This wasn't just a cold that made the dead leaves curl into stillness. The boy was counting sunflower seeds and hoping he'd survive.
"I haven't had a nightmare in a long time," he noted, looking at the sleeping farmstead. His name was Sato, and he soothed the chafing from his long ride with the sweet thought of revenge.
- That's because you didn't kill anyone. - The commander in the antlered helmet turned his head towards him and answered with clouds of steam escaping through the holes. - When I was nine, I killed my father. I watched his entrails leak out of his belly. Since then, I could never sleep peacefully. The world became somehow black... When you take someone's life, memories turn into nightmares. Then those nightmares become reality, you live in them while awake. That's when a person becomes a man. Do this, and you will be born again, but nothing will be the same. Everything will become disgusting, and the taste of blood will always accompany you in your mouth.
The boy listened to these words, feeling his heart beat faster. The voice that spoke them was calm, but there was something unpleasant in it, it seemed to sink into icy darkness.
- It's time to fulfill my duty - he continued. Each of his breaths became heavier. - The border that must be crossed is a stone bridge, but this is not an ordinary place. It enjoys a bad reputation. The soul of this bridge, as legend has it, is its builders. As soon as they finished its construction, they slit their throats. They left no explanation. However, there are some assumptions that something could have forced them to do it. This story arouses horror in everyone. Anyone who hears it avoids this place.
Their lips were frozen with frost, and the frost was melting in their hair. The world was hidden under a thick blanket of snow. It looked like a bunch of white roses on a grave.
"But not us," Migar Hallowfall said, his pale gray eyes glaring at the massive, sharp-edged mountains. The snow melted into the mist. His black armor was battered with dents and scratches. "I don't intend to die here. This land is hard to search, for it is like a frozen wasteland, but the rebel must be here somewhere. It takes your breath away, for you have become accustomed to the warmth. Enough of this chattering of teeth, enough of babysitting this boy who ended up here by accident. Where is the voice of reason in all this?"
- It's none of your business, mercenary. - The commander's voice was serious and betrayed his age. Visander was a man well over forty in shining armor, reflecting the light source coming from the torches. He looked around sharply through the holes in his helmet, and the pale moonlight crept into their interior. - At least I feel that I'm present when he doesn't hold his tongue. I'm not going to shut him up just because you have some whim. Stop for a moment. Come on. I can hear you freezing from the cold. But if you turn back, you'll find yourself under the jagged blade of the executioner. And he sometimes tries twice, so think carefully. Going back is even more dangerous.
- Then let them cut off my head - Migar replied, twisting his lips in a bitter smile. - Go ahead, because threats may not work on me. I am immune to them. We sweat, bleed and die for scraps, for illusions. I would rather take my freedom with my last breath than wear their collars, cutting into my throat. And when they finally open me, they will see the same as everyone else. But coldness does not give privileges. No... I do not treat anyone better. That is why I am here with you, of my own free will. This time.
- So you're suggesting that Hjalkan didn't force you? - Visander challenged him. - Do you think you had another choice?
Migar Hallowfall grimaced, a trace of nervousness appearing on his face.
"You're not half as dry and cold as you were when you were young. " He tugged at his black whiskers. The giant man looked like a bear in the starlight. "Besides, he didn't force me to do it. He only hinted that when I returned I would sail on a river of gold. In other words, he promised me wealth. I could drink beer now, fluffy and frothy... Drink it with some redhead. And I'm just the edge of a knife, measured by the highest bidder. What does that say about me?"
"Not so good," Visander said with painful honesty.
Sato looked at them, uncertain, full of fear. There was no courage in his eyes, only fear, the same fear that most often leads to bad decisions. He was only fourteen, but he had already experienced the bitterness of life's hardships.
The boy's clothes were soaked in dirt and damp, covered in mud stains that were slowly drying on the fabric, creating a patchy, dried-out layer of earth. A thick, dark cloak flowed down his slender figure, clinging to his body. An illegible coat of arms was visible on it, blurred in crumpled folds and tangled threads.
Snowflakes fell slowly, their delicate, transparent crystals melting on the warm surfaces of the clothes, leaving only small drops of moisture. They collided with the hard, tanned fur of the mercenaries, in which they dissolved easily, losing their form.
It was the third night since they had agreed to what they had agreed to. And the first since they had decided to split into groups. They avoided the main roads and unwanted attention. They moved in dozens. Without any colors, coats of arms or banners that could betray affiliation. They did not want to feel the uncomfortable gazes of eyes on them, and there were mostly those that shine among the trees and rocky slopes.
"I hope they are waiting for our return," the boy began.
- And I, that I will go to the hot springs and evaporate the stench that rises from the farmsteads. - Migar did not remain silent. - Boy, if they are waiting for anything, it is the head of a traitor, so that they can pin it to the iron gates of the stronghold. The stench of its corruption would remind them of loyalty. Everyone would be discouraged from betrayal. This is exactly what the bloody reality looks like, and hope is certainly not one of them. You live in a corrupt world, where your life means nothing. Not to those who warm their asses in castles and manors. Remember that.
