by Vitaly Zykov
«What pathway is this?!» – Yarik as if got a hit at his head. «This is a primeval forest! What pathways could be here, by Dark gods?!»
Yarik raised his hand to alert and stop Darg and sat down. His eyes groped over the trampled ground, trying to find more important details. Oh, he had relaxed at the wrong time! Slavery had affected him. Slavery deprives a man of independence, blunts his ability to react to changes in the environment quickly and in the right way. Yarik also used to rely on someone else during the past year and had forgotten that his survival only depended on him.
– I don't understand, is it hooves there? – Yarik asked his master. – Never seen any such before!
– Me neither, slave! But it is very similar to the descriptions of wild pigs trails.
– Yeah! Those gray ones, with prickles all over their back, always grunting and shitting everywhere? – Yarik asked. – Like the ones Lychan has?
Yarik asked it, remembering one small, narrow-eyed nomad, who kept a few animals, very similar to Earth analogue of pigs except their color and thorns on their backs.
– Yes, them. It would be good to catch a pig! – Darg, who had significantly mellowed lately, rolled his eyes dreamily. – Can you?
Darg was asking Yarik, of course. But Yarik said:
– These pigs have a dad with those huge tusks, don't they? – Yarik spread his arms wide for clarity.
– No. They have a father, of course, but it has smaller tusks. – Darg showed their size of a half of Yarik's palm.
– Y-yes, but it's still not good! – Yarik ruffled the back of his head thoughtfully.
– Are you displeased with something, slave?! – Darg could not even imagine, that his slave could be so headstrong, that after receiving an order, he did not rush headlong to execute it, but even dared to argue. – I think when we come out to people, it would make sense to punish you!
– As my lord wishes! – Yarik bowed his head humbly, swearing hard at himself.
«Have I lost my mind?! Orders are not a subject to discuss with masters!» – Yarik really wanted to hit himself with something heavy on his head…
– Beware!!! – Without any hesitation he shouted and pushed his master aside, so that he flew into some bushes… some thorny bushes!
At the same moment, a yellow shade flashed. Somebody with a long leap flew down from a tree, and if Yarik didn't have such an extraordinary sense of danger, Darg would have been a corpse already. Where he was standing a moment ago, now a very large lynx was expressing its disapproval with a dreary meow. A long time ago Yarik had seen its distant relative in the zoo, but that one was smaller by one third, and its eyes had not glowed with such primeval fury. Well, now it was a wild animal!
At this point the forest cat decided that roar of offense may wait, since there was a beautiful lunch before its eyes. And something told Yarik that he personally could become a lunch.
– Well, well, kitty. Calm down. I…
But the lynx was not intending to listen what the man was going to say, and threw its body forward with an opened jaw baring its claws in the air.
Time slowed down in an already familiar manner and Yarik instinctively rolled forward towards the beast and in the lowest point of its jump punched up from the bottom and immediately withdrew his hand. The trajectory of the forest cat's jump changed dramatically. The man's fist hit it in the stomach and threw it on a couple of elbows. Stupidly swinging its paws, with some muffled half-moan or half-growl the beast heavily hit with its side into the ground, clearly demonstrating that sometimes cats land not on four paws. A roar of pain, testified that combat excitement of the beast faded a little.
Yarik jumped to the beast which still not recovered from the shock, grabbed it at the back of its neck and somewhere near its sacrum. It was heavy! Muscles howled in protest, and the beast which already had begun to struggle was brought high above the man's head. Then a sharp sit down on one knee and… C-crack! Yarik struck the beast backbone on his knee. The strength of the hit was such that the backbone of the large cat cracked and broke down. Yarik threw the lynx's body aside, fearing that paws of the agonizing animal could touch his bare skin. The claws were menacing!! It mewed in pain, its eyes filled with suffering looked at Yarik, the cat tried to rise, but its paws did not obey, and the animal twitched senselessly. Yarik came close to the dying beast and wrapped his hand around the cat's head. A sharp jerk, and the lynx's soul departed to the land of Eternal Hunt.
