Читать книгу Slave War - - Страница 5

A book is the best advisor. People make mistakes, and sometimes they just lie – there is nothing to hide. There are those who can hardly express the right thoughts, or prefer to talk about something that is not what they should be talking about, for fear of being punished for telling the truth or out of stupidity. And in books you can find long-forgotten secrets. The Truth is hidden in them.

“But people write books!” – you can say. The ancient sages believed that people write down thoughts in books that come from somewhere outside. True, true thoughts are those who are worthy. That is why they allowed selected wise men to write. Students must rewrite and make copies of someone else’s work. This was true until the printing press was invented.

Dust lay like a gray blanket on the shelves and books. The spider had long since finished its work, and the web covered the walls and ceiling with patterned lace. The candle barely dispersed the darkness. It smelled of dampness and paper. Dorhand again spent time in the library, trying to find something there that could help him in his fight. He found several manuscripts about the ancient Monianican order, whose monks devoted themselves to the fight against evil. The young man also read about a sorcerer who allegedly lives in the Litargian Forest.

There was a quiet knock. The door opened with a creak. A fair-haired man of about thirty with a scar on his face entered.

– Sorry, Dorhand! Am I distracting?

– Come in, Paris. Tell me, what’s new?

– Thirty more of Latrich’s minions were caught. Everyone is now in prison. What do you want to do with them? – asked Paris.

– Feed them. Give me good food and water,” Dorkhand replied.

– Did they care about us when we were slaves? We ate scraps and drank rotten water,” said Paris.

– The time for revenge will come. They are not to blame for Latrich’s actions.

– But not one of them stood up for us! – Paris clenched his fist.

– You’re right about that. But we cannot blame the soldiers for following orders. A good fighter is without a thought in his head, but he is ready to sacrifice his life, following the order of the commander,” Dorkhand said.

– So let them donate!

– Offer to join us. And the rest are in prison. I won’t stoop to Latrich’s level. If I find out that one of the prisoners is being beaten or humiliated, I will execute him.

They were silent for some time.

“Listen, Paris,” said Dorhand. – Do you think we are doing the right thing?

– What are you talking about, Namlis?

– Well, recruiting rebels. Killing, in the end, the servants of the slave traders. Maybe everything should take its course? Maybe if we don’t continue what we started, we will save many lives?

– One person has no right to force another to do anything. That’s why freedom exists. Moreover, life in chains is just existence. Not real life.

“I think you know how much blood will have to be shed to achieve your goal.” Do we have the right to pay such a price? Do we have the right to decide?

– How much blood was shed? Such exactly innocent blood. Did they have the right to put us in chains? And others. Why are slave traders better that they consider themselves entitled to take other people’s time? Has Latrich thought about the price that must be paid for his goal? We must bring freedom to our world. “I think so,” said Paris.

“You didn’t come to report to me about the fugitives, did you?” – Dorkhand asked.

– Our messenger to King Gutan, your brother, is dead. The other day they brought his head.

– A curse! – Dorhand hit the stone wall with his fist. – I wanted to fix everything peacefully!

“And I also brought news from the allies,” said Paris. – Starval himself came to visit you.

The slave revolt had been brewing for several decades. Dissatisfied with their fate, the slaves killed their owners and gathered in small camps. They robbed carts passing by and freed new slaves.

You can dissolve a lot of salt in a glass of water. At first it will simply disappear into the liquid, and then the solution will become cloudy. But in order for a crystal to begin to grow, a seed is needed that will shake the unstable system and lead to irreparable changes. Such a speck of dust on which the crystal of the spirit of freedom began to appear was the seizure of power by the slave Namlis in the province of Silerin.

Starval turned out to be a grey-bearded, bald old man. When Dorkhand came in, he was drinking beer from a roasted pheasant.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you, new owner of the castle, but after the journey I’m too hungry, so I asked your servants to cook this wonderful pheasant for me.”

– Not servants. Comrades.

– Sorry. I come from a wealthy family, so I’m used to servants in castles. Starval,” the old man extended his hand. Dorhand shook it.

– And what are you doing among the rebels, Starval from a rich family?

