Behind the hateful village, behind life as a slave, behind the training camp of the Marine Corps. Ahead is a war.
What's in store for newly minted Sergeant Ned Black? How does he use his abilities, the abilities of a black magician, a demonologist - an adept of magic forbidden in this world? And how to hide these abilities - because otherwise Ned risks being at the stake on charges of using forbidden magic!
And it was not in vain that he took the prefix to his name - "Black". What sits in his brain cannot be called white.
Battles, blood, magic, magical artifacts, friendship and hatred of comrades - that's what awaits Ned. Where will the bloody maelstrom of war take him? He doesn't know it yet. But he knows one thing - do the right thing. And come what may.
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Prologue
Senerade walked along the cobbled pavement, leaning heavily on his cane. He stopped at a vendor of fried octopuses, bought one, a small one, and began to eat it along with a fresh tortilla, blowing on his soiled fingers. The octopus was just taken off the brazier, very hot.
Between the houses, in the distance, under the rays of the sun, the sea shone, dazzling the gaze of the traveler with its brilliance, and on the sea surface, like white clouds, the sails of the ships slowly moved ... beauty! However, Senerade grimaced, turning his back to the sea.
A sea voyage a few months ago did not arouse the slightest delight in the Senerade. The doctor did not like the sea at all and preferred never to see it, especially since he got seasick even from a slight pitching. But what can you do if the capital is on the seashore, and besides, you can’t drag yourself across half the country on horses or bulls? Still, of course, sea travel is the most comfortable and safe way to travel around the world. And fast. With the Ard pirates in check, the sea routes became safer, traffic picked up, and more and more people began to travel by ship.
Remembering the Ards, the doctor immediately remembered the one who had occupied his thoughts for the last months. The one for which he spent weeks of his time - alas, to no avail. However, he did not forget him.
How many times did Senerad curse himself with the last words - he had to grab the guy and not let go of himself a single step! After all, he knew, he knew that this inconspicuous boy, the most insignificant, offended and downtrodden villager, a shepherd boy, was practically a slave - a black magician! And as it turned out later - WHAT MAG! Demonologist! A magician who can summon demons, using them to harm people. And not only people. And he, the stupid Senerad, left the boy in a village consisting of stupid villagers who want to assert themselves by humiliating the boy.
And what was it worth guessing that the boy, Ned, would no longer tolerate humiliation, insults? That he will kill his persecutors and hide in an unknown direction? Where was the Senerade's head? Stupid, yes, stupid, sitting in this village. If the doctor, as before, lived in the capital, rotated in a circle smart people- I would never make such a mistake.
Where did he live for ten years? In a dead hole! Next to pearl divers, fishermen and goatherds! Well, or cattle herders ... yes, the demon is with them, idiots. Now there are eleven fewer of them. Or rather, like this: there were four more real idiots - Ned bewitched four offenders, depriving them of their minds - and there were eleven fewer inhabitants - the guy just killed them. Why are you spitting into the black magician's cup? Why do you come with a crowd of people to beat the unfortunate guy? Well, they deserve what they deserve.
Senerade deserved a good kick for his stupidity. For Ned, he would have received a good sum from the society of magicians and from the state. Such that it would be enough for him to open a practice in the capital. Now - I had to look for funds, take a loan from the imperial bank, ask usurers. And in connection with the war, finding money became much more difficult. Bankers and usurers do not want to lend to anyone in troubled times. What if tomorrow the debtor's head is cut off? And then who will pay the debt? One hope was - a pledge - a house in the capital, which Senerad left ten years ago, hiding from the persecution of the furious relatives of a nobleman poisoned by his drug. He, Senerad, traded in certain means that could either bewitch or send a husband or lover to the next world. That's what paid off. Money is money, but everything came out. I had to drape almost to the ends of the world, to the filthy village of Black Ravine. And there was a treasure - Ned! And the doctor so stupidly missed the guy ...
Two weeks. For two whole weeks, Senerad ran around the town and asked everyone in a row - had they seen such a guy - tall, with a gloomy face? Neda - didn't you see?
Traces of Ned were lost in the port. How many ships were there at that time? What? Where could he go? Unknown.
Well, after two weeks of futile searches, I had to give up trying to find a guy and go where I wanted to - to the capital.
Ned will show up someday anyway - a demonologist, that's the kind of thing you can't hide. All the same, he will have a desire to release a spell, to use his power to harm his enemies. And then ... well, what then? Then they will either kill or seize and deliver the magicians to the agar. That's just Senerad from this will no longer be any use. Alas.
Ned, Ned... where are you now? What are you doing? Do you remember your village and a certain healer Senerada? Will we see each other sometime in this life? The ways that the gods give us are inscrutable...
Chapter first
Ned watched his company dig the ground. The paratroopers, swearing, groaning, crushed the solid earth, digging in for a night's lodging for the night. Half a day of march remained before the front line, and there was no need to relax. We need to prepare a safe camp.
