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

— Oh, you scum — whispered Carlon. Still standing like a pillar, not letting go of the handle of the cleaver, he cast a sidelong glance at his companions. The girls slept peacefully. Getting into the mind of a sleeping person is even easier, but this requires a completely different gift, from a different sphere of magical talents. So it's best not to wake them up. The master focused on his own feelings — and at the same moment an invisible wall, exposed around his mind, seemed to be hit by a cast-iron cannonball from a siege bombard. The magician grimaced at the phantom pain, clutching his head in his hands. The blow was full of wild, raw power — and Carlon realized that he was not dealing with a man. One of the rare creatures, endowed with innate abilities to manipulate the mind, crept up to the fire. That's because he was "lucky" — there are only a few such creatures in the neutral zone. A predator that preys on thought intrusion is both better and worse than a mage with the same powers. Carlon realized that he could not withstand another blow — his composure would collapse. Because the magician ... removed all the barriers and let the enemy inside. It hurt — it hurt like hell. It's like voluntarily sticking an arrow in your stomach. Having let the predator dive into his soul, Carlon began to build new walls — but not in front of him, but around him. A former war mage was building a labyrinth. Memories, feelings, emotions became the material for the walls. The night hunter darted among them, more and more lost — powerful, but stupid. When the beast was completely confused, Carlon parted his lips and croaked:

— Val... Valria! Va...

It seemed to the magician that he was whispering — but both girls instantly woke up from his words. Seeing how the master stands, staggering and holding his head, the elf jerked the lever of the crossbow, cocked the bowstring, and only after that she threw back the blanket. The sergeant was already on her feet, blade drawn in her hand. She even managed to put on her boots.

— There ... — Carlon waved his hand in the direction where, as it seemed to him, the enemy was hiding. — Kill... quick...

The sergeant gave a short nod and plunged into the darkness without hesitation. The elf followed her with a crossbow at the ready. For another minute or two, the magician held the beast in a trap, then experienced a flash of sharp pain — someone else's pain. And contact with the mind of the night hunter was interrupted. Groaning, the magician fell to his knees. Convulsively, he felt for the necessary flask on the bandage, tore off the cap with his teeth, greedily drank a portion of the elixir that strengthens the nerves. By this time, the mercenaries had returned to the camp. Dallan carried in her free hand a large bundle that was dripping. Judging by the size, someone's head could fit in the bundle. Valria hurried to the magician, bent over him, took him by the shoulders. She asked without hiding her concern:

— How are you?

— I'm going to be sick now, — the master admitted, dropping to his heels. — I'm too old for this...

— Was it alone? This creature?

— If there was a flock, I would notice.

— Then lie down and sleep. — The girl helped him up and led him to his bed. — Right now. We'll take care.

— I ... yes, perhaps, — the magician muttered in a slurred tongue. — Necessary. But if you suddenly feel ... yourself ...

— I'll wake you up right away, — the elf promised, laying him on the blankets. Without any warning, the girl leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead. — Sleep well.

And although Carlon absolutely knew that the captain of the "Bright Heads did" not have a spark of magical talents, her kiss still seemed to have some kind of magical qualities. During the war, after such fights, the master was tormented by nightmares for weeks. This time he fell asleep instantly, and slept soundly, dreaming of something very pleasant — although in the morning he could not remember what it was...

* * *

The night incident did not affect the plans of the detachment in any way. The elf woke Carlon in the dark, in a surprisingly merciful way — the captain carried a bowl of hot stew in front of his nose until the magician woke up from the smell. The travelers had breakfast and gathered quickly in order to move out at dawn and not lose an hour of daytime. Nevertheless, as soon as it began to get light, the first thing the master did was go to check on the corpse of their intruder. Apparently, once upon a time it was an ordinary domestic pig. Or one of the creature's ancestors was a pig. Pigs, of course, do not have a bone sting on the tail and small black scales instead of a skin, but in general the origin of the creature was still guessed. Carlon spat heartily at the decapitated remains before returning to camp. The girls were already in the saddles and were talking in an undertone about something, waiting for him. Taking his place in the saddle, the magician grumbled:

— If such "pigs" wander around in one day's march from the border, it's time for someone in the ducal palace to point to the gallows. Where are the patrols looking?

