by Alexey Pehov
Someone yelled, “Well, come at me, you bastard! Come on!” Someone else croaked brokenly in reply and then bellowed. Ga-Nor unsheathed his sword and resolutely headed toward the sounds. He would not leave danger at his back. Furthermore, someone needed help and that someone could very well turn out to be an ally.
The sounds of the scuffle were closer. The invective ceased, and in return the groans became more bloodthirsty. The Son of the Snow Leopard pushed aside a fir bough that was blocking his view and saw a rocky hillside with the dark square entrance of an abandoned mine carved into it. A bit farther on stood a barracks, ravaged by time, on whose roof a young tree had already managed to take root. The path along which the ore had been transported was overgrown with young spruce trees, so the only clearing was the one right in front of the mine itself. Mounds of rubble, extracted from the depths of the earth, rusted braces, water-filled carts, roof support beams rotted down to nothing. Amid all this desolation a fight was going on.
Ga-Nor instantly recognized the stout man regardless of the fact that his face was dirty from spending the last twenty-four hours in the mine. He had no doubt whatsoever—it was Luk, a guard from the garrison of the Towers. A lover of dice, and in his debt.
He was standing in the empty doorway to the barracks, clearly in jeopardy as he swung his axe at his lunging opponents. One of the walking dead had already been taken care of. It was resting right by the entrance to the mines with a fractured skull. But there were four others who were avidly trying to feast upon the meat they hungered for. Luckily, the soldier had chosen a good defensive position so the dead men kept getting in one another’s way—otherwise they would have long since reached him. As the northerner watched, Luk cut a chunk out of the shoulder of one of the corpses with his axe and kicked it in the stomach, pushing it away. He couldn’t continue like this for much longer. The guard was starting to get tired.
Ga-Nor slipped out from underneath the cover of the trees and rushed to help.
* * *
He couldn’t imagine a worse situation. The creature that Luk had originally taken for a living man had turned out to be a walking corpse. The soldier had never come across anything like this before. Sure, he’d heard all kinds of tales, but he’d never seen it for himself. Necromancy was banned in the Empire. This wasn’t Sdis, where sorcerers practiced black magic and controlled the dead.
It all seemed unreal. Luk didn’t want to believe his eyes but he had to. And quickly.
The creature lunged at him without any warning. Regardless of how frightened he was, Luk knew his business and killed the man-eater with the first strike, cutting off its head with a single well-placed blow. Before the soldier had time to come to his senses and curse as he always did, two more attacked him.
The first corpse had been hanging over the entrance to the mines the entire time. Melot knew what he was doing there, but he jumped and nearly landed on Luk’s back. The man was only saved by the fact that he’d decided to take a closer look at his kill and had stepped forward. A second corpse emerged from the darkness of the mine to help the first. The soldier had just heard his footsteps when he burst out of hiding. The former guardian of the Gates gave thanks that fate had so providently kept them apart in the mines. If he had encountered the monster in the darkness underground who knew how it would have ended.
Luk managed to hold back the first assault, but then two more unwelcome guests emerged from the barracks. They cornered him. He had to turn tail and stand in the doors so that the bastards would come at him one at a time. While he had so far managed to hold the charging creatures off, it was becoming harder and harder with every second. His arms felt like they were filled with lead, and the astonishingly nimble dead men were not tiring at all.
Moans, green eyes burning with fire, gnashing teeth, pale skin, caked blood.
He groaned in despair, hacked into the shoulder of one of his enemies, kicked him in the stomach, almost cut off the arm of another, and then sunk his axe into the face of a third.
“Cut off their heads! Their heads!” somebody shouted.
Two of the corpses immediately turned their attention to the new arrival. Luk was far from relieved. He could see that the man, his apparent savior, was wearing the cloak of the Nabatorian cavalry. But this was something he could try to understand later. Right now, the stranger was not coming after him. And he was also fighting for his life.
