Novel 1. Mercenary Company "Bright Heads". Story 1. Noman's land

— Perfect! — the elf exclaimed with sudden enthusiasm, clapping her hands. — Get paper and pen. And Mr. Sandr...

— Yes captain?

— You still don't eat, I'll take your ribs?...

* * *

The rest of the day and the whole evening the company spent on replenishing supplies. Valria exchanged one of the gold coins in the ducal bank and divided the silver into three parts. The purchase of provisions was undertaken by the elf herself — here she could be completely trusted. The sergeant went to the street of gunsmiths, but Carlon had to pretty much wander around the city, since the shops he needed were located in different quarters. The consumables associated with the craft of a magician were always the most expensive, and in order not to be left with an empty wallet, he had to be resourceful. In other circumstances, the master would save money — he could brew some useful elixirs himself, for example, from cheaper raw materials. However, there was no time for that now. The captain, fired up with enthusiasm, was about to set out in the morning. Seeing the radiant face of this pointy-eared adventurer, the magician was filled with foreboding. Again — as always, when he had to work with her. On the one hand, these forebodings were invariably justified. On the other hand, he is still alive, and so is the elf. Maybe it's not so bad...

Before going to bed, putting on glasses in a thick tin frame, Carlon read the papers handed over by the customer, dedicated to the purpose of their journey. Nothing particularly interesting was found in them. The pre-war stone fort was once a border fortress, then became a stronghold for the royal armies. A standard set of protective charms and amulets for its time. During the siege, the Imperials used a wide range of combat spells. But what it all turned into now, years later, even a magician more inquisitive than Carlon would not have undertaken to predict. Recordings were interrupted by an unsuccessful assault. After, obviously, no one followed the ruins of the fortress. Expeditions to those places, if any, did not leave any reports. Or the customer simply did not get to them.

After reading everything twice, the master blew out the candles, hid the glasses in a leather case and lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling beam. The thought was circling in his head that it was not too late to refuse. In the end, he is exhausted from the last contract, and he still has money. But ... with great reluctance, Carlon admitted to himself that he himself was interested in how everything would turn out. But what the magician did not admit was that he did not want to let the restless elf go on a dangerous task without supervision. Carlon drove this thought into the farthest corner of the subconscious and rammed there with his feet until he fell asleep.

The company failed to meet in the morning at the agreed place. With the first rays of the sun, an imperial dragon barge entered the city port, and the quarters adjacent to the embankment were tightly blocked. Firstly, there was no need to give the Coalition spies an extra opportunity to see the pride of the imperial fleet, and secondly, so that the dragons nesting on the barge would not devour someone. There have already been precedents. For a time, even local loaders were kicked out of the docks, and they stifled their drink in the halls of taverns, the fire of the Imperials, for a little while. Carlon rode for an hour on horseback through the free streets until he noticed a familiar golden-haired head flashing at the crossroads.

— While they were waiting for you, we managed to have breakfast for the second time,— Valria informed the magician who caught up with them. — All goes to good.

Both mercenaries led by horses — Dallan had a tall gray stallion, the elf, of course, had a snow-white thin-legged mare with a long mane. Getting ready to go, Valria added to her costume a light blue cloak and a brown hat with a dashingly folded brim on the right. The hat was decorated with a magnificent white feather and a round copper medallion on a ribbon. The same locket that Carlon had mentioned the previous morning. An insanely expensive and stunningly useless magical toy with the sole function of keeping the hat owner's hair clean in all conditions and never tangled. The former war mage knew exactly how much such a medallion cost, and how much it cost to recharge it every month — for him this served as more proof of Valria's empty head.

Unlike her partner, the sergeant completely changed her outfit. The green-eyed girl was dressed in a rather tight-fitting dark blue suit of a jacket with a stiff stand-up collar and trousers girded with a narrow belt. A light silver cuirass with a blue notch pattern covered only the chest and upper back, there were no shoulder pads and a lower plate protecting the stomach — although they could be attached to it. On the hands of the girl were long, to the elbow, leather gloves, reinforced with thin metal plates on the back of the hand and gaiters, which made them look like gauntlets, on her feet were high boots, also reinforced with metal in front. Moreover, silvery plates, looking like hoplite greaves, rose above the tops, covering the knees. Complementing the outfit is the same as the captain's light blue cloak, fastened to the cuirass with gilded clasps.

— All is ready? the mage asked, exchanging nods with the sergeant.

