A leather strap, thrown under the jaw, pleasantly pulled the skin, firmly holding a metal helmet on his head. The armor plates rattled, hitting each other. Сhain armor rang from every step. People scattered away from the convoy of warriors walking along the streets, led by Vtorak. In his submission was about a hundred experienced mercenaries. There were fewer than the fighters of Delius, but they were not inferior in strength. Diversely dressed and equipped, bought with the money of the city nobles, mercenaries resolutely walked behind the Wtorak. This column confidently approached the tower, where Deliuse's warriors feasted. Noticing the warriors, the city guard prudently fled. The warriors standing at the entrance tried to resist, but were immediately killed by the swords of the mercenaries. The first blood spilled.
The warriors pushed open the heavy gates of the tower, and Vtorak was the first to enter the building. With a kick of his foot, he threw open the doors of the banquet hall. Disgusting faces, distorted by lust, gloating and gluttony, reveling to the level of oblivion at a feast. The handmaids, who brought in new dishes, were afraid that the tenacious paws of the feasting men would seize them. Delius himself drank and ate at the head of the table. Food stuck in the beards and mustaches of his warriors, honey poured over the edges of horns and goblets on bloated bellies. Bones and scraps of meat lay everywhere.
- Charge!!! - exclaimed Vtorak, and his warriors rushed at the enemy. Drunken warriors sat without arms at the table. The banquet hall was stained with blood soon and all who were at the feast were killed by the swings of swords. Only Delius remained standing by his throne. He towered over those who came and no one was determined to deliver him the last blow. Then Vtorak himself approached him and looked at the usurper.
- I remember you, Vtorak from the ashen valley, - he said, - First-class mercenary. Who do you serve?
- I serve the light and this city," the warrior answered, "You will not be judged, Delius. You just need to get rid of. Your riot is over. Your reign has come to an end.
- I understand, - the usurper agreed, - I tried to make everyone live well, but I really couldn't. This requires a special talent, which, obviously, I do not possess...
- Your ambitions prevented you from reigning wisely.
- Maybe. But I do not wish to worship the Pure! They made many mistakes and do not deserve to be equated with the Great Gods of our ancestors!
- Your words mean nothing more, Delius the Victorious. Are you ready to accept your death?
- Well... It's a pity... So many men died, - Delius continued, looking around the bodies of his fallen comrades. - Why did you kill them? You could kill only me. If I knew it would be so...
- Bow your head and accept your death, - said Vtorak. He stood directly opposite Delius, but even so he could not reach the neck with his sword. Truly gigantic was this hero of war.
- Bart today learned about the birth of his daughter, - the commander recalled, - Varga wanted to marry Marta tomorrow... And Kob wanted return to his father's forge in a month. It is far away... in a village on the edge of a valley.
- Bow down, Delius.
- No. I won't bow to you for sure. It was not for this that I saw the death of my comrades-in-arms, in order to bow thereafter to those who killed them.
- As you wish, - said Vtorak coldly. He stepped on the table, pushed off and jamped over Delhi. The accurate swing of the sword stripped the usurper of his head. Vtorak and nearby warriors were drenched in blood which splashed from a severed neck. The board of Delius has come to an end. His head and gigantic body fell to the plank floor next to the throne, spreading in a sticky red puddle.
Vtorak left the banquet hall. At the entrance, the rest of the mercenaries were waiting for him. Everyone's faces looked dull, many were in enemy blood from head to toe. Between the legs of Vtoroka a trickle of blood ran across the floor, stretching from the hall itself. One of the warriors came closer to the commander and laid his hand on his shoulder. Vtorak looked at him. He smiled encouragingly. "Everything is fine," thought Vtorak, "We have done what we should."
The next moment, a terrible pain pierced his stomach. He fell to the floor and looked up. A warrior stood over him with a bloodied dagger in his hand. The remaining mercenaries bared weapons and pointed to the wounded commander. Someone ran up and snatched the Vtorak's weapon from his scabbard.
- In the name of Sage Oha, you are arrested and will appear before the court of Stargrad. I am very sorry, commander... - added the warrior, trying to portray regret on his battle-hardened face.
- Go to hell! - growled Vtorak. From pain he could not straighten, and from weakness to get up. Other mercenaries grabbed him under his arms, and he experienced a new wave of inhuman pain. Blood flowed down the clothes with streams, sliding down the toes of the boots to the floor. He was taken to a dungeon and thrown into a cold and damp cell. "If it goes on like this, I'll bleed for death before the dawn... I need to urgently squeeze the wound with something... but how? If the arm or leg can be intercepted with a tourniquet, this will not work with the stomach. They probably wanted me to die here. Oha no need me anymore. "Oha the sage". Why did he betray me? Did he decide that I would seize the city? Was he so afraid of me?" thought Vtorak. Fortunately for him, the iron grate opened with a creak and the doctor entered. He was dressed in a monastic robe and carried a tool bag with him. He was a smooth-shaven, middle-age man with a long pointed nose and bright blue eyes. His face was already intersecting several wrinkles, but he behaved quite cheerfully.
