Novel 1. Mercenary Company Bright Heads. Story 3. Where all paths converge

— We can't relax yet! — Valria warned. — Carlon, salt.

The wizard handed her two sacks and, with the rest, went to the battlements and began pouring salt right under them. It was safer this way, there was less chance that the protective circle would be broken by wind or any other accident. It went quickly, and a couple of minutes later the salt circle covered the whole area. Karlon touched the white particles with the tips of his fingers, whispered a spell, poured as much energy into the barrier as he could squeeze out of himself without risking his life. He exhaled in relief and wiped the sweat from his face. He collapsed, unconscious before his cheek touched the bird-dirted floor of the scratched stone slabs.

...Carlon was awakened by the sound of a knock. He groaned, got up on his elbows, and looked around. Master found that he was lying on the edge of the platform, covered by Valria's cloak and with the elfess' hat tucked under his head. Valria herself was sitting nearby, with her shoulder against Dallan's. She seemed to be dozing. At some distance from the mercenaries, Her Highness the Duchess of Elvart was seated in comfort. The guardsmen covered the cold slabs with their cloaks especially for her, with another cloak Christina covered her feet. The weary Lady Adela slept beside her, resting her head in her mistress's lap, and the Duchess stroked her bodyguard's dark red hair. Emilia and Maria stood guard behind them, Kaya strode along the battlements, keeping watch. The sky was already brightening, the stars were going out. And a knocking sound came from a locked hatch.

Seeing that the mage was awake, the Lady Maria left her guard and approached him. Smiling with one eye, she leaned over and gave him a hand. Carlon accepted her help gratefully, unsure if he could rise on his own. Standing up, he asked in a low voice:

— Who is that coming to us?

— I know no more than you do, Master, — the guardswoman replied. — I can only guess. There are a lot of bodies down there.

— Possessed. — Carlon grimaced. — Even if they kicked the hatch down, they couldn't get up here. The body would get through the barrier, but they'd shake the demon out of it.

Supported by Maria under the elbow, he waddled toward the duchess. She greeted him with a weary smile:

— Well, Master, Captain Velria's plan seems to have worked. It's dawn. Soon we can try to clear the stairs and descend into the courtyard.

— Lady Yana... stayed there, — the wizard said guiltily. Carlon could not say that he had abandoned his companion to her death, but the feeling was just that.

— Yes, I already know. — Christina shook her head. — Don't beat yourself up. A man cannot die twice, and the soul is at the mercy of the Creator alone. Jana will return, sooner or later. If she doesn't consider her duty to me done, of course. She's just lost her... visible form. It's only temporary.

— Yes, I know. — The Duchess gestured for the wizard to sit down, and he sank heavily onto the edge of his cloak. Maria stood beside him as if she were his bodyguard, not Christina's. — Your Highness, have you ever wondered why Sir Kyril has made such an attempt on your life, and in cahoots with someone else?

— The first thing that comes to mind is the title. — Christina of Elvart darkened, stopped smiling. — I told you that the Earl has no kin closer to me, but that is true in reverse as well. With my death, the Duke's crown would go to Sir Cyril. Truly, I have no idea how he thought to survive and justify himself after the assassination attempt. Maybe he didn't, but wanted to get something out of it. The cousin is very old, and for years he seems to have built up a hatred for me. Or maybe the Coalition promised him something. Things are happening in the world that even I do not yet understand. The mechanisms around which nations revolve have been set in motion, Master. We can only see the gears turning, but the machine is already in motion. Rest now, for we're about to have our final battle.

Carlon returned to his old position on his own, without Maria's help. Sitting down beside the mercenaries, he picked up Valria's hat and slipped it over the elf's head. She opened one eye. Girl yawned, put her hand behind her back, and took out a cloth pouch. From the sack she took out two small crumbs, handed one to Dallan, and hid the other in her vest pocket. The sack handed the mage:

— Here, share it with our iron girls. Her Highness can also offer, if there is any left.

— Where did you get...

— We were in the kitchen, — the elfess shrugged. — I couldn't have left with only salt, could I?

She raised her hand to adjust her hat, which was askew, and then she froze. Girl frowned:

— Who's knocking from downstairs I can guess. But... I hear something else. A creaking sound... as if from outside.

— What do you mean, from outside? — The mage didn't get it.

— Demons can climb walls? — The elf-woman sprang stiffly to her feet, and Dallan rose after her.