— Of course. — The elf unhooked a square bag from the saddle, handed it to the dismounted Carlon. — Your share of gourmet delicacies. I personally tried crackers — they don't serve them on the duke's table, I assure you.

— I have no doubts, — the master chuckled. — And this is for you.

He handed the elf three enchanted crossbow bolts, all bronze-tipped, of course. Iron and its derivatives, such as steel, do not tolerate any magic near them. Two arrows sported bright scarlet plumage, one blue.

— Fire and ice, — the girl nodded with a satisfied look, hiding the arrows in a case on her belt. — There was no wind?

— No, but I ordered for the future. I know how much you love them. They promised to deliver in a week. Now in the duchy they only conjure on fire, everything else is imported from the Empire. The demand is small.

They went on foot to the outpost in the suburbs, already on the merchant road they climbed into the saddles. Soon they had to turn off the well-worn road, and for several hours the small company made its way through the copses, moving away from the sea. The elf tried to entertain her companions with chatter about all sorts of nonsense, and she succeeded so much in this that Carlon began to have a headache at the mere sound of her voice. Unable to stand it, the magician tried to interrupt his companion:

— Listen, did you manage to make inquiries about our customer? At least some? You also have connections in the merchant guild and in the town hall.

— I tried, but to no avail, — Valria shrugged her shoulders. — In one evening, at least, I did not learn anything.

— So maybe it was worth the delay?

— Why? — the girl with a surprised look put two fingers to the tip of her nose and moved her sharp ears. Do you think we are being deceived?

Karlon took a deep breath. The elf smiled back.

— Do not worry. Even if there is no gold in the fort, or if it is a trap, the adventure will turn out great. And that's the most important thing, right?

— You do understand, — the magician said slowly, looking at the mane of his horse, — that this is precisely the reason why you have two people in your company? And no one, except Dallan and me, agrees to go under your command even for gold?

— I don't need more, — the girl assured. — It's not my fault that the emperor's military cabinet does not issue patents for free detachments smaller than a company. I don't want to join someone else's group. But they turn to me with such orders, with which they don't go to ordinary mercenaries. And this, you see, is great.

Carlon was about to vigorously disagree, but changed his mind at the last moment. However, after these words, Valria took out a huge biscuit from her bag and began to gnaw it, gracefully pouring crumbs into the palm of her hand — which means that blissful silence reigned temporarily. The trio arrived at the border of the Duchy of Elvart just before sunset. Determining where the no man's land begins was not difficult even without border posts. Behind the wanderers, another forest was green, lush grass was rippling in the wind — and in front of them the ground was bare. Here and there, the blackened trunks of dead trees stuck out, which for the past ten years had not been touched by rot. In obedience to an old military habit, Carlon ran his fingers along the sling of equipment. Attached to the straps that crisscrossed his chest were pockets of amulets and flat leather flasks of potions. The magician remembered how during the war years some young dandies wore glass bottles like that. It was fun for them to fall prone under enemy fire. Especially on the hard rocky ground, baked from the blows of fiery magic. In addition, a wide infantry cleaver hung on the belt of the master, which did not need to be checked.

The magician's companions also rattled their weapons without further ado. Sergeant Dallan, in addition to her long sword, took with her a hunting spear, now strapped to the saddle. This spear with a thick shaft and a crossbar behind the point was created for hunting big game, but in the Deadlands it will always find use too. Attached to Valria's saddle was an elven infantry crossbow. It differed from the imperial army crossbow, which fell out of use with the advent of gunpowder, by a complex mechanism for instantly pulling the bowstring. Another crossbow, a small cavalry one, with a flat magazine for five arrows, the girl constantly kept on her knees. On her left hip she dangled a bag-quiver with ordinary arrows, on her right — with enchanted ones. Behind the back, under the cloak, a case for two five-shot magazines was attached to the belt. Finally, at the pommel of the saddle was fixed a sheathed combat sword, a narrow sword fashionable among the nobles of the Empire, more suitable for thrusting than for any other fencing techniques.

— Shouldn't we be up for the night right now? — Carlon asked. — It's getting dark.

— No, I planned the route on purpose, — the elf shook her chin. — We'll drive for a couple more hours, set up camp at sunset. Close to the border Deadlands are not too dangerous. But if we move out in the morning, we will get to the fort before dark. This is more important.

