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

— Toad! — Rosa stood up, waving her hand at the dragoness. The dragon snorted a welcome snort and climbed out into the shallow water. Don Marius hung down from his saddle:

— Signora, you're all right! Praise the One!

— Yes, and Jeanne too. — The girl smiled at the knight, though he could hardly see her face in the darkness. — Put Toad down, the rescued one is unconscious.

The dragoness obediently sank belly down into the coastal mud, and the spies hurriedly began to load the rescued one on her back. Marius shifted his eyebrows when he saw who had been lifted into his saddle, but he refrained from asking questions. They could be spotted by sentries or a dragon patrolling the skies, and every minute counted. There was only enough room on the saddle for the rider and the captive. Securing the rescued one with straps, Rosa and Jeanne hung onto the harness. Toad turned round, trampling the reeds, and dived back into the Shaanta. The water whipped down Rosa's legs, reaching up to her knees, hitting the shins of her boots. The sudden cold made the young sorceress grit her teeth, pressing herself tighter into the dragon's hide. Luckily, Mariuse's pet swam perfectly — they were on their side before Rosa could feel her little fingers. There seemed to be some commotion in Auguste's camp, whether they had found corpses or spotted Toad. None of that mattered anymore.

— Let's stop, — the girl asked after a few more minutes. — I'd rather walk than go like this....

— Of course. They can't get us here anymore. — Marius stopped the dragoness. The women slid down to the ground. Jeanne, who jumped first, helped Rosa, whose arms and legs were a little stiff and unsteady. The young sorceress undressed boots, pulled off her wet stockings and rubbed her feet. Meanwhile, the knight examined the prisoner, who was strapped to the saddle, and took out a crystal lamp from somewhere. Suddenly he swore loudly and obscenely.

— What is it, milord? — The girl raised her head fearfully.

— She... the one you saved... — The young knight seemed to be choking with anger. — That's my cousin. That's Minerva. What the hell have they done to her?!

Chapter 11

— And she ate my mouse, — said Donna Vittoria, squinting.

— Yes, milady, — Rosa nodded.

— We had no other choice, milady, — Jeanne added with all possible seriousness.

They stared at the cage in which the lizard-like woman sat with an indifferent look. She had been hastily placed. The rescue operation was a secret not only to the enemy but also to the rebel troops, so bringing the prisoner to the camp secretly had been part of the plan from the beginning. But the fact that the rescued woman would have to be locked up again was something even Vittoria hadn't expected. On the necromancer's orders, a portable cage was set up near Toad's stall and a tent was erected over it. The same soldiers who had helped to build the improvised prison remained on guard. The necromancer gathered the spies near the cage and demanded a report. Rosa, who had only had time to change her stockings for dry ones and drink water from the soldier's flask, confusedly recounted everything that had happened to her on the other side of Shaanta. Her mentor had listened with an impenetrable face — until now.

— I'll help you make a new mouse, milady, — Rosa assured her, pressing her fist to her chest. — Better than the last one!

— Oh..., — the necromancer turned to her apprentice with a sigh. — Finish the dust amulet first, dear.

Rosa felt herself blush and pressed her lips together. The red-haired donna shook her head, turning her gaze back to the cage:

— So this is the knight who was part of Armando's group. The group that tried to destroy the alien portal. How could this happen to her?

— I don't know, — Don Marius growled. Unlike the women gathered around the cage, he was pacing the space inside the tent. The young man's eyes were wild. — This... we had almost forgotten it was possible. This hasn't happened in a long time. Generations.

— Could her condition be the result of magic? — Vittoria put her hands behind her back, keeping her eyes on the captive. She moved sluggishly. It seemed that Rosa had not taken into account the degree of exhaustion of the unfortunate woman when measuring the dosage of the sleeping potion. Even when she woke up, Minerva seemed to be in a stupor. — This could be circumstantial evidence of the mission's success. The destruction of a powerful portal would usually result in the release of raw energy.

— No, milady, — Rosa said with a waggle of her chin. She wanted very much to put her arms around Marius, who was fumbling from corner to corner, to stop him, to comfort him silently, as he had comforted her on the day of their first meeting. But more important things could not be delayed. Besides, doing such a thing in front of strangers was somehow... strange. — If donna Minerva had been caught in a burst of wild magic, the changes would have been more... chaotic.

