City of inheritance

7 Keeper, Keeper and Sword

 

“Uuuuu, yo-o-o,” said Khiyat in such a tone that Ladai involuntarily felt his face, looking for horrific wounds and other troubles.

- What? he asked, making sure that the sensations did not lie, and there was nothing there but scratches.

- Eye. Left.

- What's wrong with the eye?

“It’s yellow,” Khiyat said and leaned over to his friend to get a better look. - Not even that. He is very yellow. The right one is your own, brown, and this one is yellow. Even more yellow than Marika's cat. It is so yellow that it looks like it glows.

- Does it glow? - That's just what Ladai lacked. On the other hand, he didn't expect to survive the night at all. So the eye is nonsense. Even if he disappeared altogether, it would be a small loss compared to life.

“Yeah,” Khiyat confirmed somehow too cheerfully. “You are now a walking special sign. As if there were not enough abnormally white hair and tattoos on the entire back. Only the scar is more noticeable is not enough.

“I’ll think of something,” Ladai dismissed this problem.

He is alive, relatively healthy, even now he feels the presence somewhere not far from that bird with which he spoke, being on the verge between life and death. He now has a guardian, a dream that comes true for one elemental bearer out of ten thousand. Next to him is a man who continued to believe in him in spite of everything and everyone. Everything else is nonsense, not worthy of attention, and I don’t want to think about it. All those who so easily crossed him out of their lives, who readily believed in betrayal and degradation of the mind, who joyfully anticipated a quick death and lamented the greed of unrecognized geniuses, are not worth the tip of the nail of the stubborn dunce who pulled him out of the world of the dead. Everything is exactly as Master Dyen said. To learn to appreciate life, you need to get acquainted with your own death. To learn to appreciate people, you need to realize that no one really owes anything to anyone. To understand how precious someone's loyalty is, you need to betray the closest person.

During these three years, Ladai lost a lot, but gained no less.

Just think, there long ago, in another life, Ladai Tmania sincerely considered himself superior to Khiyat Dak by birthright. Then, a long time ago, they almost hated each other. Two stubborn children, each with their own pride.

Ladai is a beloved son, the pride of his father, the offspring of the noble house of the White Snake, almost a genius, who succeeded in everything, if not quite easily, then with some effort, for sure.

Khiyat Daka is a foundling without family or tribe. A foundling who was once brought to the city of Big Stone by the tramp and hero Taladat. I picked up a child of two years old somewhere, noticed a glimmer of strength in him and could not leave. He similarly picked up dogs and cats when he was little. And then, suddenly, a whole child - with a restless character, prone to laziness, with a strange sense of humor, not without talent, but without a special mind. After all, until a certain age, Khiyat sincerely did not understand why he studied. And when I realized, it was already too late, I had to catch up with the lost on my own, with such difficulties that someone less stubborn would have given up long ago. But not this one.

They did not like each other immediately and for a long time. They almost hated each other and, probably, having matured, wised up and got rid of teenage complexes, they would politely greet each other and pretend not to notice each other. If there hadn't been a storm. If only they didn't get lost in a strange forest. If they had not fought, and then they talked all night, huddled together in that cramped cave, the only salvation from the universal flood.

It turned out that neither one nor the other did not correspond to the prevailing opinion. And they had more in common than differences. After that thunderstorm, they somehow imperceptibly became friends. Outwardly, everything remained the same. Ladai laughed. Hiyat snorted. They argued about everything. Competed wherever they could. Called names and venomously commented on actions. Only sincere anger disappeared somewhere, and slander turned into something like an unofficial competition. It's interesting who's outbid who. And it does not matter that the next skirmish usually ended in an unconditional victory for one of the teachers.

“You know, he really glows a little,” Khiyat said thoughtfully, once again examining his friend from head to toe in search of missed injuries.

- Who?

- Eye. Imagine someone bumping into you in the dark. It will be fun. A long, thin something, dressed in dark clothes, merging with the surrounding space, light hair braided into a braid, similar to a poisonous snake, and a yellow glowing eye blinks.

“Yeah, it’s fun,” Ladai agreed. The imagination obediently drew the described picture, and it unexpectedly liked it. - I would like to hang a few bells and you can portray a quiet death.

- Exactly. Death from a heart attack.

The laughter was somewhat hysterical.

Tell me, right? What can I tell you? Tell what a person feels when looking at the almost dead body of a friend? Or how hard it really was to drag you back to the world of the living?

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Okay, I persuaded, I'll tell you. Just don't complain later, I don't know how to talk like that.

And in return, you will explain to me what exactly I saw there, next to you. It felt like I was running into a wall. And it protected you. I had to coax it out of holding you. Although, on the other hand, if it hadn't kept you on the edge, you might not have survived. You've been taking too long, idiot.

