The knight, the dragon and the necromancer. Daert dilogy-1

The women servants were called for lunch just in time, and Rosa stumbled along with them. She took a bowl of porridge from the soldier's kitchen, a couple of thin flatbreads and a jar of plain water. Again the skill of eating when there was no appetite came in handy — the tasteless but nourishing meal the girl literally shoved into herself, fighting nausea. When she returned to the square, she lay down in the straw away from the tents and fainted rather than fell asleep. The sun was touching the tops of the tents and Jeanne was sitting next to her.

— I knew you'd do something if you were left alone, — the black-haired woman said as soon as Rose moved.

— I didn't operate. — The girl sat up, leaning on her elbows. — Honestly.

— Mm-hmm. — Jeanne stood up, helped her partner up. — How you feeling?

— Not bad. — It was true — the phantom pains had subsided with sleep, the nausea had eased, the strength had increased. — How about you?

— I found them. — The maid lowered her voice. — It's just like the note said.

— Maybe we should do more... — Rose took a step toward the awnings, but stopped. Several nuns entered the hospital square, accompanied by two men in plain dress and a woman whose belt was adorned with pouches of amulets that glowed dimly through the fabric. The army healers had finally honoured the wounded soldiers. — All right, let's go.

— There are four men guarding the tent, — Jeanne said as they hurried away from the square. — Two stay outside, two rest inside. Then they take turns.

— It's a bit small, — Rosa said.

— That's fine if they're not expecting an attack. What would they fear in their own camp? The sentries are more likely to keep an eye on the prisoner to make sure he doesn't escape. They don't bring them food, they eat something from their own supplies. Sleeping potion's not an option.

— Then what? — The scouts stopped at the stable, where there were no horses or stablemen now. Rosa leaned her hip against it.

— The tent is really out of the way, — Jeanne replied. — At night it will be lit only by the fire in front of the entrance. I'll climb up from the dark side, get inside and take out the resting guards. But there may be noise. I want you to talk teeth to the guards outside, just for a few minutes.

— I can do that. — Rosa smiled, remembering the recent praise of her dodginess.

— Also, look from a distance to see if you can see any magical alarms. Leave the rest to me.

They had to wait for darkness for quite a long time, during which time the spies got out of the camp, pretending to look for some medicinal herbs. This gave them a chance to get close enough to the tent they were looking for. Rosa glanced round at the target of their mission, caught Jeanne's gaze, and shook her chin. She could feel no magic. At dusk, the women returned to pick up dinner in the communal kitchen Rosa knew. It was uncomfortable and even embarrassing to eat from the enemy's table, but the girl decided to consider the porridge and flatbread as payment for helping the wounded. It didn't smell like an equal exchange from ancient alchemical treatises, but Rosa was fine with it. Over a leisurely meal, dusk turned to night, and the two women slipped quietly out of the royal army. The camp fires glowed behind them, and the sparks of the lanterns in the hands of the sentries flickered ahead. They were few in number — the sentries were primarily watching the river and the flanks, not fearing a blow to the rear.

— Ready, madame? — Jeanne asked, throwing off her nun's cloak.

— Ready, — the young sorceress nodded. — And... Jeanne...

— Yes? — The guardswoman pulled her long, thick black leather gloves from her belt and pulled them on. Clenched and unclenched her fists. The leather creaked.

— I think these people, Auguste's soldiers... — Rosa spread her hands, trying to find words that wouldn't sound too stupid and naive. — They are not enemies. They're just as much victims of the conspiracy as the Loyalist soldiers. If only they knew what they were really fighting for...

— Soldiers usually fight for money and food, madame. — Jeanne checked the sheath of her dagger and hung it from the belt of her trousers. — I hope you don't intend to go preaching to them?

— No, — the girl sighed. — But... It's a lot to think about.

Jeanne finished her preparations in silence, clapped her partner on the shoulder, and strode away. Black-haired, black-clad, she literally melted into the darkness. The necromancer's apprentice slowly counted to one hundred. Jeanne had to go round the prison tent in a circle without being seen by the sentries, then crawl as close as possible to the target and wait for Rosa to appear. What would happen next, the student could only guess. Definitely something bloody.

