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

— I think I found the prisoners, — the necromancer's apprentice whispered under her breath. Hardly anyone who cared about the other residents of the base would sing at the top of their lungs in the middle of the night. — Remember.

Another fifty paces, and a turn in the right direction. Here the corridor grew wider. The girl tensed. She's wonder — what room that gate led to? Not to the barracks, was it? More likely to a warehouse or something like that. Before she reached the end of the passage, the student heard a metallic clanking ahead. And then muffled voices. "Demons and Gehenna!" — flashed through her mind. Pressing herself against the wall, the sorceress crept to the doorway, peering out from behind the jamb. Mentally she let go of a stronger curse. There was indeed a hall in front of her, led into by a gate found on the slope — not a warehouse, but something like a carriage shed. Two-thirds of the man-made cavern was occupied by metal wagons on four wheels. A hatch in the front of the farthest one was open, and two men were poking around in it. Two more were stacking oiled iron into a box on the floor. A soldier in cuirass and helmet was watching, propping one of the wagons on his shoulder, yawning every now and then. The steel carriages obscured Rosa from part of the gate and the door next to it, but it was clear enough that there was no way to get to her unnoticed. Pressing her lips together, the necromancer's apprentice retreated into the corridor.

"Now what? — thought the girl, stepping backwards. — If they are even studying the trophies at night, they may not take any breaks at all. And if they delay until dawn, Jeanne and Lytel will have to leave. But they must take shifts once in a while, mustn't they?". The only idea Rosa could think of was to take refuge in the armoury, where she had lost contact with the squirrel. Wait for the trophy teams to change and slip to the door while the carriage house was empty. If it's empty at all, and the night shift doesn't leave after the day shift arrives. What then? Break into the room, shoot the guard and scare the workers with a dagger so they won't call for help? And who would be intimidated by a skinny girl-student with big glasses? Is there any way to use a flask of solvent? Magic?

It was definitely worth making plans when she reached the shelter. Rosa was thinking as she walked, and in the end she nearly hit the chin of a man who turned the corner. The man, dressed as a craftsman, stared in surprise at the girl he did not know. He held out his hand to her, opened his mouth to ask her a question or to call the guards — Rosa never knew. She drew her crossbow with a convulsive jerk and pulled the trigger.

— Slam! — The arrow flew straight into the man's mouth and out the back of his head in a spray of blood and shards of skull. It hit the ceiling and ricocheted somewhere further down the corridor. The man staggered, took a step back. Then he fell to his knees and collapsed on his side. He died without even a wheeze, but Rosa was still frozen in horror — she thought the slam of the bowstring and the rustle of the settling body sounded louder than the crack of a rockfall, more deafening than the roar of a dragon's . But as the seconds passed, nothing happened — no alarm bells rang, no guards' boots clattered on the concrete floor.

— S... sorry... sorry, — Rosa said, kneeling down beside the corpse. The young sorceress's throat constricted, but she managed to control herself. This wasn't the first person she'd killed...really, the first unarmed. But his death was justified, right? He could have screamed. They would have heard him. For the sake of the prisoners, for the sake of her companions, for her own sake, after all... he had to be killed quickly — and Rosa had succeeded. A source of pride. Why are her eyes stinging and her chest aching?...

The girl grabbed the dead man's legs and pulled. She gasped. The dead man weighed three times as much as Rosa. She could probably drag him to the armoury... two hours of desperate effort, pausing every five steps. She didn't want to check the other doors — what if there was a guardhouse or a bedroom behind one of them, and not an empty one?

— I can't leave you here. — The girl didn't notice what she was muttering under her breath; she could barely contain her excitement. Panic was just around the corner. — Someone else would go and see... What if you... go yourself?

The sorceress's idea was not so strange in comparison with other decisions of the night. She laid her hands on the dead man's forehead, mumbled verbal formulas, injecting energy into the dead body, casting control spells. This took two or three minutes. Finally, the girl collapsed on her side next to the craftsman in exhaustion... and he moved. He stretched out his hand, as if he wanted to touch the ceiling.

— Get up..., — Rosa wheezed a little audibly. The dead man sat up awkwardly, jerkily, then rose to his feet. The girl stood up almost as clumsily. Making a construct of this size had cost her dearly. A mage a step lower would not have been able to do it at all — Rosa was shaking with weakness.