“Wow,” was all Khiyat could say.

The bird was huge, probably the size of a dragon. Obviously a predator. A curved beak, scimitar claws, colorful black-white-red feathers, yellow eyes, like Ladai's left. And, if the sensations do not lie, this bird was intelligent.

An intelligent bird that shared crumbs of its spirit with Ladai, which changed the color of his eye, but allowed him to survive. Marvelous.

Now, as long as Ladai lives, this bird will be able to appear in the human world. Something is pulling them here. There is even a theory that they thus increase their own strength or improve their status. To be honest, few people were interested in such theories. For as a symbiont, such creatures were the height of dreams. Above - only the Winter Wolves, which are not at all the fact that they exist at all.

“This is Despo,” Ladai introduced the bird.

The bird turned its head to one side and looked curiously at Hiyat.

“It was he who kept me on the edge,” Ladai continued to tell. “I pulled him out of Fatir's reality somehow. He says that I called him, but I don't remember anything like that. I just wanted to live. You would be very angry if I died. Actually, it was about you that I was thinking, and Despo appeared.

“Keeper,” said Khiyat.

"Yeah," Ladai confirmed. Lips involuntarily stretched into a completely stupid smile. The keeper. The one with whom he is connected. The one who will always help. Just like one stubborn waterman.

“Guardian of the cities,” sounded like an incorrect echo on the verge of hearing. “And a spirit collector at the same time. How strange.

"Whoa," Laday said. Despo is not mistaken in such things. No guardian is wrong. Ladai did not know what a spirit collector was, but, most likely, with these words Despo denoted Khiyat's inheritance from his mother. Blood, like a pure element, saving the dead, well, almost dead, and probably a lot of other incomprehensible things. But here is the guardian of the city ... Probably a legacy from his father. Which should have been laughed at. Are you the son of Kait Eine? That's where you get those green eyes. I wonder if your guardian knew?

- For sure. Therefore, it is not. Gives me time to think things over, bastard. What should I do about it?

– What can be done about it? Ladai was surprised and shrugged his shoulders. The guardian of the city is already destiny. No matter how you flutter, you won’t get anywhere, you will protect, protect from dangers, expel the unworthy and drag outsiders into the city who may be useful to this city for something. Or run away wherever your eyes look, save yourself from this fate, and then you will regret it. “There is little that depends on you. A city without a guardian is like a warrior without chain mail. It's possible, but it's better not to. In five or ten years, the guardian would appear anyway, the city would have to choose, but since it has you ...

— Yes, I know! Only which one of me keeps?!

“From what I can see, not bad at all,” Despo said.

Khiyat stared at him like he was crazy. And Ladai wondered what Despo saw in him? And in general, what should be in a person to be considered a good guardian for the city?

“Um,” said Despo. - Ability to make decisions. The ability to choose what is important. Ability to find exits. The ability to retreat in time or vice versa to move on. A little more luck.

- It's about me? Khiyat was genuinely surprised.

- Almost. You can't retreat. Even approaching the edge, you are looking for an opportunity to jump over the abyss. You already did it once. It will probably continue to do so. Simply, risking other people's lives, better retreat, not everyone has the courage to jump after you.

“Yeah,” Khiyat said dumbfounded. From the looks of it, he didn't understand much. Let's go, too. - Okay, I'll think about the keepers. And now about how we cover our tracks here and confuse the trackers. Those that lead here, I safely washed away, will not be found. And from here we will fly away. Up that mountain. There is something very interesting there. You, Ladai, may come in handy. Artifact one.

- Embodied element. Embodied in a sword. Fire element,” said Despo.

“Exactly,” Khiyat confirmed. “A brook told me about him. He doesn't like this neighborhood.

Ladai smiled.

Sword, so sword. Come in handy. I remember that my father deprived him of his name and home, so you will have to defend yourself. There is nowhere to return. Khiyat will drag you to the city. Will definitely drag. Only, you need to beg him for a little time to think it over, decide how to live on, what to do ...

On the other hand, when next to you is the guardian of the city, the question is: "what to do?" - doesn't make much sense. Protect this idiot, of course. From everyone and everything, including what needs to be protected from himself. The binding of the elements alone was worth it. Such a simple ritual. It won't take much time. It will allow you to talk at any distance, and it will be impossible to detect it, just vibrations of the elements. And all with such an honest look that it is impossible not to believe.

And then, without expecting it at all, you find yourself in front of roaring water, ready to smear you on the first obstacle that comes across, tear you apart, destroy even memories of you. And it dawns on you that fire has nothing to do next to water, and even more so for water next to fire. The only desire that then overcame in Ladai both fear, and doubts, and in general everything in the world, was that he wanted to return to reality as soon as possible and kill this idiot. Hiyata. The liar is unfortunate. A simple ritual... If Ladai had known, he would never have agreed. That's why risk your life for someone who decided to die pretty soon? A complete and utter idiot.

