleaver must not die. It is impossible. It is forbidden. Why...? The answer seems obvious. It is at a distance of outstretched fingers, at the thickness of a hair, it is already known. It is only necessary to focus and realize what is already known... But Lena can't. Her thoughts are like a fog. They are everywhere and nowhere, around the fight and infinitely far away from it at the same time. It is a dream. And a dream remains a dream only until the awareness of it comes.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:46

The jab has begun. Anything can happen in a dream, and Elena sees time slowing down. Droplets of moisture hung in the damp air, glimmers of red fire sliding across them, dissolving into shades of yellow and orange. The hand turns the blade flat, and the point moves forward, cutting through the round drops like splashes of fiery mercury.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:47

And then the unbelievable happened - the fighter slipped. His boot - a small, dainty little boot - hit a wet spot. Where a normal man would have fallen, the warrior had a moment to regain his balance, but the swift lunge went wrong. And the man with the cleaver literally leaked, screwed like a snake into the brief moment between the two blows - the past that had failed and the future that was yet to be born. The moment was shorter than a heartbeat, faster than the click of a bowstring that came off his fingers. But the fighter had time, and his cleaver sank just above his opponent's collarbone, at the base of his neck, uncovered by armor.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:48

Anything is possible in dreams, and even from the cut veins, the blood gushes out, carmine red, contrasting, and chemically pure, like the best paint in the world. Very slowly because the flow of time seems to fear returning to its normal course. Red to red. Death to death.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:51

The sword combines swiftly as if its wielder had been initially wound up by cunning springs to a certain sequence of actions, even if the person is essentially already dead. However, no lunge reaches its target.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:53

The dying man falls, even in death, clutching the hilt of his faithful blade. It is as if he is ahead of his own shadow, falling out of the mist that shrouded the figures of the duelists in a ghostly shroud. The fire of the torches is reflected in his wide-open eyes. The eye... A pale purple whiteness and a cardinal-colored iris, bordered by a dark, almost black border. From the iris to the empty center, devoid of pupil, black threads stretched, which are in constant motion. A completely non-human eye that nevertheless belongs to a person.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:54

The winner turned around in a defensive stance, and now Lena sees. His face, so familiar, so ...

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 18:55

Downstairs in the kitchen, Mouse dropped the cast-iron cauldron right on top of the pot with such a rumble that it took the girl out of the dream, like a slaughterer beating the life out of a cattle with a lead hammer. Again Lena experienced the sensation of a ghostly, absent memory. She had seen and recognized the man in the dream, a recognition that seemed to hide somewhere at the very edge of her consciousness and... ...slipping away whenever she tried to concentrate. Most unpleasant of all was the persistent feeling of the dream's importance, of its involvement in events that might have already happened or might only happen in the future.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 19:18

Damn, it...

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 19:17

Lena threw back the bedspread of the shabby, darned hide, which had once boasted lush, warm fur but, over the years, had frayed to the point of suede and sad, dignified baldness. Mr. Cat gave a disgruntled purr and stretched out, showing powerful claws as if to warn him to respect his right to sleep in peace.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 19:20

"Well, I'm sorry," Elena said guiltily, fumbling with her barefoot for the felt socks that had been used as room slippers. Meowr looked at her carefully and covered his eyes with oval pupils as if accepting her apology. He curled up. His paws picked up into a familiar ball on the edge of the blanket, where more fur was preserved. It was creepy yet incredibly graceful, a harmonious creature that looked like a cat, a rabbit, and a snake at the same time.