— Go. — The student took her new "companion" under his elbow, chilling inwardly. The hastily cast spells were only enough to make the construct move its legs in a straight line. It was necessary to set the direction of walking manually — it could not even turn to the left like Signor Jacques. Rosa had broken half a dozen royal and ecclesiastical laws by the very fact of creating a human construct, but she decided to think about that later. After all, no one would ever know. Probably not.

It was only as she led the dead man down the corridor, where the singing was still coming from, that Rosa realised that her only plan had been thwarted. After all, the poor man she'd killed was coming from somewhere. And somewhere they were waiting for him right now. And when they don't see him, they'll be looking for him. And sooner or later, they'll raise the alarm. Which means she can't wait in hiding.

— Stop. The necromancer's apprentice stopped the dead man and leaned back against the wall. She took off her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. A stifled sneeze — the glove had been soiled in dust as the girl had crawled through the vent. The time for cautious, low-risk plans seemed to have passed long ago, but the young spy didn't want to admit it. Now she had to face the truth — she couldn't solve this puzzle without help. And where to look for help? Jeanne and Lytel are waiting outside. But inside... inside the base, Rosa has allies too. Even if she's never met them. And if they haven't been completely tortured...

— Go. — The student turned the dead man towards the tunnel going down, two fingers closing the poor man's mouth. The construct moved obediently in that direction. Rosa gave him a head start and followed, crossbow raised.

Contrary to her fears, it was not a whole underground level, but a long corridor with barred doors on either side. At the beginning of the corridor, a guard sat at a table, chewing a crust of bread with a phlegmatic expression. His gaze was almost as blank as Rosa's construct. But when he saw the dead man enter the cell, the soldier perked up and waved at him:

— What's wrong?

The construct naturally ignored the question. The guard began to rise from his stool, frowning:

— You're from the work crew, aren't you? What are you doing here...

Rosa took a step to the side, so that the dead man's back wouldn't obscure the target, and shoot. The crossbow arrow entered the soldier's head just under his left eye.

— Yghh... — he said, and than toppled over. The dead man's cuirass clattered to the stone floor, and a stool fell with a clatter. But Rosa didn't care about the loud noises anymore. She ran over to the dead man and snatched a bunch of keys from his belt. The keys were small, shiny, but otherwise familiar. The aliens hadn't gone to the trouble of equipping their prison cells with some kind of special locks from the homeworld.

— Is anyone here? — The sorceress called out in a low voice, straightening up. She noted that the song that had brought her here had stopped. Rosa's construct, not being told to stop, crossed the entire cell and faced the far wall. He did not stop trying to go any further. The sight must have made an impression on the occupants of the cell, for they did not answer her immediately.

— This way, — said a low male voice at last. Rosa ran to the right cell and looked inside. There on a suspended bunk sat an imposing, one-eyed, bearded man, dressed in what had once been a military uniform. His eye patch was gone, and the empty eye socket, scarred over, gave the man's face a menacing expression.

— Who... with whom do I have the honour to speak? — Without waiting for an answer, Rosa started to pick up the key.

— Boyarin Yuriev, servant of the Irutava clan of the Erdo Republic, — the bearded man replied, standing up. — Military counsellor to Chancellor Ryuu Irutava. And you are?

— Friend. — Luck smiled on the fourth key. The lock clicked, the door opened inwards. — My name is Rosa, and I've come for you.

The bearded man stepped out of the cell, looking round glumly. Rosa was also able to get a better look at him in the light of the ceiling lamps. Yuriev was not just a large man, but a truly huge man — he could lift his saviour by the scruff of the neck with one hand like a kitten. Besides the old scar, the boyarin's face was adorned with fresh cuts and bruises, and his fingers were missing a couple of fingernails, but he held himself with confidence.

— It doesn't look like a trap, — Yuriev finally stated. — It's too... strange. What's wrong with your comrade?

He pointed at the dead man, who continued pacing the wall.

— Nothing, he's... actually, he's already dead, — Rosa said. — Forget it. Are you here alone?

— No, there are two more with me. — The Boyarin pointed to the neighbouring cells. — There is milord Irutawa Hideki, the chancellor's son, and master Torutawa, the magician.

