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

— It's going to be okay — the girl said, taking a seat next to them. — As much as possible.

— Elves recover better than humans, — the Anelonian said in a faded, emotionless voice. — The main thing is not to die at once. The scars will fade, the bones will heal. In half a century there will be no trace of any wound. But we can't grow limbs.

They were silent for a moment. Then Rosa got up and walked away from the house. She left the village, found a suitable path, and walked up the slope. The cold air made feel lighter. The path led to the guard post, but even from the middle of it there was a good view of the neck of the gorge and the plain beyond. There, as before, burned the lights of the king's camp. The girl stopped and put her hands behind her back. Jeanne was beside her, and naturally the guardswoman followed her mistress.

— What do you think will happen now? — The necromancer's apprentice asked, not looking at her friend.

— It's not a big deal, — she replied calmly. — Donna Vittoria would figure out how to disarm the dragons and try again.

— She'll send us out to do his dirty work again.

— Most likely. — The black-haired warrior nodded. — We're pretty good at making mischief.

— Maybe...

Far to the east, a purple star flashed. A scarlet flash coloured the sky, casting a bloody glow over the horizon, extinguishing the constellations for a moment. From the centre of the flash a blazing white pillar struck the sky, piercing the clouds. All this — in complete silence, to the quiet rustling of the wind in the dry shrubbery. Another star flashed to the right of the first. A white glow flashed to the left, beyond the horizon line. It was eclipsed a moment later by a new purple flash. The light was unbearably bright. Rosa cried out, covering her eyes with her palm. She realised that she could still see the pillars of fire shooting into the sky — through her eyelids, through her palm. They blazed furiously before her magical gaze.

— Mistress? — Jeanne held the girl by the shoulders, apparently afraid she would fall. But Rosa just shook her head and lowered her arm. She stepped to the edge of the path. Higher up the slope, at the guard post, a sentry's horn sang the alarm. Down in the gorge, lanterns and torches flickered. A string of lights flickered around the camp of the royal army. And fiery red stars continued to flash and go out along the entire horizon. Where the white columns of magical fire began to fade, holes remained in the sky, exuding a milky hue of radiance. Not in the cloud cover, but in the sky itself, as if someone had cut the vault with a sharp blade, and the wounds were now bleeding with whitish blood.

— What is it? — The always unflappable, fearless Jeanne swallowed. Her fingers dug painfully into her friend's shoulders. — Atomic bombs?

— No. There was an atomic bomb over there. — Rosa pointed to where she saw a faint white flash. — The rest was magic. Anyway... it's a war, Jeanne. A war with the Empire.

Chapter 24

— Well... — Donna Vittoria tapped her fingernail on the rim of the empty gilded goblet, and Luca immediately filled it with wine from a jug. — Everyone decides for himself what is worth the risk and what is not. I promised to treat you as an equal, so I trust your judgement.

— So you're letting me go? — Rosa asked, fidgeting in the soft chair just in case.

— Yes, — the necromancer replied simply. She took a large sip from the cup and closed her eyes. — If you succeed, it will be good. If it doesn't... I'll be sorry for the time I wasted on you. You can go.

— Thank you, milady. — Rosa stood up, bowed her head for a moment, and walked out of the tutor's house with Jeanne. She looked up and sighed heavily.

Three days had passed since the night of fire. On the second day the sky was grey from horizon to horizon. The sun was a blurred blur, and the stars and moon were absent at night. However, the sorceress could easily distinguish the scars in the sky — the clouds did not interfere with her magical vision. The horrible marks had faded, ceased to emit a whitish light, but still they were in no hurry to heal. Ordinary people didn't see them, but the Black Guard mages were depressed by the scarred sky. Some frequented the village church, others sought comfort from Rosa, much to her embarrassment. It was not easy for the girl herself, but she found the strength to smile, to say the right words in a firm voice, to promise that everything would be all right. People went away believing that she really knew what to do next. It wasn't that Rosa was lying to them — she had an idea.

— Why don't you talk me out of it? — The former student asked, shifting her gaze to Jeanne. The warrior stood beside her, her arms folded across her chest, also looking at the grey sky.

— Because I like your plan, — she said calmly.