Yesterday morning they landed on the shore - before lunch they transported the entire mass of paratroopers, in an organized, fast manner. Of course, there were some incidents - about thirty people still fell into the water, but were rescued by people specially allocated for this. Guides were waiting on the shore, and the 5,000-strong corps set off on the road.
Months of training took their toll, so they moved quickly, despite the fact that each of the paratroopers carried no less than fifty zusans of weight. Food, fencing stakes, weapons and armor - the weight is very serious. But where to go? It is impossible to fight without all this.
Senior officers rode horses, some of the cargo was also carried on horses - tents, for example - but the main thing was dragged by soldiers. You can’t take a lot of horses on ships, horses are only for senior officers.
The sergeants, just like the soldiers, walked on their own feet, and also dragged a bunch of junk, the only difference from the soldiers was that they were exempted from carrying general cargo and products. Only yours. But even his own was enough zusans for twenty. However, everyone only has enough food for a week. The rest of the Corps must either get it on the spot - buy it from local residents, or take it from the enemy. Or they will put him at the allowance of the main army.
Being a thorough man, Heverad never left things to chance, and each soldier could live autonomously for at least a week. And then ... then, as the dice fall - you're lucky, they will put you on allowance, if you're not lucky - the soldiers will rob the inhabitants.
The colonel looked at the world realistically and knew that if a soldier was not fed, he would either rebel or go into all serious trouble - he would rob and steal. Soldiers, of course, will not be allowed to rebel, and it is better to lead the robbery and call it "purchasing food from the population." The soldier must be fed. This rule is. And the command of the Corps adhered to it always and everywhere.
Twenty li passed in a day. The enemy is about ten miles ahead, and the colonel sent out scouts to find out what was going on there. In the meantime, the soldiers were pitching tents, lining them up in orderly rows, kindling fires, preparing to cook. Cereals, dried meat, fat, salt - all this was in their bags.
Each section prepared separately, and each of the soldiers allocated a portion from their stocks. Corporals strictly followed the process and did not allow rats. However, there was no urge to hide their products. Today you will not share with your colleague, but tomorrow, when you are dying, waiting for help, he will remember how you “squeezed” a handful of cereals, and ... it is not known what will happen. The front is the front. Here everything is in plain sight, and all in one day - today you are alive, and tomorrow you are not.
Separate tents were set up for sergeants, for lieutenants too, senior officers also spent the night separately. There has always been division by rank. The food for sergeants and officers up to and including majors came from the "one boiler", the colonels were prepared separately.
* * *
Ned received his portion of meat porridge with a flatbread, a mug of water flavored with red wine, which kills the infection (the water was from the stream where the Corps stood), and, sitting on a log from a sawn tree, began to slowly, with pleasure, absorb a hearty, hot meal. The last time he ate was in the morning when they were fed on the ship, and a “walk” in the fresh air with a load on his shoulders really contributes to a good appetite. Especially if you are less than two decades old ...
- Can I sit next to you? - a voice was heard, Ned turned around and saw Oydar, hesitantly leaning on a block of wood nearby.
“Of course not! Ned replied peevishly. “I’m going to attack you with a sword and cut off your head for such impudence!” Oida, what are you, an idiot? Sit down and eat! What are you asking? Like a stranger...
“Well… you are so important now, officer… and who am I?” Simple corporal. You are the winner of the tournament, the winner of the duel, the master... will you condescend to talk to a simple soldier?
“You pig…” Ned remarked, licking his spoon, “why are you kidding me?” Forgot how you slept in the bunks next to you? How did they tell each other about their dreams?
“I told you… you listened more,” Oidar grinned, sticking a spoon into his bowl and picking up an appetizing mound of porridge. “I remember everything, but you haven’t forgotten?” You've moved away from me and Arnot. Now we are on our own, and you are on your own.
The guy sucked in the porridge with a noise and breathed, getting burned:
– Hot! Oh, how hungry I am! Now would lamb side, fried on coals! Yes wine! Yes girl! Where did it take us?! We can't even eat properly. What is there to hear about the fighting?
“I don’t know any more than you,” Ned replied gloomily, “they’ll order us to go ahead.” They will order us to sit here until the end. All I know is it's too hot up there. Most likely tomorrow we will go ahead, leaving things here. Go to battle tomorrow. That's all.
- You are angry? For what I said about you? Oidar suddenly asked. - Sorry. I envy, of course. You were just like us. Simple guy. And suddenly - already an officer. I received a star on my chest ... Everyone knows you, you are so ... so ... famous. Even married already. And the wife is so beautiful that it takes your breath away. And I? Who am i? Just a corporal, who still does not know whether he will live a week or not. I'm sad.
- What do you get our sergeant? Arnot smiled at Ned. - It's so hard for him. He needs to think for all of us. Congratulations, Ned, on your star, on your victory, and on being alive. It must be the same - thirty people to put down! By the sword! Yes whom - slave traders, desperate guys! You were the one protecting your wife. I would kill everyone for such a beauty! She cried, accompanied you?
