Читать книгу Legend. Dark kingdoms - Dmitry Nazarov - Страница 3

Kingdom of the Four Moons, Sor City

Along the muddy, bumpy road after the recent rain that led to the capital, a covered wagon pulled by horses was rolling, inside which, on a bare plank floor, a beaten, gray-bearded old man, dressed in one tunic smelling of sweat and soaked with blood, froze.

The cool morning air was bone-chilling, causing the old man to breathe heavily through his nostrils and puff clouds of steam.

It was already the fourth day of the journey. The fourth day, as they put him on a starvation ration, often refusing even a sip of water, let alone a crust of bread.

An old man exchanged for eighty, and anyone else in his place, after the beating that followed the detention, would have given up long ago, but Marvin was not as simple as it might seem at first glance.

The strong blood of Averin’s seers flowed in his veins, which supported the old man’s vitality and energized him. She was his salvation and… curse.

Since twenty years ago, after the end of the Hundred Years’ War, the dark elf and leader of the Wild Hunt Gamar, known in the world as the «Black King», ascended the throne of the Kingdom of the Four Moons, Marvin and his blood brothers and sisters, witches and witchers, have not there was no life. A hunt was declared on them, they were killed in the same place where they were found, not sparing even babies.

There was an extermination of the magical seed… there was a genocide.

All these years the old man was hiding in the mountains, taking on someone else’s disguise and breeding sheep. He did not conjure, did not invoke power. Only occasionally did he regale his living creatures with useful herbs so that she would please him with a healthy offspring, good meat and rich wool. But it couldn’t go on for long.

One of the villagers who lived nearby noticed a successful sheep breeder, handed it over to another, and less than a week later, two warriors broke into his house, in plate armor with metal spikes on the plates, and with iron masks on their faces. Without trial or investigation, putting shackles on his decrepit wrists, they began to kick the old man in the stomach and back until he, bleeding, lost consciousness.

Marvin woke up already in the wagon, not understanding why the gods had saved his life, and why the soldiers had not killed him on the spot, as they usually did.

– Rog, what will you buy with the eagles, what will we get for this witcher? – the voice of a young warrior was heard, sitting with his senior comrade on the irradiation.

– Shut your mouth, kid. You will attract the attention of that scum that is spinning nearby and neither you nor I will see any eagles for the rest of our lives, «his older friend answered, his voice creaking like the wheel of the cart on which they rode.

No faces were visible behind the masks, but judging by the voice, it was this Rog, as Marvin remembered, who delivered the most painful blows. Sparing neither the strength nor the anger that overwhelmed the dark elves from birth.

For this anger, surrendering to which they dealt with the objectionable, they were hated, vilified behind their backs with the last words, they spat quietly in the wake, but they were afraid, and obeyed.

– Water, – the seer croaked, licking his lips that were cracked from dryness. He couldn’t stand it any longer, and he didn’t care how many lashes he would get for this insignificant request – please, at least a sip.

– What is he yelling at? came Rog’s displeased voice from outside.

– Asks for water. You see, I haven’t received it for a long time. Pay no attention.

– You stupid idiot, what use is a semi-dry corpse to us? – We have almost arrived, and if we disturb the king, providing him with a dead man instead of a witcher, we will soon take his place ourselves. Go, give him a drink, – there was a thud, then a cry of a junior warrior and the cart creaked to a stop on a deserted road.

The buckskin that replaced the back door of the wagon slid aside, letting in a bright blinding light that pierced his eyes like a thousand needles. Closing his eyes tightly, Marvin, using the last of his strength, crawled away as far as possible, trying to curl up into a ball. In this position, his tormentors did not reach the vital organs, passing either with a whip or with the toe of a boot only along the legs and back of the old man.

But this time there were no blows.

A second passed… two. Silence. Marvin opened his eyes and raised himself slightly on his elbow, turning to the soldier standing on the ground and staring at him, who held a small flask in his hand.

At the sight of her, viscous saliva came out in the seer’s mouth, and a slight shiver ran through his body. Without taking his eyes off the iron mask that completely hid the dark elf’s face, he pulled his shackled hands towards him.

