Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 9

Ranjan bowed his head, glaring bull-like at his opponent, catching his breath. The traitorous weakness was already in his shoulder girdle, his mouth was acidic, and nausea was at the back of his throat. The red moon seemed obscured by a cloud, but Brether knew from experience it was the blood loss that was making his eyes dark. The broken cuirass was pressing on his chest like an instrument of torture that flattens its victim with a wooden plank with weights.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 13:31

One could have suggested that they disperse, moreover, now the sentries might have agreed. But Ranjan was afraid that even the shortest phrase would betray his sad state of mind. No, the opponents had to be killed or put to flight, there was no third. Brether pulled a dagger from his boot and cast a leering glance at the quartet near the stables. The scribe and the woman didn't seem to be going into battle - thank God! Artigo shouted and cried, and the stunned big man picked up his cleaver, but he was either hesitant or overcome by a bout of nausea. Behind him snorting blood from his broken nose, the “axe” wailed, fiddled, and creaked with iron. Brether turned sideways, so that he could see all the participants in the ferocious fight, and attacked the commander.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 13:32

He was expecting something traditional, “swordsmanship” and could have expected success. But the Brether didn't feint or weave a clever web of lunges, instead Ranjan threw a dagger at his opponent's head. The man deflected the iron with his sword losing a moment, and the Brether was already lunging at the leader's feet like a fairground wrestler. The commander was good, very good, he managed to strike downward with the hilt of his sword, but with a weak swing, and he did not hit the head. Feeling a new flare of pain under his shoulder blade, Ranjan caught his opponent's front leg and threw him to the ground with a powerful jerk that knocked the air out of his lungs with a shrill sob. The Brether crawled away on all fours and picked up his saber, arming himself again. But the commander did not get up, apparently, he had hit his head too hard.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.24 в 09:55

Ranjan stood up, leaning on the enemy's blade as if it were a stick, no longer caring about the sharpening. Roughly, dirty, he finished off the two wounded men, giving them credit in his mind at least. No one asked for mercy, and everyone fought to the end. In the cold air hung the heavy odor of spilled blood, underfoot there was a crunching sound as the ground had not yet frozen to mud. The pigs continued to squeal. Artigo sobbed hysterically, clutching at the guard's leg, and the scribe ran down the street toward the far gate, not even trying to get his horse out of the stable.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:03

The big man remained between Ranjan, Artigo, and the guard. He staggered, bloodshot eyes bulging, stooping like an oceanic, multi-legged beast called a crab. It seems that Ranjan's kick had not been in vain. But the soldier was stubborn and still dangerous. Ranjan lost another half a minute or so, confusing his opponent with a web of false swings and jabs, hiding one real one among them. It's no good trying to fend off a heavy blade when you're dizzy and your opponent is faster and more lightly armed. Ranjan poked the soldier in the groin, between his breastplate and his dapper codpiece, which was trimmed at the edge of the flap with copper nails. He waited until the big man fell to his knees a second time and finished him off with a blow from top to bottom of the neck, like an executioner. The saber was mediocrely sharpened, so the blade fractured the cervical vertebrae rather than chopped them.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.24 в 10:29

Brether gripped the weapon tighter, and rolled his shoulders, trying to break the shackles of weakness. The blood that had soaked his jacket had already begun to cool, drawing additional heat and strength. Ranjan strode forward, intent on finishing the job. Brether had nothing against the girl's flight, but she had decided to fight in the manner of her valiant comrades. As the Brether strode toward her on woozy, wobbly legs, the woman literally ripped the boy from her, pushed him behind her, and crouched, holding with both hands a cleaver almost as long and large as the Brether's trophy saber. Ranjan thought belatedly that he should have brought a shield or a second sword along with the saber, and then he would have had a better chance. Now, soberly assessing his condition, he gave himself three chances out of five, maybe even. If the damned aunt had weapons on the level of her comrades-in-arms.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.24 в 11:09

"Go away, I'm not after you,” Ranjan grumbled, each word forced through his throat with effort, scratching and grating. Brether could barely feel his legs anymore and knew that when the fire of battle died down in his blood, he would likely have to scream in pain. If he stayed alive, of course.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:05

