Vtorak drove the horses as best he could. He wanted to get into the city as soon as possible. If it was not Oha who betrayed him, but Pat... the situation in the city could turn out to be unpredictable. If there were no Dwarf Hand left in the city, the Akshayah cult could take advantage of this. A chariot raced along the road like the wind. Foam from the mouths of horses by shreds fell to the ground. Sweat flowed off their steep sides in streams. It was necessary to have time. Just to be in time before something fatal happened.
- Vtorak! - suddenly shouted Rosha. The mercenary turned on him.
- What?!
- Do you look at the road? - the man wanted to answer the lizard something, but did not have time. The right wheel came across an obstacle, and the wagon flew up and crashed to the ground with such force that the wheels flew to the sides. The belts tore, and the horses broke free and run away. Travelers, brushing off dust and ashes, rose to their feet from the ground.
- Damn, who pulled your tongue?!
- Rosha just... Rosha wanted to clarify! Suddenly not looking! He drove fast... Danger.
- Ugh... - the warrior suddenly noticed a group of unusual people in the distance. They have already begun to show interest in the noise they heard when the chariot fell apart from the blow, - Wait... lay down on the ground. Who is that over there?
- Where?
- Oh... doesn't matter... - Vtorak recalled, glancing at the lizard's eyeless face, - Wait here, I'll go and figure it out.
- But what about the city?
- We are not that far from the city. On foot to the evening we will get.
- Will there be dinner?
- Will be... if we will be alive to see it.
Vtorak looked back at the road. The cause of the chariot accident was the corpse of a full peasant lying directly on the road. A wide, lacerated wound crossed the throat. Not far from him lay an inverted wagon, stolen by the attackers. Obviously, the people ahead knew the answer to the question of what happened here. It is also obvious that they would not give an answer to it of their own free will. Realizing the senselessness of the negotiations, Vtorak, hiding behind the tree trunks, began to carefully approach the killers. They had bald skulls and gray skin. They clutched in their hands an unusual weapon made of animal bones, into which sharply sharpened flat dark-crimson stones were mounted. For some of them, these peculiar swords with stone blades were made of wood. To his surprise, Vtorak noticed that there were three young women among the gray warriors. They also roamed the forest like animals in search of enemies, like the four men. Of the clothes on all, there were only primitive loincloths from animal skins. Over each shoulder hung a bag full of the loot.
These were ashen people. Once upon a time, Vtorak heard about these people. Wild ash tribes considered themselves children of volcanoes. So they explained their exorbitant warm-bloodedness: they were not even afraid of snow frosts. In honor of their ancestors of volcanoes, they rubbed wood ash into their skin from the earliest years so often that their skin itself turned gray over time. Then Vtorak understood - the relocation began. And with it - the invasion.
Usually, these hairless savages did not go far north or south. Serving as the only natural barrier between the inhabitants of the valley and the mysterious creatures and peoples of the north, they possessed a large number of free lands and had never before gone beyond them. However, if now they crossed the mountains and descended into the valley, it means that the migration is unusually fast. Peoples truly flee from the looming ice. How soon will the army of savages and northerners find themselves near Stargrad demanding the distribution of all food supplies to them? Of course, Vtorak only stumbled upon a reconnaissance detachment, but still this also did not bode well. Surely some tribes had already crossed the mountain range and made their way to the valley. How soon will the famine begin in the valley? There is clearly not enough food for all. No one could answer that. Even the gods.
When the savages came closer, Vtorak jumped out of his hiding place and chopped off heads of two soldiers with one swing. The rest screamed in their tongue some words of fear and rushed to the run. Rosha got out of his shelter and approached the warrior.
- They run fast. It's strange. There are so many of them.
- They were scouts. They have nothing to engage in a real battle with anyone else. And they killed the peasant only to take his supplies and take food to their tribe. Look, - Vtorak opened one of the bags of the dead barbarians. It included pies and bottles, as well as many other food items. Rosha pulled the strap of the bag from the shoulder of the headless dead man and put it on himself.
- There will be something to eat. The pie is delicious! Maybe he's with pigeons? Or a chicken... Rosha smells delicious, sweet aroma...
- Glad you're happy. Now let's go. We still have many miles to go before dark.
So the travelers continued on their way. Vtorak was sure that ashen people would not return for his soul. They were afraid of the inhabitants of the valley and therefore did not want to go too far into strange lands until they had accumulated as much warriors and tribes as needed in order to overcome their own fear.
Even on the way to the city, Vtorak realized that something terrible was happening there. Over the sprawling branches of dead trees that covered the hill, a tall column of black smoke appeared, rising to the very sky, merging with a veil of heavy clouds. The warrior ran up the hill, and a terrifying picture was revealed to him: the greatest city of the valley stood on fire. Its beautiful buildings were engulfed in flames, and people fled due to walls inaccessible to external enemies, fleeing from imminent death. "Hurry up, Rosha! We need to get out on the road!" - exclaimed Vtorak and began to run down the hill. The lizard followed him, dropping all four paws for speed.
