Bloody Revenge

by Darrell Guidry

  unlucky avengers, many hundreds of whom at various times put

  the heads who at the other end of the world from the purpose, and who and on the threshold. How many

  them it was the share of each of about what revenge then put legends? And

  by all it was probably thought: well is not present, it will not happen to me, not

  has the rights to occur...

  Lungs began to burn painfully. The wolfhound understood that he will not be in time

  to return back, and solved: having got stuck here, his dead body on extreme

  to measure will poison to the Cannibal a well. He earned by legs even quicker - could not

  this tunnel, really, to last infinitely. As suddenly,

  absolutely unexpectedly, his hand punched a water surface. Wolfhound

  instantly drew aside it. The proximity of air made suffocation intolerable.

  After all the Wolfhound overcame himself and slowly, very slowly raised

  the head over water.

  He well saw in the dark. In the mine nobody cared for that

  slaves had enough light. He without effort distinguished stone steps and

  wheel with the thick bad chain going to some pipe and

  understood where brought it.

  That lock from which a secret exit is not provided is bad, and it is better

  - several. The chain which is reeled up on a wheel, most likely, lifted

  lattice. And the tunnel was just such length to come up, not died,

  outside. Means, the conduit could serve also for sending the messenger, and for rescue

  precious life of the owner. Entertainingly. And hardly in the lock knew about it

  in total. More likely, only the most approximate.

  The tunnel conducted further, is now obvious to a well, but the Wolfhound in it not

  got. It is much more than chances to get imperceptibly into the lock vaults,

  than through the yard. Any vault is opened sometime. Not this night,

  so on following. Or in a week. He will wait. He was able to wait.

  Having got out of water, the Wolfhound carefully wrung out hair and trousers that not

  to give itself wet traces or a casual flop of drops. Untied

  spear by hand also moved forward along a narrow stone corridor.

  Soon enough the way to it was blocked by a heavy oak door. Locked.

  Well of course. Also has to separate a secret manhole from other cellars nothing not

  the remarkable, but reliable and constantly locked door. If it not

  it will be possible to open, it is necessary to return to a tunnel and to try a well. So

  what would work well better.

  The wolfhound did not find on doors neither handles, nor wells for a key and not

  very much was surprised to it. Was not enough in turmoil of hasty flight yet

  to search for the got lost key. By the way, it spoke also about

  the fact that doors on its way will hardly appear much.

  How it opens?

  Thick boards were stitched by a set of bronze rivets. Rub from them

  by strong pressing slightly moved under fingers. The wolfhound nestled to

  doors ear: everything is silent. He began to press rivets in turn, in a miscellaneous

  order. Nothing occurred. Then it pressed down two rivets hands, and

  a third - the head. Deeply in a wall water immediately scream,

  filling some vessel. The door shuddered and went aside. Judging

  on everything, it was not opened very much, long ago: disgusting was distributed

  squeal. According to the Wolfhound, on this sound a half had to run together

  komes. But when he with a spear on call looked out in the opened corridor,

  there was not a soul. Only somewhere behind turn the torch dimly smoked,

  inserted into a bracket on a wall.

  The door behind the back of the Wolfhound began to be closed. Secret passage

  cared for keeping itself in secret. The wolfhound did not begin to spend

  time for solving of rivets on the other hand. To come back not

  it is necessary.

  At first he felt a smell. So the dead person who lay could smell

  decade in a grave and besides overcome by diseases and corporal needs.

  And time so, was concluded by the Wolfhound, the smell proceeded from live. So, for

  most likely the prisoner was turn of a corridor. And to pass it not

  it will be possible.

  Some poor fellow who went mad in a long imprisonment, which at

  type of the unexpected visitor will begin to yell so that on his cries already precisely

  will run together the guard, missed a door gnash...

  Life disaccustomed the Wolfhound long ago to think at the sight of similar

  obstacles. If the madman opens a mouth for shout, it will deafen him

  before that makes at least a sound. But there will be no other exit, and

  will pierce. Probably that not much from it will lose. The wolfhound stepped for

  turn.

  The builder who greatly took care of safety of the lock, for some reason

  forgot to arrange in it what follows dungeons and torment torture chambers. It seems that

  The cannibal had to equip them already then, quickly. At a wall

  corridor there was an iron cage serving as far as it was possible to judge

  both that and another. In a cage not movably lay it is impossible the thin person,

  chained in a chain. Dark eyes looked directly at the Wolfhound, and that at once

  understood that before it there was not a madman. Near a cage in a wall

  corridor one more door was seen: traces in dust said that it

  conducted outside. The wolfhound carefully moved forward, by a cage, but here

  the prisoner started talking.

  - Dear... - it is slightly heard he said on-segvansk’s, and the Wolfhound

  was late thought that the inhabitant of a cage grew blind. The sighted person realized at once

  in what language to address it. - It seems to me, you arrived outside,

  - the prisoner continued. - You are stolen as a cat: means, you are not a messenger,

  for which Vinitary would wait. Tell, the young man what season now on

  to the earth?