The two corpses who ran away allowed Luk to go on the counterattack. He sprang to the left and then forward, spun around, and with all his strength swung a blow at the skull of one of the corpses jumping at his heels. But his aim was off and he tore through the corpse’s collarbone and sternum, the momentum of his swing forcing the axe to hit the ground. He wrenched it up, twirled it around, and brought it down on the head of a corpse that was trying to sneak up behind him. He spun the axe again, raining down a hail of blows on the first zombie, which was already rising up from the ground. Its shattered skull burst apart repulsively and the corpse, enlivened by the magic of a necromancer, jerked, and then went limp.
“It worked! Screw a toad!” spat the winner victoriously.
Only now did the soldier recall his savior. The man had just finished dealing with his own troubles and was wiping off his blade.
Luk had not been mistaken. This man really did seem to be a Nabatorian. It was impossible to tell what he looked like because of the hood riding low over his face. The man finished wiping his sword, nudged the headless corpse with his foot, and began walking toward the soldier. Luk waved his axe threateningly.
“Have you gone mad?” asked the stranger.
“Listen,” said Luk, breathless from the battle. “I’m grateful to you for your help but our paths diverge here. You go that way, I go the other way, and we forget about meeting each other.”
“Did you lose the last of your brains from terror?” the stranger asked warmly, and then he took off his hood.
Luk stood stock-still and gaped. He recognized that visage. The lean face with high cheekbones, the hawkish nose, the red mustache, and the hair of the same color pulled back into short, thick braids. It was Ga-Nor, Son of the Snow Leopard, who had been lost in the mountains with Da-Tur’s squad. The very northerner to whom Luk lost money playing dice.
“I don’t believe it,” stammered the soldier.
“You mean that I returned from the other world and decided to get my debt from you?” said Ga-Nor, smiling wearily.
“If you’re a dead man, you’re a lot worse than these bastards. At least they didn’t ask me for money.”
“Indeed. Though they’d have been quite happy to suck out your heart.”
The soldier shuddered at the prospect.
“How did you get here?”
Ga-Nor didn’t reply; he turned his head back in the direction from which he’d come, listening intently to the patter of the rain. Luk did the same but unlike the northerner he didn’t hear anything suspicious and so he dared to ask a question. “What is it?”
“Shut up,” snapped the Son of the Snow Leopard.
In the twilight his face sharpened, heavy shadows gathered under his eyes, and he himself began to resemble a corpse. Luk shivered involuntarily. A minute went by, another began. The rain came down even harder, even though this seemed completely impossible. The tracker didn’t have any rain gear, and he’d been soaked through for a long time, but still he peered into the darkness and scented the air. Luk tried this as well, but he only smelled the stench emanating from the dead bodies.
“Come on, what’s the matter?”
“We’re leaving.”
“What?”
“We’re leaving. Quickly.”
“But…”
The Son of the Snow Leopard glared at him angrily.
“I’m not going to bargain with you. Either you come with me or you stay here to greet your guests.”
Luk only needed a second to realize what kind of guests he was talking about. The ones with the glowing green eyes.
“I’ll be walking quickly. We need to shake them. Watch your feet. Keep up.”
Luk nodded frantically and, glancing back one last time, hurried after the northerner.
* * *
Regardless of the wet firewood, they managed to make a fire without too much difficulty. The flames crackled and threw up sparks, and the thick smoke wafted up through a hole in the ceiling. And that, right now, was the most important thing. Luk was as frozen as a dog and this was the first opportunity he’d had to warm up and dry out his clothes.
They’d run through the forest for half the night. They walked down a slope, only to climb up the next, and then they walked along the ridge of the next hill and descended another slope. Then for a long time they plodded their way upstream against the current of an icy river. Luk slipped on the wet stones three times and fell, cursing, into the water, and three times the strong arms of the northerner pulled him out by the scruff of his neck and set him back on his feet.
