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

— Stop!

When the detachment stopped, the girl pulled out an enchanted arrow with scarlet plumage from her quiver and put it into her crossbow. She said cheerfully, with a slight smile:

— They are here. They creep, but I hear them in the bushes. A few behind, the rest on the sides. Ahead is quiet, only stinks of rot.

— They are leading us into an ambush, — Dallan nodded, removing a spear from her saddle pommel.

— Do you have a plan? — Carlon said it in such a way that Valria immediately understood that he was quite sure that she had no plan. Usually such a tone acted on the elf like a hole in a pentagram — on an imprisoned demon.

— Of course have! — the girl pulled the cloak over her shoulder, stroked the bow of the crossbow. — We break through the right flank, go around the ambush and leave at a gallop. First I lead, then you, Dallan, and I cover. Carlon constantly stays in the center, helps according to circumstances.

— How exactly are we going to break through? — the master frowned.

— Like this. — The elf raised crossbow to her shoulder and pressed the trigger. An enchanted arrow flashed in the air in a red-gold stroke, hit somewhere in the bush a hundred paces from people. It rumbled, a sphere of dark crimson flame grew in the place of impact, burning dry branches flew in different directions.

— Forward! — Valria waved her hand. The sergeant promptly spurred the horse. Her tall warhorse, not noticing the pain from hundreds of needles that dug into his legs, broke a path for the rest in the thorny thickets. The detachment rushed straight to the bald patch scorched by an arrow. At full gallop, Valria managed to hang an infantry crossbow from her saddle and pick up a multi-shot one. Two gray figures of human size darted across the riders. Carlon did not really consider them — one immediately capsized with an arrow in her head, the other tried to block the path of the column, and received a spear in the chest. An inept horseman would have been knocked to the ground by such a blow, because the spear was not created for mounted combat, but Valria's green-eyed friend did not even stagger in the saddle. The corpse-eater flew back into the bushes with a spear wedged between its ribs, a rider in silver armor rushed past, drawing her sword. Other hunters howled behind them, realizing that their prey had deceived them. Branches crackled — the flock rushed in pursuit. But the flames also crackled — the dry thorn burned perfectly, in many places where the smoldering pieces of bushes fell, small fires took place. It could be played with. Carlon removed the flask marked with the required letter from the sling, pulled off the cap, spat inside, plugged the neck and threw the vessel over his left shoulder. Ten seconds later, the flask exploded, creating a cloud of black smoke, impenetrable and terribly acrid. The cloud stretched out to the sides, creating a barrier a hundred steps wide and fifty steps deep.

The company escaped from the dead field, moved away from it, without slowing down the gait. The howling of the corpse-eaters and the crackling of the fire soon died down, but the smoke behind them grew more and more — the thicket provided enough fuel for a serious fire. The captain ordered a stop, but only to pull the thorns out of the horses' legs, wash their wounds with at least water — and drive on.

— At night they will try to find us, — Carlon warned, returning to the saddle. His bay stallion did not suffer much — all the spikes went to the sergeant's horse. — These creatures are vengeful.

— I don't plan to go back the same way anyway, — Valria waved her hand away. A successful fight with monsters cheered up the girl, she even sang something — glory to the Creator, under her breath. — And they will lose track.

In confirmation of her words, the elf fished out a paper bundle from the saddle bag, tore it up and generously scattered some kind of powder on the ground — black, with red grains.

— Don't try to sniff, — she warned Carlon. — Lick — even more so.

— Leltord's Pepper? — the magician remembered. It was believed that the infernal mixture, which beats off the scent of not only dogs, but generally anyone up to dragons, was personally invented by the leader of the elven rebels of the last century.

— Almost, — Valria nodded, closing the bag tightly. — Home recipe.

In the next hour, the detachment several times slightly deviated from the intended path, and each time the elf launched a bag of "pepper". Only when the horses began to noticeably run out of steam did the travelers take a step, move straight towards the goal. The walls of the ruined fort rose on the horizon as the sun dipped low enough to cast long shadows on riders and dry tree trunks.

— Finally! — very pleased with herself, the elf took out a strip of hard dried horse meat on this occasion, bit off a piece of it. — Almost done. The rest is a business for twenty minutes. Came in and out. Get ready to fill your pockets with coins, Carlon.