“Crying,” Ned chuckled wryly, remembering Sanda, wiping her tears: “I’m sorry… I’ll be waiting for you, but just… let’s think a little about how we can live on, okay? Everything was so scary, so unexpected... I won't tell anyone about you. Nobody, don't worry. But as long as we live apart…”
- Here. I envy you, - said Arnot sincerely, - I also want a beauty to see me off, wiping away her tears and throwing herself on her neck! Also, to…
“You’ve already heard,” Oidar muttered, “children, house, blah, blah, blah and all that. Zadolbal already his home and children. Is there another topic? Whatever you talk about - home - kids, home - kids!
“You are evil, Oidar,” Arnot spat, “you have nothing sacred!” Is that what you want from life, except for money, wine, women and ... the title of a master? Well, is there at least something sensible in your dreams?
- And what, all of the above - not efficient, or what? And in general - do you even understand what the status of a master is? It gives everything! And money, and women, and wine ... and a house. Yes. You try to achieve first, and then you will build faces! Fat faces!
“Hmm… and not so fat!” Arnot felt his face and glanced at Ned. By the way, I lost a lot of weight. So someone drove me that even my stomach disappeared.
– Come on… I got more workload in training, – Oidar dismissed, – I just had to retrain here, but it’s okay. It was harder for the "grandfathers". The men are already forty years old, and they are forced to run like young people. It's hard for them, of course. The week will be easier than ours. Now he, except for two pieces of iron, does not carry anything!
Ned sat and looked at his two friends... or former friends? It is very difficult to be friends when you know what your comrades think. Their thoughts are beating in the brain, and it resembles some kind of nakedness of the soul. It cannot be so. No wonder the gods did not give people the ability to hear the thoughts of others. If it is impossible for people to hide what they think about, how can one live? Here sits Oidar. A great guy, a master of martial arts, who won the tournament so easily, as if in front of him were not skilled, experienced fighters, but children who had barely risen from the cradle. It would seem that everything is fine with him, everything is wonderful. And yet, he's jealous. He envies so much that this very envy eats him alive.
“Well, why, why all the blessings of this redneck? And he became a sergeant, and they gave him a star... and what kind of girl does he have?! I have to go to corrupt whores, and this guy, uneducated, stupid, who can’t even drink wine, reads syllables - and here you are! A beauty that takes your breath away when you look at it and brings your legs together! Gods, why? You gave him all this to punish me? Well, yes, apparently, I'm to blame for something ... but why so cruelly? Not fair. It's not fair! I am more worthy! So he's a good guy... but still. To find out where he learned the ancient martial art of shanzo ... I wonder if one of the magicians finds out that he owns this martial art, would he be interested in such a circumstance? And he doesn’t want to teach me… Demon arrogant! Wait for me to hand you over to the mages! No, I won’t, of course… you can’t hand over your friends. Well, I'm still a bitch. But he did it himself! I abandoned my friends, I forgot, I became great, or what?
“And why did Oidar stick to him? Brings all sorts of crap. And his girlfriend is really beautiful. I would give anything to have such a wife. I could not breathe on her, I would blow off dust particles from her. Ned does not understand his happiness ... I wonder if she could love me? They say the girl worked in a candy store. There he met her. One of the guys spoke. What if Ned dies? An accidental arrow, or something ... and I r-times - and to her. Let me express my condolences ... She will cry on my shoulder, and then ... f-fuu ... what am I saying! Gods, don't listen to me! It's not the head that thinks, but ... In general, forget what I thought here. May Ned live, long life to him! But the beauty ... about the all-beautiful goddess Celera! Why didn't you give me such a beauty?! Her hips... her breasts... what a butt! No - get out of your head! Throw away! I'm sorry, Ned, I didn't mean… Hehe, I definitely didn't want you, but your wife…”
Ned listened sadly to the thoughts of his comrades, then turned off his "mind-hearing". Why would he hear it? Shouldn't you make it a rule to NEVER listen to your friends' thoughts? Gods, can you remove this gift altogether? Or, rather, it is a curse ... From him there are only troubles, only problems. If then, at the tournament, he had not overheard Shusard's thoughts, he would not have known that he had killed Colonel Ivarron. There would be no duel. Zadara and her friends would still be alive. Sanda would not leave.
But, on the other hand, if he had not learned about the plans of the lieutenant, who was preparing to kill Ned at the first opportunity or have him put on trial, then in the near future ... he would not have a future.
People do not know the plans of the gods, who play with human destinies, like people with dice. No one knows how the numbers will fall for anyone. One - an empty face with one point, called the "Curse of Fate". And the other - six digits - "Gift of the gods." Now he curses his gift, but after all, he already saved his life once, so is it necessary to anger the gods by giving up this skill? No, but still - you need to stop listening to thoughts. Unless, of course, there is danger.
- So, he went ... Ned, are you even listening? Arnot peered into the face of his comrade, and he smiled embarrassedly:
- I'm listening, Arnie, I'm listening. Even as I listen ... Yes, you spit on this alien sergeant - you have your own. If he forces you, say that you are following the direct commander's orders, and that's it.
