Marius nodded to himself: the explanation seemed consistent, and most importantly, reassuring. You just need to not miss the connection, and the mentor will return. But then it’s time to demand that all the subtleties be properly explained! Otherwise – “ignoramus, ignoramus”… Let him teach! And at the same time explain to the girl that it is inappropriate to interfere with the rituals of necromancers. And if you are not sure that you can cope with a restive horse, then it is better not to ride alone. Especially in Oleniy Log. Especially at night. What kind of demons brought her here anyway?! I would sit at home, have fun with embroidery or something else appropriate…
The worst thing is that Marius did not know how long the ritual would have lasted without the intervention of the stranger and her horse. Searching for a soul is a matter of luck. And now at all. Should I wait quietly, or should I urgently remember what my mentor told me about uninvited guests from beyond the Border and ways to escape from them? Or not to be saved, but to be pacified, or even put into service? It all depends on who exactly shows up.
The longer the night dragged on, the more Marius wanted, if not his mentor, then at least someone to come back. If only the exhausting uncertainty would end!
Perhaps it was worth remembering that too desperate desires tend to come true down to the last letter? Exactly to the letter, and then it’s too late to go back and convince the Great Power that this is not what I wanted at all. But, honestly, Marius was not ready to see how the dead bay opens his eyes filled with otherworldly light. Yes, demons take it all, calling souls is the exact opposite of raising wights! This simply shouldn't happen!
It doesn't happen like that!
“So it happens,” he retorted doomedly to his own panicky thoughts.
CHAPTER 3. Escape and its consequences
Before concluding an agreement with the Highest,
find out the size of the penalty!
All the troubles of Virita degli Bornio were due to her gentle and refined beauty and too quiet and gentle character. It would seem – what’s bad? A girl should be soft, modest, obedient, so that her wife turns out to be gentle and docile, and beauty is a very pleasant addition to other advantages. But, as they say, too good is also not good. The appearance of an exquisite porcelain doll, childishly plump pink lips, deep pools of eyes shaded by long eyelashes, as if reflecting either the bright blue of the sky or storm clouds… Virita hated mirrors. Girls of the same age and their mothers and aunts could not stand the heiress of Vitor del Bornio, the recognized first bride of the kingdom. Young people drooled, some at her appearance, some at her dowry, tried to arouse interest, but they themselves were not at all interested in what lay behind the doll’s face and in the depths of her heavenly eyes. Flowery compliments, followed by self-interest and lust, which Virita felt even without being an empath. And the line is getting closer and closer, beyond which the father will get tired of hearing “Daddy, I don’t like him,” and he will have to become the wife of the one who is pointed at.
If only she were a little braver! So that she has the audacity to flirt with those who are interested in her, and the self-control to refuse communication with unpleasant gentlemen. But in the bright bustle of balls and receptions, Virita seemed to be in a stupor; all she could do was answer at random and smile timidly. And, as luck would have it, the most interesting young people, those who might have liked her herself, and not her dowry, pedigree, her father’s connections, found her unbearably boring.
If only my mother were alive! She would tell you how to let a young man know that you like him and win his attention back. I would teach you. One day Virita dared to ask her father for advice – and received a disastrous rebuke. “You are a worthy girl from a noble family, beautiful, rich and well-educated. Your attention is an honor and happiness for any young man. How did it even occur to you to be interested in the tricks of walking girls?!”
"Honor and Happiness"? Yes if only! No, Virita had no doubt that they would willingly take her as a wife. For wealth, pedigree, maybe even for beauty. But will they love?
Virita was angry with herself, tried to change, but nothing worked. She seemed to be living in a suffocating, viscous nightmare. If you tell anyone, they won’t believe you; they’ll say that he doesn’t value his own happiness. Is this really happiness?!
And then disaster struck: the father announced his imminent engagement. And although this did not come as a surprise to the girl, the groom did! As soon as she heard who was asking for her hand in marriage, Virita froze and sank into a chair without strength – her legs suddenly stopped moving.
– But father, he…
“He is a noble man, and he is ready to take care of your well-being.” He even insisted on security for you.
– Why security?
“Don’t be scared, these are our adult affairs,” the father said softly. – Noble families have difficult times.
He said something else, explained that a better party could not be found, that she was being honored, and Virita sat frozen, cursing her too quiet disposition. A single thought was beating in my head like a frightened bird: “What to do?!”
But in the end this nightmare ended: the father, noticing, apparently that his daughter had withdrawn too much into herself, fell silent, grabbed her arm and led her to her favorite gazebo in the garden. He kissed his forehead, sat him down, and said:
– We'll talk later if you want. I see you need to get used to the news.