Having reached the road, Vtorak noticed a peasant astride a horse rushing towards him. The mercenary grabbed the peasant by the chest so that he could not restrain himself in the saddle and remained hanging above the ground in the hands of a warrior.
- Rosha! A horse!
- What a horse?! - the running lizard was surprised and sniffed at the peasant, sticking out his tongue as a serpent several times, - Nope. Human.
- Damn, there's a horse! Do you hear the sound of hooves? Bring it back!
- Oh yes! All right!
- Messir, let me go, please!..
- Be quiet! - shook the peasant Vtorak, - You will speak only in answer to my questions! Time is running out. What happened in the city?
- Path is crazy, sir! He said the northerners are coming. They do not know mercy! They will destroy the city, and we will all die, so our destinies are destined. And only by sacrificing someone else to Akshayahu, we can delay the hour of our own destruction! And the main priest helps him!
- Who?
- Well... the main one in this cult...
- Okay, what was next?
- And then only worse... A few ashen people made their way into the city... They carried the plagues rats into the city to kill us all without a fight, so that the city would not interfere with raiding villages.
- How many sicked?
- Several yet. The plague, Messir... We locked them all in the same hospital so as not to spread the infection, but we caught the rats and burnt them alive.
- Shit…
- But half of the city's citizens were so frightened of the imminent death that they began to cut nearby townspeople, their friends and neighbors right in the square! Old men killed young, mothers clasped daggers in the hands of children and killed other people's children with their hands in order to save their souls, men began to strangle their own wives, it was simply incredible! - the peasant almost cried, - I came to sell the skins! I only needed to sell skins and wool!.. Why did I get into the city at such a terrible time! I barely managed to break out! Bloody pogroms there are still going on! They all commit ritual killings! Let me go, I beg you!
- Okay, you managed to escape from the city, you are safe, but now your horse will serve me. I really need it more then you, beleave me! Walk to your village further! - said Vtorak and released the poor man. He gasped, plopping to the ground. Rosha meanwhile let down the horse.
- But how is it, Messire?..
- Rosha! Wait for me somewhere out of town! Until the pogroms end, do not go inside! - shouted Vtorak and drove the horse towards the city gate. The wind whistled in his ears, streaking between the horse's ears, developed his mane and the hair of Vtorok. The smell of fire was getting closer and closer, its unbearable heat was approaching. He heard cries of residents who did not have time to leave the city.
Riding through a crowd of fleeing residents scattered in front of him in different directions, Vtorak passed the gates of the city and rode along the flaming streets. The stone houses now looked like huge stoves spewing fire from their fireboxes. Ahead, the warrior noticed how several tramps were chasing a weakened noblewoman. Her elaborate hairstyle was disheveled, and her dress was smeared in mud. At the gallop, Vtorak cut the chest of one of the attackers with a sword, and he fell on the bloodied ground, issuing the last disgusting wheeze. The rest of the tramps rushed scattering from the rider.
- Run to the gate! - shouted Vtorak, trying to drown out the noise of chaos reigning around. - It's safer outside the city than here!
- Oh, thank you, my brave knight! - the woman exclaimed and politely bowed, - What can I do for you in order to show my boundless appreciation? What action will fully show you my gratitude?
- Try not to die today, - Vtorak said, and drove the horse further down the street.
- By all means, sir, - said the noblewoman, fascinated looking for the galloping hero.
As the wind rushed Vtorak through the flaming streets. His wild gallop seemed to only inflame the conflagration around. The horseman rode out into the town square in front of the knyaze's tower. There stood on the scaffold the high priest Akshayah, towering above the crowd, and gave out orders. Behind him, bleak bodies with open bellies swayed in the strong wind. Truly cruel death. Vtorak approached the priest. Faithful citizens and converts, on pain of death, fanatics turned around and looked at the rider. Suddenly Vtorak recognized in the priest a doctor who healed him from a wound in the stomach in a local dungeon.
- You! - exclaimed Vtorak.
- Surprised?! - the priest laughed.
- We only saw each other once. No, not surprised.
- There are so many things that you know nothing about, my friend, - he giggled again. Vtorak drove closer to the scaffold, the crowd tensely parted before him, meanwhile the warrior himself did not take his eyes off the priest.
- And you, therefore, know. So what?
- Maybe...
- Well, tell me. What are you waiting for?
- There is a time for everything, Vtorak! The Master will soon reveal himself to you...
- Are you talking about Pat?
- Pat is just a slave! - the evil priest spat on the ground, - Tool! Trinket! He is nobody! - the priest's expression suddenly changed to reverent, - the Master is omnipotent... The Master is great... He thought through everything! But I will not say... no! I will not say! - the priest laughed again uncontrollably, - he will tell! He himself...
- Since you're so all-knowing, maybe you also know my destination? - the horse stopped at the very edge of the scaffold.
- No one will tell you about your true destiny, for you will not be able to accept it.