Camrad_RIP 07.06.23 в 19:23

The cataclysm took its toll on the animal kingdom. Dogs became extinct, leaving only the romantic nostalgia of aristocrats and old treatises on hunting and interbreeding. Cats, on the other hand, transmuted into Meowrs. Or not mutated. In general, the stories converged on one thing - cats disappeared, and Meowrs appeared.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 08:22

Strictly speaking, Meowrs were not cats but rather resembled lynxes crossed with reptiles, which had undergone a very long chain of transformations. Moreover, Lena suspected that the Meowrs were no animals either, for these creatures seemed much more intelligent than monkeys and dogs. Meowrs were completely untrained and chose their companions. Not masters but companions. The strange animals hunted no mice and were useless in the practical economy, but they had an almost mystical ability to "drink the grief." It was believed that Meowrs relieves mental suffering, banishes sorrow and grief, and moderates bodily pain. And it brought good luck.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 08:25

Meowr, who lived in Matrice's house, immediately chose Elena and slept with her almost every night. Lena did not particularly believe in its mystical nature but rather in the psychotherapeutic properties of a pet. Not without reason cats prolong life and multiply the health of the old and sick. But one way or another, stroking the purring dwarf lynx was a pleasure, and during the first, most difficult months of her new life, only Mr. Cat kept Helena from thoughts of twisting the noose and throwing her over the rafters.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 08:26

There was a strong belief among the common people that the Meowrs were so intelligent and unusual because they possessed human souls. Those who died in the Cataclysm could not go to heaven or hell, being trapped in the earthly, material world. And their souls find refuge in the bodies of the Meowrs until that day when the Paraclete ceases the existence of the Ecumene. The Church did not support these beliefs, but it did not fight them either (probably, the Church hierarchs are also sad and hard on their souls). And killing meowr everywhere, from the Island to the City, was considered a terrible sin because the soul, expelled from the animal's dead body, was permanently deprived of a place of refuge without the possibility of finding a postmortem.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 08:29

Rinsing her face with cold water, Lena massaged the skin around her eyes, which even to the touch, seemed unhealthy and swollen. Saphir downstairs shuffled a broom made of twigs as thin and sparse as the hair on his bald head. The sun was already beating down through the mica window in full sunshine, but the apprentice had had an unscheduled day off today; certainly, the black streak of life had not been replaced by white, but rather a light gray one.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 08:31

The night before, in the late evening, Lena had opened the trunk. She had only had to bang the old lock a couple of times. She took out the wine and drank heavily, perhaps for the first time in her whole stay here. With each sip all the horrors of the past day were pushed aside, life became a little more fun, and Lena herself felt like a real local woman, ready to swear and beat muzzles on a par with the men. Saphir, looking at all this, only shook his head, maintaining an impenetrable expression.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 09:27

And when Mouse tried to swear in her usual squeaky voice, Lena remembered Ranyan's expressionless, deadpan look and simply threw a mug of dried pumpkin at the maid, which did not break, and were worth an eighth of a penny each. Surprisingly, Mouse took it quite calmly, as if it were a matter of course, and stopped squealing at once, taking care of the household. Lena poured two more fingers of wine, then added as much, thinking that she probably still did not understand the specifics of local relations. She was thinking badly, and her drunken thoughts were turning more and more slowly and heavily, like ill-fitting millstones.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 09:29

Matrice returned very late, towards midnight, in an unusual state. It was not fear, not excitement, but rather the anticipation of something significant, something uncertain that was about to happen. Her dress reeked of urine and tar as if the apothecary had retrained as a tanner. Matrice didn't even check the cash drawer. She listened absent-mindedly (and this in itself seemed surprising) to Lena's confused account of the day (about Ranyan and the " deceiver " girl wisely silent), just as absent-mindedly glanced at the half-empty bottle and announced that tomorrow the apprentice is free until the evening. With the retention of her wages.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 09:31

The tipsy girl had some trouble climbing the steep stairs to the second floor, to her room, and found, first, that Saphir had made her coal warmer and, second, that Mr. Cat had come. Lena thought that perhaps Pantocrator was real after all, so she flopped into bed.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 09:33

She slept, judging by the noise outside the windows, well past noon. She was thirsty, and her eyes hurt a little, but overall she felt better than she'd expected. That was what it meant to get a good night's sleep without getting out of bed so early. She was very hungry.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 09:36