“This is an old story,” Starval thought for a minute. – Past life. Namlis, rumors about you and your actions are spreading. Your messenger arrived recently. At first I didn’t attach much importance to it. Everyone in our camp is hiding from the law, we live by robbery. In general, we are living well, but we don’t know hard times. And your proposals to go to the Capital with an army of slaves were initially treated as a joke. But lately the guards have become angrier and are pursuing further. Namlis, you shouldn’t have stirred up a hornet’s nest. I would run away like everyone else, and that would be the end of it. And you are causing trouble. The advisers from Lindell will soon send an army against us. And then no one will be happy! We have been hiding from the law for a long time! But the guards didn’t need us. And now, because of your stupid ideas, all the fugitives will suffer. Stop before it’s too late.

– You are even more slaves than those in shackles! You can’t hide forever! We must fight for freedom! – Dorhand clenched his fists. He had slept poorly the last night: Lina’s eyes appeared in a dream at the moment before her death. He dreamed of looking into the eyes of the traitor Langer, who shackled him.

“You are not the first who is ready to lay down his life for the sake of freedom,” Starval raised his voice. – How are you better than them, the previous ones? Eh, Namlis?

– I’m no better than them. But I can end the suffering of the slaves. Unlike many before me, I am the Crown Prince.

– Namlis, aren’t you taking on too much?

– My real name is Dorkhand. Have you heard of this?

Starval opened his mouth in surprise. And then he got down on his knees.

– Your Majesty, forgive me, I didn’t know! Your face reminds me of your father. But how should I know? It has long been said that you and Linder are dead. But how? How did you become a slave?

– I’m not a slave anymore! Come with me, and one day everyone will be equal in Sartoll. Get up from your knees, Starval. This is no longer necessary. Join the slave army, Starval. I know that you think first of all about profit, and not about someone’s fate.

– But, Your Majesty, I…

– Do not interrupt. So, I will give you lands when I get to Lindell.

“You have awakened memories of old battles in my heart.” I thought they were buried too deep in my heart.

– Get up, Starval! I want to build a state of equals, in which no one will need to kneel. I’ll ask you one thing. For the time being, not a single living soul should know that I am a king. Call me Namlis. I will go with you to the Lithargian Forest. Your camp, if I’m not mistaken, is somewhere not far from it?

– Yes, but I wouldn’t recommend going there. They say he is cursed. The souls of the dead have not rested; they wander at night, taking away unwitting travelers. And ghouls. And people who turn into wolves. Not a single living soul returned from there.

– Where did the rumors come from then, since no one returned? The forest holds many secrets. Some of them I still have to figure out.

Dorhand looked at the writing of mysterious runes on the iron ring, which he had taken from the sorcerer. What kind of secrets do these runes keep?

Chapter 6. The Mystery of the Lithargian Forest

Sometimes it gets cool in the summer. Whether after a hail storm, or just a north wind blowing. Dogs then shake out of habit or curl up, but people are more cunning, they don’t show their noses in public. But among the age-old oaks and elms of the Lithargian Forest it is rarely warm. Maybe the dense crowns of the trees are too high, and through them it is difficult for the sun’s ray to reach the damp earth, or maybe this place is truly cursed.

It smelled of myrtle and dampness. Strekkili, huge dragonflies, often rose in fear from the briar bushes. Oak trees are covered with a thick layer of greenish moss. Dark and gloomy. Dorkhand, who had parted with Starval the day before, was now making his way among the impenetrable bushes on his own. Starval offered to send a small detachment with him, but Namlis flatly refused. Dorhand did not want to advertise the power of the magic ring for the time being.

Dorhand crossed his arms over his chest to protect himself from the biting cold wind.

“Here to pick mushrooms,” thought Namlis.

And the memories came flooding back with pictures and sounds. His father often took him to the forest himself, not entrusting important matters to servants.

“Learn to protect yourself, son, then problems will bounce off you like water from an oil-soaked frying pan. The forest is an enemy for many, but for those who know how to communicate with it, it can become a true ally.”

Dorhand picked a bunch of scarlet berries and threw them into his mouth. He grimaced – sour. One of the strekkils fluttered up. A branch cracked. Dorhand turned around. Behind him stood a terrible creature with pale skin, huge bloody fangs and small scarlet eyes. It gave off a terrible stench and roared.