— You. Like the plan. Where I go into the enemy's lair and risk my life, — the necromancer's apprentice said separately, adjusting her glasses on her nose. — Turn to face me. I want to check — are you really Jeanne?

— Right after we met, you went into the enemy's lair to rescue Donna Minerva, whom you didn't even know at the time. — The guardswoman actually turned to Rosa and met her gaze. — Along the way you rescued another stranger. Then you went into the enemy's lair to rescue the ambassadors from Erdo, whom you had never seen before. Now you're planning to go into the enemy's lair to save several thousand strangers. I see no reason to object. I wouldn't lift a finger for those people myself, but this is about you, not them. That's the kind of thing that makes you the person I swore an oath to.

Rosa did not immediately find something to say. Her cheeks suddenly began to burn. She coughed into her fist and gave a short cough:

— Thank you.

— Yep. — The dark-haired warrior shrugged and looked away. She lifted her hand, as if about to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but instead just touched her fingers to her temple. Jeanne now wore her hair in a bouffant style that hid her ears. Her braid were gathered below her shoulders, following Lytel's example.

— I want to visit Marius. Alone. Will you trust Toad to look after me? — Rosa smiled.

— Yes. — The Guardswoman nodded. — I'll check on Minerva and come back for you in an hour.

— In three. — The sorceress turned on her heels and hurriedly strode away.

As before, the dragon knight lived near his pet, far from the village and the military camps. But now he had a decent dragon house — boarded walls on a stone foundation, a high, solid roof, and a mountain of hay on which to nap. For the knight a small, but warm grey stone cabin was added to the main building. Marius only slept there, all day long he was busy with his works. Rosa found him brushing the dragon's teeth. The Toad was lying on its belly with its neck stretched out obediently, and its master was removing the plaque from its fangs with a tool that Rosa would have called a hybrid of a chisel and a nail file. As usual, Toad was the first to notice the girl. The dragoness raised her head and snorted happily.

— Oh, Rosa! — Marius hastily slipped the tool behind his belt, wiped his hands with a bundle of straw. — Good afternoon. Is something wrong, or did you just have some free time?

— Both, in fact. — She put her hands behind her back with a smile, rocking from heel to toe. — By the way, you still haven't told me how you like my new suit.

— It suits very well. — The young man sniffed his nose. — You're... so slim. And it... well, emphasises it. The waist. The legs. And the white colour is very... I like it. Knights wear it, too, you know? — Marius cleared his throat. — Shall we go to my place?

— Of course, — Rosa nodded, still smiling. She stroked Toad's nose and followed the knight into his cabin. There, Marius pulled back the curtain on the only window and began to heat the tiny portable cooker. Rosa sat down on the bed, said:

— I want to go to the royal army camp.

— How's the parliamentarian? — The young man threw some dry chips into the cooker and took out a pipe.

— Kind of. — Rosa ran her white-gloved palm over the blanket. The knight's bed was made very neatly. And there was no servant, Marius looked after his life by himself. — Jeanne and I will sneak into the camp at night and see what the mood is like. You will take us to the plain, so that we don't come from the gorge.

— Like that time by the river? — The fire in the stove flared up. Marius drew the only chair in the house to the bed, and sank down on it, playing with his trousseau. — When Minerva was rescued?

— Yeah. Even the disguise will be the same. Nuns.

— And if you are recognised? — The knight shifted his eyebrows.

— In fact, I even want someone to recognise us. — Rosa hoped her smile had turned cryptic. She looked away and folded her hands in her lap. — Maybe the right people aren't in the camp, because the army's split up. But if there are, I intend to talk to them.

— It's a big risk. — Marius set the pipe on the floor, leaned over to Rosa. Touched her fingers with his own. — You could be found out.

— Well, I'll have Jeanne with me. — The young sorceress caught the knight's palm, squeezed it gently. — She'll just kill everyone she has to and lead me to the gorge. Don't worry.

— Shall we leave this evening?

— Yes. And while we have time, I suggest we make the most of it. — Rosa felt herself blushing, but it was too late to stop. She slowly undid the buttons of her jacket. — Do you regret kissing me yet?

— Not for a moment, — the knight shook his head.

— Then... shall we continue? — The girl open her jacket and leaned back on the bed. The beret fell off her head. — Do you need any advice? I have experience... a little.

Marius laughed softly:

— I know the basics.