Putting on her top shirt, Lena stroked Mr. Cat. The meowr yawned, clenched its teeth, and graciously rubbed its ear against the man's hand. The creatures' fur was similar to that of a capybara - quite sparse and stiff. But at the same time, it was surprisingly cozy and warm, so she wanted to stroke again and again. Meowr laid his triangular head right on the bedspread and squeezed his eyes shut, twitching his ears blissfully.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 09:37

After stroking the good cat, Lena dressed, changed her slippers for wooden shoes, and, as some classical writer would say, "girded her loins," preparing to meet... ...yet she doesn't know what. On the one hand, yesterday's Matrice seemed immersed in her problems and rather benevolent. On the other... anything could happen.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 09:39

So, leaving the door ajar for Mr. Cat's comfort, Lena clattered her boots as she descended the stairs. They were waiting for her at the bottom.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:02

"Just in time," Matrice said as she poured herself a glass of wine made of real glass. She poured it from the same bottle the girl had emptied more than two-thirds of the way the day before. It looked like a silent reproof, though it certainly was not.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:02

Santelli waved his spoon with which he was eating the hodgepodge. Judging by the sight and smell, the food came straight from Mother Chahar's place. The venerable lady was of Highlander descent, renowned for the best mercenary infantrymen and the best camping cuisine on the continent. Her signature dish of cabbage, turnips, carrots, and onions stewed with corned beef and spices looked awful from Lena's perspective, mostly because of the displaced color scheme-blue cabbage, bright red pumpkin, beet turnips, yellow carrots. It was like a mix of different crap representing the insides of a horror movie. But it tasted divine.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:05

Kai didn't eat anything, just tapped the table with his one-toothed fork. He had been away for a long time last month, and it seemed that he had found a good healer magician on the way who fixed the fighter's nose. Kai could breathe normally now, but he still had the habit of grinning. Just like now. The swordsman was very unhappy about something, though he tried to keep his dissatisfaction to himself.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:06

Saphir was not to be seen. From the sounds of it, he was grinding slate tiles in the backyard, turning them into fine crumbs for the hearth. And, by the same sounds, he intended to do so for as long as possible. Mouse was hiding somewhere, too. All in all, everything indicated that the meeting was going on for a reason.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:08

"Join us," Matrice sipped her wine. Santelli waved his spoon again, this time in a mute invitation. Kai frowned and remained silent.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:09

Lena came down the stairs, treading carefully with her wooden clogs. Something was wrong here... very wrong. Usually, she didn't get this kind of attention, but here it felt like the whole gathering had been organized especially for her.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:13

"Eat," said Santelli, chewing on a particularly large and hot piece of turnip. "Good food, just from the tavern."

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:14

Kai silently moved an empty, clean wooden bowl to an empty stool and took the lid off a clay pot covered in a glassy glaze, the kind you didn't cook in but served food in a thermos. The pot was steaming hot and powerful. And very tasty.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:15

They ate in silence. Or rather, it was Santeli and Elena who wielded the spoons. Matrice was still sipping wine, and Kai was tapping out a march with his fork. Saphir was tapping with his beater in time for the march. As she chewed the spicy, well-peppered hodgepodge, Lena thought about three things. First, as Winnie, the Pooh would say, there was a reason for all this. Second, how good it felt to eat something tasty and meaty after a twenty-four-hour and completely unhealthy fast. And third, she was thinking of Matrice, or, broadly and highly pompous, the local role of women in society.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:17

As far as Elena understood, the Cataclysm had struck the local Ecumene far worse than the Plague of the Middle Ages. The Black Death, for all its horror, was only a disease. The disaster that wiped out the Old Empire was far more widespread and, one might say, complex. It had something to do with magic, and among other things, it annihilated almost all the magical energy of the world on which the state and society were built. As a result, everything from ordinary communications to agriculture collapsed overnight. And epidemics were already attached as the cherry on the cake or rather the nail in the coffin.

Camrad_RIP 08.06.23 в 12:22