“All right, direct commander,” Arnot smiled, “there will be a signal to hang up now ... do you think the losses will be heavy tomorrow?”
“Ask for something easy,” Ned frowned, “there will be losses, yes.” You know. The main thing is to keep the formation and cover your comrade. Do you remember what Dragonon said at the very beginning? Like this. Okay, friends, we disperse to the tents. Rest. If anything - come in, I'm always happy. I'm bored without you.
- And we are like comedians with you, right? Are we having fun? Oidar chuckled.
Ned grew gloomy, silently, without answering, got up, took his bowl and went to the sergeants' tent. Arnot looked at Oidar and asked sharply:
– What for? Oidar made a face.
“You bitch, Oida. - Arnot waved his hand in his hearts, turned around and went to the tent where they were supposed to spend the night. Oidar remained where he was, and when Arnot left, he lifted his head up to the starry, shining sky, flickering with lights, and quietly said:
"Gods, why?"
* * *
The night passed quietly and calmly. The sergeants sniffled in the tent, each on his own mattress pad. Folding beds in the campaign were only for senior officers. No one tied the sleeping bags - the night was hot. And in general, the closer to the capital, the warmer it became. If the heat had already subsided at the base of the corps, then summer was in full swing here.
When the sky began to turn gray and the stars dimmed, the scouts returned - sweaty, heated. Are they the last ones to almost run. The camp guards pushed back the log shields blocking the exit from the perimeter, and three scouts immediately headed for Colonel Heverad's tent. He was sleeping, but when the guard said in an undertone: “Mr. Colonel! Intelligence service!" - immediately jumped up, pulled on socks, pants and put his feet into soft boots. The tunic did not put on, remaining in his shirt, and went out to the scouts who were standing at the entrance:
- Report. Sit down here. Adjutant, more light! Bring two lanterns!
They sat down at a table on which a map of the area was laid out. The Colonel patiently waited for Sergeant Hassel to rub his eyes, slightly blinded by the bright light, and calmly asked:
- Ready? Report.
The enemy has dug in around the city. As we know, this is the city of Estcar, with a population of fifty thousand people. A path leading to the border passes through it. Earlier, when there was no war, cargoes went to Isfir along it. This is the key point...
- Enough! Why are you lecturing me? What, I don't know this?! I didn't get up at dawn for that! the Colonel stopped abruptly. - Get down to business!
“Excuse me, Mr. Colonel,” the sergeant was embarrassed, a man of about thirty-five, thin, small in stature, strong and smart, “he is accustomed to report in detail. So, the number of invaders could not be specified. But ... apparently - there are at least twenty thousand of them. Four buildings.
- Where does this data come from? Heverad raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. – If you couldn’t count, and suddenly such accuracy?
I managed to get into the city. I took one of Isfir's soldiers and interrogated him. So he gave this number.
- Composition of the army? Who is in command now?
“General Herag, relative of King Isfir. The prisoner said - efficient commander. Composition - ten thousand men at arms, light infantry - about eight thousand, and archers. They have practically no crossbowmen. It's Isfir! The sergeant pursed his lips in disdain. “They don’t respect crossbowmen. As I already said, it was not possible to check the data.
- Magicians? How many mages do they have?
This soldier did not know. There are magic, that's for sure. And a lot. But he could not know the exact number - like us, magicians live separately and almost never appear in public. However - maybe they are shown, just not in their form of an army magician. They are not known by sight. Everything is like ours.
“It’s just like ours…” the Colonel repeated thoughtfully. What are the fortifications?
- Serious. The city walls were strengthened, there was a moat around the city - they forced the inhabitants to dig. By the way, they are now in slavery. Who did not have time to escape - got caught. They work as servants, dig, drag - slaves. Women, of course, serve the soldiers. Like whores.” The sergeant shrugged calmly. - The whole district was robbed, there is nothing. Around - like locusts passed. No grass, no fields - everything was trampled down, the houses of the peasants were looted and burned.
“Stupid…” muttered the Colonel, looking at the map.
What, Colonel? The scout didn't understand.
– It is foolish to treat the inhabitants of those territories that you want to turn into your property. The right way provoke violent opposition. It means that this general Herag is not so efficient.
“Maybe they don’t need the locals?” The sergeant shrugged again. - They will catch up with their peasants, and the locals deep into the country, into slavery.
“Perhaps so,” the Colonel admitted reluctantly. Did you find any weaknesses? How did you enter the city? Is there an underground passage?
- A river flows into the city. Right under the wall. And it flows out accordingly. Covered with grating. I dived, in one place I managed to seep through the bars - I'm thin, small, I got through, but with great difficulty. Bok ripped off. Someone bigger than me will not get through. There is a wall above the bars - with guards at the top. Torches. Arrows. I dive well, I can hold my breath for a long time - that's it. He left through the second grate, downstream - the same thing. Blocked. The gratings are powerful, you can't take them with anything. Rather, the wall will fall apart than the bars will give up. If the magicians do something...