– Piiiit

– Here is your water, rotten stump! – with these words, the young warrior unscrewed the lid of the flask and sprinkled water on the face of the old man, – if you disturb us again, I will not leave a living place.

With a sharp pull of the skin, he returned to the irradiation, and the wagon started off.

Greedily licking off the drops that had fallen on his lips and hands, Marvin moved to the edge of the wagon and saw a small hole in the stretched skin. Putting his finger in, he opened a hole large enough to see what was happening outside, and getting used to the light, he fixed his eye on it, trying not to miss anything important.

More than one hour passed when the wagon finally passed the city gates, where they did not even bother to check for the presence of prohibited goods. The dark elves in the Four Moons Realm were inviolable, unlike the rest of the people.

Marvin continued to watch through his makeshift window what was happening on the city streets.

Not for you guys who, forever huddled together, jumped barefoot through the puddles left after the rain, or vegetable vendors arguing cheerfully with customers over prices, or just onlookers-passers-by who love to hang out idle from one tavern to another.

But the old man has already counted four funeral processions.

This spring, the «Black Mora» did not spare anyone: neither old nor young. Killed indiscriminately day and night. The number of bodies was so great that they were often thrown into pits far outside the city without even trying to bury them. And what’s the point if the line to them was endless.

This disease was brought with them by the dark elves, as one of the weapons during the war. So she settled in the kingdom. Witches and witchers knew the right cure for the infection, and they could help if Gamar had not been persecuted by them.

– Whoa! We arrived, – the wagon shook, and it abruptly stopped in front of the high gate, which began to slowly open.

The warriors accompanying Marvin got off the irradiation and, taking out papers from their pockets, went to the soldiers guarding the castle.

After checking the documents of the arrivals, they began to ask them questions, most likely related to the imported cargo, and when they heard the answer, they bulged their eyes and opened their mouths and stared in the direction of the wagon.

– They told about the witcher, – Marvin thought with a weary sigh, – and why did I surrender to them, weak?

Two soldiers, wearing the same masks as the dark elves who captured the seer, rushed to the wagon, brushing aside Roj and his friend, who were shouting after them.

The buckskin replacing the door swung up and a tall warrior, covered from head to toe in iron, jumped into the wagon.

– Are you doing magic, you ghoul? – he spat viciously in the face of Marvin, who had huddled in a corner.

– No, sir. Mistake… – the old man didn’t have time to finish, a powerful fist flew forward, and the witcher’s consciousness was swallowed up by darkness.

***

Terrible pain shot through his rib, but Marvin didn’t have the strength to scream. Opening his eyes with difficulty, he tried to focus his eyes for about a minute, like a fish thrown ashore, opening and closing his mouth.

– If you made a mistake, and this is not a witcher, your heads will adorn the gates of my castle, – hearing a staccato, sepulchral voice, Marvin for the first time since he was captured felt not just fear, but wild horror.

Stepping on the old man’s chest with an iron-studded boot, the Black King himself, Gamar the Earless, towered over him.

Rumor has it that he lost his pointed ears in the last battle with King Rognar, but it was not known for certain whether this was true or not, since the leader of the Wild Hunt did not part with an iron mask covering his entire head, the top of which, like a crown, was decorated with dagger blades.

– Your Majesty, I swear it’s a witcher. Neighbors said she has been grazing sheep for twenty years, and at least one wolf has killed or some kind of illness. They give so much wool that it is just right to build a palace, and he huddled in a shack. Not otherwise hiding there, his vile little soul.

– Hmm, interesting, – Gamar croaked, removing his boot from the stirring old man, and stepping aside, – leave us alone.

In less than a second, the door to the throne room slammed behind the last warrior who ran out. A light breeze blew into Marvin’s face as he lay on the floor, disheveling his already disheveled gray beard.

– I’m not going to torture you old man to find out the truth. Short and sweet, are you doing magic or not? – just as the witcher was about to shake his head, the king added, – think carefully before answering. Without magic, you’re only good enough to feed the rats.

With a convulsive sigh, the elder took a sitting position and lowered his head.

– I am a seer, – the swollen tongue did not obey its master well, and therefore his speech was not clear, but Gamar did not ask again, – I can mix herbs, summon strength for a short time. But that’s all.

