Novel 3. The Last Autumn

Three and a half hours later de Gorazzo almost ran into the inn, holding his hat. He saw Sergeant Dallan at one of the tables and hurried to her.

— Armando. — The green-eyed girl nodded to the don, taking up the clay jug. Two large mugs and an empty saucer of nibbled chicken bones stood in front of her. — Is everything all right?

— No. — De Gorazzo took the mug the sergeant held out and sipped from it. He almost choked when he discovered that the mug was not wine or beer, but apple cider. An autumn drink — in summer? — Where are the others? Back already?

— Yes. — If Armando's worried look bothered the girl, it didn't show on her face. The sergeant poured cider for herself and took a sip. — They're resting upstairs. I'm on guard duty. Waiting for you, too.

— Then let's go quickly. I have something to tell everyone.

They found the squad in one of the rooms they had rented. Master Carlon and Lady Maria were sitting on the spacious bed, side by side, Valria occupied the only stool, and Corporal Green had his feet tucked under him on the floor. When Armando and Dallan entered, Maria was just telling:

— ...Thus, three castles surrendered without a fight, in exchange for the promise of a royal pardon. But the other two refused. King Auguste did not storm them, but besieged them with small forces and moved on. One of the rebellious barons ...

— Welcome back, Don. — The elfess interrupted her with a gesture, turning to the new arrivals. — We're sharing the spoils here. Master and the lady have overheard many curious things at the market, though their ears are small and round. And did you learn the important things you wanted to know?

— Yes. — Armando leaned against the doorjamb, unable to find a place to sit, and took a breath. He swallowed, thinking he should have brought the jug of cider with him — his throat was completely dry. — I watched the guards at the city outpost. The eastern one, the one we'd come through.

— And? — arched a golden eyebrow at the captain.

— Half an hour ago, a rider with a reserve horse rode up to the outpost. Alone. He spoke to the chief of the guard about something. He summoned a soldier from the tower, apparently resting after the last shift. Questioned him in front of the rider. Then let him go. The rider gave the chief of the guard money. But he didn't enter the city. He got on the horse and drove it back.

— Aha... — Valria stretched out, becoming serious in a flash.

— Searching along possible routes. — Master Carlon frowned. — They sent a man to each village along the way, set a point and time for a general gathering... Our company is hard to forget. — For some reason the mage glanced judgementally at the elf. She twitched her ears in response and grinned wryly:

— Yeah, forget us? Impossible. Thank you for your vigilance, Don Armando. I'll think of a special medal for you. With a wide-open eye. With a jewel in place of the pupil. But from now on, share such thoughts in advance. You are not in the desert, but among comrades.

— I... just wasn't sure myself. — De Gorazzo bit his lip. — I suppose we're getting off now?

— No, why? — The elf tilted her head to her shoulder. — There was time to run. We can do better. I've got a plan brewing right now...

— Who would doubt it? — the black-bearded mage squinted.

Valria unhooked a coin purse from her belt, tossed it to Lady Maria:

— Order a nice dinner for the whole group. Take your pick of what you want, don't be shy. We weren't exactly starving on the road, so we shouldn't burst a gut. I'll have some baked ribs or just some roast meat. Take them quietly up to the rooms and pack them up without anyone seeing. Pack your things beforehand, too. But in the common room, act like you're in no hurry. Try to take your naps one at a time.

— I take it you won't be at dinner? — The mage specified.

— I don't know, I might make it back in time. — The elf stood up, pulling on her gloves. — You're coming with me now, by the way.

— Where to?

— Into the darkest alleys of this town. We're also going to pay a second visit to the horse trader. We'll have to tell him there's been a slight change of plans...

...Perhaps it was because Miroslavl was built of wood that it had no street lamps — even over the doors of shops and drinking establishments at dusk there were no oil lamps like in white-stone Daert. When the moon was obscured by clouds, the only source of light in the city were the windows of the houses, which glimmered cosily yellow. But as midnight approached, they too were extinguished. The town was sleeping peacefully when the clatter of horses' hooves sounded over the main street. The riders, wrapped in black cloaks, whirled past dwellings, past merchant warehouses, empty stalls and closed shops. They passed the deserted marketplace and found themselves in front of an inn. Some of the cavalry rode round the building, closing the ring. Five of them dismounted. Three of them took out from under their cloaks short, intricately shaped rifles, the weapons of aliens from another world. They were the first to enter the inn through the main entrance. The two remaining men, swords drawn, followed them. Soon one of the strangers ran outside and took aim at the first floor windows. With a commanding gesture, he sent four men into the inn. A minute later, a blinding white flash erupted in the windows of the dormitories, even through the murky bull's bubble that replaced the glass. A muffled rumble echoed through the market quarter.

