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

— I told you...

Where the Imperial military engineers had first struck the ground with picks and shovels, there was now a deep, oblong pit, merging into an even deeper ditch that stretched towards the fort. Of course, the hastily dug tunnel did not survive the test of time.

— Let's drive along it to the end, — Dallan suggested, not a bit upset.

— Why? — The elf turned to her.

— If the tunnel collapsed along its entire length ...

— Wait, I understand, — Carlon interrupted the girl. — But it all depends on pure luck.

— I have no problems with luck. — Valeria winked at them both. — What should we be lucky in?

— You'll see. — The magician did not miss the chance to repay the captain with her own coin. Dallan unexpectedly supported him without saying anything either.

They rode back to the fortress, following the ditch like a guiding thread. All this time, the elf frowned at the magician from under the brim of her hat, clearly cherishing plans for revenge. Knowing what she was capable of, the master did not torment the girl for longer than necessary. Already approaching the ruins, he pointed with his finger:

— Look. Where the tunnel passed under the wall, it also collapsed. If we're lucky, the debris from the wall didn't completely fill the hole...

They were lucky. A black hole was visible in the inner wall of the moat, only partially covered with fragments of stone and clods of dry earth. The sun was now setting on the other side of the fortress, and the gap was sinking into shadow. The mercenaries descended into the ditch. Carlon drove a peg with a ring into the ground, secured a long strong cable. Dallan pursed her lips tightly as she cut down a couple of thorny bushes blocking the passage with her sword. The captain all this time stood on the edge of the gap with a crossbow at the ready, peering into the darkness.

— I hear something, — she said, twitching her ears. — Looks like someone was shooting downstairs.

The master unhooked another flask from his belt and handed it to the sergeant:

— Have a drink. Night vision for two hours.

— Military mixture? — the green-eyed swordswoman clarified, taking the flask.

— Of course, — Carlon nodded. The military version of the potion not only increased the sensitivity of the eyes to light — after it, the vision reacted flexibly to changes in lighting, allowing not to go blind from a sudden flash of fire. — Valria, you don't need to?

— No, round-eared barbarian, I'm still an elf, in case you haven't noticed, — the captain snorted without turning around. All her attention was riveted on the failure, the tips of her ears were trembling. The girl listened to the sounds coming from the catacombs.

— Well, good. There may not be even weak light sources underground, so take these things and hang them on your belts. — The magician took out three bluish transparent pebbles from the waist bag, exuding a barely noticeable radiance. More than enough for night vision.

He closed his eyes tightly, drew the necessary sign in the air with two fingers, read the spell and sent a bit of magical energy into his own body. The sensation was as if ice water had been splashed on the eyeballs from the inside of the head. Hooting, the master lifted his eyelids. The dim light of the dying day hurt his eyes, but Carlon stoically endured the pain, not even grimacing — the feeling was familiar. The magician had to stand night guards even after the war.

— All down! — the elf commanded. — Dallan first, Carlon closes. Don't get stuck with your belly.

The magician grumbled something under his breath, but did not respond to the prompting. He let the girls go first and went down last, holding on tightly to the cable. He was not in danger of getting stuck in a hole, but sliding down a pile of earth was easy. Sintered dry clods slid under the soles of the boots, only the edges of stone blocks sticking out here and there, which had fallen into the old dig along with the ground, could serve as a support. At the very end, he slipped, but Valria, who was waiting at the ready, supported him in time.

— I didn't even doubt that you would stumble, — she said, helping the magician get off the earthen heap.

— Thank you, — Carlon squeezed out gratitude through force, looking around. The dip led them into a large square room, completely empty. Half of the room was filled with earth from the sinkhole. On the other side was a door, covered with a flap hanging on one hinge. Dallan stood in front of the door, sword at the ready.

— Imperial soldiers entered the basement here, — the elf said, standing next to her friend. — This should be the second level of the dungeons, the first one we skipped. The customer believes that the gold is stored on the last, third. Where are our competitors...

Her answer was the echo of a rifle volley, booming under the entire dungeon.

— Yeah, — the girl nodded in satisfaction. — Somewhere around here. If we hurry, we will get to the goal first, take up defenses there and talk with the guests, sitting on the chests.