— Ninety-nine... one hundred... — The girl nervously interlocked her fingers in front of her chest and moved forward, trying not to hurry. It was hard to lose sight of the tent — the sentries had built a fire right in front of the entrance. They were sitting on camp blankets by the fire, talking about something. The soldiers certainly felt safe, and only noticed the intruder when she stepped into the circle of light. The guards jumped up, grabbing their scabbards, but did not draw their swords. They stared suspiciously at the girl in the white cloak. The girl in the white cloak stared at them with a scrutinising gaze. Identical green caftans, brimmed hats, swords on their slings. No spears or halberds, no armour. That would have told Rosa something....

— Sister, what are you doing here? — One of the sentries asked unfriendly when he finally saw Rosa's robes. The other blocked the entrance to the tent with his back.

— I am told that in this tent lies a badly wounded man, whose actions have branded him with a mass of sins! — The student began with inspiration, raising her voice a little more than was necessary. Let the soldiers at once get used to a strange nun speaking as if from a pulpit. — The priestly fathers had no time for him, but I have come to confess a sinner before he die!

— There's no one here, sister. — The soldier frowned. — Who told you that?

— Sister Irina, a kind person, sent me. — Rosa rounded her eyes. — She said it was an important errand!

A hissing sound came through the thin walls of the tent. It was definitely not human. It sounded like that of an angry Toad. The sentries turned round.

— You're not deceiving me, good man?! — Rosa unceremoniously seized her companion by the shoulder and yanked him to her. — The sin will fall on you! To deprive a sinner's soul of the chance of redemption through confession...

— Sister, there is no one here. — The soldier tried to push her away, but the girl clutched the sleeve of his uniform with all her might. — Go away!

The entrance canopy swung open silently. A black-gloved hand clamped over the second sentry's mouth, the blade of a dagger glinting in the firelight. The soldier twitched, mumbled, and was silent as the dagger slashed his throat. Second soldier looked round in surprise, but did nothing. Throwing aside the dagger, Jeanne pulled the sword from her victim's sheath, pushed the body inside the tent, and made a lightning-fast lunge. The guard didn't even cry out — the blade went between his throat and jaw, exited the other side of his neck. Hot drops splashed on Rosa's forehead. She drew back involuntarily.

— Ugh... — The guard collapsed to his knees. Jeanne kicked him in the chest, freeing the blade from his body, and finished him with a stinging blow. She looked round quickly. Rosa, who had come to her senses, followed her maid's example. No one seemed to notice the brief fight.

— Is everything all right? — The girl asked in a whisper for some reason.

— In general... no. Not everything. — Jeanne met her eyes, shook her head. — Come inside.

She herself picked up the dead guard and laid him on a blanket by the fire. She fidgeted, making the corpse look asleep. Rosa wiped her forehead with her sleeve, hurriedly entered the tent... And at once she realised that everything was really wrong. The bodies of the sentries killed by Jeanne inside did not attract her attention. Because in the centre of the tent stood a steel cage. And in the cage stood a creature staring at her with golden eyes. It was bipedal, two-armed, covered in black scales, with tangled long hair and clothed in filthy rags. The creature's face was only partially human, its eyes round, its ears flattened against its head, its mouth showing impressive fangs.

— It's... — the girl faltered. Jeanne looked into the tent and pulled out the second corpse. She came back a few seconds later and carefully pulled the tent flap closed behind her. Than asked:

— What is this, madame?

— It's... — The necromancer's apprentice couldn't take her eyes off the cage. — It's a dragon knight, Jeanne.

— I've heard they can do... that sort of thing. — The warrior hummed, playing with her trophy sword. — But this... it behaves like a beast. And don't knights turn in a matter of minutes?

— He... she, it's a woman... she stiffened. — Rosa swallowed. — She was stuck in a reversed state. It had happened about ten times in the history of dragon chivalry. Over the centuries. The dragon's blood had consumed the host's mind. She really was more beast than human now.

— She won't go with us, will she? — Judging by Jeanne's tone, she already knew the answer.

— Yes, — the sorceress nodded. The girl stepped forward and slowly raised her hand. The creature in the cage recoiled, pressed its back into the bars, hissed.

— One of the kennels in my mistress's retinue... last time... treated the dogs badly, — Jeanne said. — Beat them often. They reacted the same way to him. And he reacted the same way to me. After one conversation in private. Apparently, she wasn't treated well. Magic won't work?

— Mine didn't. — Rose lowered her hand. — But we have a sleeping potion. How do we get her to drink it?