* * *

Even from afar, the destruction that the fort had undergone during the siege was visible. Round gate towers lost their tops, and one of the corner towers melted like a candle stub. The walls gaped with breaches, the dry moat was barely visible in the lush thickets of thorns.

— Do you feel anything? — the elf asked Carlon.

— May be. — The mage scratched his beard. — Nothing specific.

Closing his eyelids, he saw a shaky green flicker, repeating the outlines of the fortifications. At the base of the least battered of the towers, an emerald light burned — a still-functioning fortress amulet, embedded in the foundation. It blew wild magic — like an electrified wind, foreshadowing an imminent thunderstorm.

— It's better not to go to the western tower, — the master said, opening his eyes. — Everything else seems to be clean.

— So the catch is something else, — Valria chuckled. She jumped down, tossed her horse's bridle to the sergeant. She took off her cloak and threw it on the saddle. — Wait here, I'll scout out the approaches.

Grabbing only a magazine crossbow, the girl dived into the thick of the bush, instantly disappeared from sight. For a minute or two the magician saw a white feather flickering among the branches, then he lost sight of that too. And almost immediately began to feel growing anxiety. For some reason, it always seemed to him that if he let Valria go somewhere alone, she would definitely get into trouble — fall into a hole, be devoured by someone, or, at worst, struck by lightning in broad daylight. Interestingly, he felt this excitement only when working with an elf in a pair. While she was turning her extravagant adventures without his participation, the magician did not worry about the girl in the slightest. Fortunately, the master did not have to toil for a long time in the company of the silent Dallan — Valria returned in half an hour. Appearing from a completely different direction from where she left, she waved her hand to her companions. Without saying a word, she went up to her white-maned mare, took a large flask from her saddle bag, and drank some water. Wiping her lips with a glove, she busily began to untie the scabbard with a sword from her saddle.

— Tell me already, long-eared! — Karlon flared up — although he knew that Valria expected this from him.

— We must hurry, we have competitors. — The girl tightened the sword belt on her chest, moving the quiver from her left thigh back so as not to interfere.

— Who? How? — Dallan asked in a calm voice. Carlon, in fact, was not dumbfounded by the news either — he knew from the very beginning that something would go wrong. The only question was what exactly.

— I don't know yet, but there are traces of battle in the courtyard of the fortress. — Valria slipped on her cloak, fastened a sling to her infantry crossbow, and slung it over her shoulder. — Puddles of blood, a dozen corpses. And horses. Two harnessed carts, six riding horses. Tied. The corpses are stacked in a row — it means that someone took care. There is no one else in the yard. They must have gone underground. Pulls gunpowder when the wind is in our direction. Shot recently. Let's go take a closer look. I alone did not dare to go there.

The group entered the shadow of the towers shattered by cannonballs and magic, leading the horses by the bridle. The moat crumbled so much that it no longer served as a barrier, they passed the wall through a wide gap. Everything that the elf told about was found in the square courtyard of the fort. Other people's horses were tied to a still strong stone hitching post near the blocked gate. They greeted the appearance of strangers with alarming snorts and neighs. Valria, not at all afraid of a kick or a bite, approached the worried herd. She stroked one horse on the forehead, another on the neck, said a few tender words to them, which she probably never said to any man — and the neighing subsided. Carlon, meanwhile, went to the corpses piled under the far wall. Taking a closer look, he raised his eyebrows.

— What kind of rubbish is this, in the name of the Creator?

Three of the dead turned out to be people — judging by the clothes and simple leather armor, mercenaries. The other five are strange. In general terms, humanoid, they did not even resemble each other. One gray-skinned creature had a tuft of tentacles protruding from its shoulders instead of a head, while another had a horny beak on the front half of its skull, with no trace of eyes or nose. One creature had no skin at all — through the mesh of the muscles of the torso, strangely twisted, blackened internal organs were visible. Three of the monsters showed no signs of sex, two were undeniably male. Valria, who came up, glanced at the latter, wrinkled her nose:

— I don't know if these guys have a mind, but they definitely don't have shame and conscience.