- Don't worry, my dear, you are in good hands now, - he said.
- Wouldn't it be easier to let me die? - whispered Vtorak.
- At least not today, - the doctor smiled. - This often happens here. The inclement time has come... The firmness in people has disappeared. You never know what to expect from them. They just... "asked" you to leave the scene for a while. And they called me so that I would not let you leave the theater. Perhaps you still have replicas ahead.
- They could have asked more politely... I would have understood.
- It is easier for them to confront a fact an armed person than to hope that he will respond by consent to an offer, - the healer smiled again. He had already wiped the edges of the wound and now sutured the dissected tissue of the incision with a thread, squinting in the dim light of the torches.
- Are you sure you are doing everything right? - Vtorak grimaced in pain.
- Oh yes, believe me, I can do it even with my eyes closed.
- I have never met you in the months spent here.
- You are right, I arrived only the day before yesterday. Nobody knows me here yet.
- And they called exactly you to sew me up.
- Maybe your life was not so important to them?
- Sounds like true, - answered Vtorak.
- And maybe... - the doctor looked in the face of Vtorak, - I was not here by chance, because I wanted to see you, champion of the light. Well, I'm done with that. See you, Vtorak from the ashen valley. One day we will meet again.
"What was it?" - thought Vtorak, - "Who is he, and why he knows my name? Why did he want to see me again?" The warrior felt that the weakness from the blood loss began to overcome him, and he slowly fell into sleep. He woke up the next morning. Through the window of the dungeon, it became clear that the clouds in the sky brightened a little.
"Drip drop".
A drops fell on the stone floor. Why did they betray him? Is he really so dangerous. Mercenaries were bought and warned.
"Drip drop".
What happened to the knight Khali and the karatan? Could they be killed? Or did they end up in prison, like Vtorak? The struggle for power is too dangerous in this city, if it were not for the order of the dwarfs, Vtorak would never have gotten into this whirl. What will happen to him now?
"Drip drop".
On the other hand... it looks like an opportunity to rest... Now the Worak can finally relax. While he is here, he does not belong to himself. He belongs to his jailers and can throw off all the responsibility that so put pressure on his shoulders. Let the world live on its own. Vtorak is not obliged to influence him. He is not required to participate in anything. He's free...
"Drip drop".
The wound ached again. Dirty traitors. How dare they plunge a knife into the stomach of their commander?! He will kill them all. Will kill!!! As soon as he will come out of here. As soon as he will return his sword! Where is it now? His sacred blade... The strongest sword, a sacred gift of dwarf gods. A symbol of their bright patronage. The distinctive sign of the Hand of Light. Even Khali was not worth it. Why? Apparently, his faith is really weak.
"Drip drop".
He really is not worthy to be a punishing sword of light!
"Drip drop".
His faith is weak! He is miserable. And Vtorak is different, he believe in light! That creature... angel! You turned Akshayah away from him last time! I am your faithful servant!
"Drip drop".
My sword is forever yours!
"Drip drop".
"Damn water!" screamed Vtorak and kicked the wall with force. Rage again boiled in his veins, as it had before. At that moment, pain severed his stomach. He twisted and felt one of the threads burst. The warrior tried to relax immediately. As much as the pain allowed. Recovering a little, he glanced at the wall. The old dungeon stones parted slightly away from the blow, and a small gap formed between the two of them. Something clearly flashed behind her.
- Is there anyone there? - asked Vtorak, listening cautiously.
- Vtorak? I am sitting here! - answered a familiar voice.
- Rosha?!
- Yes, Rosha!
- Why didn't you give your name right away? - asked the warrior, accustomed to hearing pronouns from the karatan.
- I can talk as I please, but Rosha likes to call himself Rosha!
- How did you get here?
- Evil people come... to point weapons... and Rosha is not a fighter! He cannot defend himself! Hit Rosha. Rosha woke up here... Headache...
- A dagger was thrust into my stomach, it was in my flesh at the hilt level. - Said Vtorak, - so I understand you.
- Wah! What a terrible day...
- Khali was with you? Was he captured too?
- No... The knight to leave on an urgent matter somewhere out of town. I be alone.
