Fortress of Hope

3

Chapter 3

Chapter three.

Dark past.

The next day began for me as usual - I woke up on a stretcher gently swaying in the air, when the sun was already at its zenith. Again he slept for more than half a day, or even more.

Taught by recent bitter experience, I gripped the edges of the stretcher more firmly and only then ventured to open my mouth:

- Good morning.

Amazing. The stretcher only slightly twitched, but did not even tilt. This is what the miraculous fist does! 

“Good morning, sir,” a chorus of voices greeted me. 

- Isn't it hard for you to carry me? I asked. 

They assured me with an oath that the precious burden (that's me) is not burdensome at all and this is a great honor for them. About the fact that yesterday my carcass was lying in the road dust, they did not mention, and I prudently kept silent. 

- How long have we been on the road?

“We’ve been going for half a day, sir,” answered the porter with a black eye, which did not prevent him from smiling happily.

Raising myself on my elbows, I looked around, carefully ignoring the awakened pain.

The surrounding area has changed a lot. The forest gave way to a series of low and bushy hills. A strong cold wind was blowing. The previously piercing blue sky has changed color to dark gray. Despite the cloudless sky, it looked like it was about to rain. Mainly cloudy… 

- How many days do we have to go? I asked.

- Not much left, sir. Look, you see the rock ahead? - said the porter

Looking closer, I noticed in the distance the outlines of a huge rock. Judging by the size, this is a whole mountain. Having estimated the direction of movement, I was convinced that the porter was right - the detachment was heading exactly for the rock. 

This is the end point of the journey. Clear direction ahead. 

More questions arose. 

First of all, I wanted to know why exactly we are on our way to this rock? 

Attack or reconnaissance disappear immediately - women and children do not fit into the picture. We cannot attack while dragging fifty women and thirty children with us. This is unthinkable.  

Maybe we're running from someone? 

I doubt. No one looks back in fear. Everyone looks only forward, and the further we move, the more hopelessness on their faces. As if in a friendly formation we are moving to the scaffold and the death penalty. 

- What is your name? I turned to the talkative porter.

Quiet, sir.

- Tishen, I think you know that I lost my memory. What will happen when we reach that rock? You know it?

- Yes, sir. We must establish a permanent settlement there. 

Everything fell into place at once. 

Now it is clear why there are so many women, children and old people in the detachment. It is clear why there are so many gloomy faces - who likes to leave the habitable place and start all over again. 

In general, there was a logic. I got the point. We are moving towards a certain place with a certain purpose. Foundation of a permanent settlement. 

Further inquiries did not lead to anything - they simply did not know the answers. 

Why are we going? - so ordered.

Who ordered? - you are the master and ordered. 

Why is there a settlement? You better know sir. 

Why is everyone so gloomy? - It's so dangerous out there. 

Why is it dangerous there? - they can kill. 

Who can kill? - Yes, there is someone, how not to be. 

After an hour of conversation, I was tired myself and tired the porters with questions. We'll have to wait for Ricard or the holy father - or better yet, gather them both and talk heart to heart. It's decided. That's what I'll do when we settle down for the night. True, if Ricard definitely does not refuse the conversation, then here is a strange priest ... he does not burn with special love for me. There is a clear and poorly concealed hostility. 

Leaving the tortured porters alone, I began to survey the area. During the conversation, I did not notice how the detachment overcame the hills and went out onto the plain. No longer restrained gusts of north wind tousled his hair. The outlines of the goal of our journey became clearer. I was wrong. The rock is not that big. Not more than eight hundred cubits high, with a flat top, as if cut down by a giant. The foot of the mountain is hidden by a dense grove. 

On this day we did not reach the gloomy rock. We stopped for the night at the southern slope of a low hill, which at least somehow protected us from the cold gusts of the north wind. The men hurriedly chopped up the bushes for kindling and pulled up the awnings. This completed the arrangement of the camp. Calling one of the men, I asked for Ricard and Father Flatis. It's time to put everything in its place.

When the big man and the priest arrived, I patted the ground, inviting them to sit down, hinting at a long conversation. Ricard plopped down on the edge of the blanket at once. Unlike Father Flatis, who, in his usual manner, glared at me, and only after making sure that nothing would come of it, sank to the ground with a contrite sigh. Another warning sign... 

- I think it's time for me to figure everything out - I started the conversation and, looking at the priest, added - I'm already strong enough to know the whole truth, right? Who wants to start?

Ricard and the priest looked at each other and then looked at me again. Silence. Will have to insist. 

- Ricard, you start. 

