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Wanderers Of the Night 61
Leaf greeted the two riders with a roar of voices. Frightened residents almost threw themselves under the hooves of horses, trying to tell about the events that had taken place. Yarsi silently looked at the faces twisted with fear, at the trembling hands, nevertheless squeezing a simple weapon. Someone was holding a club, someone was holding a wide knife, and some had pitchforks or scythes. Although the villagers were frightened, no one was going to leave their houses. The headman was met at the entrance to the outskirts, it was clear that the old man was waiting for them. He gave the heir to the throne a piercing look and bowed his head. Unlike the others, he did not rush towards the riders. Perhaps he was the only one who immediately realized that the sent messenger could not ride to the capital in such a short period of time, could not have time to tell anything. Yes, and the guests did not appear from the side of the main road, but arrived directly through the fields, without ta
Wanderers Of the Night 62
Jenevra glanced warily out the window and crept up, watching the guests approaching her house. Maybe she did not have a particularly outstanding magical power, but she had more knowledge than some who imagined themselves to be great magicians. And her knowledge was not drawn from books, not from teachers, but was collected bit by bit by experience. Everything she could tell about was seen with her own eyes and felt on her own body. But she had no listeners and she had no one to talk to, although there were many people around. But is her knowledge for mere mortals? Who are they to share their experience with them? Yes, and they did not want to listen to her, they did not take seriously the grouchy grandmother, who found fault with every trifle. And how not to find fault if people are so careless? They do not think that when Trouble comes, simple weapons will not help, they do not understand that magic will also be useless. They do not see how inevitably the last days approach. Bu
Wanderers Of the Night 63
e werewolf watched the retreating rider and walked several times along the road, crossing it from curb to curb. Starosta Listovoy loudly distributed instructions, dispersing people to their homes and forcing them to get ready for the road right now for the night. The villagers obeyed, but the werewolf was still surprised by their slowness and incomprehensible disregard for danger. He already realized that very strange people live in Miros - who care little about their own lives, but are ready to defend the defense of their own kingdom to the end. Or not strange, but simply different than he used to see next to him - not like in Reet, not those who care only about their own good, but are ready to stand with a mountain for their relatives, for neighbors, for their people. The villagers calmly and busily loaded carts with their belongings, seated children on top of the bales, harnessed horses, tied lowing and bleating cattle behind. Ownerless chickens, which no one tried to catch, ran
Wanderers Of the Night 64
He took off from his seat and rushed towards the approaching danger. He circled the people in an arc, but they noticed him. Two women, each pulling the hands of children holding each other, and a single middle-aged man armed with a gnarled stick, falling from fatigue, made their way between the trees. They involuntarily stopped, watched him go, the man even screamed, trying to warn him. Vic was only interested in their pursuers. The swaying figures, in a friendly group of seven dead men, rather quickly followed the people. He drew his sword from its scabbard on the move, threw it to the level of the necks and, without stopping, crashed into an uneven formation. The sharp blade easily ripped open the half-rotted skin, cut the vertebrae of the first victim and separated the head from the neck. The corpse, having lost part of its body, immediately lost its rhythm and stomped on the spot. Vic stepped forward, swung his sword at the next neck, then another, dodged the twisted fingers th
Wanderers Of the Night 65
Vic growled quietly, the paralyzing effect of the magic sword taking its toll on his own condition more and more. The hostile energy running from the hand like prickly fire was already felt at chest levels and began to flow to the legs. The blows were getting weaker, and the movements themselves were slow. Another dead man received a blow to the chest, and not to the head - the hand did not rise higher. Vic stepped back, watching as the enemy staggered, trembled, but did not fall. Behind someone pulled at the clothes, pulled on himself, almost knocking over on his back. The Vistolets twitched, turned around with a jerk, realizing in some kind of stupor that the hand holding the weapon no longer obeyed him. The fingers unclenched by themselves, and the sword flew to the ground. Vic stumbled, his semi-paralyzed legs almost causing him to fall. He slowly took a step back and quickly looked around. The dead confidently closed the circle in a multi-row crowd. The nearest ones were alread
Wanderers Of the Night 66
A heightened sense of smell alerted him to the presence of a guest before he turned the corner of the corridor. Yarsi slightly slowed down his pace, and then drove the expression of alertness from his face and, raising his head high, went towards Velislav, Daitra's heir, who was waiting for him at the door. He silently looked at the approaching prince. Yarsi just as silently stopped in front of the Daitroite blocking the passage. "Hello, Yarsi," he smiled wryly. - Long time no see. You've lost your temper, prince.- Well, yes, I became taller than you, - Yarsi slapped Velislav on the shoulder. - How long have you been standing here? I decided to take a walk before bed. - Didn't know that werewolves sleep.- And I'm not an ordinary werewolf, - the king of Reeta smiled with all his fangs. “Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I don’t. If you're not afraid, then come in, I'm glad to see you. The visitor snorted and stepped aside. Yarsi was the first to step into his own chambers, he hear
Wanderers Of the Night 67
Yarsi took a deep breath and paced the room. A childhood friend did not just appear that night. This visit could be interpreted as Daitra's great hope that Miros was still her protector. The Daitras are too accustomed to living behind the back of a strong, warlike neighbor. Their own army has long existed only for appearances and mainly consists of palace guards, those who really wanted to be warriors went to Miros. Yarsi grinned gloomily, yes, the war has not yet begun, but most of the army is already drawn to the western border - the border with the lands of Tinasa. In the forges, swords are reforged day and night - silver is poured into their blades. But Yarsi placed much greater hope in the archers. The longer they can keep the dead within sword range, the greater the chance for the living. In addition, silver tips required much less material than swords. And the fact that silver acts on the dead, he had already seen during the battle at Keront. True, the sword that Vic held i
Wanderers Of the Night 68
A low tree freely spread its branches over the darkened walls. Powerful branches had long ago pushed aside the masonry of the stone fence, and the bricks, unable to withstand the pressure of nature and the past years, lay in piles on the ground. But here and there a dilapidated wall still stood, hiding from prying eyes a squat one-story house, immersed in the greenery of a wild garden. This small plot with a house was located at the outer wall of Eleard and only huge gardens of neighboring estates adjoined it. It was believed that he had an owner and that's the only reason no one has touched him until now. Still, someone else's property, and no one knew where the owner himself was. And the guests here were not frequent, sometimes random travelers wandered in, turning in the wrong direction from a good road. Under their feet lay a path overgrown with thick grass, into which the once flat, stone-paved path had turned. The travelers looked in bewilderment at the branchy thickets, which
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