- And can you accept it, - Vtorak asked, waving his sword, when suddenly a small metal process appeared on the priest's face. Vtorak did not immediately understand what it was. After a second, he disappeared, leaving behind him a through bleeding hole in his skull. Having lost his spirit, the priest fell off the scaffold, revealing the silhouette of a man. He stood in the shadow of the knyaze's tower. Where the bright glow of fires did not reach. Details of his dress were not visible. Only one bloody blade sparkled with a point. The cultists in one instant fled in terror. The horse under Vtorok stepped over. A man from the shadows took a step forward and brightly red fiery glare glided over his figure. Flashing on a smooth bald spot, a gold earring, and eyes under the overhanging eyebrows, they answered a question that Vtorak did not manage to ask himself.
- Enough of polemic. Time is short, - said the warrior.
- Varaha... - whispered Vtorak.
- Do not say anything. One must find Pat and put an end to all of this. Everything else later.
- Yeah, not the time for a warm hug and native kisses! - Vtorak smiled and dismounted. Varaha sullenly turned to the entrance to the tower and only growled muffled in response. The building was on fire. The only wooden building in the city walls blazed like a tall bonfire. Varaha calmly knocked out the burned doors with his feet and entered the smoky corridor. Crouching to breathe less caustic smoke, the warriors moved around the rooms.
- On the ground floor, the knyaze's bedchamber. There is a hole in the secret chambers carved into the rock under the tower. I bet Pat is hiding there. When we enter, you will stand behind. I need him. It is necessary to talk with him.
- As you will say, - Vtorak agreed, and followed the former mentor. He could not believe that he was again looking at Varaha. A strong-willed jaw under a lush, gray-haired beard, a strong nape, a firm grip on the sword. His whole figure... his whole life, as well as his appearance, expressed strength and power. It seemed that this man could never flinch, or doubt his business. Entire nations would follow him, if only he wished it. It would be terrible to be his enemy. Vtorak noticed that the old mentor was not too happy to see him. He was never cheerful, but now he looked especially gloomy. When he looked into the eyes of Vtorak, mercenary began to experience a boyish guilt, although he himself did not understand why. What if he finally decided to carry out a long-conceived assassination attempt and end his student? Is it because he knew about the true designation of Vtorak? What if Vtorak was destined only to destroy?..
Thoughts haunted the warrior. He looked with increasing apprehension at the old teacher. Having found a secret hole, both went down and closed the entrance behind them. The hall carved into the rock was quite spacious; several narrow ventilation shafts led to it. In the center of the room Pat was on his knees, in front of the wooden idol of Akshayah. Hearing the steps, he broke off the prayer and stood up. "That's the traitor," thought Vtorak, and the hatred burned within him with renewed vigor.
- Do you, gentlemen, know about the ancient technique of sacrifice? - he said calmly, - "If you see that the time has come, make a human sacrifice. And the grin of death will be hidden, you will not become dead, here is my advice." Northerners will get to the city very soon. They are an avalanche... we cannot resist. But if we propitiate Akshayah by giving others in our place, we will have the opportunity to survive. This is the only way that we have left...
- You are disgusting to me, you bastard! - exclaimed Vtorak, coming closer to Pat, - Your life is not so dear to sacrifice someone for its sake.
- It was necessary, Vtorak! There was no other way! Oha would not have been able to defend the city! I had to take everything into my own hands! The rest did not understand...
- Take it into your own hands, you said? Your city is on fire! - exclaimed Varaha.
- I know... I know how it looks now. But only time will judge who is right and who was wrong...
- Right? A third of the inhabitants of the city died! - Vtorak loomed over Pat so that he even cringed.
- It doesn't matter how many will survives... the main thing is that the living will remain! We will stay! Vtorak... I beg you... think about it... Immortality is the only opportunity. You can join us! Sacrifice the life of Varaha... I know him for a long time and... he is not able to understand...
- Immortality, you say... - Vtorak was captured such a fury that his mouth even stretched out in an ominous smile. He looked at this weak, miserable man and with his skin felt all his insignificance. The worm imagines itself that he is god. Pat believed that he could control the lives of others. His behavior reminded Vtorak of the arrogance of dwarf gods. Only unlike true celestials, did the worm never have personal strength. Vtorak turned to Varaha and looked at him. He looked menacingly at the apprentice. Varaha... appeared out of nowhere after so many years. Vtorak suddenly realized that Varaha had not even looked for him all this time, as promised. He obviously knew where his student was, but he didn't care. Vtorak's dreams of a long-awaited meeting crumbled to dust completely. In a flash of anger, Vtorak abruptly turned around and beheaded Pat. As he expected, the head could not exist, separate from the body. Flooding the floor, the ruler of Stargrad fell at the feet of the mercenary.
- What... - Varaha could not believe his eyes, - What the hell are you doing, you butcher?! What is wrong with you?
- Nothing, - Vtorak did not want to explain his action.
- This man knew even more then the high priest about the cult! He financed all this thing for years! We could destroy the death cult once and for all, and you just killed him?! - Suddenly the building above their heads shuddered. Varaha and Vtorak looked at each other and together rushed to the exit. Having run through the flaming corridor of the tower, they rushed out into the street. Vtorak looked around. The roof of the building sank, and soon the tower collapsed entirely. Burned supports could no longer hold it. The copper shields that covered the roof were scattered on the ground. Skillful carving burned. Flames encompassed wooden statues. Smoke. Flame. And the ashes.