It took seconds to free Yuriev's companions — the sorceress found that the keys had numbers corresponding to the cell numbers embossed on them. The Chancellor's son turned out to be a pale young man in his twenties, while master Torutava was an older, overweight woman. Both looked much better than Yuriev, though the magician was held in iron shackles and gagged.

While Rosa unlocked the bars, the bearded man searched the guard and armed himself with his sword. He handed the baton on the table to young Irutava.

— They used that thing to bang on the bars to keep us awake, — the boyarin explained to Rosa. — They thought the sleeplessness would make us more agreeable.

— Is that why you were singing? — The student no longer doubted that it was Yuriev's voice she heard.

— Yeah. — The bearded man grinned, showing off a chipped front tooth. — Counterattacked. — Yuriev kicked the corpse of a soldier. — He was afraid to come in and gag me alone. What's next?

— Next... — Rosa waved her hand, removing the control spell from the construct, and began to tell her story. She took a minute, allowing herself no choice of expression.

— I see, — the bearded man said, tasting the blade of his sword with his fingernail. — Well, I don't mind a fight.

— Take this. — The girl handed him a flask with an invigorating infusion. — It'll give you strength. Drink it all, I'm fine.

There was no point in delaying any further — the closer dawn came, the greater the risk of meeting someone in the corridors. Rosa stepped ahead of her companions and peered into the main passage first. When she was sure it was empty, she beckoned to the others. The group headed towards the target almost at a run. Yuriev was explaining the plan to the girl on the way:

— I'll take the guard at once, lord Irutawa will block the corridor so no one escapes. You unlock the door and don't think about anything else. Tomoyo, are you all right?

— No, Genji, — the mage woman said tiredly. She was released from the gag, but the shackles could not be removed, for they had no lock; they had been riveted in the forge. — Until I sleep, eat, and remove the iron, I can't give any help.

— Then just stay behind me. — It was twenty paces to the end of the corridor, and Yuriev sprinted. Rosa slung her crossbow behind her back, drew her dagger, and sprinted after him.

They stormed into the hall with the wagons. The men working there were not expecting an attack, and the guard did not even have time to draw his weapon — Yuryev ran into him, slammed into the wagon, and finished him off with a chopping blow. Rosa ran past, swung her dagger at the worker, ran round the steel "carriage" painted with green and black spots, which was blocking the gate. She cursed. This night was definitely testing her self-control and her faith in the One. As the necromancer's apprentice had hoped, the door near the gate was locked from the inside with a metal latch. And the pawl itself was locked with a padlock, like a barn lock. The student pulled a bronze flask from her belt, pulled the cork, and poured solvent on the locking bar. Steel rang behind her, someone screamed in pain, and Rosa counted the seconds to herself. She had used the solvent to spoil the mechanism of the door latch or to loosen the chain of the handcuffs, nothing more. But now there was no time for delicate work. After waiting half a minute, she drove the blade of the dagger under the shackle, pounced on the hilt, using the weapon as a lever. It was no use. Suddenly Yuriev appeared from behind the carriage with a bloody sword in his hand. Seeing Rosa blushing with exertion, he dismissed the girl with a wry grin and knocked the hilt of the sword on the lock. Again, and again. On the third blow, the lock gave way.

— They're waiting for you there, so you go first, lady. — The boyarin slid the latch, pushed the door open. — I don't want to get shot on the threshold of freedom.

Rosф nodded and slipped through the half-open door. She was indeed expected — a black silhouette appeared a moment later.

— Are you all right? — Jeanne asked, grabbing her friend by the shoulders.

— Yes. — The girl put the dagger back in its sheath. Something in her chest unclenched. Jeanne is with her, which means everything will be all right. — The prisoners are with me. Let's get them back to camp.

— You... them... — Jeanne took a deep breath. — All right, let's go.

Lytel appeared out of the darkness and handed the sorceress her amulet and quiver, showing her bent little finger — the elven gesture of approval. Rosa called to the Erdosians, and together they moved away from the base. Lytel led the group, Jeanne and Rosa trailing. It took them forty paces to get away quietly — and then a metallic roar echoed through the night. Three white stars flashed with blinding light at the top of the hill. Narrow beams of light stretched from them and swept across the ground.