Chilled exorcist. Александр Алексеевич Алексеенко

Chilled exorcist - Александр Алексеевич Алексеенко


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go back ten times, and then blacken, not disappear like a Milchemist fake," the hag smiled conspiratorially. She looked like a kindly grandmother slipping a sweet candy to her grandson while no one was looking.

      "These are very valuable arrows in a case like this. The law…"

      "And yes, the law forbids," she interrupted me, raising her hand, "to take more than a gold piece. But you're not forbidden to take equipment more expensive than you need."

      I shrugged my shoulders in agreement.

      "Then the fee is one gold piece," I folded my arms across my chest in a playfully serious manner.

      "What a sneak," she wagged her finger in a kindly manner and smiled.

      "My girl, escort this rascal out of my sight, let him rest," the witch said kindly, and then suddenly squeaked her voice like a cutoff." Then you will take him to the castle.

      She laughed again, and then she looked at us.

      "Come with me, killer of the cold, there's a place where you can rest," the girl beckoned me after her.

      Chapter 8: "Spear and Crossbow"

      Many hunters of the higher undead piled up near the stables, causing the land to be full of rumors. The local servants were scattered around the castle in terror and recounted the news that the stableman had a terrible illness and now the hunters, acting alone as usual, had come to kill him all together. And the local garrison officer is issuing the killers with cooled ammunition, since the young man is about to turn into a creepy monster, and that's why they need so many weapons.

      Here was another local commoner, stopping in the corridor, and wishing to impress, interrupting himself with his voice, whispered to the maid he had met another version of this unprecedented sight. The maid froze in front of him and covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her fear. I just waved away – I'd rather stay near this unfortunate man than walk around the castle listening to all this "folk art". But to be honest, there was nothing to do there while the local quartermaster went for weapons.

      Clinging to the parapet, I climbed to the roof. A light breeze filled my cloak, and then a gust blew downward, where the cook boys were whispering, peering out from under the cook's hem. She herself, too, was wary of such a cluster of hunters in one place from behind the kitchen door. One of them spotted me on the roof almost immediately and spat on the ground, complaining about the speed of the weapons.

      Castle life moved at its own rhythm. Guards were taking off and taking up their posts, servants were going somewhere. Five noblemen were chatting on the balcony about the past tournament, and in the garden walked the one for whom everything was planned. And she was really beautiful. She was tearing red roses in a lush dress and putting them into a huge bouquet. I stopped, mesmerized by this sight, and she raised her eyes to me. Her eyelashes fluttered. The girl was staring into the deep shadows, and I met her gaze. Flawless in her beauty and young years.

      The instant the earl's youngest daughter saw the monster killer, she pricked her finger on a rose thorn. Licking the snow-white skin, the heiress of Theanotus gave a quiet yelp, but when she looked for the mysterious hunter again, she no longer saw his silhouette in the shadow of one of the columns. I am sure she will long remember the massive figure propped up on the marble pillar with his shoulders, and the strange gleaming, even in the gloom, glasses. She looked for him, standing upright and lifting her flower basket. But he disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. The hunter left no trace.

      I was back in time. One of the hunters was fixing a saddle by the stalls. And the stableman was unconscious in the mud for some reason. The castle quartermaster had just finished distributing weapons. When he saw me, he handed me a bundle of forty black arrows.

      "Here, just as you ordered. Here, this one too." The officer went to the wooden side of the weapon stand near the stalls and took a spear with an iron point from it.

      I accepted the weapon and unwound it in my hand. Perfect balance, a little tilted toward the tip so I could comfortably grip it and throw it if I needed to.

      "I need a horse," I reminded the supply officer of my needs.

      "Come into the stalls and choose for yourself. The stableman has already had enough advice for today," the man assigned to us told me, checking the pulse of the young man lying in the mud.

      "And who did he advise?" I grinned.

      "This mare," the hunter pointed to the horse, who had hesitated with the saddle and was now watching me with interest.

      I walked around the wooden stalls near the stone wall of the courtyard. There were still a couple of stunted horses here. It looked like someone had taken offense at being advised against a stallion. This horse looked much better against the others. I'm not proud.

      "I'll take this mare," I pointed to the horse.

      "Take the horse," sighed the anxious quartermaster, lifting the young man carefully out of the mud. With his other hand he called several servants, who, however, keeping order, surrounded the boy on all sides.

      The hunter who had pointed her out laughed and rode out of the courtyard. Out of the shadows came a girl, unnoticed by me, the one who had been sitting in the meeting opposite. She winked at me approvingly and jumped on her horse, following the hunter. I decided that it was all foolishness and that the boy had been hurt for nothing, and then I sped up to keep up.

      The long and piercing gaze of Count Mirtel from a small elevated terrace did not escape me. Now Pheanoth might even have regretted hiring us. He hardly cared about the fate of the stable boy; rather, he wanted to see who had snuck into the enclosed garden to see his youngest daughter. And this young man's story is just another stone in our garden.

      Chapter 9: "The castle by the road"

      As I walked away, the hag put a bag of food in my bag. The water in the flask was splashing again, "Take it, my dear – you need it more," she said kindly. We broke through the forest predators, and I wielded with dexterity the new carga's spear. My companion led me to the edge of the forest.

      "We can't go any farther, there's the castle," she pointed ahead. Her bluish-black cat walked along the edge of the forest from side to side. The cat hissed and lost all patience when she saw the gray earth. Covering her nose with her paws and getting angry.

      "Good." I stepped forward, and the ash-gray dust that had engulfed the plants near the forest crumbled to ashes under my boots, as did the grass itself, devoid of life. The girl looked at me again, probably wanting to say something. But she changed her mind, then ducked down and, beckoning the panther, disappeared into the forest.

      I walked straight toward a barely discernible target, which for a moment appeared in the haze. The disease-ravaged brushwood crumbled to dust as soon as I touched it with my boot. The skulls of small animals that had been exposed to the sulfur that had forced them out of the forest crunched beneath my feet. Here, on the border, one could feel the struggle of the last guardian of the Darkwoods and the eerie gray earth pulling the life out of the entire forest.

      "Yes, this was the castle to which the waystone pointed. There, at the crossroads, I made a note to the other hunters that I was leading the work here for them to move on. But it felt like there was no one behind me. How many of us were there? Fourteen? Fifteen if you count the hunter who took part in the tournament itself? This is definitely the place the forest villagers were talking about. Nearby, near it, there must be a village, what did they call it? Sgulli… Sgugli? I don't remember." The headwind gutted the remains and ashes, and even through the mask my throat choked and I coughed. I had to cover myself additionally with the edge of my cloak. The fine particles floated like mist, so I didn't see the charred hulk of the village building right away.

      I wandered around the ashes. It was all that remained of what had once been a fairly large settlement. I saw an anvil among the ruins of one of the houses, and an unpleasant feeling came over me. With bitterness I remarked to myself, "There was even a smithy here long ago, but despite its size, the settlement still perished." My face was covered by the mask of a milchemist, so I wasn't afraid to breathe. But the air in


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