Novel 3. The Last Autumn

Armando sucked in air with his nose. He asked in a muffled voice:

— Mater, do you think... Should I hope that the witness is Vittoria?

— If the marshal isn't bluffing, it can only be her. Have hope, Don. Have hope.

— But if Vittoria gives away even a fraction of what she knows about the plot.....

— She was being hunted anyway, Don. Auguste realised that she had learned too much, that she had done business with the queen. And so the king's enemies will guard Vittoria like the apple of their eye, — the mage reasonably remarked. — Donna the forensic necromancer can really tell a lot of interesting things about Auguste. Even if she keeps silent about the strangers.

Corporal Green suddenly appeared in front of the men. He put a finger to his thin lips and let out a short hiss.

— Silence, silence, — said master Carlon, raising his hands. The corporal gave him an unblinking stare and fled from the deck on all fours. Armando saw Valria threaten them from the bow with her fist. He had to be silent. The minutes immediately slowed to a snail's pace, carrying seconds from present to past. Struggling to sleep, Don de Gorazzo began to periodically pinch his cheek. It turned out that it was convenient to count the time spent on duty in pinches. On the twelfth pinch, the former bailiff noticed that Captain Valria had thrown the blanket off her legs, stood up and waved. Armando shoved the mage to the side, but he was already looking at the elven woman himself. The corporal slid off the bow onto the main deck, drawing Maria and Dallan's attention. Valria pointed them to the starboard side, opposite the pier. The Lady Guardswoman nodded in response, her heavy sword flashing, catching a beam of blue moonlight. The sergeant crawled closer to her, rose to a knee, and bared her sword as well. Armando held his breath, nervously stroking the hilt of his weapon. The mage fidgeted nearby, removing an oblong clay amulet from his belt.

Twenty or thirty heartbeats later, nothing happened. Then a small object soared over the side of the caravel. It struck the bulwark almost without a clatter, caught... A cat-hook! Small and blued, so it wouldn't glint in the dark. Maria and Dallan nestled against the high bulwark on either side of the cat-hook, blades at the ready. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. A human head appeared over the edge of the board. The unidentified man, clad in a wet sleeveless coat, glanced at the sleeping watchman at the helm, leaned over the fence boards... Sergeant Dallan struck from bottom to top, slashing the blade of her sword across the neck of the intruder.

— Agh! — In the ringing silence, even a strangled wheeze rang out like thunder. The spy clung to the edge of the board with one hand, the other to his cut throat. Without further ado, Dallan slammed the cross into his teeth. The wounded man toppled backwards, out of sight. Water splashed. The response was immediate. A cylinder thrown by a strong hand flew out from overboard. It did not fall to the deck in time. Lady Maria jumped to her feet, caught the cylinder in mid-air, threw it back — all in a flash, literally in a single movement. Without time to fall to the ground, she covered her eyes with her forearm. De Gorazzo hastily do the same. There was a rumble, a flash so intense that the white light slashed Armando's eyes even through his lowered eyelids.

— To battle! — Master Carlon shouted, snapping the amulet in half with a crunch. All the lights on the "Elena" went out at once, shrouding the ship in darkness.

— Green, there are two in the water, yours! One stranger! — Valria's voice rang out from ship's nose. With a fierce hiss, the lizard-man threw his heavy cloak off his shoulders, and without hesitation leaped overboard. The elfess herself was already standing near the bowsprit, loading her crossbow. People were running from the harbour buildings to the pier. A lot of them. More than a dozen.

— Places! Ha-ha-ha-ha! — The superstructure door swung open, and Skipper Dorlt, fully dressed and carrying a crooked boarding sabre at his side, appeared on the bunks. Sailors armed with crossbows poured out in peas after him. Three sailors were dragging the swivel cannon that had been brought up from the hold to the forecastle the night before. Armando and Carlon hurried with them to the bow. The magician was already removing a new amulet from his belt.

— Hold them down! — Valria shouted, sending arrow after arrow towards the attackers. — Don't let...

The shot of the strangers' gun, sharp and high, echoed over the harbour. Armando, who was already climbing the ladder of the bow, saw a fountain of blood spurt from the elf's back. With a shriek, the girl collapsed on her back, dropping her crossbow. Her hat flew off her head.