— It's familiar, — Valria whispered, pressing her ears to her temples. — A bomb that doesn't kill, but stuns with light and sound. I've seen it work a couple of times... at closer range. Aliens throw it into a room before the assault begins, usually.

The elf and the former bailiff were watching from the roof of the grain barn across the street from the inn. The captain had noticed it during the afternoon reconnaissance. The barn towered over the neighbouring buildings, and it was unguarded as it was now empty.

— Well, are you satisfied? Can we go now? — Armando asked.

— Yeah. It was worth the risk. — Valria moved a little way down the planks, rolled over onto her back. De Gorazzo followed the elf's example. The slope of the roof now kept them safely out of sight of the inn. — So there were three aliens. Alien fighters, at least. But I don't think they'd drag some peaceful healer or clerk to do such a thing. The others are locals.

— Our goal seems to be to get away from them," — Don said. — Then it doesn't matter how many men there are, or what they're armed with.

— The commander knows what's important and what's not, don. — The captain wagged her finger at Armando. — Just because we want to avoid a fight doesn't mean we will.

— Do you have a plan? — De Gorazzo suggested, and he couldn't help but laugh.

— It will be, — the girl assured him. — In the meantime, we'd better get on our feet.

The hardest part was getting the horses out of the inn's stables — in front of everyone, but without anyone noticing. Valria's deal with the horse trader had helped. The elfess herself had suggested using her as a cover, though master Carlon had worked out the details. In the evening, the fugitives brought new horses to the stables and led the old ones away, loudly discussing the exchange. On the way, Snowflake and the war stallions were separated from the small herd and hidden in the yard of a pottery shop on the outskirts, the owner of which had received a few coins in advance. The rest of the horses were safely exchanged for new ones with additional payment — the fact was that the animals brought to the inn were only "rented" by Valria for a day. They were to return to their stalls in the morning, but the fresh horses were left to wait for the night outside the city, under the reliable guard of Green. As soon as the last passers-by had disappeared from the streets of the town, the party left their rooms without any noise. One by one, the fugitives slipped through the dining hall without waking the innkeeper. Each knew his task. Valria and Armando went to settle the roof of the barn, Sergeant Dallan to retrieve Snowflake, and mage and Lady Maria to relieve the corporal. The innkeeper and lodgers of the establishment could not now, even with a knife at their throats, tell where and when the newcomers had gone. To reconstruct the picture of the escape, the pursuers had to scour the whole town and interrogate a lot of people ...

— You seem to like working with me, Captain, — said de Gorazzo, as they descended the ladder from the roof of the barn.

— You're just new to the company, — the elf answered him, gripping the small crossbow more comfortably. — It's like a mother paying more attention to her youngest child. Hold on to my cloak, don. Let's run. You humans can see in the dark like chickens....

The winding streets that Valria had been studying all day took them to a vacant lot where Dallan was waiting with the horses. The sergeant tossed Snowflake's reins to them without asking any questions, and got into the saddle of her stallion. Led by the captain, the trio left Miroslavl in a hurry to catch up with the other half of the troop. Carlon, Maria and Green had been travelling away from the city for several hours already, and not straight to the sea...

Chapter 5

— There is a proverb that says a fugitive has a thousand right roads, but a pursuer has only one. It doesn't work if the pursuers know where the fugitive wants to go. So there are only two ways for both us and the pursuit, — Captain Valria said grimly as the party crossed a shallow stream, travelling along its bed first. The elf forbade wasting time on more cunning ways to confuse the trail. — Like a coin toss. Let's assume that our tireless friends have already guessed that we plan to board the ship. If that's the case, there's a one in two chance they're still after us.