The magician did not argue, and gave the horse a leg. The neutral zone met the wanderers with deceptive calmness. They plunged unhindered into the scorched lands, easily found a convenient hollow in which they set up camp when the sun's disk touched the horizon. Dry tree trunks rose around, but the travelers made a fire from the firewood they brought with them — it was not worth touching the trees in the Dead Lands without extreme need. The bonfire was a worthwhile risk — the fire might draw unwanted attention to the camp, but it also served as a defense against far more potential dangers. While Karlon was cooking porridge in a camping pot, the elf dozed off, putting a rolled up blanket under her head and covering her face with a hat. Her friend devoted her free time to sword exercises. Without taking off her armor, the sergeant entered into a duel with several invisible opponents at once — and the magician only had to feel sorry for the girl's imaginary enemies. Usually, against the background of Valria, the swordswoman seemed less feminine, a little rough — but in battle this feeling disappeared. Each movement of Dallan was not only swift, but also graceful, each swing of the sword — verified to the split second. The master had no idea where the girl came from and what she did before meeting the elf, but he had no doubt that she had a personal fencing teacher. And that in itself can say a lot.

— Your sword is quite light, sergeant, — the mage finally noticed. Unlike Valria, he addressed the sergeant as a real military officer — he himself did not know why. Maybe because of her calm and serious nature. — Do you always hold it with both hands?

— Almost always, — the green-eyed girl replied calmly, without stopping. She didn't seem to be afraid to hold her breath. The girl's voice was low and soft, almost velvety. In this, she also differed from her partner. — Most of my opponents are stronger than me.

— However, if necessary, you can hold it with one hand?

— Yes. But I will quickly get tired, and the blows will be weaker. — As if to confirm her words, the girl made several stabbing attacks with her right hand, deftly threw the weapon into her left palm, and repeated the movements. She was quick and agile, even in a cuirass, but she really could hardly have pierced chain mail or leather armor with such injections.

— And the dagger? I haven't seen you practice with it in your left hand.

— I usually use the dagger separately when there is no sword. — The sergeant suddenly spun on her heels and froze, looking at the interlocutor. She put the blade on her shoulder. — But my left hand is also "working", I can deflect blows with it.

— How? — this conversation with Dallan was the longest for all the time of their acquaintance, and the magician asked the question more to continue the conversation than out of curiosity.

Instead of answering, the girl simply clenched her fingers into a fist and raised it, demonstrating the steel plate sewn onto the glove — from the wrist and almost to the elbow.

— Any serious blow, even with the bluntest blade, it will not withstand.

— My bones will not withstand a serious blow, they are too thin and fragile. — The swordswoman seemed to smile slightly. He wouldn't vouch for it — but the corners of her lips lifted for a moment, and something flashed in her eyes. — But the sliding one can be deflected, or simply deflect someone else's blade without the risk of cutting yourself.

— The porridge is ready. It's going to burn now, — the elf said muffledly from under the hat, and Carlon had to interrupt the conversation in order to remove the cauldron from the fire.

After supper they divided the watch. Valria was the first on the clock, her friend was the last. Carlon got the darkest hours before and after midnight. He didn't mind — it really was the right thing to do. At the appointed time, the elf woke him up by grabbing his nose with two fingers and tugging. Having listened to the well-deserved curses on her head, the girl climbed under the covers and immediately sniffed comfortably with her nose, putting her gloved hand on the butt of a magazine crossbow. The magician began to walk around the fire, sometimes throwing pieces of wood into it. The sky remained clear, but the young crescent of the moon gave almost no light. Outside the circle, lit by the fire, the darkness seemed impenetrable. Carlon was tempted to use the owl's eye spell to see through the darkness, but maintaining it required an expenditure of energy that should be saved for tomorrow. At some point, the master found himself sweating, and goosebumps ran down his back. "What nonsense. — he thought. — Like a rookie. You went through the war, what are you afraid of?" But the goosebumps turned into anxiety, anxiety turned into real fear. Carlon froze, clutching the cleaver handle in a sweaty palm. Outside the circle of light, something flickered, and there was a rustle, reminiscent of the steps of soft paws. The magician choked with horror, was dumbfounded ... and closed his eyes, hastily building a barrier in his mind. "You've let your guard down, fool! — he scolded himself. — Discipline of the mind!". The master could have understood earlier that the creeping fear that penetrated his soul was not real. Someone watching him from the darkness was trying to paralyze the mage with terror or send him into a stampede. After all, a person running without looking back is a convenient victim.