- They won't. They need to be two steps away from the bars to bewitch it. Are you hearing about mages for the first time? Do not be silly. Something else? What are the weak points? It can't be!
No, Colonel. No weaknesses. They got strong. And there are no traces of our troops nearby.
- How not?! Heverad frowned. “There should have been three infantry corps up the river!” Where did they go? What did the prisoner say?
- He said badly. Our three days ago were completely defeated, - the sergeant said hoarsely and coughed, as if knocking a tight plug out of his throat, - several thousand killed, the rest fled, leaving their equipment behind. Now it, this equipment, everything is in the city. As I understand it, this city is used as a stronghold and will be so forever. Or rather, they plan to leave him forever. The garrison will soon change, more soldiers will come, and these will again go forward. They are like ants, devouring everything in their path. And there are four such strongholds. In each grouping twenty-thirty thousand. We can't do it without support, Colonel! We have neither cavalry nor slingers. Five thousand people, and that's it! And if they manage to send for help, then it’s definitely the end. All strongholds are a day's march from each other, this one is the last one to the sea. Also, they are waiting for us. Moreover, they come here at dawn. Their intelligence has already reported us.
“That was to be expected. The Colonel closed his eyes wearily. - Lieutenant, wake up the colonels. Let them come here. Wake up the majors, then let them all rise - a general wake-up call. Chief mage to me. Urgently! The sergeant is free. Rest. Today will be hot. Very hot…
Everyone, including the adjutant, got up and quietly left the tent, leaving the colonel to sit in a folding chair. His eyes were closed, and Heverad seemed to be asleep. But it was a seeming calm. His brain was intensively processing the information received. Heverad was trying to find some way to avoid the death of the Corps and saw only one way - to maneuver. You can't let yourself be pushed into the perimeter. Go out and fight out of the blue, where discipline, the ability of paratroopers will overpower the ability of ordinary soldiers. Drive the enemy back into the city. Or…or run. Run before the Corps gets caught in the pincers.
The colonel very much counted on the help of the infantry corps, over which he was to take command. But now they were no one knows where, or rather, what was left of them, now no one knows where.
No, the colonel didn't start to panic. During his career, he has seen everything. The corps was hard hit, and often half of the fighters remained in its composition. But… they have never been in such a difficult situation. In fact, the Corps was stupidly left to plug the hole. And not just a hole, but a huge tear in the mattress, from which feathers are pouring in a stream.
Only now did the colonel truly understand the magnitude of the catastrophe that had befallen the country. The threat of being captured by Isfir hung over her, for the first time in decades, maybe hundreds of years. King Isfira Sholokar III prepared well for the war and did everything to win it. Before that, Sholokar restored order in the country, beheading all those who were dissatisfied with his power, strengthened the army, squeezed money out of the people, and now the result of his reforms is visible.
Zamar is bursting at the seams, torn apart by powerful army groups. And how it will end is unknown.
* * *
From the embrace of sleep, Ned emerged gradually, and when he opened his eyes, for several seconds he could not understand where he was. People were sleeping all around—snoring, gasping, whistling, smelling of socks—the smell of socks Ned would remember for the rest of his life. Sour, tart, turning inside out. And try to walk for days in boots, in the heat, but twenty li a day! You don't stink that much. There was nowhere to wash - the stream was used only for drinking. However, if they had lingered at this place longer, they would have dug a pond downstream, and everyone would have washed there. But today there was no strength for it.
Ned batted his eyes - what kind of demon had he woken up so early, before waking up? And then, as an answer to his thoughts, the sound of a trumpet roared menacingly and loudly: “Duuu! Dooo! Dooo!" - climb!
There was a stir in the tent, people began to dress, put on clothes, boots, urgently attach armor and weapons to themselves. Strictly limited time was given for everything about everything, and many sticks were broken on the backs of the soldiers, accustoming them to quick gatherings. Or rather, spin smashed with sticks.
- Doo-doo-doo! Doo-doo-doo! - "Construction".
The soldiers jumped out of the tents, looking for their place in the ranks, and a few minutes later a square of soldiers in full combat weapons lined up on the camp square. Spearmen in front, swordsmen behind, crossbowmen behind them. The sergeants are slightly ahead of their company, in front of the formation, the lieutenant of a full company is next to them, the rest of the officers are in front, near the colonels. Three regiments are separated by small gaps, and in front of all is Colonel Heverad, in steel carapace armor and a helmet with a raised visor. His face is gloomy and concentrated, and black shadows lie under his eyes. The colonel looks at the orderly ranks of the paratroopers, is silent for a short time, then says loudly:
- Soldiers! We have a difficult task ahead of us. However, as always. We have an enemy in front of us. He is aware of our approach and has prepared well for the attack. Our salvation lies in our training, in our ability to fight in formation, in our tactics. For each soldier of the corps, there are four enemy ones. This is bullshit! Each of ours is stronger than ten of the enemy! Let's show these fools what the Marine Corps is! Hail Corps! Hail! Hail! Hail!