"Go away,” Ranjan repeated. His greatest fear was that the woman would try to close with the boy, but the sentinel was either confused and didn't think about it, or she had a strong notion of honor, which was rare among mercenaries, even if they were in the sovereign's service. Or maybe she was frantically hoping to be rewarded for a live one.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:05

"Get out of here,” Brether almost begged, feeling as if he were about to fall. Weakness spilled down his left leg like the urine of an incontinent old man, inexorable and unstoppable so that no amount of willpower could help. Against this background, the wound in his chest felt like a slight abrasion, though it was clearly something a good surgeon would have stitched up. His left arm was ineffective because of the axe cut.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:06

The woman stepped forward with her bloodless lips clenched stubbornly, her cleaver held firmly, properly, her elbow at her side, so as to be less tired. Her left arm stretched forward and slightly to the side, intending to take the blows on the gauntlet. It was strange that, clearly being brave, she had held back from fighting before. Either she was following orders or she didn't want to share the glory and rewards with her colleagues. On the other hand, motives are not important, the important thing is that she didn't interfere.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:08

Ranjan had to stand up straight, distributing his weight equally on both legs. The Brether revised the odds, giving her three successes out of five instead of the previous two.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.24 в 11:29

They exchanged a couple of tentative blows, and the sentinel grew bolder, realizing that the fearsome swordsman was no longer so fearsome and barely on his feet. The woman attacked with quick steps and bounced, not even trying to hit particularly hard, just exhausting the Brether even more. The blades clashed with a tinny clang, and Ranjan noted distantly that the woman's cleaver was too heavy for full fencing, a pure weapon of war for a direct strike without frills, so the swing was slow and the defense weak. But that was enough for Brether for now.

Camrad_RIP 04.10.24 в 19:05

The moment the sentinel, daring to sidestep him, forcing him to wiggle his woozy legs, the bowstring of pig entrails clicked loudly, and a ball of lead flew from the darkness into the woman's head. She lost her balance, swung her cleaver at random, and Ranjan, with the practiced precision of a spring-loaded automaton, slashed her leg just above the knee and, on the rise of the blade, caught the wrist of her armed hand with the point of the blade, tearing the leather glove on the inside of her wrist.

Camrad_RIP 04.10.24 в 19:06

The woman took a step backward, looking around in shock, a trickle of dark blood snaking down her face. Then the sentinel ran, awkwardly, staggering and limping. Artigo screamed again, desperately reaching out his arms to follow her. Ranjan let out a long, long exhale and leaned on his saber, now with both hands. He grinned crookedly, thinking he was alive again.

Camrad_RIP 04.10.24 в 19:11

Again...

Camrad_RIP 29.09.24 в 17:35

A horse rode past, ridden by Hel with Hel's ineptitude. Cadfal followed, holding his executioner's club on his shoulder. Gamilla emerged from the darkness, cocking the ballester. The mechanism allows her to do so on the move. Behind the crossbowman's back, some other shadows flickered, apparently other companions. They seemed determined to finish what Ranjan had failed to do, that is, to break the watch and bring back the young fugitive. In a neighboring street a woman's cry of “Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi! Killed, all killed, completely killed, honest people, good people, what is this doing?!!!”

Camrad_RIP 04.10.24 в 19:36

"Give me your hand,” Pantin said imperiously, holding out his own. Ranjan, ashamed of his own weakness, accepted the help, leaning heavily on his former mentor, counting the damage. A split forehead, a cut hand, a stab wound in the chest - it was nothing to worry about, requiring only a needle and thread and fortified wine to burn off the poison that iron and steel exude. A chopped lumbar wound, on the other hand, could easily cripple a Brether. At least a cripple. Every Brether knew that it was possible to survive even if the liver was severed, it would take a miracle, but it happened. But if the axe really hit or at least knocked out a kidney, it was bad, really bad. One could only hope that the cuirass was strong, Hel is a really good healer, and Patin's self-restraint in magic only applies to killing other people. A little healing magic would be very welcome right now.