— Hmm. — The black-haired warrior cracked her knuckles, stretching her neck. — She didn't look very big. I'll get in the cage and immobilise her, and you get her drunk.

— A knight in this form is stronger than it looks. — The necromancer's apprentice walked across the tent — two steps to the left, two to the right. The creature watched her warily from the cage. — It had claws and teeth. Too dangerous, for both of you. I'll think of something, wait...

The student set her medicine bag on the floor, looked inside. She hummed. There was still a construct mouse at the bottom. Rose pulled the dead rodent out, turned to the cage. Holding the mouse by the tail, she wiggled it in the air like some kind of locket on a chain. The creature in the cage moved forward, staring at the grey lump with interest.

— My mentor will kill me, — she muttered, hiding the mouse in her palm. — Then she'll rise me up as a construct and make me work for my debt.

For once, Jeanne's face showed emotion other than the usual sullenness.

— Did you think of it? — She asked with undisguised curiosity.

— Mm-hmm. — One of the dead guards was still clutching a piece of flatbread in his hand. An almost empty bowl of porridge lay nearby. Jeanne had finished off the unfortunate man before he could finish his late supper. Rosa, fascinated by the new idea, took the flatbread from the dead fingers, dipped it in the remains of the porridge, rolled it into a bread ball, poured the sleeping potion into the same bowl, dipped the ball into it. She put the ball into the necromouse, fastened the button. Rubbed the little grey body with porridge.

— Can't you just give her bread? — Jeanne, who understood the student's idea, asked.

— The odour of the potion was too strong, it had to be broken. — Rosa shook the mouse in front of the cage again. The scaly captive still looked interested. — Besides, the porridge smelled like meat, and the mouse looked familiar. Now...

The girl threw the mouse into the cage. The captive caught it on the fly and immediately put it in her mouth, chewing on it. Swallowed it.

— Yes! — Rosa shook her clenched fists.

— The main thing is that when you explain yourself to Donna, don't lead her to think that we could have had other options, — Jeanne advised. — When will she be asleep?

— Soon, — Rosa assured him. — I can't say for sure, but it's a strong potion, a good dose for this weight.

— Then I'll go and artistically arrange the dead, while you look for the key to the cage. — The warrior walked out, sword still in hand. Rose began to search the tent. The keys were not in the possession of one of the guards, but in a small travelling chest, along with some sealed letters. The necromancer's apprentice slipped them into her pocket just in case. By this time, the knight had calmed down considerably, becoming lethargic. After a few more minutes, she sat down on the floor and dropped her head to her chest. Rose waited a little to be sure, quietly called Jeanne. The two of them opened the cage and took the prisoner out. Rosa helped her onto the back of her taller partner, secured her with a blanket and some rope she had found. She pulled off the nun's cloak, crumpled it up, stuffed it in her bag. It would be foolish to leave unnecessary evidence to the enemy — let him wonder how the spies got into the camp and who they were. Jeanne's cloak would probably be found, but not immediately, and not at the scene of the attack.

— Come on. — Rosa went out first, holding the canopy for the maid. She walked ahead of them, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings with both simple and magical vision.

Theoretically, they had one last difficult step — to get out of the guard line with the prisoner. In reality, it was quite simple. There were only a couple of mounted troops patrolling the northern border of the camp. Because of the lanterns in the hands of the head riders, it was not difficult to spot them from afar and bypass them. It was all the more easy to sneak past the guard posts, where soldiers sat in clusters around the fires. It was barely past midnight when the two spies and their loot reached the river where they had stepped ashore almost twenty-four hours before. Rosa took out a clay mug and a clear crystal — a discharged magic lamp — from her trusty bag. She brought it to her face, touched her forehead, whispered an incantation. Than waited a minute, transferring the energy to the crystal. After the painful attempts to charge the amulet in the necromancer's lessons, working with the lamp was a pleasure. When the crystal glowed an even, pale-golden radiance, Rosa slipped it into the mug and placed it on its side, with the open end facing the river. Now the light was harder to see from the shore.

It seemed like an eternity to the young sorceress, but the moon creeping across the sky indicated the exact time — hardly an hour passed before a dark mass emerged from the darkness, parting the waves. Crossing the river on a dragon was definitely not the quietest way, but it was certainly the fastest and safest.