And time began to run its usual gallop. The muffled rumble of blood running in veins roared in his ears. Yarik began to turn and suddenly his look fell on Darg. The latter stood near and stared thoughtfully at the slave.
– You're smart, very smart, Cali curse me! – Apparently, the master delayed only for a split second to the battle.
– Life in the land of Urgs teaches a lot… my lord. – Yarik bowed his head. – I ask my master to forgive me: the worthless slave had to guess at once that where animal tracks are, hunters may be too. – These words were filled with humility, but at the end of the phrase a mischievous sparkle appeared in his eyes. – But on the other hand, we have the meat now!
Darg's smile was the answer. Interpreting that as an endorsement of his actions, Yarik approached the dead animal and hoisted it on his shoulders – it was necessary to go away from the animal trail where relatives of this cat could roam.
Two men were trotting like wolves through the forest. Their muscular bodies deftly skirted the trees and dived under the overhanging branches. One of the runners was completely naked, the body of the second was covered with some rags. Now they ran into a small clearing on the edge of which were two pine trees, between their roots a small spring was pulsing.
– Master, I have told you that here is water. – A naked man leaned against one of the trees, stretching his tired legs.
– If I did not believe you, slave, we would not have run here. – The second man fell on the grass and began to intently scratch the skin on his belly.
– Master Darg, I want to advise you not to scratch your burns. Otherwise there would be scars. – Yarik was very respectful. – Your wounds are almost healed, but the young skin is so delicate…
– Shut up! Scars decorate men – said Darg, closing his eyes with pleasure. – I have no strength to endure this itching any longer!
– It's true! – Yarik said, remembering his own feelings from the healing burns.
At this time, Darg bent down and began to drink greedily from the spring.
– It's a pity that they drove us off the village! – Yarik returned to yesterday's events. – They could at least let us have some clothes. Nobody will allow us to come into a city with such appearance… Master, how far is Kargol from here?
Finally Darg broke off from the spring and leaned back.
– Jurga knows! We crossed the border with Uzz, maybe, two weeks ago. Kargol should be a week away from the border. On a good tirr, of course. But we have no tirrs…
– Is it a big city?
– If you multiply the last village by ten, you get Kargol. But I have not been there myself, I only heard what soldiers were saying…
Yarik sighed, remembering yesterday's village again. About thirty yards, the huts were all ramshackle, not single decent fence. The road passing through the village was just for one wagon. Complete poverty! It was the first village in which they dared to come.
They had no problem with food. Darg and Yarik had fully recuperated and adapted to the forest life. But their appearance… shagged, tanned, Darg all spattered with spots of pink skin (Yarik's young skin got tanned already), one naked and the other in rags. Of course they could not inspire any confidence. So it was quite understandable why, when they entered the village (Yarik covered his loins with something like a herbal skirt), women and children hid in their huts, only heels of one smart kid flashed somewhere ahead. Where and why he run, it became clear later, when a herd of screaming men armed with axes and staves came to meet the newcomers. The only thing
that the fugitives could learn was the fact that they arrived in the kingdom of Uzz. Some peasants were shouting that they would pass the vagrants to guards of the merciful king, Donger the Terrible. As Darg said while running, this Donger was the king of Uzz.
They ran long that time. The enraged peasants disliked strangers for some reason and wanted to catch them at any cost. But, of course, they could not compete with people accustomed to forest.
– Master where will we go after Kargol?
Darg thoughtfully chewed the tip of a grass blade and snapped irritably:
– How should I know?! I have never been further than Polot in my life. I know about this land only from traders' stories. I know that passenger carriages go from Glort, the Uzz capital, to New Givart. And there we can already take a ship and sail from Sarduor.
– Uzz, really, has no access to sea, does it? – Yarik asked with utmost politeness. Judging by the voice, his master was on the edge.