- What am I, sir - the big man was embarrassed - You already know yourself. We go to the Wild Lands to establish a settlement. And I don’t know anything else - Ricard looked away. 

“I myself,” Father Flatis said dryly, “He does not want to tell everything as it is, so as not to upset you. You did things. Nakurolesil. And now they will pay for it with their lives.

- Don't believe me, sir, - Ricard interrupted instantly, - It wasn't like that. 

Are you saying that I'm lying? - the priest was indignant, - Since he wanted to know the truth - let him know!

- Right. Want. Ricard, let him speak. Continue holy father. Tell it like it is. 

- What is there to tell, - the priest began - Although ... listen ... It all started twenty-six years ago, when Resar the Lucky made the right choice during the outbreak of the rebellion and sided with the king at the head of a detachment of mercenaries. The rebellion was brutally suppressed. The rebels washed themselves in blood. A lot of people died then. 

The king has not forgotten those who helped him keep the crown. He gave Resar the title of baron and a vast piece of land in one of the border provinces. Generous gift. So the mercenary commander Resar the Lucky lived up to his nickname and became Baron Van Yser. 

In turn, the baron did not leave the detachment - he was bound by a blood oath with each mercenary. They followed their master to new lands. The baron built a castle for himself, a village for mercenaries and freed them from taxes. For them, a peaceful life began. 

Two years later, he brought a lovely girl to the castle and soon got married. Unfortunately, family life did not last long - during childbirth, the baroness died, having managed to give birth to the heir of the baron - Koris Van Yser. 

The father of the soul doted on his only son, had high hopes for him. He raised from him an heir, the successor of the Van Yser family, who could raise the newborn noble family even higher, who could lead the family to prosperity and power. 

When the son grew up, the baron appointed his longtime colleague Ricard Blade as his mentor, instructing him to follow the heir and not leave him a single step. Be his faithful shadow. 

Yes, the old baron had high hopes for young Koris, but he did not justify them. On the mind of the grown-up son there were only drunkenness in taverns, dissolute girls and duels with or without reason. How cool and determined Resar the Lucky was with his detachment, he turned out to be just as soft and weak-willed with his son. The young baron got away with everything. 

Four years ago, Baron Van Yser died quietly in his sleep, leaving the entire inheritance to his son - a serious illness crippled the once strong warrior. Even the Healer, sent personally by the king, who remembers Resar's merits to the crown, could not help.

Having buried his father, for the next few years the young baron entertained himself as best he could, indulging in all serious and famously lowering his father's inheritance. Ringing streams of gold from father's chests and red streams of intoxicating wine from father's cellars beat in all directions, settling in other people's pockets and stomachs. The young heir could only spend, not multiply. Diligence is not worth a penny, but extravagance ... even kings spend money more carefully. And the young baron did not care at all. 

It all ended two months ago - during a drunken brawl in a tavern, Koris challenged a nobleman to a duel who dared to accuse him of unworthy behavior. The nobleman did not accept the challenge and, threatening that he would call the royal guard, headed for the exit. Enraged and humiliated, the baron rushed after him, and, in two jumps, catching up with the unsuspecting young man, plunged a dagger into his back, after which he calmly returned to the table and poured himself some wine. The nobleman died instantly - the dagger touched his heart.

The guards who came to the rescue arrested Baron Koris Van Yser and placed him in the royal prison, where he stayed for a month before the start of the trial. Koris was not worried - noble blood flowed constantly - the enmity among the nobles was beneficial to the king and such cases were looked through with fingers. Usually it all ended in a simple censure, the payment of vira for the murder, or, at the worst, service in the royal army. Usually... yes, usually it was. But not at this time. 

The murdered young man turned out to be the illegitimate son of the king. Though a bastard, but still royal blood. native blood. According to rumors, the old king doted on his beloved son. 

Father Flatis broke off and, looking at my gray face, asked:

- Continue?

“Yes, Father Flatis, continue the story,” I hissed, staring at the ground. 

It's about me? A young reveler, a rake and a scoundrel who hits in the back ... is this about me? Little joy to know about yourself. 

- The trial did not last long - the priest continued the story, - Witnesses were interviewed, after which the baron's people were interrogated. Ricard took all the blame, claiming that he had delivered the fatal blow to the back. The magician present at the trial caught Ricard in a lie. Ricard received fifty lashes for perjury. 