— Then what do you think is the reason?

— Well... — Rosa bit her thumb nail thoughtfully. Needlessly adjusted her glasses. — I haven't studied the history of blood bonds that much. I think it's about loss of self-control. Magic itself has nothing to do with it. When a knight succumbs to dragon blood, he changes more than just physically. His mind becomes weaker, closer to the dragon's. The point is, the transformation is at the will of the knight. To return to human form requires his conscious desire.

— Yep. — The necromancer nodded understandingly. — So, if the knight gives too much will to the beast within, his mind will fade away. There would be no one to... um... give the order to reverse the transformation.

— Yes. That's why we're not turning for more than a couple of minutes. — Don Marius finally stopped darting from wall to wall. Standing next to Rosa, he took a breath, continued in a calmer tone. — Longer is possible, but dangerous. It's almost a reflex, it's something we've been taught since childhood.

— Something has happened to her. To donna Minerva, — Jeanne suddenly intervened. — In battle, when she was a lizard. Something terrible. Despair broke her will right in the middle of the battle. Maybe someone she loved had died.

The black-haired woman looked at her captive with... sympathy? Rosa still hadn't learnt to read emotion in her stone face.

— Minerva's dragon, Charcoal. — Marius bit his lip. — She couldn't have been captured if he were alive. Losing a dragon was a terrible blow.

— There is another option, — the necromancer said slowly. She shrugged her shoulders and curled her lips, thinking about something else. — Isn't that right, m-lord?

— Yes. — The knight took another deep breath. — The second bailiff in Armando's group, don Gotech de Ardano... He and Minerva had a... connection. For years, since the last war. Marriage was out of the question, he was poor, and he had gained his nobility on the battlefield. But they loved each other. His death could have been just as devastating to Minerva.

— Or the death of them both, — Jeanne put in. — Both the dragon and loved one at the same time.

The young sorceress swallowed involuntarily. Yes, this option was more likely to be true than anything else.

— So, what do we have, — Donna Vittoria summarised, taking a step back from the cage. — The rescued woman can tell us nothing. Her very presence gives us a limitless field of speculation. At worst, we can assume that Armando's entire group perished without destroying the portal. At a slightly less worst, they died after they did.

Rosa blindly found Mariuse's palm, squeezed his cold fingers. Not a hug, but something. The young man flinched, glanced at her in surprise. He smiled tautly.

— Rosa. — The red-haired donna caught the girl's gaze. — What I need now is not my apprentice, but a savvy research mage. Someone who'd spent five years at the Academy and travelled on solo expeditions. Someone with a passion for an area of magic I don't know very well myself.

— Yes, milady. — Rosa let go of Mariuse's hand.

— We must get donna Minerva back. — The necromancer nodded at the lizard woman. — For her sake, for don Marius, for the information in her head. For the possibilities... related to her family, perhaps. What do you know about cases like this in the past? Have the victims been healed?

— Mythical plots aside... yes, several times. — The girl scratched the tip of her nose. — The trouble is that each time the method was different. That is, there is no single methodology. Each case is unique. I need to look for descriptions in books, check for patterns....

— That's what you do. — Donna clapped her hands together. Noiselessly — probably so as not to startle a half-asleep Minerva. — And get used to it. I intend to honour my promise. You are no longer so much my student as my junior colleague. I'll continue to teach you, but don't blush when solving problems in class.

Naturally, Rosa's cheeks flushed as she said this. Vittoria turned to the maid-guard with a sneer:

— Now for your part of the report.

— I've had plenty of time to look around the camp, — she began flatly. — Mostly nothing new. Your informant is correct. Auguste's army is made up of less than half of the crown regiments. Apparently, the king doesn't trust them enough to hold them against the Imperials. More than a third of the army is Iolian. Not mercenaries, but regular infantry sent by decree of the republican authorities. Formally, to help an ally and bring peace to the kingdom. The rest were soldiers from Auguste's personal domain, who had served him before his coronation.

— Dragons?

— Very few. Judging by the soldiers' chatter, the families of the dragon knights do not want to get involved in the internal conflict. A few houses have sent one rider each as a sign of loyalty, while others have sent more forces to the border with the Empire or to guard the capital.