– Ahhh! Ahh! Ahh! the soldiers roared, rattling their spears and swords against their shields. The veterans looked gloomily at the sky to see if it was raining. It's harder to fight in the rain. The sky was clear, deep blue, almost black. The last stars sank into the sky, became small, dim and invisible. Today, many see these stars for the last time ...
– Doooo! Doo! Doo! – “To the right! March!" - The phalanx unanimously turned around and, in the same formation, similar to a long snake, stomped to the exit from the camp, already opened by the guards. Only the Security guards remain in the camp, guarding the property of the Corps, and healers, preparing to receive many crippled soldiers. Today they have to work hard...
The camp was left almost undefended, and there was no guarantee that the Corps would return here at all. There have been such cases in history. In order to save the main staff, all the equipment was abandoned and retreated, maneuvering until the Corps was taken out of the danger zone.
What was done after the defeat with the abandoned property, guards and healers? Everything was. Sometimes the Corps managed to return and recapture the camp from the enemy, putting him to flight, but more often the guards died, besieged by the enemy.
As for doctors, the unwritten law of war said: "Do not kill doctors!" However, this concerned only those healers who did not take up arms. Of course - if the healer was seen with a weapon, he was killed in the same way as the guards, just like the rest of the soldiers. Or they were taken into slavery. Which is also death. The rest, "peaceful", doctors, were temporarily detained - they treated their own people, treated strangers, but in the end they were released. When? And how tired of holding. When the need arises. Thank you for not killing...
Through one whether it became clear - they are waiting. A wide field, previously planted with rye, was filled with an army - in front stood cavalrymen, bristling with long spears with sharp tips that shone dully in the morning twilight, behind were rows of men at arms, and behind them were archers and slingers.
“Dueeeee! Dueeeee! Doo! Doo! Doo! - pipes roared. - Close ranks! Battle order! Shields!
The corps, as a single organism, clearly worked the way it had been taught all these months. Covered with shields, he resembled a strange creature like a turtle. The large shields looked like sheets of tortoiseshell.
- "Doo-duut!" - "stand!" The corps froze, bristling with long spears. Three horsemen, with a red shield on a pole, advanced from the ranks of the enemy, and Colonel Heverad, making a sign to Zayd and Evor, slowly rode towards them.
The Isfirians stopped exactly in the middle and began to wait for the Zamarians, who were in no hurry to negotiate. Heverad rode slowly, looking at the sky, with an absolutely nonchalant air, as if he was not going to negotiate with the enemy, four times his number, but for a walk with his mistress, Mrs. Burogas, the young widow of the merchant Edmond Burogas, who disappeared somewhere on a long voyage five years ago.
Judging by the insignia, similar to those of Zamar, the chief Isphyrian was a general, and, as one might have guessed, the same Herag that the scout was talking about.
Herag looked about fifty years old - an old warrior, somewhat reminiscent of Heverad himself, tough, strong, a real commander, a military bone. Heberad would have liked him if he wasn't an enemy that threatens his future and life itself. Professional soldiers, not court sycophants, easily recognize each other even in the crowd - this expression of eyes, always alert, looking for hidden danger, this readiness to hit, jump, kill if necessary - only years of mortal danger can develop the bearing of a real warrior. Herag would have liked the colonel too... but fate had separated them on opposite sides of the shields.
Evgeny Schepetnov
Black magician
Senerade walked along the cobbled pavement, leaning heavily on his cane. He stopped at a vendor of fried octopuses, bought one, a small one, and began to eat it along with a fresh tortilla, blowing on his soiled fingers. The octopus was just taken off the brazier, very hot.
Between the houses, in the distance, under the rays of the sun, the sea shone, dazzling the gaze of the traveler with its brilliance, and on the sea surface, like white clouds, the sails of the ships slowly moved ... beauty! However, Senerade grimaced, turning his back to the sea.
A sea voyage a few months ago did not arouse the slightest delight in the Senerade. The doctor did not like the sea at all and preferred never to see it, especially since he got seasick even from a slight pitching. But what can you do if the capital is on the seashore, and besides, you can’t drag yourself across half the country on horses or bulls? Still, of course, sea travel is the most comfortable and safe way to travel around the world. And fast. With the Ard pirates in check, the sea routes became safer, traffic picked up, and more and more people began to travel by ship.
Remembering the Ards, the doctor immediately remembered the one who had occupied his thoughts for the last months. The one for which he spent weeks of his time - alas, to no avail. However, he did not forget him.
How many times did Senerad curse himself with the last words - he had to grab the guy and not let go of himself a single step! After all, he knew, he knew that this inconspicuous boy, the most insignificant, offended and downtrodden villager, a shepherd boy, was practically a slave - a black magician! And as it turned out later - WHAT MAG! Demonologist! A magician who can summon demons, using them to harm people. And not only people. And he, the stupid Senerad, left the boy in a village consisting of stupid villagers who want to assert themselves by humiliating the boy.
And what was it worth guessing that the boy, Ned, would no longer tolerate humiliation, insults? That he will kill his persecutors and hide in an unknown direction? Where was the Senerade's head? Stupid, yes, stupid, sitting in this village. If the doctor, just as before, lived in the capital, rotated in a circle of smart people, he would never have made such a mistake.
Where did he live for ten years? In a dead hole! Next to pearl divers, fishermen and goatherds! Well, or cattle herders ... yes, the demon is with them, idiots. Now there are eleven fewer of them. Or rather, like this: there were four more real idiots - Ned bewitched four offenders, depriving them of their minds - and there were eleven fewer inhabitants - the guy just killed them. Why are you spitting into the black magician's cup? Why do you come with a crowd of people to beat the unfortunate guy? Well, they deserve what they deserve.
Senerade deserved a good kick for his stupidity. For Ned, he would have received a good sum from the society of magicians and from the state. Such that it would be enough for him to open a practice in the capital. Now - I had to look for funds, take a loan from the imperial bank, ask usurers. And in connection with the war, finding money became much more difficult. Bankers and usurers do not want to lend to anyone in troubled times. What if tomorrow the debtor's head is cut off? And then who will pay the debt? One hope was - a pledge - a house in the capital, which Senerad left ten years ago, hiding from the persecution of the furious relatives of a nobleman poisoned by his drug. He, Senerad, traded in certain means that could either bewitch or send a husband or lover to the next world. That's what paid off. Money is money, but everything came out. I had to drape almost to the ends of the world, to the filthy village of Black Ravine. And there was a treasure - Ned! And the doctor so stupidly missed the guy ...
Two weeks. For two whole weeks, Senerad ran around the town and asked everyone in a row - had they seen such a guy - tall, with a gloomy face? Neda - didn't you see?
Traces of Ned were lost in the port. How many ships were there at that time? What? Where could he go? Unknown.
Well, after two weeks of futile searches, I had to give up trying to find a guy and go where I wanted to - to the capital.
Ned will show up someday anyway - a demonologist, that's the kind of thing you can't hide. All the same, he will have a desire to release a spell, to use his power to harm his enemies. And then ... well, what then? Then they will either kill or seize and deliver the magicians to the agar. That's just Senerad from this will no longer be any use. Alas.
Ned, Ned... where are you now? What are you doing? Do you remember your village and a certain healer Senerada? Will we see each other sometime in this life? The ways that the gods give us are inscrutable...
Chapter first
Ned watched his company dig the ground. The paratroopers, swearing, groaning, crushed the solid earth, digging in for a night's lodging for the night. Half a day of march remained before the front line, and there was no need to relax. We need to prepare a safe camp.
Yesterday morning they landed on the shore - before lunch they transported the entire mass of paratroopers, in an organized, fast manner. Of course, there were some incidents - about thirty people still fell into the water, but were rescued by people specially allocated for this. Guides were waiting on the shore, and the 5,000-strong corps set off on the road.
Months of training took their toll, so they moved quickly, despite the fact that each of the paratroopers carried no less than fifty zusans of weight. Food, fencing stakes, weapons and armor - the weight is very serious. But where to go? It is impossible to fight without all this.
Senior officers rode horses, some of the cargo was also carried on horses - tents, for example - but the main thing was dragged by soldiers. You can’t take a lot of horses on ships, horses are only for senior officers.
The sergeants, just like the soldiers, walked on their own feet, and also dragged a bunch of junk, the only difference from the soldiers was that they were exempted from carrying general cargo and products. Only yours. But even his own was enough zusans for twenty. However, everyone only has enough food for a week. The rest of the Corps must either get it on the spot - buy it from local residents, or take it from the enemy. Or they will put him at the allowance of the main army.
Being a thorough man, Heverad never left things to chance, and each soldier could live autonomously for at least a week. And then ... then, as the dice fall - you're lucky, they will put you on allowance, if you're not lucky - the soldiers will rob the inhabitants.
The colonel looked at the world realistically and knew that if a soldier was not fed, he would either rebel or go into all serious trouble - he would rob and steal. Soldiers, of course, will not be allowed to rebel, and it is better to lead the robbery and call it "purchasing food from the population." The soldier must be fed. This rule is. And the command of the Corps adhered to it always and everywhere.
Twenty li passed in a day. The enemy is about ten miles ahead, and the colonel sent out scouts to find out what was going on there. In the meantime, the soldiers were pitching tents, lining them up in orderly rows, kindling fires, preparing to cook. Cereals, dried meat, fat, salt - all this was in their bags.
Each section prepared separately, and each of the soldiers allocated a portion from their stocks. Corporals strictly followed the process and did not allow rats. However, there was no urge to hide their products. Today you will not share with your colleague, but tomorrow, when you are dying, waiting for help, he will remember how you “squeezed” a handful of cereals, and ... it is not known what will happen. The front is the front. Here everything is in plain sight, and all in one day - today you are alive, and tomorrow you are not.