  - Spring, - unexpectedly for himself the Wolfhound answered. Prisoner unmistakably

  distinguished hardly noticeable accent and passed to its native language, language

  tribe of venn.

  - Spring... - he repeated and sighed. - The bird cherry blossoms, probably.

  His body was one continuous wound everywhere where it was not covered

  smelly rags. The skin covered with ulcers hardly fitted edges, slightly

  shuddering against that place where heart needed to be. He started talking

  again:

  - Make to me one more blessing, the young man. Finish off me. It you not

  will complicate and will not detain...

  Well, the Wolfhound had to see the crippled soldiers begging

  companions to present them fast death. One it it dragged two days on

  shoulders, without listening to either damnations, or requests.

  He noticed how something guarded the blind person, and during the next instant also

  distinguished a slow shuffling of boots. Then in the door lock with that

  the parties put a key. The wolfhound receded back for a corner still before

  the door began to open. Further depended on whether the prisoner will wish

  to give it. The wolfhound would prefer not to make to the last noise.

  And what if in a vault the Cannibal welcomed?. No, on it

  to hope silly, so much luck simply does not happen at once. And then, вряд

  whether the Cannibal came one. Though...

  - The owner ordered to ask you once again,
- reached from round the corner. Voice

  belonged not to the Cannibal. Speaking obviously did not get used to long conversations. But

  got used to daily binge and plentiful, fat food. Door loudly

  clanked, being closed.

  - To which already time you come here, - with infinite fatigue

  the person in a cage responded. - Could and remember that I always to you

  I answer.

  Something knocked about a floor, and entered hemmed:

  - With you, wizards, never beforehand you know. Wolfhound silently

  left from round the corner. On a low bench near a cage the person took seat

  in the hood pulled over the person. Ties of a leather apron hardly

  agreed on a fleshy back. Having bent down, it took out from wooden

  boxes of the tool of the craft. It was scaredly thrown up only then,

  when the Wolfhound leaned the spear against a wall, having purposely clanked

  tip. In a genus of the Grey Dog believed shameful to hit into a back. Even

  cannibals. Or executioners.

  At the executioner the wide hatchet, the butcher's weapon hung on a belt. Brawny

  the hand was thrown was to it, but too late. Fingers of the Wolfhound squeezed

  also crumpled his throat. The executioner forgot about a hatchet and tried to open these

  fingers, then ceased to twitch and drooped. The wolfhound unclenched hands. Heavy

  the body a bag slid off on a floor and it was necessary to lie with unnaturally

  the twisted neck. The wolfhound bent down and cut off big from a belt of the dead

  bunch of keys.

  - If you want, I will tell you how to make the way in a treasury, -

  was heard from a cage. - Only I conjure you your Gods, the young man...

  satisfy my request. After his neck washing will not seem to you too

  thick...

  The wolfhound fell on hunkers before a trellised door and was accepted

  to try a key.

  - Tell better, - he grumbled, - how to find the Cannibal.

  He did not wait for the answer intelligibly, but the prisoner responded immediately.

  - You will find it on the top, in a bedchamber... if, of course

  you will manage to pass there. Today presented to Koons the slave, and he, has to be,

  already rose because of a table.

  The third or fourth key clicked in the lock. The door turned on

  joy not mazany loops.

  - But you do not lie? - the Wolfhound muttered. - To you who knows.

  - I told the truth, - the prisoner answered and threw back the head, substituting

  lean, in scabs, a dirty neck. The wolfhound for a moment looked at it and at that,

  as the bulked-up veins pulsed under skin. Its people considered death

  udavlennik of dirty. The poor creature, the nobility, reached a limit if it

  also such arranged. The wolfhound silently took the withered prisoner's hand - that

  moved from a touch - and unlocked shackles, having guessed a key at once and

  unmistakably. He well knew by what keys they were locked. If it and

  was surprised to what, so unless only to a fine form of a brush and long fingers

  - with the nails which are pulled out, however.

  - Thanks, the young man, - the prisoner emotionally whispered. - So, so I

  I will die not in chains... He obviously did not count on it.

  - In that end of a corridor there is a door, - the Wolfhound told it. - At you,

  truly, there will be enough mind to find rivets on which it is necessary to press. Further

  there will be steps and a tunnel with water. Gather more air, dive and

  float to the left. There is a lattice, but I broke out an average rod. Then almost at once

  river. You want to live, you will get out.

  For it it was very long speech. It rose and, having taken away a spear,

  went to a door through which the executioner was. He did not hear any more how the prisoner,

  feeling a powerless hand the dissolved cage door, it is slightly heard

  murmured:

  - I know... I built this lock...