– Human! It’s been a long time since I’ve drunk human blood. Delicacy!

Dorhand backed away, and the monster looked sideways at him and gave chase. But then a huge wolf jumped out from behind one of the trees and interrupted the monster’s flight. The wolf grabbed the creature by the throat.

– This is my prey! – the monster screamed.

“We warned your tribe of ghouls,” the wolf said in a human voice, “These are our lands!” They belong to werewolves! Don’t come here! This man is my prey!

– I found him first! He is mine!

– Get away, across the river!

The ghoul scratched the wolf’s belly, and he responded by grabbing his throat and tearing off his head. The creature roared before it died. And then the nearby oak trees were doused with blood. The werewolf howled.

The wolf turned his head to Dorkhand and clicked his teeth. His eyes filled with hellish fire.

– Food! – he growled. The wolf overtook Namlis in a couple of leaps, but, hitting an invisible barrier created by a magic ring, he fell to the ground. Growling a couple of times and making several scratches with his claws on the damp ground, the wolf again rushed at Dorhand. And again he hit the invisible barrier.

– And you are not as simple as you seem at first glance. What did you forget in our forest, sorcerer?

– I need to talk to your leader.

The wolf began to change before our eyes, acquiring human features. After some time, a short, hairy man of about forty wearing a wolf skin cape stood on all fours in front of Dorkhand.

“You shouldn’t have come to our lands,” he said, standing on two legs. – We don’t like guests. I alone could not cope with your spell, but with the whole tribe we will tear you apart.

– It is unlikely.

– What is your name?

– Call me Namlis.

– Wow, Nameless. Don’t trust me? You’re doing the right thing, Namlis! If I found out your real name, I immediately subjugated you to my will. The magic in our family has not yet faded.

A whole group of ghouls came out from behind the trees.

– He killed Kurt! That wolf trash killed Kurt!

– What have you forgotten in the lands of the werewolves? Why did you come here? – he turned into a wolf again and howled, and his howl echoed through the forest.

– Kill him!

Several ghouls attacked the wolf. He bit into the throat of one of them, but the other four tore him to pieces. More wolves appeared from behind the oak tree.

– We warned you, enemies: you should not cross the river. But you disobeyed,” the largest of the wolves flashed his eyes ominously. – Do you want war? Well, we are ready to destroy your filthy family to the roots.

– Well, brothers, let’s teach the shaggy ones some good manners?

– Stop! – one of the pale-skinned men shouted, coming forward.

“Wow, Laybon himself decided to come for a visit,” said the leader of the wolves.

– You know, Valukh, that we would not violate the borders if there was no good reason for it.

– I recognize ghouls. They will start a fight themselves, and then run into the bushes when they smell something burning.

One of the ghouls rushed forward, but Labon held him back with his paw.

– He called us. You know who I’m talking about, right?

“The sorcerer is in the house on the hill,” Valukh whispered.

– He is. I heard his call several moons ago. This has not happened for several centuries. It seems that the day he spoke of at the Conversion has arrived. The Great War is coming, and he is gathering our army.

Valukh acquired human form. He looks about fifty years old. Others of his tribe followed his example.

“If it were up to me, I would immediately turn the spellweaver into dust.”

– For the sake of this, I myself would team up with the wolves. But this is not yet in our power. We are slaves to his will, and who knows how long this will last.

– Be guests in my forests, ghouls. One day the time will come to forget hostility in order to unite against a common enemy.

Walukh sniffed.

– Human! There’s a man here!

Several dozen pairs of eyes stared at Dorhand. One of them rushed towards the young man, but could not cross the invisible barrier created by the magic ring.

– Sorcerer! What have you forgotten in our forests?

– I’m looking for a sorcerer who lives on the hill.

– Why do you need him? – asked Labon.

– Tell me about him. Why do your tribes listen to him?

“I was a man,” Labon said. “I was running from the soldiers when I met this sorcerer. Most of my wounds were fatal, but I hoped to hold out for another three days in order to have time to tell my people about the approaching enemy. The sorcerer seemed to be able to read minds. He offered to save a life. And I, a fool, agreed. When I woke up in the morning, I realized that I could not look at the sunlight. And there was also a thirst for blood. I tried to see the sorcerer to deal with him, but the entrance to his house was closed to me. I think liberation will come to me only with death.