— I think it wandered in here recently in search of prey, — Valria shrugged. — Perhaps it was driven from his familiar places by someone bigger. I would look for traces — where the beast came from, was there one... I think I will return here after, if the military office gives an order for an investigation.

— We have proof. Sergeant Dallan leaned over and patted the tightly zipped leather bag in which she had hidden the creature's head. But it will soon start to stink.

— Then let's not delay. Forward! — the elf raised her hand theatrically and hit the horse with her heels — she did not wear spurs.

The sun rose to its zenith, and the detachment crossed the wasteland scorched by magic in a chain. The relatively safe "doors" of the neutral zone ended, the group went deeper into the very heart of the lands unfriendly to all living things. The company was led by Valria, unusually attentive and silent. The elf vigilantly looked around and listened — it was noticeable by the way the sharp tips of her long ears rose and fell. The girl constantly kept a loaded infantry crossbow on her knees. The second was the magician. Watching the captain from under half-closed eyelids, the master listened more to his inner feelings. He was not afraid to miss a material threat, relying entirely on his companions. Dallan closed the short column. The sergeant unhooked the spear from her saddle and placed it across the pommel.

The farther, the less monotonous the terrain became. There was no grass, but a tough thorny bush appeared, creeping along the ground, in places braiding dead trees. They had to dodge — in the thickets, horses could easily prick their legs into blood. From time to time there were crumbling ditches, funnels smoothed by time, round and elongated mounds of different heights. Some of them were mass graves, some were the remains of field fortifications. Once the detachment came across a completely normal-looking grove of two dozen young trees — healthy, with lush crowns. In their shadow, an equally ordinary lawn turned green, a spring spouted from the ground. A kind of oasis in the middle of the desert. The company traveled around this place in a wide arc. Valria looked over her shoulder for a long time, as if expecting the trees to give chase.

An hour later they got into trouble again. In appearance, the dry plain did not change a bit, but blue lightning the size of a fingernail danced around the magnificent white feather on the elf's hat. Carlon closed his eyes — and found that he continued to see lightning through his lowered eyelids. One of the signal wards in his baldric began to heat up. The magician pulled out a copper plate of the amulet, looked at it, hiding it from the blinding sun in his palms. Transparent pebbles set in copper shimmered the same color as lightning. Their light was also visible through the eyelids.

— We are not going further, — the master said resolutely to his companions. They turned their horses around without question. They had to return in their tracks and set a new detour, losing more than half an hour on this — but no one reproached the magician with a word. Valria gave him a questioning look as they walked, but Carlon just shook his head and there were no questions.

It was well past noon, and the captain sometimes stood up in her stirrups, looking for a convenient place to stop for lunch. But the bush fields and groves of dead trees looked too inhospitable. So, at the request of the elf, Dallan distributed crackers and thin pieces of dried meat to the detachment, which were eaten right on the go. While eating, the wanderers let their guard down a little and almost ran into a strange structure. Across their route, something like ship frames stuck out of the ground — two rows of black beams, curved towards each other. Only when he got close to them, Carlon realized that these were not beams ...

— Those are ribs, — Valria voiced his thoughts aloud. — Dragon ribs.

The elf jumped down to the ground, walked over to the giant bones. Ignoring the warning exclamation of the magician, she put her hand on one of the ribs. She said quietly, without turning around:

— Poor fellow... Very young...

The dragon, judging by the size of the skeleton, was really small, almost a teenager. In any case, by the standards of land breeds. Most of the bones were covered with earth, even the skull was not visible. But to Carlon's surprise, Valria's voice trembled, as if she were standing over the body of a kinsman. The tips of the girl's ears drooped, her shoulders drooped.

— Probably shot down during the war, — the master said the first thing that came to mind.

— Yes, probably ... — the elf agreed. She walked along the skeleton to the last ribs, examined something there, beckoned to her companions. The magician dismounted, approached, leading the horse by the bridle. He saw what Valria was considering. Where the last ribs should have been, two short stumps protruded from the cracked soil. The edges of the cuts had not yet had time to darken, the bone seemed yellowish-white.