- Imagine that the head is a thread, and they can weave whatever they want from it - Visander dreamed. - We have undertaken to cut it off. It is the least evil that could be chosen. Let us stick to it. It is the only thing we can do. Our master will compensate us for the suffering we will experience here.
- From now on, the lesser evil is a silent execution? - Migar asked sarcastically. What he did, he did for money. On this issue, he could not agree with the commander.
- The king wants neither spectacular scenes nor public sentences for the traitor - replied Visander. - He only wants his death. And as quiet as a mouse, and we will carry out his order. We cannot even leave any traces. Besides, is it better to kill the wolf who is the leader, or to slaughter the entire pack that blindly follows him?
- It doesn't matter, as long as they pay well for it, but any evil is not a choice, so don't bullshit. Smaller or greater will kill them the same. Both of those things don't exist. It's a lie, an illusion. This is how we try to justify killing. There's been more and more of it lately. I feel like the day isn't even getting brighter here. I don't like it here.
- Mercenary lies are divided into those that have come to light and those that no one has to tell. I am lucky enough to see the world as it should be.
- And do they show mercy in this world? And I guess it's ruled by the Skybreakers?
- It is beheading - Visander answered his first question immediately. - The real punishment would be to throw someone to the dogs to tear them apart in the mud, for everyone to watch as they sink their fangs into the victim and eat it with gusto. Do you know that once people believed that pain was felt after death? So what will it be, mercenary, whose side will you choose when you have to choose? You can't be neutral forever.
Migar Hallowfall spat on the ground.
- None of them are worth my clearing my throat with phlegm.
"I'd rather not choose either," Sato chimed in. "And even though I'm here with you, I don't like wars. I…
The mercenary smiled at these words, but it was not a warm smile.
- You have no experience, and you have never seen war. If you think that everyone can simply choose their "point of view", then you will soon be dead. The choice is first a small drop of blood, and then a thick, flowing stream in the white snow. If it is yours and you are slowly choking on it, then you look at the waxing crescent moon and feel that there is no hope. You die alone with some fucking knife in your back, wheezing something that does not resemble words. - He began to grip the reins and looked at him nervously and uncertainly. - I hope it's someone's, boy. And if we have to fight, you'd better end up with wounded pride, but with your life. Focus on hiding. Find shadows to hold on to. There's no point in dying for some pointless fight. It shows you don't know how to fight.
"The one who knows shadows best is the one who hides under rocks ," he replied in a thin voice. He could barely stay on his saddle, his bruised hands tightening around the rusty knife. " For as long as I can remember, I've been hit in the head with them. My father was a stable boy, murdered by the city guard. They dragged him out in front of the stable and stabbed him to death, and I had to take care of their horses despite the humiliation. They acted as if I wasn't the son of a man who had just lost his life. I felt like a rotting leaf buried under a horseshoe. Those memories continue to haunt me. I know what shadows are. To survive in them, I had to cast them myself."
Everyone was silent for a moment, watching the boy. His gaze was filled with determination.
- An eye for an eye, does that tell you anything? - Migar asked. - When you see their helplessness, as they choke on their own blood, when they can't do anything anymore, you'll feel the emptiness, but then freedom. You have to avenge your father. I doubt he deserves what happened to him.
The young man closed his dark eyes for a moment and daydreamed a little. A terrible image flashed in his mind. He saw himself ripping his enemies open from chest to neck, his entrails spilling out from under the jingling rings of his enemy's chainmail. Blood spilled onto the ground, staining the snow a deep, purple hue.
He was brought back to the present by the creaking sound that, with each individual movement of the horses, dug into the frozen ground. The hooves of the dark bay steeds bounced off it, leaving regular tracks behind them. And the hooting of an owl, said to be the wisdom of the night.
"I actually loved living in the stables," Sato said. " I miss it like nothing else, but this job was taken away from me forever. I know it's not my place. But I had no other options. War is bloodthirsty, dehumanizing, and nothing speaks to the heart anymore. That's what my grandmother used to say. If I hadn't had to fight poverty, the mother of hunger, I would never have ended up here. Sometimes the choice you have is either to fight or...
Migar reached out and ran his fingers through his black hair.
"I understand why you're here," he said, a little wearied. "I just wonder who allowed you to be so reckless. And while I understand your reasons, something about this all seems too easy."
- Once they stripped me naked and stood me against a stone wall - the boy complained. Somehow he couldn't stop feeling sentimental about the past. - The irony was that they were always throwing them at me. Stones... They cleaned out my pockets like plates of roasted meat. I got used to that too. It was the moment when you feel that you are ready to sacrifice yourself to change something. It's the silence that comes before death. You hear it, but you can't stop it, because you know it's coming anyway - he confessed, wiping wet tears from his cheek. - Laugh if that's what you need. I don't care anymore. Just like back then...
"We're getting closer ," Visander interrupted. His voice was as hard and decisive as it always was when the situation got serious. " I'm not your fucking nanny, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. If the cold doesn't kill us, the bared teeth of the rocks will. Put out those torches. Do you want everyone to know where we are? I'm not going to fall into any traps, and sometimes they set up traps here that nobody gets out of alive. Didn't anyone warn you about the things that happen here? These aren't normal mountains, this is hell."