— A bit like corpse eaters, — added the swordswoman who joined them. Unlike the magician and the elf, the green-eyed girl only cast a short glance at the bodies, and now looked around vigilantly, closing her fingers on the hilt of the sword.

— But definitely not corpse-eaters — the captain shook her head.

"Maybe...were corpse-eaters. But rather, people. — Carlon couldn't take his eyes off the ugly bodies. Bullet holes and traces of chopping blows did not add beauty to them. — It's... flesh distortion. This happens due to exposure to raw magical energy. Per person, per animal. A living being changes chaotically... but does not die. Combat magic does not give such an effect. Any magic turned into spell form does not. It's something else. And that something was here. The distorted do not have the intelligence to go far from the place where they were transformed.

— That's our catch, then. — The elf furrowed her eyebrows, staring at her hand. — Won't we become the same if we climb into the cellars? I... got used to my appearance. Especially for hair.

— Don't worry, we won't. I appreciate your hair too, — Carlon reassured the girl almost without sarcasm. — If your appearance does not compensate for your character, you will become completely impossible... Hey!

Thanks to the reflexes developed over the years of mercenary work, the master managed to block a blow to the liver and took a step back:

— Sorry. In general, if the residual background of wild magic was so strong here that the flesh was distorted from it, I would feel it from afar. Even through earth and stone. No, it was something like a flash, a splash, years ago. I bet something happened during the siege. And these poor fellows are people, soldiers. Were.

— And they've been living here ever since. — The elf pursed her lips. — But they could keep...

— No.

— Then it's our duty to put them to rest, — Dallan said without turning around as she watched the buildings at the back of the yard. — Their bodies are alive, which means that their souls cannot get to the Creator.

— Only on occasion. — Valria shook her bruised hand and flexed her fist. — For now, we need to go down, and I'll be glad not to meet a single local resident along the way.

— And what are we going to do downstairs? — Carlon asked. — If we catch up with competitors — will we arrange a fight?

— You'll see it there. The main thing is to catch up.

— Everything is as usual, — the master chuckled. — Your signature methods...

— I am one hundred and four years old. At this age, it's too late to change habits. — The elf's smile, as always, was completely disarming.

There was no need to look for a descent into the cellars of the fort — like in all similar fortifications, it was located on the lower floor of the central tower. But here new problems arose. The passage under the ground turned out to be tightly sealed with a solid door upholstered with rusty iron strips. The elf put her ear to the door and tapped it with her knuckles. She stretched out, retreating:

— Thick ... And door hinges inside. How did the door survive the assault?

— The records say that the Imperials dug into the cellars of the fort, — Carlon recalled. — And they broke in when the defenders were on the walls. So the door wasn't locked. But why is it closed now?

— What's the difference? — Valria wiped her dusty ear with a handkerchief. — Can you take it down with your magic?

— There is no amulet on the door, so... — the master unbuttoned the pocket of the sling, pulled out a disk woven from gold wire with a scarlet stone in the center. — I can do this thing. But there is a risk that the corridor will collapse, especially if it turns just outside the door and the fire hits the wall before it weakens. And I also need to pour so much energy into the amulet that you will drag me further on yourself. And then you'll fatten me up with meat pies for a week. Mind you, I do not like it when there are a lot of onions.

— You will not get it. — The elf snorted and put her index finger in the middle of her forehead. — I will not share pies with you... We need another option.

— Digging, — the sergeant said calmly.

— What? — Valria tossed her head.

— The tunnel through which the besiegers entered the fortress, — Dallan explained patiently, as for a small child. — Let's find a tunnel. Master Carlon, do you remember where it starts? The customer showed you a map.

— Yes I remember. — The mage rubbed the back of his head. — But in ten years it has definitely collapsed.

— Still, it's worth checking out. — The violet eyes of the elf flared with familiar fire. — Come on, hurry up!

The grove, which once hid the beginning of the dig from the eyes of the fort's defenders, was now visible through and through — after all, there were no leaves left on the trees. The sharp-sighted elf was the first to notice the boards sticking out of the ground, pointed to them. The group reached the place at a trot, dismounted. Carlon cursed through his teeth, muttered: