Breakfast was poor as always. The knight and the mercenary laid out supplies around the fire and began to stuff their bellies. Even before Vtorak woke up, the old man went down from the fortress down to the dried grasses of the meadow and tied his horse there so that it could eat hay.
- Where do you get water for him? - He probably drinks a lot, "said Vtorak.
- Not so much, - the owner of the horse replied. - His name is Gray wind. He is from the kind of ashen horses. Perhaps the only mounts that remained in these parts... And he hardly drinks.
- How is it?
- These creatures are used to living in lands where there is little water. They learned how to draw energy from food in sufficient quantities. These are very... unusual creatures... Sometimes they are bred in the villages, but in the city you certainly will not find such a horce.
- In the city? Are there still cities left somewhere?
- Not the cities, - the old man corrected, - but the city. Yes, stayed.
- Varaha once told me that in our area there are no more armies... But if there is a city, it probably should have defenders? Otherwise, the bandits will quickly save him from wealth.
- This city stands on the ruins of the last city of the Kingdom of the Sages... When people left the caves after the Great Fire, they decided to restore their homes. But the resources and forces of people were enough for only one city. He was called Stargrad. In the service of the local prince two hundred and fifty people.
- Wow! So much. I think I already heard that name.
- That's a lot, but it's still not an army, - said the knight. - There used to be thousands of spears in the armies, but now...
- You do not say your name, although you know mine, - said Vtorak, -Why?
- Because you never asked, - the old man smiled.
- Is that really the whole reason?
- Including.
- Well, so I ask now.
- You see, Vtorak, - the old man hesitated, "the Knights of the solar circle abandoned their names and received new ones from their brothers... but since I took the vows of the order when all of them were already dead, I was only able to refuse the name, but did not receive a new one. You can call me "knight"...
- You said that the dwarf gods created the order... They could give you a name!
- They only give me directions through their intermediaries. I serve them, although their world has never been revealed to me. They probably think my faith is weak...
- Is that so?
- Who knows. I want to believe in my business. I really want. Just like my father. But sometimes it seems to me that I am doing something wrong... that my whole existence does not make sense, that I am only a pawn in someone else's game, a secondary character in the story who cannot influence anything...
- You have already influenced me... the knight, - Vtorak smiled, - You have changed my outlook on life for the better one. And this is very important. At least for me.
- Thank you... it is very important to know that you live not in vain, - the knight answered gratefully.
Suddenly, a huge stone collapsed near the road, hundreds of steps from the travelers. Vtorak looked around. A few mountain goats, clattering their hooves loudly on the rocks, flashed past, fleeing from the rocks falling from the sky. Another stone crashed into a rock, cracked and crumbled with crumb stone onto the road.
- What it is? - exclaimed the mercenary.
- This is the guardian of the mountains. Polyphemus the giant! Hide behind a rock, hurry!
- No! To the weapon! - exclaimed Vtorak, - Together we will overcome him!
- - What are you! No! He is too strong, but it was too late: the mercenary had already jumped out from behind the rock, having grabbed a weapon on the run. Dodging stones throwing at him, Vtorak finally managed to carefully examine the monster. It was a gigantic-sized creature that at first glance resembled a man, but in reality is very different from him. He had six arms and three legs. The eye sockets gaped with dark empty holes, and a single, bloodshot eye sparkled on his forehead. His lush mane and disheveled beard fell on his chest and shoulders. A curved groove of the mouth obliquely crossed the lower half of the face. The muscles of the hands full of blood as soon as they grabbed another rock and threw it at the uninvited aliens. The monster was frightening. The mercenary, overcoming his fear, rushed to the attack. Skillfully he reached the giant's foot and, with all his strength, thrust his sword into his knee. A furious roar reflected by the indestructible mountains and scattering for many kilometers around.
- Kill him, the knight! - cried the mercenary, plunging the blade deeper into the flesh. The giant writhed in pain. He was discouraged: no one had inflicted such wounds on him yet. Vtorak looked back. The old man was approaching with his huge sword at the ready. "Now ...", thought Vtorak, "Now he will cut the monster in half! I will see the legendary hero in battle!" The warrior raised his great weapon before bringing his crushing power down upon the enemy. The blade was perfectly honed. It seemed the blade whistle through the wind. The old man strained all his muscles before the strike... but could not control the blade of his blade. The sword fell to the ground, nearly knocking the owner back. Vtorak could not believe his own eyes. Before him, staggering, stood exhausted, tired for a long time campaigns, the most ordinary old man. Polyphemus's hand shot up and threw the mercenary to the side. The sword remained stuck in the knee. The giant crouched in pain even more and made a clumsy attempt to get the blade out of his knee. With all his hands, he palpated his foot from all sides, trying not to inflict even more pain on himself, but Vtorak had already recovered from the blow and grabbed the two-handed sword from the hands of the old warrior. The weapon was heavy, but still the young mercenary managed to control it. With a wide sweep, he cut open the giant's chest. The giant recoiled, roaring from a new wave of pain, and stepped back. Another step. One more. Vtorak prepared to strike a new blow, but Polyphemus, having stumbled, flew from a high cliff into the abyss. At the very last moment, Vtorak contrived and pulled his own sword from the leg of the monster. The giant's roar still rang out for some time with a terrifying curse over the mountains, before it finally subsided. The mercenary returned the gigantic blade to the owner and looked at him. The elder's bushy eyebrows shyly lowered on his eyes, and long hair, like a curtain, fenced off a sad expression on his face. The knight seemed so small and weak now that it was incredibly difficult for Vtorak to imagine how this man had once impressed him as a mighty warrior. It became obvious that the knight was always thin enough and it was unlikely that even in his best years he could control such an impressive sword. He wore the armor and weapons of his ancestor, but he himself, apparently, was never his equal in martial art and physical fitness. Now the old man looked so depressed that Vtorak certainly wanted to cheer him up.
- If a person is not able to raise a weapon, this does not mean that he is weak, - said Vtorak.
- However, this means that you cannot rely on me in battle, and I only become a burden... - the knight answered.
- This is not so... wait a minute! I hear a noise ... - nearby a noise was heard, similar to the murmur of water, only much stronger than Vtorak had heard before. In two leaps, he climbed over the rock and found that water flowed from it on the other hand. This mountain stream flowed into a wide lake, spread out in a secluded valley. The mercenary rejoiced.
- Go, Vtorak, - the knight answered. A smile glanced through his face. - The Bright Gods are waiting for you. We will meet again.
Having said this, the knight spurred his horse and galloped away, and Vtorak went to the lake. Vtorak thought for a moment. The crystal castle of charm was destroyed by a sword that fell out of the hands. The former exploits of the glorious warrior, composed in his leisure by a stormy imagination, disappeared from his head. He could afford to imagine anything, because in truth he did not know anything about the knight. And yet, despite the fact that much has disappeared, for some reason, the inside still warmed the soul with warmth, respect for this man, who tired of camping adventures. Vtorak was amazed at how daring he was in everything he did. Knowing that this knight is not even able to protect himself, the mercenary could discover his amazing inner strength. He is not afraid of either robbers or wild animals, wandering around the world. But what does he do? What is his secret mission? Previously, the mercenary believed that they were colleagues in the craft with the knights, although now it seemed unlikely. He said that he serves the dwarfs, but unlikely that they really pay him... Maybe they just give him the necessary supplies? Or they have a network of their people throughout the valley...
Meanwhile, the lake was getting closer. Surprisingly, it reflected a completely clear, cloudless sky, why the lake shone with golden glare in the gloom of the clouds hanging over it in fact. Reflecting on external weakness, behind which there is an unprecedented spiritual strength, courage and courage, Vtorak himself did not notice how he allowed his thoughts to once again touch the image of Mara. The girl hated him. Her eyes and face could not be erased in memory by anything else. Ten years had passed, and the man still occasionally recalled her. This all-consuming hatred was probably the most vivid feeling of all that he had ever aroused in people, this could not be forgotten. He understood that this was not normal. He had already regretted a thousand times that he had entered into a skirmish with her father. So many years have passed... she probably already turned into a beautiful woman. It seemed to Vtorak that the damsel was only a year or two younger than him. Although now he fancied that she could look by the standards of people even a little older than him. Who will understand now. Maybe now she found a place for herself and settled down. She gave birth to children and forgot, as the mercenary hoped, forgot about that shameful, tragic incident. He would like to erase the past and appear before the girl again. Perhaps they would start a conversation about something... He would like to make her forget everything that was in the past. Then he would dare to hope one day, see her and count on a goodwill. Although... let she remember him. Even so, with hatred. Then he will be sure that there is at least someone who will always remember him. Not like Varaha, he was never so tightly attached to the disciple. But in a different way. The bonds of fate that had already bound them so tightly that even a sword from the Secret Cousins could not have cut its knots. "What are you just thinking about!" The man cursed at himself. "What are those silly dreams..." He went to the very edge of the water and squatted down. Thoughts quickly vanished: the Vtorak never saw so much water in one place. The water was so clean that through its thickness he could see every grain of sand at the bottom. The golden heavenly disk of the sun shone on the water surface. Water even smelled in a special way. It beckoned him. Obeying an irresistible desire, the mercenary, as it is, without undressing, ducked into the refreshing coolness. He opened his mouth and eyes and drank this magical water until he felt that there was no more space in his stomach, then he emerged and laughed happily. He was finally happy. Despite everything. Rubbing his eyes, the man opened them again and found himself in a spacious cave with a high ceiling. The day sky still reflected in the water, although only damp dark stone was from above. This look confused thoughts. Vtorak got ashore, moving his legs along the bottom. Full-flowing streams poured from his clothes, his clothes became heavy, and the mercenary began to squeeze it, when he suddenly noticed that a delegation of silent low creatures was already waiting for him on the shore. In appearance they were extremely similar to the defeated Polyphemus, however, they had only one pair of arms and only two legs. Instead of a single eye in their forehead, they had all three zeniths. Two eyes were in the same place as peoples eyes, and the third in the center of the forehead, like a giants eye. Vtorak decided that the giant was them distant cousin.
"Greetings, O incomparable Secret Blacksmiths! Great Dwarf Gods! I am Vtorak, the creature of Doom from the Ashen valley, came to ask for your favor!" - Having said this, the man bowed gracefully as low as he could. An awkward silence for the guest lasted about a minute. He straightened up again and looked at the dwarfs. They looked into his face without blinking. Vtorak took a cautious step forward, when suddenly a network was thrown at him and unceremoniously knocked to the ground.