Ladai didn't have a choice. He did what he had to. Moreover, he postponed his death for almost three years, and in the end he gloriously avenged himself. Not the worst solution.

In general, Ladai was a rather carefree child, self-confident and selfish. But only until the very moment when the envoy of the collector of the elements gave him an offer to become a student of the great, mighty, kind and so on and so forth. It was then that he somehow suddenly realized that he was not alone, that not only his future fate depended on his decision. Ladai was well aware at that moment that they would not be able to protect him. Nobody. Neither the father, with the whole house, nor the fighters of the city. There were precedents. They could not save, but there were many extra victims. And this is in the cities where there were keepers. In the Big Stone, things would have been much worse. So Ladai agreed to the proposal. Therefore, he asked for a reprieve and managed to use this time to good use, carefully studying everything that was in the family library about return rituals. And he came to the satisfied teacher with a small pendant in his pocket, making the same decision. Taking it on his own, without consulting anyone. It was only his choice of the best of the worst.

Ladai didn't have much of a choice then. And why would this green-eyed idiot take such a risk? Everything was explained to him!

“Hiyat, did I tell you that you are an idiot?”

“I did,” the waterman admitted calmly.

And his smile was somehow too satisfied. He is strange.

It turns out that in three hours you can do a lot. Revive a corpse dragged from a burnt clearing. Meet the real guardian. To dig out from under the rubble the fire embodied in the sword, and watch how Ladai, with a completely stunned expression on his face, holds it, as if it is something so fragile that it can break from the slightest breath of breeze. And then listen to a choking, crazy story about how good this sword is. The legendary sword, it turns out. It was just once lost in these mountains, along with the last owner. And they searched for a very long time. Some are still searching.

If you believe the legends and pictures in some textbook, which Khiyat did not remember point-blank, then this sword will protect from extraneous weaves, and strengthen its own, and sweep away almost any protection without noticing. The best sword in the world for a fireman, in general. Artifact.

Khiyat had to listen to the story repeating in a circle for a long time, simultaneously understanding why he himself did not know anything about this legend. If the teacher spoke as enthusiastically and stupidly, then he could be distracted by something more interesting than his story. Or fall asleep. But now I had to listen. So listen, listen, and then offer to sweep away the guard, only to make sure that the guard, woven from water, this sword will not pierce with one blow, and less durable reflective armor too. And apparently, most of the enthusiasm accompanying the legend came from the fact that no one really remembered why this sword was carried with them wherever possible.

On the other hand, on the eleventh stroke, the defense still crumbled. And with an ordinary sword, you can hammer for a day, in the hope that the magician will get tired of it and he will give up. Either he falls asleep, or he gets tired. Or the sword will break.

But what kind of idiot would patiently stand still, waiting for the opponent to strike for the eleventh time? Probably only those who do not know that this sword is not quite ordinary. Or some self-confident type who decided to make fun of him in this way. All other test dummy will not be depicted.

Then I had to argue for a long time, to prove and diligently persuade. Ladai, apparently, decided to somehow thank Hiyat for saving him and, without leaving his place, tried to hand over the sword. The one who keeps, they say, needs it more. And for some reason, he was not embarrassed by the fact that he was keeping the waterman.

It ended with Khiyat talking about the ability of his mother's relatives to create swords from blood and strength, and about his attempts to join. Attempts so far have not been very successful, but they are only the first. And yes, I did feel something.

And yet, in one notorious house there is an arsenal, which is full of weapons. And by right of inheritance, this arsenal, along with all the contents, now belongs to Khiyat. Why does he need another sword? Especially with the opposite water element?

In general, Ladai managed to chat, and he decided not to part with the sword. Even if they try to take it away, they won't give it back.

In the same three hours, the construction of the first seal of recognition in Khiyat's life and the persuasion of the stubborn Ladai to sit at least a little in the safest house in the city fit perfectly. Again, it took quite a long time to persuade, although he had nowhere to go. True, the friend objected rather sluggishly, rather out of habit.

And then, after three hours, Khiyat quietly slid down from the bird's back not far from the Chanterelle River and went to get himself an alibi. Three hours is not long enough for any of the trackers to suspect a trick. What kind of trackers? Yes, those who will definitely be sent to find out what is happening on this mountain. The echo from the reborn ritual must have alarmed all the strong living on the island. And also dogs, horses, seagulls and various madmen, including predictors of the future. It could even hurt ghosts.

And perhaps Hiyat was very lucky that the sleepy and evil trackers did not take a closer look at the group of youngsters. They would certainly have distinguished bloodstains from the juice of useful grass.