— They can walk on any surface, even a steep one. Or float close to it, — Master nodded. — But they don't make much noise. And it's light out. And a possessed person wouldn't have the dexterity to climb rocks.

— Metal on stone... — the captain's head whirled, trying to decide where the faint sound was coming from, which only she could hear. — If it isn't demons, then... All from the edge of the roof!

Valria's warning was a little overdue. Carlon saw a metal cylinder fly over the cogs, spinning.

— Close your eyes and ears! — The mage shouted before the cylinder exploded. And he was the first to set an example. The flash and thunder were the same as in the throne room, on the day of the Duke's murder — but noticeably weaker. Maybe it was the wide open space around him, or maybe it was just that this cylinder was different from the day before. This time the Maestro did not lose consciousness, only collapsed to his knees. He exhaled sharply, took hands off his ears, shook his head, and opened eyes.

Peter, an assassin from another world, jumped down from the fortress cairn, unhooked a metal snaphook with a rope fastened to it from his belt. He drew pistol from behind his belt, aimed it, and pressed something. Through the rumble in his blocked ears, Carlon heard a crackling sound-the sounds of separate shots merging into long one. "Tr-r-r-ringk! Tr-r-rringk! Tr-r-rringk!" Behind the master shrieked the Duchess of Elvart, metal hit metal, the steel of the Guards armor torn by bullets rang out... The mage did not wait any longer. All his magical training was of no use at the moment, the techniques of hand-to-hand combat taught by Lady Emilia had been knocked out of his mind, so Carlon lunged at the assassin without any frills, growling through his teeth. Peter had just lowered the pistol, which had stopped spitting fire, and reached for the scabbard on his belt. The alien met the mage's attack with a mocking smirk. Carlon didn't even manage to crash into him with his whole body as he'd hoped — the assassin stepped sideways, caught the mage by the shoulder, twisted his arm. Kicked him in the stomach, hooked him, knocked to the ground. Finally he pulled his dagger out of its sheath and swung it at his defeated foe... The sword, thrown by a strong hand, struck Peter in the wrist with its crossguard, knocking the weapon from his fingers. Both blades clattered against the stone rampart and disappeared from sight.

— Whoa! — the alien exclaimed respectfully, turning to face the new threat. Sergeant Dallan, staggering and stumbling, walked toward him with clenched fists raised to face level. The sun had just come over the horizon, illuminating the top of the donjon, and the first rays played on the girl's polished armor. — I remember you, too. Come for more?

The sergeant tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear with an uncertain gesture, and... laughed guttural. It was the first time Carlon had heard her laugh in six years, and he regretted it — it sounded like Dallan simply didn't know how people laughed. It was rather creepy.

The alien attacked first. The girl blocked a series of blows to the face, knocked the gun he used instead of a baton out of his hands, holding the barrel. She defied a deceptive move and kicked the killer in the shin with an armored boot, forcing him to rebound. She tried to counterattack, but alas — concussion from the explosion. The sergeant hesitated a little longer than she should have, and Peter caught her right arm in his grasp. He gripped it so tightly that even Carlon could hear the crunch of bones and tossed Dallan to the floor. Angrily, he kicked her in the lower abdomen, under the rim of her cuirass. For some reason, it was this blow that caused the mage to erupt in uncontrollable rage. He got up on all fours and clenched his fists to the point of pain. Before Carlon could do anything, however, a shadow covered the tower.

The assassin and the warlock both raised their heads in unison to see the dragon in its red-and-gold imperial harness dive toward the floor. The dragon's maw, full of saber-like fangs, was open wide, clawed paws outstretched forward, its enormous wings obscuring the barely dawning sun. Peter's jaw dropped. To give the killer credit, he recovered in a second and tried to jump away, but Carlon lunged forward, hooking onto his left leg and holding him in place. The alien tried to strike the wizard in the face with his right hand, but couldn't. Dallan grabbed his other ankle with her healthy arm. A hot wind blew across the platform. Master clutched tightly, continuing to clutch the assassin's leg with both hands. Something huge whizzed a meter above his head, a hideous wet crunch sounded, and a splash of hotness splattered on Carlon's back. When the mage stopped squinting, he found himself holding exactly half of Peter. The killer's body above the waist belt was gone. The remainder stood for a moment, as if contemplating what to do next, and finally fell. The mage met his gaze with Dallan, lying on her stomach, her face red with blood, her almost frantic emerald-green eyes burning with feverish fire. Swallowing, Master looked up. Three battle dragons were circling in the fading sky above the tower of the old castle. The tail of one held the long pennant of the squadron commander.