— Do you still think there's some gold in there? — the mage asked skeptically.

— I'm sure it isn't. — The elf straightened her hat that had gone astray, smoothed the feather with her palm. — But there is a mystery, and this is much better.

She gently touched the crookedly hanging door with her fingertips... and it collapsed outward, throwing a cloud of dust in half with wood dust. Valria coughed, covering her mouth and nose with the hem of her cloak, her eyes filled with tears. The sergeant, obviously holding her breath, stepped into the corridor, looked left, right, and gestured that the path was clear.

The dungeon of the dead fortress met new intruders with cold and dust. But there was no talk of silence — somewhere on the left hand, volleys of several arquebuses rumbled measuredly, completely eerie sounds were heard, vaguely reminiscent of animal cries and howls. Whoever the people who descended into the cellars first were, they moved slowly, without unnecessary risk, methodically sweeping away all obstacles in their path with fire. Obviously, all the indigenous inhabitants of the dungeons were drawn to them. So far, Carlon and his companions have seen paw prints on the dusty floor and unpleasant-looking scratches on the stone walls as signs of life. The magician mentally rejoiced that in front of them lies an ordinary abandoned basement, in which one should not be afraid of any ingenious traps. The danger was represented only by the creatures that settled in the forgotten tunnels. Nevertheless, they advanced with all precautions. Sergeant Dallan walked first, followed by an elf woman a little to the left. Valria's sword rested in its sheath. Instead of a blade, she held a repeating crossbow at the ready, relying more on a successful point-blank shot than swordsmanship in such close quarters. Covering the backs of the girls, Carlon stroked the handle of the infantry cleaver — the master could snatch it very quickly.

The corridor led them first from north to south, then turned sharply to the east. Then came the crossroads, where the thunder of gunshots and the howling of monsters became more audible. The map provided by the employer helped to choose the right direction, and after a couple of minutes, leaving the shooting behind, the travelers found themselves in front of a stone staircase to the lower tier.

— Almost there, — Valria said quietly. The sergeant nodded and cautiously descended the chipped steps. She looked around at the lower platform, waved her hand, calling her companions. Three corridors led off the stairs.

— We have to go straight ahead. — The captain took a step towards the middle aisle and froze. She said worriedly: — I hear footsteps. There...

A moment later, from the darkness of the corridor, a blurry gray mass darted straight at the elf like a cannonball. Reflexes did not let any of the mercenaries down — Valria jumped back, and Sergeant Dallan appeared in the way of the attacker as if from under the ground. A crossbow clicked, a blade whistled, steel-sliced ??flesh slurped as a severed claw flew over the sergeant's head. The monster that attacked the elf recoiled back, allowing himself to be examined. Bipedal, covered in a rough gray hide, as tall as Carlon, but much narrower at the shoulders. The thinness of the creature was compensated by long arms, separated behind the elbow joint — so it seemed as if the creature had four arms. Now one hand was missing, a crossbow arrow was sticking out of the monster's chest — but the wounds did not bother him at all. "Gray" opened its mouth full of sharp fangs, let out a guttural roar, and again rushed to the attack. The second arrow Valria drove the creatures in the forehead — with no apparent effect. The sergeant deftly ducked under the monster's outstretched paws, letting its sickle-shaped claws click on her cuirass, slashed from bottom to top, ripping open the enemy's stomach. The creature collapsed on its back... And long black tentacles burst out of its opened belly and reached for the green-eyed girl. She backed away, holding her sword out in front of her. And Carlon finally fished out from the bottom of his waist bag a tightly stuffed pouch, tied with a red ribbon. He loosened the braid with a jerk, stood side by side with Dallan, threw out his hand with the pouch, whispering the right words. Obeying the movements of his brush, the orange powder left the bag, rushed like a sinuous ribbon to the gray-skinned creature, braided it, intertwined a bunch of tentacles, like a real ribbon a bouquet of flowers. The mage snapped his fingers. And the powder turned into a liquid flame. In less than a second, the magically distorted creature was completely drowned in the fire. The tentacles fought for a short time, trying to reach people, but in the end they also drooped. Dallan took a deep breath as she lowered her sword.