— That's interesting, — the necromancer hummed. — Anything else?

— Elves, — Jeanne said dryly. — There are no elves in the army. No elves at all. They say the principalities have withdrawn even the companies permanently stationed in Daert.

— Hmmm... — The red-haired donna touched a finger to the wishbone of her glasses. — Predictable on the one hand, curious on the other. Confirms a number of... theories of mine.

There were a total of seven elven principalities on the continent. Five of them were now vassals of the Empire, two were part of the Coalition. The mountainous Liarat occupied part of the low ridge between Daert and Iolia, the seaside Anelon, where the elves and humans lived together, stretched along the northern coast. The elves were always sensitive to casualties, and their armies rarely left the borders of the principalities, but single companies of jaegers, gunners, scouts and engineers invariably supported the allied forces. The withdrawal of companies attached to the royal army could be seen as more of a political action.

— And one more thing... — making sure that the necromancer was satisfied with her answers, Jeanne straightened her shoulders. — Milady, I have decided about my second oath. I will bring it to madame Rosa.

— Wow! — The red-haired donna raised her eyebrows. Her green eyes sparkled with laughter, but her face remained serious. — Well, Rosa, congratulations.

— W... what? — the girl was confused.

— Jeanne wants to swear the oath of personal guard to you, — the necromancer explained, still laughing with only eyes. — The same oath she gave to her previous mistress. After that, you will become one family, in a sense. She refused to swear to me, but I hinted at it... Well, don Marius, stay a while. You can both go now. Get some rest. You've had a difficult night.

— But... — Rosa stammered as Jeanne grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the tent. When she found herself on the street, she pulled herself together and blurted out:

— But why, Jeanne? It's for life, isn't it? Your vow?

— Yep. — The black-haired woman intercepted her under the elbow, guiding her towards the camp.

— We've only known each other for a few days...

— Life has taught me to appreciate the little things. — The warrior mumbled, not looking at Rosa. — I've come to the conclusion that there's no better mistress than you in this shithole of a kingdom.

— That's a terrific compliment, — the girl exhaled. — I'm going to hit you. Why do you even need a mistress? Can't we be friends? I'd like to have an older friend who can slaughter my abusers. Because she's my friend and she loves me, not because she swore to protect me.

They entered their tent side by side, and Jeanne let go of her companion's elbow and stood in front of her. She looked straight into her eyes:

— Will you not take my oath?

— Uh... — Rose shifted from foot to foot, looked around, as if looking for someone who would tell her the right answer. — Is this important to you?

— Very much so, — the swarthy warrior nodded.

— Okay then. — With a sigh, the girl sat down on the bed. She pulled her gloves from her belt and threw them on the pillow. — You can swear an oath to me, Jeanne. I don't need it, but to please you...

— Great. — The woman knelt down in front of her chest, flipped open the lid, started rummaging around inside. — We'll need a knife and a chalice for a blood.

— Blood? — Rosa asked apprehensively.

— It's enough to prick a finger and squeeze out a drop, — Jeanne said, pulling out of the chest and throwing on the floor her underpants, undershirt, clean stockings, belt without a buckle.... — The chalice is a formality. You can do without a priest, you can't do without a mage. But we have a magician. Oh, and the kiss. You have nothing against kissing, mistress?..

Chapter 12

It was much more difficult to obtain scientific literature in a military camp than to steal a prisoner from under the noses of Auguste's entire army. Donna Vittoria's modest library was, in fact, Rosa's only source of knowledge. In a few days of searching, the girl had achieved almost nothing. Army mages and healers were interested in purely applied things. They kept with them works on wound treatment, sapping, amulet making. In addition, there were a few entertaining novels — one Rosa had even borrowed to read before bed. It helped to forget business and fall asleep. No one kept treatises on history and theoretical magic at all — alas, it was predictable. In the end, the best way out was to rely on her own memory. The young sorceress armed herself with a stack of paper, a quill, an inkwell, and now spent hours remembering the books she had read at the Academy, writing down and systematising her thoughts. She was distracted by Jeanne, who had returned from a morning training session. The warrior now did not hide at all — she wore only men's clothes, practised with a sword on the common ground, invited officers to the training bouts.