And left. Virita still heard him sharply:
– Tea for the young lady! – and then a sleepy silence thickened around, broken only by the rustling of leaves, the hum of bees and the chirping of birds.
And in this silence she gradually came to her senses.
Slowly, in small sips, she drank the tea brought to her, sweet, dizzying with the aroma of linden honey and mint. Quietly, with silent steps and almost without breathing, she went to her chambers, changed her light house dress to the thick one in which she usually rode, put some necessary things in her belt bag and just as quietly went down to the backyard, to the stables. She asked, smiling sweetly at the stable boy:
– Saddle me with Chestnut. I want to clear my head a little.
There was nothing unusual in her request, Virita loved horseback riding, and her father allowed her this innocent entertainment. And he didn’t even insist on accompaniment if the daughter did not leave the meadows and copses adjacent to the estate and covered with security charms.
The chestnut accepted the usual offering – a thick round carrot that had withered over the winter – and snorted contentedly in the hostess’s face. The groom lifted him into the saddle, and Virita, as if inadvertently looking back at her father’s windows – no, she’s not looking! – she let her pet go at a light trot. She took a deep breath, catching the wind on her face. It smelled of river mud and meadow grass, young leaves and apple blossoms. Freedom. As soon as you had the strength not to break into a gallop, while the horse and rider could be seen from the windows of your home!
And only then – I didn’t hold back. There was little time – an hour, maybe two, and they would catch on.
She was lucky. Or maybe it was the higher power to which the girl hurried for help that helped. Having rushed unnoticed through the lands of del Bornio, leaving aside a large village near the highway and a mill near the river, Virita stopped her horse at the edge of the Deer Log. She sobbed and whispered in a broken voice:
– Here, Kashtan… I don’t know where to go next. Maybe you know?
The faithful horse turned around and snorted, as if wanting to say: “Mistress, who have you confused me with? With a professor of geosciences from the capital's university? Or maybe with an elf mercenary?
– Oh, yes, what’s there! – Virita shook her head, closed her eyes for a moment, deciding to do the unheard of. She took a pouch with wild wheat grains from her purse, shook half of it into her palm and, swinging it wide, threw it to the side of the path. – Accept the gift, Oleniy Log!
Following this, half a flask of wine was donated to the forest. And finally, the most difficult thing – closing her eyes again, the girl slashed her palm with a dagger. Large drops stained the grass.
– Accept the gift, Deer Log, show the way to the Altar! – Wrapping her hand in a handkerchief, Virita touched the horse.
Without a path, at random, but the forest really led me where I asked. The sunset glow gave way to deep twilight, and the light birch and thick hazel trees gave way to gloomy centuries-old spruce trees, when Chestnut, snoring and spinning his ears, stepped into a perfectly round clearing, in the center of which stood a white stone… pedestal untouched by time? Table? Or just a stove? For some reason, the longer Virita looked, the less she understood what exactly she was seeing. A white stone in the purple twilight of the night – there is nothing more to say.
But, since she has already come, since she has been shown the way, it is stupid to hesitate and hesitate. Jumping off the saddle, Virita shook out the remaining wheat at her feet:
– Thank you for the journey, Oleniy Log! – and went forward. A step, two, three… a dozen… My heart was fluttering in my chest, about to burst from horror, my fingers were frozen, and my cheeks and ears were glowing with heat. Approaching the stone almost closely, she splashed the rest of the wine onto the ground: “Accept the offering, Ancient One!”
The earth did not open up under our feet, thunder did not burst from the heavens. Either they didn’t hear her, or they accepted the offering—go figure! But don't retreat? Virita, with a convulsive sigh, took the last step, tore the bandage from her palm and pressed her blood-smeared palm to the white stone.
– Hear, Ancient One! Fulfill the request, set the price, accept the promise!
The noise of the forest became distant, the silence rang in my ears, for a moment it seemed that the Ancient One had not come, as the old books promised, but that she herself had fallen into another world, where forgotten gods and demons live. But suddenly the silence was broken by a laugh. Completely human, so ordinary that Virita decided it was her imagination. Or did someone sneak in here after her?
Startled by this terrifying thought, the girl turned around. Although would you really see who might be hiding among the trees in the thick twilight? For some reason, the fact that they could follow her, spy on her, was more frightening than the meeting with the Ancient One. But then a human silhouette appeared on the white slab. First – a ghostly figure, as if molded from the gray pre-dawn fog, then the fog acquired colors and a face. The green hunting suit, broad shoulders and a powerful torso, a reddish-blond beard and shoulder-length hair, desperately blue eyes became denser and became real… Virita looked at the man – there are no words, very attractive, but a very ordinary person, not some kind of demon. If you meet someone like this at a fair, on the streets of the capital, or even in a royal palace, you can look at him, but you won’t suspect anything is wrong.