– I guess it has. But they have no serious port. Who needs this kingdom, forgotten by all gods, while New Givart has an excellent port and a bubble ferry? And from there you can get anywhere by land.
Yarik nodded respectfully, but then could not help asking:
– What is this bubble ferry?
Darg looked furiously at Yarik, moved his lips, but estimating the distance, he decided that from his place he could not reach the slave and he was too lazy to get up, so it was easier to answer.
– One more question, and I'll unscrew your head off! A bubble ferry is an air port. There stop air bubbles that carry people and urgent loads… – Darg looked at his slave and continued angrily: – No, I've never seen a bubble! Now shut up!!!
Yarik understandingly paused and slipped on the grass – if he had time, it would be nice to relax.
CHAPTER 25
This day went wrong from the beginning. At first Yarik got a good slap from Darg. The master remembered as his slave had bothered him with questions, and decided to perform educational activities. Then it turned out that some arrogant crows had stolen the bundle with food which had been hidden in the grass. The nasty birds not only took away the wanderers' breakfast, but brazenly sat down on the branches of the surrounding trees and expressed their opinions about the stupid people in hoarse croaks… of course, it turned out that Yarik was guilty of it. The slave did not care about entrusted products! The slave decided that it would be useless to remind Darg that he himself took the bundle from Yarik before sleep, and did not appoint duty. It's not allowed… So now he had to move through the forest accompanied with chorus of rebellious stomachs and under sizzling glances of Darg.
To go through the forest, avoiding all roads and trails, was very hard, after all. Yarik came to this conclusion, jumping over a fallen tree, which blocked his way. Though in comparison to what he had experienced before, now it was an ordinary jaunt. Even the episode of the lynx was not so dangerous. Should they be less wounded, the beast could not catch them by surprise. But now they did not even meet an ordinary wolf! In the land of Dead Spirits it was a completely different situation! Even a rotten shrub could bring death there, a grass blade could sting your heel. And here… not a forest but a park!
A bird cried somewhere aside.
«A strange voice. Unnatural!» – Alerted Yarik.
The young slave turned to Darg. Darg ordered him to keep going with his eyes only, without changing bored expression on his face.
«So I didn't imagine it. The master noticed something too…» – Yarik thought with satisfaction and prepared like before a jump.
Some wide gaps between trees were looming ahead.
– Master, is it a road ahead? – Yarik asked. – Maybe we'll try to walk on it?
Darg said nothing, only nodded approvingly. They continued to move forward. Apparently, Darg decided to stop hiding and make a new attempt to reach out to people.
«Maybe we can join some caravan» – Yarik hoped. He was tired of aimless wandering through the forest already.
The trees were standing very close to the road. They could consider this fact alone as an indicator of the local kingdom's weakness. As Yarik understood it, criminals could rob everyone on this road without any risk. Put a few archers on the trees and some swordsmen (or more realistically, men with axes and clubs) in the bushes, and if you fell down the trees in front and behind a caravan you can rob everybody you will.
A vague uneasiness was replaced with anxiety. The place was dangerous. Yarik already came close to the roadside bushes and stopped. It was a little scary to go into the open space. Darg was standing nearby, and his eyes were tenaciously groping the neighborhood now.
«Everything seems to be clean. – This fact worried Yarik a little. – Although, if the one hiding here were not a fool… I would have climbed on a tree in his place».
Yarik looked up and met the gaze of a man with a bow, who was sitting there and aiming at him with a brazenly squint.
– Bastard! – Yarik whispered. His thoughts rushed from side to side in search for an answer.
Darg, having heard the cry, instantly understood everything, and raised his head. Yarik scanned the surrounding trees carefully and saw the same picture – the archers sitting like sparrows on the branches.
– Master, it seems we're in trouble – Yarik whispered again.
– Let's see. – For some reason, Darg was glowing with optimism.
Yarik wondered – he would dodge a couple of arrows, but the third or the fourth one will surely overtake him. And then it would be as easy as pie to finish off the wounded man. Besides that he could not forget about Darg… What a peaceful forest!