Camrad_RIP 04.10.24 в 19:37

“That didn't turn out well,” Ranjan exhaled. He felt even more disgusted. What had happened to his former dexterity of body and speech? In the past, beautiful words had come out of his mouth, crowned fights with dignity, been repeated by many mouths, and gone to the people. But now Ranjan felt nothing but pain, fatigue, and disappointment - in everything. He looked at the boy, curled up on the ground by the stable. Artigo was howling like a wounded animal, on one note, covering his head with his hands. It seemed the child had wet himself.

Camrad_RIP 04.10.24 в 19:12

“Stupid,” said the brether. “So stupid…”

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:42

It seemed to him that his body suddenly became very light, just like a feather. Breter flew up above the ground with the power of his mind, not realizing that he was actually falling backward. Muffled, distant voices sounded.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:44

//"Put it down"

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:45

This is Pantin. But who are they putting? And where?

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:45

//"We need more fire"

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:45

And this is Hel. Her voice is unmistakable, a little low for a woman, but without the masculine notes. Very memorable because it lacks any accent, pleasant, at times it seems that when the medicine woman speaks, she sings without stanzas or rhymes. But why is Hel here, since she was riding a horse? Or was that not her...

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 15:33

//"Cut the belts"

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:49

//“Oh, no shit! Without that plate, he would've been chopped up to my abdomen from the inside out.”

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 15:31

//"Good armor, not steel, of course, but excellent for secret wear. Too bad it can't be repaired."

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:50

It hurts. Now it really hurt. Ranjan would have cried if he could have, but he could no longer feel his body, and it was as if tendons had been cut in all his parts.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 15:31

//"The bleeding won't stop. I'll try to make a tight bandage."

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:41

Someone is bleeding... Who?

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:41

//"Shut this bastard up!"

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:42

They were talking about my son, Ranjan realized. He wanted to say that they were bastards themselves, that it wasn't the kid's fault, and that he would kill them all if they didn't stop insulting him, but he didn't, falling into a final and blessed faint.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 15:20

The Brether's last thought was a surprisingly sensible and clear one: that, if he looked at it dispassionately, the fight was worthy of a real, good legend about one man slaying many. Not as loud, of course, as the Moon Reaper's revenge on the dastardly Bonom, but worthy enough. But he who was called Plague would not be proud of that fight and would refrain from telling about it.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 15:20

Then there was only darkness and peace.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.24 в 12:41

"God be merciful,” Gaval whispered, looking around frantically. "God... What are we going to do now?"

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:13

He looked at Gamilla like a starving man looking at a millet cake. Desperately hopeful and understanding at the same time. The paid bodyguarding time was over, and the minstrel had no more coin. So the crossbowwoman owed him nothing more.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 15:17

"What to do,” repeated Gaval, who had already seen in his mind's eye a wheel for breaking joints, a boiling cauldron, hooks for hanging by the ribs, a pole with nails, and other tools of the executioner's trade. The minstrel did not remember exactly what the punishment was for those accomplices against the imperial authority but was rightly of the opinion that the noose was not the answer.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:12

Gamilla exhaled, watching the steam dissipate in the cold air, and shook her head, trying not to look in the direction of the elderly spearman who was nonchalantly wiping blood from his weapon with a scrap of someone else's cloak. She said nothing in response.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:10

"We must run,” summed up the Highlander, limping with a crutch stick. On his weathered, nasal face he could clearly read the realization that Maryadek was not just a poacher, but a participant in a crime against the Empire. And judges were unlikely to scrutinize the nuances to determine the exact degree of guilt and complicity.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.24 в 14:09

* * *

Camrad_RIP 29.09.24 в 17:36

4 kilos - This is not a creative exaggeration, although here I was guided more by the samples of the firearms era. Boots, say, reitar, could really weigh several kilograms each.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.24 в 06:48

//"Two (three) chances out of five" - ​​in non-lethal fights between swordsmen there are usually five "rounds", accordingly the chances in a fight to the death and the quality of the fighters have also long been calculated on a five-point scale.

Camrad_RIP 29.09.24 в 17:37