— Uh... Dallan? — Carlon called cautiously, glancing at the girl again. The crazy fire in her eyes faded, but not completely. — Are you all right?

— Yeah... I'm... fine. — The sergeant sat up uneasily. — What about Valria? What about Cristina? They both fell and I... I don't remember any further... What about them?

Carlon stood up, holding his stomach, catching his breath. He kicked the half-peter with his heel, a pool of blood spreading rapidly around him. He looked around. Valria, who had been knocked out again by the explosion, was already showing signs of life — lying on her back, groping her face for some reason. Reassured that the elf-woman was all right, the mage moved past her. Farther. To where things were far worse. The alien from a world without magic had used up the last bullets of his miracle weapon on the Duchess of Elvart. But beside the Duchess were her guardsmen. Even stunned and blinded, they did their duty. As best they could, they simply covered Christina with themselves. Lady Emilia and Maria were the first to do so, the redheaded twins falling on top of them. So they lay there now...

As the Master approached, Lady Emilia moved, pushed the body of one of the twins off herself, rose to her feet. She stared at Carlon as if he were a stranger. Inhaled deeply. Lowered her gaze. Leaned down to give Cristina her hand. Her right — the Guardsman's left arm dangled as a whip. The blue sleeve of her uniform had turned to bloody rags. Even without being a healer, Carlon knew at once that the bone had been broken in several places, both above and below the elbow. The pain must have been hellish, but the little brown-eyed girl ignored it utterly. Pulling the unharmed duchess out from under the bodies of the guardsmen, she knelt down and tried to take the other twin off Lady Maria. With her only working arm, this was not working well. The magician hurried to help her.

Lady Kaya took most of the shots. Six holes gaped in the back plate of her cuirass, and another chunk of lead pierced the girl's neck above the gorget. Trying to stabilize the guardsman was too late — the agony was beginning. Holding back the unexpected sickness, the mage turned away from the dying woman to attend to her sisters. Lady Adela, already wounded today, was a little luckier — two bullets entered her back above the waist, one below. Only the last wound was not in danger of bleeding internally. Finally, Lady Maria was shot in both legs above the knees. She could not stand up, but she suffered perhaps the least — the lead did not hit her bones or her femoral arteries.

— I'll take care of myself, — the pale girl said to Carlton as she fumbled for a purse with a clean cloth on her belt. — And Emilia, too. It's not for nothing... I read all those books... Help Adela.

Carlon darted a glance behind his belt, searching for the amulet that would staunch blood, and glanced at the elf-woman. She was already sitting up, gripping her temples, with the sergeant holding her back. Well, at least these two are all right...

A dragon with a commander's pennant made another run at the tower. At the last moment it slowed, spreading its wings wide, and lowered itself to the edge of the platform, clutching at the stone battlements with its forelegs, resting its hind legs against the wall. Master swallowed involuntarily as he saw the black curved claws crumbling the stone. A rider in a black and gold leather suit jumped from the dragon's neck, pulling his closed helmet from his head. Smoothing lush mustache, stepped toward the duchess, raised his hand in salute:

— Baron Basil Zonatakos, Air Corps of the Ninth "Iron" Army of the Empire. Your Highness the Duchess of Elvart, I presume?

Christina simply nodded. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, her dress stained with dark traces of blood.

— I have been instructed to take you to safety, Your Highness. Would the camp of your escort below be such a place?

— Certainly, Baron. But we have wounded Guardsmen who need immediate assistance. Bring them down to camp first.

— Your Highness, I have been instructed...

— Baron. — Christina the Second has lifted her chin. — Are you forcing me to repeat myself?

— I... Yes, Your Highness.

Carlon had seen all sorts of things in war, but he'd never seen a dragon used to transport the wounded. Lady Maria was taken in the first batch, along with Adela. A mage carried the girl to the dragon in his arms, helping to seat her behind the dragonrider. Maria's face, always pale and sore, was colorless from the blood loss, even her lips turned white. Only bright blue eyes gleamed feverishly. And yet she found the strength to smile stammeringly at the master. As the winged lizard rose into the air, Valria approached Carlon. The elf was unaccustomedly disheveled and mussed, with untidy strands of golden hair sticking out of her mane.