The Son of the Snow Leopard surpassed even the unrivaled, now deceased captain of the Tower of Ice. Even that man had never driven his subordinates through an obstacle course like this one. Luk was exhausted, his legs hurt something fierce, his breathing was labored, his axe seemed unspeakably heavy, he wanted to collapse and shove it all up his toad’s ass, or better yet, up the ass of the northerner’s little god, but he didn’t. His fear urged him on. And so the exhausted soldier doggedly trotted behind Ga-Nor.
The man hardly spoke at all, constantly changing directions, slipping between tree trunks and streams, circling around copses, every now and then pausing to listen, smell the air, and then continue on. At one point it seemed to Luk that they were going in circles. Finally, just when the soldier had decided he couldn’t care less if a corpse wanted to suck his heart out or not, they arrived.
In a grove of old sycamores, in the midst of tall blackberry bushes, stood a hunter’s cabin. It was ancient, covered in moss and shelf fungus, with a partially fallen roof, broken windows, and an insecure door. Inside it smelled of rotten wood, humidity, and the droppings of wild animals. The floor creaked awfully and the tiny stove was being used as a nest by mice. It was obvious that no one had been here for a long time.
Luk did not know if Ga-Nor already knew about this refuge or if he stumbled upon it by accident. But, contrary to his habit, he wouldn’t ask any questions, because he thought that spending the night here was far better than out in the rain.
The tracker still wouldn’t say a single word. He silently kindled the fire using a pile of sodden wood that was lying in the corner. Then he closed his eyes and apparently went to sleep. The soldier considered doing the same, but with all his questions he couldn’t manage it. He stood up quietly and tried to push the door closed.
There was no latch. So the guard fashioned a makeshift one out of the trunk of a young tree. It was still unsound. The rotten planks of the door could not even withstand two good blows. Luk understood this but for some reason he felt much calmer with a closed door. At any rate, if they tried to break in here then he would at least be forewarned and not find out about it when their enemies were already standing over them.
All that remained were the windows. He studied them quickly. They were small. Luk wouldn’t be able to crawl through them, but for someone thin enough it would be easy. There were no decent boards, no nails, and no hammer here. The only thing he could do was hope that all their enemies were big and fat.
“What happened at the Gates?”
The sound of Ga-Nor’s voice ringing out caused Luk to flinch.
“Screw a toad! You’ll drive me to my death!”
“Then you’ll rest with Ug.”
“You can rest with Ug all you like, but I intend to live,” grumbled Luk as he checked his drying clothes and sat down by the fire. “Do you have anything to eat? I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours.”
The northerner rummaged in the bag that he’d taken from the saddle of the Nabatorian horse. He extracted sugar, an onion, a small hunk of cheese, and a quarter of rye bread from it.
“I trust you’re capable of eating and talking at the same time?” asked Ga-Nor as he sliced the onion with his dagger.
His companion nodded and told his story as he ate. The Son of the Snow Leopard listened attentively. Everything was far worse than he thought. The Damned were involved in this business! Rubeola’s name used to terrify him as a child. And it probably wasn’t just her. How many of them were there? Six or eight? The Damned would be far more trouble than all the others. If, of course, Luk wasn’t lying, as was his habit. But he was clearly not lying.
Nabator had been wanting to conquer the south of the Empire for centuries. And now that long-awaited event was coming to pass.
“Surely someone else must have escaped.”
“Maybe,” replied Luk listlessly. A blind man could see that he didn’t really believe it. “Rek and I managed to get out because we ran from the walls along the southern stairwell. It’s not far from there to the fifth portal. I just don’t think that anyone followed us. A swarm of Nabatorians fell on them. And Morts, too. We barely got through.”
“Did the Walker really die?”
“Yeah,” said the soldier mournfully. “The Damned hit the wall so hard that…”
He didn’t finish, and he didn’t really need to. A heavy silence fell. Both men watched the flames of the fire and thought their own thoughts.