He also looked at her, carefully, appraisingly, but his gaze did not frighten her. Other suitors looked at it much worse – as if they were prey, some kind of game: either shoot it, or let it fly for now, fatten up the meat for next time…
In the old books they wrote – offer a gift, and when the Ancient One comes, name your wish and ask how you will have to pay. It was time to speak, but Virita seemed to lose her tongue under the intense blue gaze. Only her hands froze, her cheeks burned, and the shame rolled in more and more painfully – as if she was doing something wrong, but she didn’t know what it was. And at that moment, when the silence became completely unbearable, the Ancient One suddenly appeared next to him, took him by the chin, raised his head, and looked into his eyes. His fingers were hard and hot, his touch was careful, and his gaze was heavy and dark, like basement vaults.
“They came to me for power.” For wealth. For luck. Even for women, although this is stupid. But I don't see what you're asking. What do you want from me, mortal child?
“Help,” Virita squeaked.
– It is clear. Which one? What do you want?
– I do not want to get married! – the girl sobbed. – For the one whom the father chose! He's scary!
– Scarier than me? – The Ancient One laughed, and the forest responded with a booming echo, the hooting of owls and, it seemed, a distant rockfall. “What mortal man are you more afraid of than me?”
Here, probably, it was necessary to either get completely scared and go into a life-saving faint, or start humiliatingly apologizing. But Virita seemed to have a rope under her tail!
– Marriage is, you know, for life! – she blurted out. – With you, they write books, we can come to an agreement, and even if not, it won’t be any worse.
– What kind of books are these?
– Diaries… Notes from my great-grandfather, the noble Reyas del Bornio.
“Oh, this…” The Ancient One laughed again, but now his laughter seemed to ring with the sound of a stream over the stones and the clatter of horses’ hooves. – OK. So you want to change your betrothed – right?
“Y-yes…” Virita wanted to say “probably”, she herself didn’t know whether she wanted another betrothed or even freedom from a frightening marriage, or maybe something else, vague, not completely clear to her. But in some unknown way it turned out that the answer could only be “yes” or “no.”
– How will you pay?
And again I wanted to answer “I don’t know”, to ask what kind of payment would suit the Ancient One, but it came out against my will:
– Anything!
Blue eyes flashed with triumph.
“Leave,” the Ancient One ordered. – All will be.
She herself didn’t understand how Virita woke up in the saddle – and barely had time to be surprised, as soon as an overwhelming thought flashed in her empty head: “What have I done!” – as Kashtan neighed wildly and took off at a gallop, perhaps by the grace of the Great, not bumping into the brothers-in-law. Rushing along, not making out the road, the frightened horsewoman could only hold on with her last strength. Suddenly, in the impenetrable darkness of the night forest, a light flashed, not even light – a barely noticeable reflection. And Virita, afraid that Kashtan would carry her past and in the end would simply break his neck in the windfall, screamed desperately:
– Save-ee-ee!!!
Stupid. Of course, no one saved her, but Kashtan seemed even more enraged, although much more so! And why was she brought to this Ancient One?! What kind of nonsense has hit my head! Virita was sure that she was living her last moments when the lathered horse carried her out… somewhere. The bulk of a dark tower flashed from the side, moonlight reflections shone ahead, like ripples on a pond, although there was definitely no water there, and Chestnut fell, wheezing, into these reflections, throwing off the rider.
She didn't remember anything further.
CHAPTER 4. Guests from beyond the Border
Before offering a horse a carrot,
make sure he's not a cannibal!
The chestnut horse, which a moment ago had been absolutely and undoubtedly dead, rose to its feet, shook its head and stared at Marius with burning eyes. The black mane rose up like a cloud and stayed that way. The fur darkened: it was bay with a red tint, exactly like a ripe chestnut, but it became brown, like dried blood. A deathly greenish glow appeared in the eyes.
And the worst thing is that Marius had no idea what kind of creature this was or what to expect from it. Master Turvon didn’t talk about anyone like that.
Whatever you say, a noble upbringing has its advantages. I desperately wanted to give up on everything and run away, but the mentor’s soul was still wandering beyond the Boundary, which meant that he needed to stay in place and keep in touch. No matter what happens. Even if a whole herd first dies on these stones, and then turns into otherworldly creatures!