– I don’t need any more. I want you to read a spell right now, which among your people is called the «Triad,» the old man abruptly raised his head in surprise and almost fell to the floor again, «don’t you know how?

– Why, I can, just… I have not heard a word about him for more than fifty years. I didn’t think that anyone else remembers, – Gamar only grunted loudly in response, heading for the door, «Your Majesty, I need a medium-sized basin with spring water and a drop of your blood.

– It’s all?

– More ascitinka berries. I have been without food for four days, I hope they will help replenish the magical reserve. And so… – Bowing his head, he extended his shackled hands forward.

Having opened the door and briefly giving out orders, the king sat on the throne, and servants ran in the hall, fulfilling all the conditions named by Marvin: someone opened the shackles with a key, freeing the old man’s wrists, someone brought him berries in a golden saucer, and someone brought him a metal basin filled with clean water.

When everything was ready, Gamar, with a nod of his head, again got rid of everyone present, leaving only the old man, then took off his glove, pricked his finger with a dagger, letting a drop of blood fall into the water, and ordered him to proceed.

He went to the pelvis, knelt next to him and raised both hands up, whispered to himself the words known only to him.

The room was lit with green light. The water in the basin rippled until a battlefield littered with the bodies of fallen warriors appeared on the surface, where in the very center, pierced by a sword, King Rognar lay on the ground.

A thin trickle of blood crawled from the corner of his mouth. The sizzling gaze of blue eyes was directed at Gamar, who was standing next to him, who was clamping his bleeding ear with one hand, and holding the royal crown in the other. There was no mask on the dark elf, but since he stood half-turned, Marvin could not see his face.

– You won, King of the Wild Hunt, – Rognar spoke in a whisper, but even through the ripples of the water every word reached the old man, «killed my son, now me… You think you have brought the kingdom of Four Moons to its knees, but you haven’t. I call on all the gods of Averin and swear that while the throne is under your yoke, not a single woman in the kingdom will give birth to your son or daughter. You will have no one to leave the throne and it will be taken by the one who really deserves it.

That Gamar, who was now standing next to the body of the defeated king, burst into loud abuse and did not hear the continuation of the speech of Rognar the Bold, but Marvin did not miss a single detail, frowning and scratching his beard.

Have you seen the past?

– Yes, Your Majesty.

So you understand what I need.

Exhaling loudly, the old man plucked up courage and raised a wary glance at the Black King.

– King Rognar… he cursed you, leaving you childless. But in his words he mentioned only the women of the kingdom… You want me to look at the present now and see your future queen in it.

– Not just saw, but showed me, and called her to me.

– But this is impossible, only those who have magical blood running in their veins are able to see… and in order to summon, it will take me a lot of time and effort.

Gamar got up from the throne and, approaching the witcher, grabbed his hand. Ignoring the cries, he struck the dagger that appeared in his palm against the delicate skin, lifted his mask and, pressing his black withered lips to the bleeding wound, took a sip.

– Nothing is impossible. Now show!

The seer, trembling with fear, did not dare to argue any further. Raising his hands again, he whispered the words of the spell.

Again a green light and again small waves went through the water, which brought with them a new picture.

A deep pit, at the bottom of which lay a wooden coffin. Near the pit stood two guys with shovels in their hands, they were talking about something, now and then looking sideways at the girl standing in the distance and wiping her reddened eyes with a handkerchief.

She was dressed unusually, and by local standards, very lightly: a black fitted blouse that reached her knees, a very narrow black skirt that outlined all her curves and showed slender calves, graceful shoes with such high heels as Marvin had never seen before.

Waist-length blond hair, snub-nosed nose and green eyes made her look like young elves. The only thing missing was long pointed ears.

Gamar, unable to restrain himself, growled in his stomach. Marvin could have sworn the dark elf was intrigued by what he saw.

– She is! Who is she? The ripples dissipated and the image disappeared.

– I asked the magical powers to show a woman who can bear and give birth to your child. She is the very vessel, but I do not know her name, and I do not know where she is. The only thing I know is that it does not belong to our world.

– If you don’t want to lose your head, make it yours.