When the baron's guilt was proven, the court pronounced a verdict - the death penalty. The merits of his father before the crown saved the young baron from immediate death - he was given the right to choose: either execution by hanging, or deprivation of his title, property and exile to the Wild Lands to found a settlement, which is tantamount to a death sentence. The thirst for life overcame the bitterness of shame. And to put it bluntly, the fear of death won. The sharply sobered up Koris did not want to lay his violent head on the chopping block. Oh, how I didn’t want to ... And therefore, the young Baron Van Yser immediately chose exile.

He was followed by his father's detachment, forever associated with the Van Yser family by a blood oath. When they left the former domain of Van Yser, they were allowed to take with them only what they were wearing and how much they could carry in their hands. With a shameful flight from death, Baron Koris Van Yser doomed people to wandering, adversity and death. Although he didn't care. Together with the detachment, the Church sent a priest to build and consecrate a temple in the future settlement. 

A month ago, a small force entered the Wildlands. After two weeks of travel, the young baron decided to take his mind off heavy thoughts and, taking one warrior with him, went to hunt deer. The deer did not come across to them, but nose to nose they ran into a seasoned boar. The baron could not resist the temptation and attacked a huge beast. It all ended badly - the warrior died covering the body of the master, and the baron breathed his last when Ricard arrived. Koris' life was saved, but he lost his memory - Father Flatis finished.

I lost my silence without looking up. Nothing to say. Now I understand why Ricard did not want to tell me anything. The shame of the family. Doomed people loyal to him to certain death in the Savage Lands. 

With a wave of my hand, I made it clear that I wanted to be alone.

Ricard tried to say something, but the priest stopped him:

- Shut up. He needs to be alone. 

The priest, pushing Ricard in front of him, promised to send supper and an invariable herbal decoction. 

I was left alone. I have a lot to think about. This night I will not fall asleep soon. If I can sleep at all. And I certainly won’t be able to take my extinct gaze off the ground and look at the people gathered around the fires. These are my people. I am their master. And only because of my cowardice they had to leave their homes and go wandering ... I felt bad. So bad that I wanted to smash my bad head on the first stone that came across.  

****

Ricard swore and swore that we would reach the cliff before dusk, and I believed him. The grassy hills contributed to the rapid movement, no longer had to dutifully follow the bends of the forest path or waste time bypassing the giants standing by a solid wall of trees. Now our path lay only straight ahead. 

Last day of the journey. The last push towards the ultimate goal. To our new home. 

Ricard, at my request, walked next to the stretcher - it was necessary to restore at least part of the knowledge. Understand who I am and what I can do. The heavy burden of responsibility weighed heavily on me and made me restless. Ricard responded willingly, glad that I was getting better. 

Now, I was examining a pile of papers directly related to my person - Ricard handed me a small tube with documents, explaining that he had received them from me for safekeeping. 

The tube also contained a map inscribed on thick parchment. Due to the extremely poor study of the Wild Lands, the map simply abounded with white spots - in the sense that many places marked on the map were marked “inscribed from old maps”. Still better than nothing. Also on the map there were various marks, the meaning of which I do not know. I called out to the big man and asked him to show me where the destination of our journey was on the map. Ricard took a closer look and jabbed a thick finger at the map. 

- Horseshoe - I read in surprise - Ricard, why Horseshoe?

- I heard that the mountain is very similar to a huge horseshoe, sir - he answered, spreading his arms - With its outlines. 

I chuckled and put the map aside. 

Horseshoe. 

Funny name for a mountain. 

Why not Peak of Courage, for example? 

Turning the tuba over, I gave it a good shake. A few more rolled-up papers and a small carefully tied pouch fell out. I put the papers aside for the time being, and took up the wallet that interested me closely. Having untied the ribbons, he looked inside and was again surprised - inside there were several multi-colored glass balls and a folded sheet of paper. Taking one of the balls in my hands, I shuddered - as soon as I touched it, it glowed brightly. Interesting... 

- Ricard, do you know what it is? I showed the find.

- No, sir, - the big man answered, shrugging his shoulders - But something very familiar ... 

Putting the balloon back in my purse, I took out a folded piece of paper and unfolded it. This turned out to be a long and tedious explanation on the use of Heralds. Everything is very simple. It was necessary to squeeze one of the balls into a fist, wait until the light inside lights up and, after whispering a message, crush the ball. The released energy will reach the magician from the Royal Chancellery and relay my message and location to him. 

The first message should have been sent as soon as we reached our destination. After that, a message was to be sent every six months or in the event of an attack on the settlement. Only I could do it. Messengers did not work in the wrong hands. 

The last clarification got me thinking. What if I die? How will others make themselves known?  