— Demons and Gehenna! — Armando rushed forward, grabbed the girl by the shoulders, and pulled her under the cover of the oak bulwark. Carlon and Dallan, who had climbed out of the main deck, were beside him. The alien gunner, however, had already switched to new targets — he quickly knocked out a pair of sailors carrying a cannon. The single pops were followed by a continuous crackle of gunfire as a hail of lead rained down on the masts and the foredeck.

— Everybody down! Get down! — Master Carlon shouted, and the skipper in the stern repeated his order in his own booming voice. — Valria, can you hear me?

— Ouch! My arm... I can't feel... my left... — the elf tried to sit up and lean her back against the side. Dallan carefully supported her. — It hurts...

— You got a hole in your shoulder. It could be bone. Dallan, wait with the bandage, I'll stop the bleeding first. — The mage pocketed one amulet and removed the other from his belt.

— Later. A rifle, — the captain exhaled, holding out her healthy hand. — Give it to me, quick.

— You need... — the mage began, however the girl interrupted him:

— I saw the shooter. I'll get him. There's two of them, but one of them's aiming.

— He's already changed his position, if he's not a fool, — Carlon objected.

— No. Yes. It's on the roof of the warehouse on the left. There's only two or three convenient spots. Could only go to the nearest one. Rifle! I'm gonna pass out. It hurts.

A few sailors, on their own account, leaned out from overboard and fired a volley, forcing the attackers to seek cover behind crates on the quay. Just then, one sailor went down with a bullet in his chest. Without a word, Sergeant Dallan grabbed the butt of a nearby rifle and pulled it towards her. She took the gun in her hands and blew on the smouldering fuse.

— You can't, — elfsaid hoarsely, clutching the hole in her shoulder with her palm. — It's dark. And I can't hold it right now. Help me.

The sergeant simply nodded. Armando shouted downstairs:

— Distract the enemy! Another volley!

Five or six of the sailors raised their crossbows again, the others not daring to stick their heads out in the downpour of lead. Dallan and Velria came up at the same time, the sergeant holding the barrel of the rifle, partially covering the elf with her own body.

— Bdan-n-ng! — something struck the sergeant's cuirass, sending sparks out of the back plate. The green-eyed girl staggered, but held her ground.

— B-bang! — the rifle rumbled, covering the bow with a cloud of smoke.

— I got him! I got him! — A moment later, the elf exclaimed. She smiled broadly and... sank to the deck. Dallan barely had time to pick up her partner. De Gorazzo noticed a long dent in the girl's cuirass — the stranger's bullet had slipped through the steel plate, crumpling the metal like paper.

— Shoot! — Armando ordered, for master Carlon was leaning over Valria with a healing amulet. — Don't let them get close!

Though the crackle of the shots continued, and the bullets continued to pound the sides and deck of the "Elena", the sailors, urged on by the skipper's roar, clambered off the deck and scattered about the ship. A dozen crossbowmen scrambled up the bow, a few climbed the cables, and the rest, led by Lady Mary, took up position near the gangway. A cannon, loaded with small buckshot, was dragged there as well. The black silhouettes on the quay stirred. Leaving their hiding places, they rushed to the pier, were hit by a volley of crossbows, and retreated, leaving two bodies on the planks. The return fire of the last alien gunner was more of a nuisance than a real threat — the alien from the other world seemed to be aiming to waste ammunition without hitting anyone on the caravel.

— How is she? — Dallan asked Mmaster Carlon in a strained voice. He had laid the emotionless elf on her back and was tending to her wound.

— I've had worse, — the mage said without raising his head. — But there's a lot of blood... Take Maria downstairs, I need her here.

The stranger's gun stopped firing. There was a muffled pop, and a cloud of thick, black smoke began to billow from the pier.

— That's not good, — Don de Gorazzo drew his sword. The cloud was growing, and it was clear that soon it would cover the entire pier. — Prepare for close combat!

The "Elena" sailors finally set up the swivel gun and swung it along the pier. Skipper Dorlt and Sergeant Dallan froze at the gangway with naked blades in their hands. The planks that had been thrown over the pier had not been removed because master Carlon had placed a homemade fire amulet under them. The first enemies who decided to board the caravel were to be roasted in the magical flames.