An elfess mage friend had once taught Rosa that voice was as important as caresses and kisses. "Sweet moans formalise the intimacy of two bodies, as music in a worship service accompanies the intimacy of many souls," the knife-earned friend had said, sitting at a table in the room she and Rosa shared, sipping the wine forbidden to students. — "But music shouldn't become a cacophony. It's art, too. Cry, laugh, moan — but feel the moment. Though you shouldn't be silent in any case." There was one problem, however — dragon's hearing is very good. Toad could easily hear them through the walls of the lodge and the dragon house. So when Marius pulled up Rosa's silk blouse, the girl put a gloved finger to her lips and winked at him. The young man nodded. They understood each other...

The next morning Rosa was in the hospital of the king's camp. There was not much work for the healer there — in the days since the battle, the wounded had either died or grown a little stronger, and needed more care than treatment. The young sorceress had plenty of time left to watch and listen. She learnt that the flashes in the night had come as much as a surprise to Auguste's soldiers as to the rebels. That the few messengers sent to the nearest town had still not returned, nor had the grey dragon sent after them. That no orders had come from the command after the failed battle, and that there was growing unease in the army, fuelled by rumours growing wilder by the day. She has also discovered that the army is led by a general not from the kingdom, but from Auguste's personal domain — with Veronne soldiers making up barely a third of the total. Skirmishes were constantly breaking out between them and the Daertians. This knowledge alone justified the sortie — the necromancer's apprentice had no doubt that Donna Vittoria would benefit from it. But for once, luck had decided to smile on the former student. After lunch, Rosa noticed familiar faces in the hospital. A young officer, accompanied by a grey-haired, mustachioed soldier, came to check on some wounded men — apparently his subordinates. When she had the chance, she approached him and said hello with a slight bow:

— Lieutenant de Leri, it's good to see you in good health. — She smiled at the older soldier. — And you, Gaston, too.

The officer frowned confusedly and gave her a surprised look. But the veteran clapped his hands and exclaimed joyfully:

— Sis! We've been looking for you for so long.

— Is that her? — The officer looked back at his companion.

— Yes, my lord, she is, — nodded the mustachioed man. — The one who operated on you.

— Sister, forgive me for my rudeness. — De Leri turned to Rosa, pressed his palm to his chest, and bowed briefly. — I did not recognise you. It is to you I owe my life, then. My men searched all over the camp for you, but you vanished into thin air.

— You appeared out of thin air and disappeared into nothing, as if the Creator had sent you, — said Gaston. — His Grace is no longer a lieutenant, by the way. Our captain was killed, and my lord took his place.

— I myself believe more and more that the One has a hand in this, gentlemen, — Rosa said sincerely. — I've come to save a few more lives today. And if you weren't here, my plan would be doomed. Can we talk somewhere else? Not in private, just somewhere quieter?

The men glanced round. Bastien de Leri frowned again, but nodded:

— Let's go.

The three of them left the hospital, but Jeanne soon joined the group. She kept to herself, not hiding much. The place de Leri had chosen was a stable. Ironic, considering that the last time the spies had visited the king's camp, they had discussed plans at the stable.

— What did you want to tell me, Sister? — The officer asked, making sure that only the horses tied to iron rings could hear them.

— The truth, my lord. — Rosa pulled back the hood of her cloak, unbuttoned the collar so Bastien could see the hunting jacket underneath. — 'I want to be honest with you. Your soldiers said you were a very good man.

— Well, that depends on the background, — the young captain said with a snort.

— You've probably guessed by now that I'm not a nun. — Rosa's chest tightened with tension, but her voice and face didn't waver.

— Actually, no, I hadn't realised. I thought you'd left the camp to help the peasants in the villages, — Bastien admitted. — But now that you say so yourself... you're a rebel spy. Is that so?

— Not really. — The girl glanced at Jeanne, who was standing next to her. The guardswoman hid her palms in the wide sleeves of her cloak, where she kept her throwing knives. — Last time I came not to spy, but to save a good man's life. By the will of the Creator, I saved two. And helped many more. Today, I hope to prevent bloodshed. Or at least reduce its scope. But to do that, I need to talk to people who see Daert as people and land, not crown and banner. Are you such a man?

— Perhaps, — the captain replied after a long pause.