At this time, the sound of soft footsteps appeared, and three thick-set men came up to them. They all had colorful appearance. Their faces overgrown with beards almost to their eyes, broken noses, greasy hair, brazen eyes fully confirmed Lombroso's theory of the look of a classic robber. The clothes differed little from ones of peasants, but the weapon was well made. Two of them held battle-axes, on the belt of the third man (apparently their chieftain) hung a sword. Even for such an ignorant person of weapon as Yarik, it was clear that that was not a cheap tool of murder. Darg's eyes lit up!
– Well, well, Cali take you! – Started the man, whom Yarik appointed as the leader. Then he thought for a moment and added: – Damn you! Why aren't you paying the fee? Walking through our wood and not paying?! It's not good! It's not good!
Darg remained silent. As his subordinate, Yarik was silent too.
– Why are you silent?! Or have you pulled your tongues in your asses?! – The ataman demonstrated a stormy laughter.
Two comrades near him rattled too. Darg remained imperturbably calm. At this point the ataman focused his look on Yarik's neck.
– Guys, you just take a look! This ragged fellow is rich. – He pointed at Darg. – He has a bondslave at his service. A shag-rag himself, but still has a slave. – At this point a new idea came into the robber's head. – Or maybe you are from Polot? Merciful Orris rest the souls of its people. Ah?!! Answer me!!!
The ataman came up to Darg at the arm length distance. What he intended to do: whether to hit into the face of his prisoner, or to grab him, the story keeps in secret. Darg did what no one had expected. He abruptly stepped forward, facing the ataman, put his left hand on the hilt of the sword, hooked the right lapel of ataman's shirt and with one jerk swapped places with him.
Now the ataman's body was partially covering the warrior from the archers. Without giving robbers time to recover, Darg pulled the sword, turned on his heels, and struck one of the bandits at his open neck. Turning further round he released the sword hilt from his left hand and deftly caught it with his right hand. Another shift in his legs position, a movement of his hand and the sword flew along a new trajectory, rushing to the head of the second robber. The latter raised his ax in a defensive movement, but the sharp sword cut off his arm near the wrist. A new twist of Darg's hand and the whole body of the warrior rushes after the sword. Again a
n unthinkable turn in order to face the ataman, and… Darg's saber cut the empty air… ting-a-ling! – There was a sound of a broken arrow. The most agile archer managed to react and shoot from his bow.
As Yarik realized already after, Darg had not been pierced with arrows in the first moments of the fight because it's impossible to keep a bow taut for a long time. And the start of the battle was so quick that the archers had no time to react and moreover the ataman's body became an obstacle!
Darg spun a silver whirlwind around him, building an unbreakable wall of steel. But the ataman was not sleeping either. His hands had pulled off the rope with lead from his belt and this simple weapon was already whirling over his head.
At this point Yarik joined the fight. Realizing that the greatest danger for his master were the archers, he threw his body on the tree, diverting the fire of at least one of the shooters (the one who was sitting on this tree) at himself. His hands caught the nearest branch and his body deflected aside, making it difficult to aim. A deadly wind rustled nearby. Just in time! Now up, while the enemy was seeking for a new arrow… Shit! With a smacking sound an arrow stung into his right arm. Another robber from the nearby tree supported his fellow. His wounded hand slipped, and Yarik's body swung from side to side, which saved him from the other arrows. The first archer from Yarik's tree managed to fire. How much longer could it last?!! Yarik roared something dangerously-hysterical, hooked the next branch with his legs and released his hand. The body flew somewhere backwards, using the tree branch as a pivot. The feeling of friction of bare legs upon the rough bark was not too pleasant. A new arrow hit into the tree trunk. Yarik strained and saddled the branch, praying to all gods that the tree would withstand all the stunts he had to perform.
References to Yarik's ancestors came from above and another arrow flew alongside. Judging by the speed, it had simply fallen out of the archer's hands. It was clear that the robber's nerves had begun to fail him.