Legend. Dark kingdoms
Dmitry Nazarov
You live for yourself, do not touch anyone, until one Black King from another world suddenly wants to acquire offspring and you will be appointed the most suitable vessel for this mission.Now the task is to survive all the adventures that have fallen, and the maximum task is to return to your warm bed, not forgetting your fragile heart in this dark kingdom, which strives to jump out of your chest at the sight of one attractive lawbreaker. After all, they don’t just go to jail, do they?
Legend. Dark kingdoms
Dmitry Nazarov
© Dmitry Nazarov, 2022
ISBNВ 978-5-0056-8518-6
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Table ofВ contents
You live for yourself, you don’t touch anyone, until one Black King from another world suddenly wants to acquire offspring and you are appointed the most suitable vessel for this mission.
Fortunately, they messed up with the place ofВ movement.
Now the minimum task is to survive all the adventures that have fallen on your head, and the maximum task is to return to your warm bed, not forgetting your fragile heart in this dark kingdom, which strives to jump out of your chest at the sight of one attractive violator of the law. After all, they don’t just go to jail, do they?
Prologue
Kingdom ofВ the Four Moons, SorВ City
Along the muddy, bumpy road after the recent rain that led toВ the capital, aВ covered wagon pulled byВ horses was rolling, inside which, on aВ bare plank floor, aВ beaten, gray-bearded old man, dressed inВ one tunic smelling ofВ sweat and soaked with blood, froze.
The cool morning air was bone-chilling, causing the old man toВ breathe heavily through his nostrils and puff clouds ofВ steam.
It was already the fourth day ofВ the journey. The fourth day, as they put him on aВ starvation ration, often refusing even aВ sip ofВ water, let alone aВ crust ofВ bread.
An old man exchanged for eighty, and anyone else inВ his place, after the beating that followed the detention, would have given up long ago, but Marvin was not as simple as it might seem at first glance.
The strong blood of Averin’s seers flowed in his veins, which supported the old man’s vitality and energized him. She was his salvation and… curse.
Since twenty years ago, after the end of the Hundred Years’ War, the dark elf and leader of the Wild Hunt Gamar, known in the world as the «Black King», ascended the throne of the Kingdom of the Four Moons, Marvin and his blood brothers and sisters, witches and witchers, have not there was no life. A hunt was declared on them, they were killed in the same place where they were found, not sparing even babies.
There was an extermination of the magical seed… there was a genocide.
All these years the old man was hiding in the mountains, taking on someone else’s disguise and breeding sheep. He did not conjure, did not invoke power. Only occasionally did he regale his living creatures with useful herbs so that she would please him with a healthy offspring, good meat and rich wool. But it couldn’t go on for long.
One ofВ the villagers who lived nearby noticed aВ successful sheep breeder, handed it over toВ another, and less than aВ week later, two warriors broke into his house, inВ plate armor with metal spikes on the plates, and with iron masks on their faces. Without trial or investigation, putting shackles on his decrepit wrists, they began toВ kick the old man inВ the stomach and back until he, bleeding, lost consciousness.
Marvin woke up already inВ the wagon, not understanding why the gods had saved his life, and why the soldiers had not killed him on the spot, as they usuallyВ did.
– Rog, what will you buy with the eagles, what will we get for this witcher? – the voice of a young warrior was heard, sitting with his senior comrade on the irradiation.
– Shut your mouth, kid. You will attract the attention of that scum that is spinning nearby and neither you nor I will see any eagles for the rest of our lives, «his older friend answered, his voice creaking like the wheel of the cart on which they rode.
No faces were visible behind the masks, but judging byВ the voice, it was this Rog, as Marvin remembered, who delivered the most painful blows. Sparing neither the strength nor the anger that overwhelmed the dark elves from birth.
For this anger, surrendering toВ which they dealt with the objectionable, they were hated, vilified behind their backs with the last words, they spat quietly inВ the wake, but they were afraid, and obeyed.
– Water, – the seer croaked, licking his lips that were cracked from dryness. He couldn’t stand it any longer, and he didn’t care how many lashes he would get for this insignificant request – please, at least a sip.
– What is he yelling at? came Rog’s displeased voice from outside.
– Asks for water. You see, I haven’t received it for a long time. Pay no attention.
– You stupid idiot, what use is a semi-dry corpse to us? – We have almost arrived, and if we disturb the king, providing him with a dead man instead of a witcher, we will soon take his place ourselves. Go, give him a drink, – there was a thud, then a cry of a junior warrior and the cart creaked to a stop on a deserted road.
The buckskin that replaced the back door ofВ the wagon slid aside, letting inВ aВ bright blinding light that pierced his eyes like aВ thousand needles. Closing his eyes tightly, Marvin, using the last ofВ his strength, crawled away as far as possible, trying toВ curl up into aВ ball. InВ this position, his tormentors did not reach the vital organs, passing either with aВ whip or with the toe ofВ aВ boot only along the legs and back ofВ the oldВ man.
But this time there were no blows.
A second passed… two. Silence. Marvin opened his eyes and raised himself slightly on his elbow, turning to the soldier standing on the ground and staring at him, who held a small flask in his hand.
At the sight of her, viscous saliva came out in the seer’s mouth, and a slight shiver ran through his body. Without taking his eyes off the iron mask that completely hid the dark elf’s face, he pulled his shackled hands towards him.
– Piiiit
– Here is your water, rotten stump! – with these words, the young warrior unscrewed the lid of the flask and sprinkled water on the face of the old man, – if you disturb us again, I will not leave a living place.
With aВ sharp pull ofВ the skin, he returned toВ the irradiation, and the wagon startedВ off.
Greedily licking off the drops that had fallen on his lips and hands, Marvin moved toВ the edge ofВ the wagon and saw aВ small hole inВ the stretched skin. Putting his finger in, he opened aВ hole large enough toВ see what was happening outside, and getting used toВ the light, he fixed his eye on it, trying not toВ miss anything important.
More than one hour passed when the wagon finally passed the city gates, where they did not even bother toВ check for the presence ofВ prohibited goods. The dark elves inВ the Four Moons Realm were inviolable, unlike the rest ofВ the people.
Marvin continued toВ watch through his makeshift window what was happening on the city streets.
Not for you guys who, forever huddled together, jumped barefoot through the puddles left after the rain, or vegetable vendors arguing cheerfully with customers over prices, or just onlookers-passers-by who love toВ hang out idle from one tavern toВ another.
But the old man has already counted four funeral processions.
This spring, the «Black Mora» did not spare anyone: neither old nor young. Killed indiscriminately day and night. The number of bodies was so great that they were often thrown into pits far outside the city without even trying to bury them. And what’s the point if the line to them was endless.