- Tell me, - said Vtorak after a brief thoughtful silence, - Why did you leave your homeland? It's not easy, probably, to go so far from your land. Don't you miss relatives?
- Dead relatives, - said Rosha.
- Oh, I am sorry... I didn't want to hurt your memories...
- Relatives died at the hands of Roshi. He himself killed them. I killed them, - deathly silence fell. Vtorak could not believe that he hears this from a frivolous animal from the far south.
- How... yourself?
- Karatanians live in the rocks. Or between the rocks. The village of Rosha was in the gorge. Rosha went to repair the mounts so that heavy stones do not fall on the village. He failed: to break the fasteners completely. Large stones fly by, do not touch Roche at all, but crush the village. All the stone houses... all the inhabitants... all relatives... the Eternal came for them.
- Akshayah...
- Yes. Calls here differently. But the essence is one.
- I'm sorry, Rosha...
- People kiked Rosha out for it. And he walked north. Then south. He walked, walked... until he came to the ashen valley. You ask, why does he say "Rosha"? Because for a long time no one called him by his name. He became calling himself. Rosha. So Rosha think that he is not alone. - The story deeply touched Vtorak. He wanted a warm hug to the sufferer. He knew loneliness no worse than him.
- You are not alone, Rosha. Now you have friends who can call you by name.
- Ro... I know.
- Rosha? - called in a few minutes Vtorak, - And why do the karatans have no eyes?
- Why doesn't the Vtorak have a tail? - Asked Rocha.
- Well, really, tell me!
- Little karatans have an eye. They still cannot walk on two legs and run fast, so they have an eye at the top of their heads.
- What for?
- Big bird to notice! Adult karatanets will beat off! Little will not even have time to run away! Bird to eat then. And the eye sees everything in the sky.
- And then what? - Wtorak did not let up.
- Then overgrow by skin.
- Wow! Children are so different from adults... it's amazing.
- Children hatch from eggs using a bone beak. Yes! Breaking eggshells with it! And then the beak falls off. Yes. Like this. There is nothing to know about karatans, and you know nothing, Vtorak... shame...
- How does it fall off?
- So. Absolutely. Do not people fall off?
- No... - answered Vtorak stunned.
- And I hear that little people lose all their teeth at once, and then grow new ones completely. Stupid people! And what to eat, while growing new tooth?
- Although yes, teeth... But not all at once!
- Rosha is not important. Rosha know that teeth are needed. Do not eat without a teeth.
The hours flew by in conversation. Sometimes Vtorak fell asleep from weakness during friend's tales. Rosha was sympathetic to this and humbly fell silent when Vtorak began to snore. At noon, footsteps were heard in the corridor. The warrior decided that they would finally be bothered to feed them, but his hopes were destroyed. Behind the lattice door a silhouette of a plump nobleman appeared in spacious colorful robes. That was Pat.
- What the hell was that?! - exclaimed Vtorak, seeing him.
- Sorry, dear friend. No one knew that Oha could be capable of such a thing, Pat replied in a soft voice, "But now I have already taken control of the situation." The traitor is killed. I will have to lead Stargrad myself.
- So let us out, what are you waiting for?
- Vtorak... as governor of this beautiful, ancient city, I am forced to ask you for one service.
- What do you want? - Vtorak could not believe that Pat decided to blackmail him with freedom. It was a low deed even for a politician like him.
- No, no... I, of course, will release you and your friend anyway, however... the public believes that the coup in power was exclusively your initiative. People are afraid of the coming to power of a new tyrant. It will not be easy for me to convince them of your innocence, if only...
- If only what?
- Unless you agree to help me and all the people of Stargrad in my face.
- What do you want?
- Do you remember how we met?
- I did not let you be killed.
- It's more likely did not let me be robbed, - Pat said, - Although, this is also important. Then I went to the negotiations ...
- We both understand that this is nonsense, - the mercenary blurted out. - There's no one to trade with in the curced forests. There is no one to negotiate with. It's more likely that you tried to hide something there.
- Do not rush to conclusions, my friend, - the nobleman smiled. - The negotiations may not be commercial at all, and in the forest of the hanged there is someone with whom you can agree...
- Koschey? - guessed Vtorak.
- Yes. Even then, knowing the impending rebellion of Delius, I was looking for someone who could protect the city from his hand. I suggested that the immortal would become the commander of our guard and protect us! But he refused...
- What are you want to say?
- You talked about meeting him. Go to him and pass on my offer. I want to make him commander of the squad. He would have taken Deliuse's former place. This place of honor...
- In exchange for consent, I will get freedom? Pretty good deal, in that case. I agree.