Separate tents were set up for sergeants, for lieutenants too, senior officers also spent the night separately. There has always been division by rank. The food for sergeants and officers up to and including majors came from the "one boiler", the colonels were prepared separately.
* * *Ned received his portion of meat porridge with a flatbread, a mug of water flavored with red wine, which kills the infection (the water was from the stream where the Corps stood), and, sitting on a log from a sawn tree, began to slowly, with pleasure, absorb a hearty, hot meal. The last time he ate was in the morning when they were fed on the ship, and a “walk” in the fresh air with a load on his shoulders really contributes to a good appetite. Especially if you are less than two decades old ...
- Can I sit next to you? - a voice was heard, Ned turned around and saw Oydar, hesitantly leaning on a block of wood nearby.
“Of course not! Ned replied peevishly. “I’m going to attack you with a sword and cut off your head for such impudence!” Oida, what are you, an idiot? Sit down and eat! What are you asking? Like a stranger...
“Well… you are so important now, officer… and who am I?” Simple corporal. You are the winner of the tournament, the winner of the duel, the master... will you condescend to talk to a simple soldier?
Evgeny Schepetnov
Black magician
Senerade walked along the cobbled pavement, leaning heavily on his cane. He stopped at a vendor of fried octopuses, bought one, a small one, and began to eat it along with a fresh tortilla, blowing on his soiled fingers. The octopus was just taken off the brazier, very hot.
Between the houses, in the distance, under the rays of the sun, the sea shone, dazzling the gaze of the traveler with its brilliance, and on the sea surface, like white clouds, the sails of the ships slowly moved ... beauty! However, Senerade grimaced, turning his back to the sea.
A sea voyage a few months ago did not arouse the slightest delight in the Senerade. The doctor did not like the sea at all and preferred never to see it, especially since he got seasick even from a slight pitching. But what can you do if the capital is on the seashore, and besides, you can’t drag yourself across half the country on horses or bulls? Still, of course, sea travel is the most comfortable and safe way to travel around the world. And fast. With the Ard pirates in check, the sea routes became safer, traffic picked up, and more and more people began to travel by ship.
Remembering the Ards, the doctor immediately remembered the one who had occupied his thoughts for the last months. The one for which he spent weeks of his time - alas, to no avail. However, he did not forget him.
How many times did Senerad curse himself with the last words - he had to grab the guy and not let go of himself a single step! After all, he knew, he knew that this inconspicuous boy, the most insignificant, offended and downtrodden villager, a shepherd boy, was practically a slave - a black magician! And as it turned out later - WHAT MAG! Demonologist! A magician who can summon demons, using them to harm people. And not only people. And he, the stupid Senerad, left the boy in a village consisting of stupid villagers who want to assert themselves by humiliating the boy.
And what was it worth guessing that the boy, Ned, would no longer tolerate humiliation, insults? That he will kill his persecutors and hide in an unknown direction? Where was the Senerade's head? Stupid, yes, stupid, sitting in this village. If the doctor, just as before, lived in the capital, rotated in a circle of smart people, he would never have made such a mistake.
Where did he live for ten years? In a dead hole! Next to pearl divers, fishermen and goatherds! Well, or cattle herders ... yes, the demon is with them, idiots. Now there are eleven fewer of them. Or rather, like this: there were four more real idiots - Ned bewitched four offenders, depriving them of their minds - and there were eleven fewer inhabitants - the guy just killed them. Why are you spitting into the black magician's cup? Why do you come with a crowd of people to beat the unfortunate guy? Well, they deserve what they deserve.
Senerade deserved a good kick for his stupidity. For Ned, he would have received a good sum from the society of magicians and from the state. Such that it would be enough for him to open a practice in the capital. Now - I had to look for funds, take a loan from the imperial bank, ask usurers. And in connection with the war, finding money became much more difficult. Bankers and usurers do not want to lend to anyone in troubled times. What if tomorrow the debtor's head is cut off? And then who will pay the debt? One hope was - a pledge - a house in the capital, which Senerad left ten years ago, hiding from the persecution of the furious relatives of a nobleman poisoned by his drug. He, Senerad, traded in certain means that could either bewitch or send a husband or lover to the next world. That's what paid off. Money is money, but everything came out. I had to drape almost to the ends of the world, to the filthy village of Black Ravine. And there was a treasure - Ned! And the doctor so stupidly missed the guy ...
Two weeks. For two whole weeks, Senerad ran around the town and asked everyone in a row - had they seen such a guy - tall, with a gloomy face? Neda - didn't you see?
Traces of Ned were lost in the port. How many ships were there at that time? What? Where could he go? Unknown.
Well, after two weeks of futile searches, I had to give up trying to find a guy and go where I wanted to - to the capital.
Ned will show up someday anyway - a demonologist, that's the kind of thing you can't hide. All the same, he will have a desire to release a spell, to use his power to harm his enemies. And then ... well, what then? Then they will either kill or seize and deliver the magicians to the agar. That's just Senerad from this will no longer be any use. Alas.