“He also deceived me,” said Valukh. “After meeting him, I turned into a half-wolf. In addition to our clans, there are also gargoyles raised by his magic.

“Lead me to his house,” said Dorhand. – I’ll try to help you.

– But we won’t go to that damned place! – said Walukh.

– Let’s go. Or do you want to remain damned until the end of your days?

– Do you know how to free us?

“I hope so,” Dorhand said.

***

Both tribes looked with hope at Dorkhand as a savior. Many of them once bought into the immortality promised by the sorcerer, and were eventually cursed. We all dream of overcoming death and living forever. But few people think about what to do in a series of identical days, and what price they will ultimately have to pay for defeating diseases. And the price turned out to be high for both ghouls and werewolves. The first could not appear in the sunlight, and their thirst for blood knew no end. And the wolf people lost control of themselves during full moons. Many of them did not remember how the previous night had passed, and often they were missing one or two comrades after the next belly moon.

“This is the hill on which the sorcerer’s house is,” said Valukh.

“We have no further way,” said Laybon, “the enchanter has blocked this road for us.”

– A sorcerer named Namlis, kill him! Free our souls! I don’t have the strength to endure endless imprisonment in my own decrepit body.

“I will do everything in my power,” Dorkhand promised.

***

The door opened with a creak. Dorhand fought the urge to hold his nose, escaping the musty smell of the old wooden house on the hill. It smelled of coltsfoot and other herbs and excrement. Darkness. The floorboards creaked treacherously. A flock of bats grabbed the young man’s hair; only a spell read in an ancient book was able to drive away the hungry creatures. Dorhand turned on the magical light. There was a green-faced monster in the corner grinning ominously. Green lights blazed from his clawed fingers and headed towards Dorkhand. But they hit the protective field created by the ring. But the monster did not want to stop, continuing the magic.

– Stop! – Dorkhand shouted. Runes flashed white on Dorkhand’s iron ring. The sorcerer stopped dead in his tracks.

– Where did you get this ring? – the green-faced man asked without moving.

– What kind of ring is this? Why does it have such an impact on you?

The sorcerer laughed.

– Speak! What kind of ring is this?

– This ring once belonged to the Goblin King.

– So you’re a goblin? I thought you were all banished overseas or exterminated!

– I left the city of steel a long time ago. People expelled us from these lands to the Unknown Continent. But one day my people will return. And then the human race will wash itself with blood! And we will receive rich fertile lands that our ancestors once owned!

– What is your name? – Dorkhand asked.

– I’m Jack!

– True name! Speak immediately! – the goblin tried to resist. – Speak! Now!

– Gshuaandrfw’aap’preren.

The runes on the ring continued to glow, and the sorcerer looked at the royal ring with curiosity.

– Goblins have long lost true magic. – Dorkhand suggested. – I read about this in a book. Your power is hidden in objects. What is your power, Gshu… whatever your name is. Speak!

– My greatness is in this pendant.

– Take it off, carefully, without nonsense. I don’t want to kill you.

The goblin took the pendant from his neck and threw it at Dorkhand’s feet. He examined the jewelry and put it on his neck.

– Where did Latrich get this ring from?

– This man swore an oath to the King-beyond-the-Mountain. So do we all. One day he had to bring this ring to…

The goblin did not have time to finish the sentence. A sword mark flashed on his shoulder.

After a few moments, all that was left was dust.

– This King-behind-the-Mountain again. Who is he?

Dorhand rummaged in the desk drawer and found a thick notebook covered in small handwriting.

– Maybe the secret of this very King-behind-the-Mountain is hidden here? Then I’ll read it.

Dorhand hid the notebook in his bosom and left the sorcerer’s house.

At the edge of the forest, both tribes lay huddled: both the werewolves and the ghouls.

– Thank you, sorcerer! You saved our souls. We’ll see you one day in the next world! – said Valukh, and turned into ashes, and with him the other ancient creatures.

– Freedom! – Laybon shouted, disappearing into thin air.