— It was his intestines, — Valria said in a completely emotionless voice from behind the mage. — What I just have not had time to see in my life, but this...

— It's always like that with magic — you can never say you've seen it all. — Carlon swallowed. He looked around, smiling nervously. — That powder was already worth more than my advance on this case. Saved this thing for a year...

The elf silently took out a gold coin from somewhere under her vest and put it into the magician's hand. He shook his head.

— No, it's your share...

— Take it, or I'll shove it up your collar at night while you sleep. — The captain slapped the master on the shoulder and walked past, on the go removing a half-empty magazine from her crossbow. The sergeant silently patted him on the back from the other side and followed the commander. Sideways, they squeezed past the smoldering remains of the monster, deeper into the corridor.

The ghostly breeze of raw magic got stronger, Carlon literally felt it on his skin. The wild energy did not pose a threat yet, but the feeling was not pleasant, as if you had plunged into a web with your whole body. They were approaching the epicenter of the outbreak that had spawned the monsters that filled the fortress. The master noticed how the usually imperturbable Dallan ran her hand over her face — apparently, she felt a faint echo of what the magician was now experiencing.

— There is no gold there, — for some reason the master said aloud, and Valria looked back at him, put her finger to her lips. After the battle, it hardly made sense to keep silence, but Carlon obediently fell silent. All three mercenaries quickened their pace. If there were enough doors in the corridors on the second tier leading to warehouses and closets, empty or clogged with rotten barrels, then here they had not yet come across a single one. Attacks from the flank were not to be feared, and the target was waiting straight ahead.

A vaulted tunnel lined with gray stone ended in a tall double door. The elf carefully examined it, looked inquiringly at the mage. He nodded. The captain stepped back, letting Dallan to the door. The sergeant pressed the door first. Then she pulled out a ring-handle. Then she hit the sash with her shoulder and the door gave way. Apparently the entrance wasn't locked, just the hinges had been covered in dirt and rust over the decades. The magician joined the girl, leaning against the other door — the door swung open with a piercing creak. The sergeant immediately jumped back, raising her sword, Valria aimed the crossbow over her shoulder — but the master froze on the threshold. He banged his fist against his palm, and with a satisfaction incomprehensible even to himself declared:

— As I said.

The room that opened before their eyes was definitely not a treasury. Tables filled with alchemical utensils, cupboards lined the walls full of magical equipment, and a huge arch of black stone in the center of the room. The vault of the arch collapsed, some of the tables were overturned, a couple of cabinets collapsed, and the floor, in addition to dust, was covered with glass crumbs mixed with scraps of paper.

— A magical laboratory, — said the already obvious fact Carlon. — With fixed portal.

— And I'm ready to pawn my hat that Mr. Sandr knew where he was sending us. — Valria's voice sounded almost enthusiastic. Entering the room, the elf knelt down, picked up a dusty sheet of paper from the floor, brushed it off. — Carlon, can you tell me what they were doing here?

— Perhaps, if I look around. — The master went straight to the black stone arch. Behind him, the sergeant closed the door and stood before her, blade in hand.

— Do you think everything that happened here is because of... this? — Straightening up, the captain pointed to the archway with a nod.

— Surely it is. — The magician climbed onto the stone pedestal that served as the foundation for the arch. He took out a sturdy leather case from his bag, where his glasses were stored on a soft lining. Putting them on his nose, he began to examine the signs dotted with black stone. — An improperly opened portal is the best source for raw magic. Therefore, they are forbidden to open in cities. But in order for the ejection to cover the whole fortress... They had to pump dozens of times more energy into it than usual.

— How many people can go through such an archway? — Valria asked. She left the rubbish on the floor alone and now studied the dishes that had survived on the tables.

— Five, six. And the last two will seriously risk their health. Then you need to open it again.

— So maybe the iderlings were trying to open... a kind of portal through which more people could be brought through? To transfer reinforcements from the rear, for example? — The elf removed a pot-bellied retort from the table, wiped the dust off it and looked inside, almost touching the glass with her nose.