I tied the purse securely and put it back in the tube. Left the rest for later. There will still be time to do it. Now I was worried about the question, the answer to which I wanted to receive immediately:

- Why are we walking? Not a single horse for the entire squad. To found a settlement, you need livestock, poultry, grain, and tools. Where is all this? 

Ricard hesitated, and when he finally decided to answer, I already guessed what he would say:

- An extremely small amount was allocated for the equipment of the detachment, sir. To buy everything you need. But…

- But what? Agree, Ricard.

- But you spent it on a farewell party in a tavern, mister - the big man muttered, - All the money to the last copper.

If I could strangle myself, I would do it without thinking. 

Damn! The past Koris Van Yser was a complete madman who doomed himself and the people devoted to him to death! I condemned to starvation all those who went with me. 

- It doesn't matter, sir, - Ricard tried to reassure me, - We know how to hunt. We won't get lost. Yes, and some tools were captured. 

I said nothing. And what could I say. Nothing. There was only the hope that frightened me that my past self would never return. I didn't want to become the old Koris Van Yser. I didn't want to be the arrogant bastard again. 

Having collected all the papers back into the tube, I gave it to Ricard - you can’t find a safer storage. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the faithful big man and thought deeply. 

I was disturbed by a certain selectivity of memory loss: all memories of the past completely disappeared. Memories, but not knowledge. I noticed that if only yesterday I could not tell what kind of trees surrounded me, now I recognized and could accurately say their names. 

Even the character has changed - according to Ricard, I already knew that in the past I was quick-tempered and hard on hand, I didn’t think about the future at all. Silly youngster. Whereas now I am cold and prudent, I try to calculate the interlocutor, to understand his intentions, and I do it consciously. Two completely different people. One died, another was born. It happens? 

Another detail haunted me - every attempt to remember the past caused a wild headache. The sorcerer promised that in time the memory would return. You just need to wait.

***

When dusk began to fall on the ground, we reached a dense grove at the foot of the Horseshoe. We got there. Weary people had no strength left to rejoice at the end of a long and exhausting journey. They set up camp in haste, prepared supper, and, posting guards, fell asleep. Father Flatis walked around the camp several times, muttering something under his breath and making passes with his hands. Occasionally, bright sparks slipped between his fingers, clearly visible in the gathering darkness.

- It sanctifies, - Ricard explained with knowledge of the matter, who decided to settle down for the night next to me. 

- Uh-huh, - I agreed, chewing on a stale piece of cake. 

I agreed, but in the depths of my soul I was sincerely perplexed - this sight was very strange for me. It's like I'm seeing it for the first time. However, after memory loss, this is probably what happens - everything seems new. 

- And the sorcerer may not be afraid for nothing, - the big man added, turning over on his side with a groan, - We are in the very heart of the Wild Lands. It's full of dark trash. With the advent of darkness, the undead crawl out of their burrows and graves. During the day they are not. And at night is the best time for them. Although the sorcerer does this in vain, he invites trouble.

- Not a sorcerer, but a priest, - I corrected the big man and, having remembered himself, asked - Why in vain? And if a dead man or something worse comes across? They do not go to the consecrated ground. 

For some reason, I was sure of this - there is no way for evil spirits to the holy land. But knowledge seemed foreign. Not mine. As if he had not seen it himself, but read about it in a book that deserves complete trust. Crap… 

- The dead are not here - there is nowhere for them to come from. Near the cities there are, especially on the border, when the necromancer will try and raise the cemetery. There yes. Therefore, in the border towns, the dead are not buried, but burned. Everything is calmer. But there are no burial grounds here - people did not live here, cities were not built. Wild land. No ruins nearby. 

- And what then to fear?

- Yes, except for the dead and worse, who can show up. The creatures are stronger and the consecrated earth is uneasy. They may not enter the temple, but here easily. Magic power, especially light, they feel for many leagues. 

Seriously disturbed by Ricard's words, I decided to talk to Father Flatis in the morning on this subject. How not to invite trouble. Remembering another unfinished business, I unceremoniously pushed Ricard, who had already fallen asleep, and took the leather tube from him. He fished out a purse with Heralds and took out one of the dark balls. After waiting for a light to appear inside the ball, I raised the Herald to my lips and said:

- A detachment of Koris Van Yser has reached the Horseshoe. Everything is in order - and squeezed the Herald in a fist. 

The crunch of glass. Flashing brightly, the ball burst, and the released magical energy carried my words to an unknown addressee. Shaking my hand from small and surprisingly mild fragments, I covered myself with a blanket and tried to fall asleep. Tomorrow I will need all my strength.