— Someone was here recently. — The girl sat down and carefully touched the cut with thin fingers, tightened into the thick leather of the glove. — A loner or a small detachment like ours, otherwise they would have taken everything away. Dragonbone is valued...

— Or someone scared them off, — Dallan put in. The sergeant remained in the saddle, ready to shield her comrades from any threat.

— Yes, or someone scared. — The elf straightened up. Her voice has already changed. — But mind you, there are no tools lying around. So they left without panic.

— Traces? — Carlon asked. Instead of answering, the girl hit the ground with her heel. She stepped back so that the barely noticeable dent, knocked out by the blow, became visible, ironically asked:

— Here? If we stay until the evening, I'll find something, I promise.

Of course, they did not linger — on the contrary, they increased their pace. After the dead dragon, they came across a broken artillery battery — perhaps even the dragon died attacking it. Cannon carriages, baskets of earth and palisade stakes rotted away, now the battery was a long earthen rampart, from which in some places protruded bombards eaten by rust.

— Judging by where the guns are looking, we are going to the battlefield, — said Carlon.

— Do you know what kind of battle was here? — Valria moved her horse to a walk, took out a flask of water.

— I have no idea. I fought in the south.

— The Imperial Seventh Army, supported by two cavalry corps of the Duchy, has stopped the advance of the army of the Royal Marshal de Abrozzi, — Dallan announced unexpectedly. — With the marshal were the king's plate cavalry, mercenary infantry from both republics, and a dozen dragonriders. Probably the one we saw is one of them.

— Do you remember the battle plan? — the elf clarified, pretending that she did not enjoy Carlon's surprise at all, but simply unscrewed the tight cap.

— No, I'm sorry.

— Then we don't know how wide the dead field is. — After drinking a couple of sips, Valria put away her flask, adjusted the quiver at her belt. — One more detour and we won't reach the fort before dusk. We're going straight. Scientist man, what do you think?

— In ten years, there are hardly corpse-eaters out there. — Carlon scratched his head. — Spirits, ghosts, petty demons won't appear in daylight. Skeleton warriors don't rise by themselves, you need a necromancer. My opinion is that the risk is justified.

— Here you go. — The elf touched the brim of her hat with a smile. — Now if something happens, it's not all my fault. We can keep going.

A sure sign that a battle had once taken place in these parts was not the bones of fallen warriors, not scattered shields, helmets, fragments of armor, broken swords and spears, arrows sticking out of the ground. No, ten years later, the remains of the battle were mostly traces of excavations. Even here, in the neutral zone, those wishing to profit from the property of the dead penetrated. Some of the rectangular pits dug by the marauders had collapsed, others looked quite fresh.

— You know ... — Carlon said slowly, looking around. — I take back my words. Corpse-eaters can still be found here. They have something to eat.

— Yeah. — Valria didn't even let out a taunt about it. She drew back her infantry crossbow, unfastened both quiver-bags at her hips. Taking a large crossbow in her hands, she put the repeating crossbow on her knees and now controlled the horse with her legs.

The company probably reached the middle of the dead field, when something flashed on their right in the thickets of thorns. Despite the risk, the captain deviated from the direct path, wishing to know what it was. It turned out that the trunk of an arquebus lying on the ground was shining. There were no other traces of a person nearby — just a gun on the ground, that's all.

— Not rusty, — Carlon frowned.

The elf leaned out of the saddle, deftly picked up the arquebus, miraculously not losing her hat, and handed the trophy to her partner. She sniffed the section of the barrel, examined the matchlock, the gun stock. Ran a verdict:

— They shot from it. Not later than at night. There is a drop of blood on the butt. Haven't been able to reload.

— We can't help the owner of this thing, — Valria sighed. — Company, in battle order.

The detachment formed a wedge. Dallan was now leading the group, the mage and the elf moving behind her, keeping an eye on the flanks. The far part of the dead field was overgrown with bushes so densely that it was necessary to let the horses through, despite their plaintive neighing. Valria was turning her head more and more anxiously, spinning her ears like her white horse. Finally, she raised her clenched fist.