There were only two harbour towns within a reasonable distance from Miroslavl — the rich trading town of Irnitsk, the terminus of several trade routes, and the modest fishing town of Varlahan. The latter lay on the shore of a quiet bay, a little place where smugglers' ships occasionally visited, ready to accept any cargo without any questions asked. It was most logical for the fleeing free company to head there. That was probably the reason why Valria had chosen Irnitsk. Although, quite possibly, the captain simply feared that there would be no smugglers in the bay, and the fishing shells would not be able to transport her adored Snowflake across the sea. Don Armando strongly suspected that for the elfess, the life of a horse and the lives of fellow humans were on roughly the same bar. High enough, as he could ascertain, but still....

They spent the last night on their way to the sea in the ruins of a round white stone pavilion, where not only one of the walls but also part of the domed roof was still intact. The light-coloured stones had been chipped by the rains, the tiled floor had been broken by the roots of a nearby oak tree, but the ruins looked remarkably beautiful, as if they had been built here for decoration. Beneath the surviving wall stood a pagan idol on a square pedestal with its head smashed off and its arms broken off. It was no longer possible to recognise which god it represented. The torso of the statue was entangled with a thorny vine. At its feet were cobblestones, covered with the lingering traces of fire — someone had camped here before, more than once or twice.

— A portal station of the Old Empire, — explained master Carlon, while the tall Lady Maria, standing on tiptoe, was chopping a dry oak branch for the fire with an axe. — The great road must have passed somewhere nearby. Portals weren't built inside towns or on highways. A burst of raw magic in the event of a malfunction could cover a large area. — The mage looked around, as if trying to imagine what the pavilion had looked like centuries ago. — Once there had been stables for the postal service and a garrison standing here — a squad of legionnaires, a group of mages who maintained the archway. The portals were used mostly by government officials, primarily couriers and servants of the law. But private citizens were allowed in for a large sum of money.

— I saw a working station near Gartond, — Captain Valria said. Leaving her horse outside the circle of collapsed walls, she approached the statue and touched the green shoots of the vine with her fingers. Plucked a leaf. — A building just like this one, only not ruined. And with the Creator's Symbol in place of the statue.

— A few portal stations survived in the lands of the Eastern Empire. — Lady Maria tossed a felled branch into the fire, shaking the woody debris out of her hair. — No new ones are being built — technically possible, but too expensive.

— Here in the west, the portals were destroyed deliberately. — Armando decided to flaunt his modest knowledge, which he had learnt not from books, but from chattering over a drink. However, Vittoria, who had a scholarly title, mostly told him clever things over a glass of wine, so these conversations could be considered private lessons. — When the Ancient Daert shattered, no one wanted a door to their neighbouring usurper's domain, even if they couldn't get an army through it. Portal arches were broken, their blocks with glyphs were smashed to dust with hammers, drowned in the sea, buried in the ground....

— Carlon, do you feel magic here? — The captain asked, lowering her voice for some reason. She clutched the torn leaf in her fist.

— No. — The black-bearded maestro waggled his chin in denial. — For so many centuries there was nothing left. Even the stones forgot...

The night was quiet, but Armando could not sleep. The detachment settled down for the night without tents, and, lying under a warm blanket, the former royal bailiff looked at the stars, then at the dying fire, listened to the even breathing of the sleeping people and the quiet steps of the sentry walking around the camp. It was not excitement that prevented him from sleeping. On the contrary, he felt more relaxed than ever before. And that... was wrong. As he said good night to the Imperials, Armando caught himself thinking of them as comrades. Not temporary travelling companions or useful allies. Comrades, exactly. Friends. As long as his true friends, Gotech and Minerva, had been with de Gorazzo, he had kept himself apart from everyone else. Now... It was a weakness, perhaps. A man cannot survive so much adversity without support. He needs friends, loved ones, someone to lean on. Sympathy from strangers is always seen as an empty formality, like condolences at a stranger's funeral. And Armando, barely recovered from the shock, involuntarily began to look for people who could take the place of lost loved ones. The Imperials were kind to him. There was a logic to it, as in almost any action that a man takes unknowingly, but still Don de Gorazo felt ashamed. Driven by guilt, he tossed and turned in his bed as the disc of the moon crept across the velvet of the sky over the ruins. When Lady Maria came on guard, Armando wanted to get up and ask her to brew some sleepy potion, but he changed his mind out of sheer childish stubbornness. So after breakfast he climbed into the saddle, sleepy, exhausted, and with swollen, red eyes. As it happened, Valria, who had slept well for the first time in three days, was talking non-stop and exuberant, which made the don's sympathy for her fade....