From behind the black cloud came a battle cry... cut short by a gunshot. The alien gunman's guns began to talk again, crackling, but not a single bullet struck the "Elena". But painful screams and panicked cries came from the quay. A man in a black cloak ran out of the smoke and was immediately pelted with crossbow arrows by the sailors. There were no other attempts to attack. It was quiet in about a minute. The crew and passengers of the caravel froze on their places, not knowing what to expect next. Corporal Green climbed up on deck, unharmed, holding in his teeth something that looked suspiciously like a human finger. Throwing an anxious glance at the bow, he spat out his "trophy" and joined the sergeant and skipper. The waves splashed and the mast creaked, but no one dared to utter a word. Finally the wind dispersed the cloud. The dazed defenders of the "Elena" saw a dozen dead bodies strewn across the pier. At the base of the pier stood a tall man in black and grey clothing, holding an outsider's rifle on his shoulder. When he realised that the smoke no longer concealed him, the alien carefully placed his weapon on the ground and raised his hands above his head.

— He's... surrendering? — Armando mumbled in disbelief.

— Who? — Master Carlon asked. The mage was still kneeling beside Valria, working on the bandaged wound.

— An outsider. The one who shot from the rooftops. He... seems to have shot his squad in the back and now stands with his hands up.

— A trap? — suggested the magician. — They're playing dead, waiting for us to get off the ship.

— Then they don't have a fighting unit, they have a troupe of travelling entertainers.

— I'll talk to him, — Lady Maria, who had just finished bandaging the wound, brushed a strand of light hair that had fallen out of her forehead and stood up.

— I'm with you. — De Gorazzo put his sword back in its scabbard.

— All right, Don. Thank you. — The Lady Guardsman smiled faintly at him.

Under the cover of a cannon and a dozen crossbowmen, the two of them walked to the pier and stopped in the middle of it. Armando gestured for the stranger to approach them. It would be imprudent to go to the pier, where there might be an ambush, or to let the stranger on board.

— If he even twitches his arm sharply, chop him to the demons, — the former royal bailiff told Maria in a full voice. — Remember what happened last time?

— I remember, — replied the pale girl dryly.

The stranger stopped a few paces away from them, still holding his hands above his head. He smirked and said in very passable Daertian:

— Good night. I'd like to discuss with your commanding officer the terms of a change of employer. You see, I've been looking for a new job recently.

Chapter 7

The captain's quarters were too small to be an interrogation room, but there was no more suitable room on the "Elena". Skipper Dorlt had graciously given Valria his cushioned chair behind a desk nailed to the floor. Frankly, the elven woman shouldn't have gotten up at all, but she flatly refused to miss the stranger's inquest. Now the sharp-eared girl was half-reclining in a chair, pale as chalk, clenching the carved armrests to her white knuckles. Her forehead glistened with sweat. The stranger himself sat on a backless stool in the middle of the room. His hands were tied behind his back, and his entire wardrobe consisted of trousers — the rest, including his shoes, had been left on the pier. Lady Maria searched the alien with the skill of an experienced bodyguard, disarmed him, forced him to undress, tied his hands with a leather belt, and only then led him aboard the caravel. The stranger did not protest. Even in his present position, he was very confident, looking at those present with quiet curiosity. Those present reciprocated. The visitor from the other world was lean, wiry, and quite young — Armando would have given him about thirty. His muscular torso was adorned with two small tattoos and a round scar on his right side, like a bullet mark. The man had no other distinguishing features — middle-aged, slightly taller than average, with an unremarkable face and short blond hair.

— You can call me Alex, — the alien spoke first, glancing at Valria and at master Carlon sitting across from him. The magician sat on another stool, playing with a square brass amulet. Behind the stranger stood Lady Maria, her narrow palm touching the hilt of her sword. In the distance, Sergeant Dallan stood equally still, ready to intervene if the intruder should somehow disarm Maria.

— Is that a name or a nickname? — The mage asked in a businesslike manner.

— Both.

— And I'm guessing you're not a local native?

— That's right.

— Where are you from?

— From... well, I suspect you don't need to explain. From another world.

Skipper Dorlt, sitting on the edge of his desk, chuckled. He was the only one present in the cabin on behalf of the caravel's crew — Elena, the navigator, had remained on deck, tidying up the ship and dealing with the harbour authorities.

— Aha. — The imperial mage smoothed his beard with a satisfied look. It looked like he'd squeezed something really important out of the stranger. — Are you a soldier?

— Yes. Hired. Served in the expedition's operations corps.

— In security?