  The wolfhound was stolen by transitions of the sleeping lock and thought of why executioners

  all countries known to it the victims, as a rule, went to torment

  at night. Has to be the presvetly Sun, an eye of Omniscience

  Gods, the indecency even through thickness of stone walls did not begin to see clearly. It not

  met still any executioner who would not be a coward.

  To tell the truth, in the house of the Cannibal only vaults were stone,

  bases of protective walls yes subcage. All the rest was worked from

  the kind oaks decorating once native hills of the Wolfhound.

  The term of their burdensome service will terminate soon... From time to time

  The wolfhound took aspen splinters from a zone burse and put them where

  could, in any crack between logs. Splinters were wet, blood traces on

  them blurred and became visible almost. Anything. To make the business by it it

  will not prevent.

  Nobody barred the Wolfhound the way. Only several soldiers

  he met, rising upward. Three were segvana, edinoplemennik

  Cannibal. The others - the mercenaries who long ago forgot what people

  generated them to itself on a shame. According to the Wolfhound to hide from them not

  would manage unless the baby. And on it for the last eleven years

  who only did not hunt...

  Twice it passed something like molodechny where slept a dead dream

  nicely had fun komesa. Both times of the Wolfhound were taken by a temptation

  to incline oil светильничек or to correct a torch thus,

  that fire could reach wall curtains. Both times it refused

  to itself in it and quietly slid further. Its premature alarm

  did not arrange in any way.

  Still he thought of that, for what reason the executioner called the person in a cage

  wizard. If the Wolfhound in general understood something, to the spravny magician

  long ago it would be necessary to dash away on the other end of the world, previously

  having paid off with the offender and раскатив the lock on a brevnyshka. Though as nobility

  - suddenly at once put on fetters it, and then long did not give water? It seems

  conjure when hands are held down and getting thirsty.

  So, wizards too sometimes are trapped. Just as

  ordinary people. Well not sorcery, really, the Cannibal twisted it...

  Now the captured magician, most likely, already floated down the river. Here where waters

  as much as necessary...

  And what if the Cannibal really plaid about sorcery? And that, if it

  from the very beginning knew about appearance of the Grey Dog and allowed it to get so

  far only to intercept on the threshold?

  The wolfhound forbade himself to think of it. So the hunter who gathered in

  the wood, very much drives a thought of a bear.

  It took out the last chip from a burse and drove it between the lower wreaths

  walls. Than business came to an end, to the Cannibal not to overcome this force. Is not present from

  it neither charm, nor defense. Only Gods can stop it, and it is more

  anybody. So if Koons Vinitary was not learned to fly yet...

  Before the Wolfhound was narrow screw всход. It conducted up. Wolfhound

  estimated height of a tower what he saw it from the river. Vskhod for certain was

  the last. The wizard told - above. Means, the door is close and - it is possible not

  to doubt - the policeman before a bedchamber door.

  The shrill maiden shout which reached
from above, and almost at once a scratch

  floor boards under the shifting from one foot to the other boots told the Wolfhound that he not

  was mistaken.

  And still. Even if the Cannibal is truly skillful to conjure, now he was obviously

  it is occupied by another.

  The wolfhound went up a vskhoda. He knew how to persuade not to creak

  any steps, even the most vociferous.

  The girl above again cried - long, desperate shout. To a wolfhound

  more than once it was necessary to hear such shout. It slid forward, getting all

  above. He very much expected to see the soldier before that sees it.

  Having bent down, he overcame the last round of a vskhod and stood up straight.

  Before it, in ten steps, the wide back of the policeman was seen,

  fitted by a leather jacket. From under bottom edge of a jacket the chain armor stuck out.

  Having nestled to a door, the soldier tried whether to spot, whether to overhear how

  there, inside, his owner had a good time.

  The wolfhound quietly knocked with the bent finger on an external wall.

  The policeman shuddered and turned back. It did not even grab a sword, being

  it is quite sure: someone from seniors caught him in the act and

  now will make a rating.

  The heavy knife thrown by the Wolfhound on a handle entered to it an eye.

  Having jumped forward, the Wolfhound picked up the body which began to fall, slowly

  lowered it on a floor and released a knife. Then it was carefully tried on to a door

  shoulder. Indeed: it is locked.

  Koons Vinitary, the large svetloborody man, stood near a bed,

  reeling up a hard wave of pitch silky hair on a fist. At his legs on

  to floor the nude slave - the fifteen-year-old beauty with gentle coiled,

  untouched body and habits of a wild cat. Vinitariya's boot pressed it in

  waist, the hand pulled for hair, forcing a thin body is helpless

  to be curved. The cannibal looked down on it, as on a delicious dish,

  just given to a table.

  This expression did not manage to be gone at once from his face when a door

  cracked and failed inside. Failed without any prevention: if

  outside the knock of weapon or noise of a fight reached, he by all means would hear.

  Vinitary could swear that never saw standing in earlier

  breach man. Most of all that was similar on half-civilized, incredibly

  furious dog from those that will not move back also before the whole pack of wolves. It