Luk considered himself lucky. Ga-Nor was an excellent tracker and not a bad swordsman. The chances of living were far better with him than if he were alone. If the northerner hadn’t come to his rescue, he would already be dead.
“Ga-Nor? What now?”
The Son of the Snow Leopard answered reluctantly, “We will have to get through on our own. Going to El’nichi Ford makes no sense. I’m sure they’ve already taken it. I think that Nabator will head for Okni and Gash-Shaku. That would deprive Al’sgara of support. And it will give them the opportunity to gather up their forces to strike at the heart of the Empire. As soon as we leave the foothills, we need to head west.”
“I need to go to Al’sgara,” Luk declared suddenly. “The Walker begged me to report about the Damned.”
“I’m sure they already know.”
“And if not?”
“Then they’ll know in a day or two. At any rate, you’ll be too late.”
“I promised.”
Ga-Nor looked at the obstinately pursed lips of his companion with astonishment. He hadn’t expected it—that a gambler would keep his word.
“If you won’t go with me, I’ll go by myself.”
“There’s forest all around. And beyond that the Blazgian Swamp begins. You’ll die.”
“If we keep going west, we’ll get to Dog Green. There’s a road there that goes to Al’sgara.”
“Do you really think that the Nabatorians haven’t blocked it off?” scoffed the northerner.
“It’s worth the risk. Are you coming with me?”
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Right now I need to sleep. I’m very tired.”
“I’ll keep watch,” Luk offered at once, immensely cheered up. The northerner didn’t refuse him; he promised to think about it. That was a mercy. It would be much worse if he refused to budge and said no. It was as easy to change the minds of that stubborn tribe as it was to get a Je’arre to sell his silk cheaply.
The soldier picked up his axe and sat down by the door, laying his weapon next to him.
“Wake me up toward morning. I’ll relieve you.” The tracker pressed his back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Sure. Ga-Nor?”
“Yes?”
“Where did those corpses come from? Shouldn’t they be with their necromancer?”
“They should. But they can run away.”
“How?”
“W
ith their legs.”
“And what about the ones chasing us? They aren’t going to come here and surprise us in the early hours of the morning?”
The Son of the Snow Leopard snorted crossly, but he still answered, “Only if they know how to track. But they are far too stupid for that. They shouldn’t find us. If they do, wake me. And now shut up and let me sleep.”
Luk nodded but his companion didn’t see it. He was asleep.
The soldier shifted about, trying to get comfortable. He glanced at the door. He took a deep breath, yawning widely. Listening to the patter of the rain falling on the roof, he watched as the flames died down.
* * *
Ga-Nor awoke and heard peaceful snoring. Without opening his eyes, the northerner cursed. Luk had fallen asleep without waking him up, of course. An infuriating blunder that could have cost them their lives. But this time they had been spared. No one had tried to infiltrate their asylum during the night, and that meant that they had managed to get the creatures off their trail.
That was good.
Judging by the sun striking him in the eyes, the weather had changed. That, and it was probably late morning. He’d slept deeply. But that was not surprising—the strain of the last few days necessitated a proper rest. Maybe Luk was right not to wake him. He needed to gather his strength.
He recalled last night’s conversation. Luk’s proposition was sound. It was unlikely that the Nabatorians would be tempted by that little village. Beyond that, there was no point skulking about in the forest on an empty stomach. He had little food, and without a crossbow he couldn’t survive by hunting. That, and there wouldn’t be time for it. But in Dog Green he could stock up on food and at least one of his troubles would be lessened.
The sun was beating down on his eyes. He knew he should get up, but he didn’t feel like it. The warm light was an unexpectedly pleasant sensation. Suddenly a shadow of some kind ran across the sun; the rays stopped falling on his face for a second and then returned again. It was just for a moment, and it could have meant nothing at all, but the northerner’s complacent mood disappeared instantly. He quickly opened his eyes and squinted against the light.