“There’s no need to play staring contest with me,” Marius muttered, proving to himself that he was doing well and generally wow, and didn’t even think about being afraid of anything.
The horsewoman stepped with her hooves, loudly clicking on the washed stones, and snorted mockingly. Somehow it’s not just not horse-like, but even, one might say, human-like. One to one, as Aunt Amalia snorted, wanting to show her nephew without words the entire boundless depth of his stupidity. I would have punched him in the impudent face! “Mentor, come back already!” – Marius mentally prayed. And, as if this was not enough for Master Turvon! The connection twitched especially strongly, the mentor’s body rose, opened his eyes – and, just when Marius froze from horror and impotent panic, human meaningfulness returned to the empty gaze of the living corpse.
The master caught the student’s stunned gaze and rejoiced:
– Get used to it. This is exactly how they return from the Grani. Who else is this?! – he saw a girl lying on the stones.
“And this is it,” Marius waved his hand at the creature baring its teeth. – The horse bolted and was killed right here, in the circle. He dumped the girl, and… here he is. First he died, and then he rose.
Without looking any more at the unfortunate maiden, Master Turvon approached the horse. He ran his hand along his neck, as if feeling the air. He muttered something like “well, well” in response to another malicious snort. And then… the glances of Master Turvon and the horse creature collided, and it seemed to Marius that in a couple of moments these two managed to say so much to each other – the words of the whole night would not have been enough for a conversation!
“My student is brave,” the mentor chuckled. – Clueless, but brave. This is not a raised creature or even an infused spirit. This is – meet me, young man! – Ancient One incarnate. Or rather, the Ancient One is on the verge of incarnation.
– D-ancient?! – Marius hiccupped. It’s not that he hasn’t heard of the old gods at all, but, the Great One sees, it’s one thing to listen to all sorts of fables, and quite another thing to meet them in reality like that! And how are they all still alive?! Although… is that all? “Um-mm…” Marius drawled. – Greetings, glad to meet you and all that, but, master, what’s wrong with the girl? Is it possible to touch her? At least move it from here and see if I’m badly hurt. Help…
Whether Ancient or not, this creature screamed – stallion stallion!
“I’ll show you,” the mentor sighed heavily. – How to check that this is still a living and intelligent girl, and not a creature from the abyss that has moved into her.
And he showed it. Four times until Marius understood and managed to repeat it. And the horse, Ancient or not, neighed, snorted and generally showed its contempt in every possible way.
On the fourth test, the girl opened her eyes, and it immediately became clear that she was no creature and was generally no more dangerous than a lamb. True, the mentor was not touched by the innocent girl’s gaze.
– Look and remember, student, this is exactly how they will look at you before devouring your soul. The truly dangerous will never seem frightening. Those who are afraid of being devoured themselves are frightened.
“But that was offensive,” the girl suddenly spoke. – Eating souls is not my thing. Better treat him with a sandwich.
The voice seemed familiar to Marius, but the intonation… When he heard this wonderful, ringing-tender voice last time… when was that? Visiting someone, but who? So, then this voice was not at all so confident, cheerful and even, perhaps, aggressive, but on the contrary, it evoked yawning and despondency. Exactly! Dejection! Same…
– Virita degli Bornio! – Marius blurted out. And what kind of demons, one wonders, brought this timid doll here?!
Virita froze, bowing her head as if listening. She shook her head:
– No. If you want your Virita, I can try to push her and drink her out, but… No, it’s unlikely. Sorry. A delicate violet in a deep swoon.
– Where – fainting? – asked Marius. It sounded extremely stupid, but the girl understood. And she even answered, tapping herself on the forehead:
– Somewhere here, probably. But how I ended up in it is the question! And who, I ask you, will answer it for me?
“I don’t understand anything,” Marius admitted.
“It would be something to understand,” Master Turvon grabbed the girl under the arms and put her on her feet: “Stop sitting here.” Let's go to the house and we'll talk there. “And I’ll open a window for you, my mansions are not designed for horses,” he told the Ancient One disrespectfully. – And the only treats are carrots. Shouldn't I offer you hay?
Master Turvon’s “mansions,” to be honest and frank, were not designed for guests at all, especially girls from noble families. In the basement of the tower, the same one where the necromancer received rare visitors, there was a kitchen. Rough stone walls, a primitive hearth in which you could roast a whole deer if desired, a shelf with simple pottery, a huge table, several squat oak stools. Door to the pantry, hole to the basement. The Virita deglia Bornio that Marius remembered would have been afraid to look here out of the corner of her eye, let alone calmly enter. And the girl, whom the mentor had seated on a stool by the fire, looked around with interest and declared approvingly:
