Chilled exorcist. Александр Алексеевич Алексеенко

      I reached the clearing near the settlement with only two arrows in my quiver. The forest creatures ate them like crazy. They ate the horse, too. Quite ragged and tired, covered in dirt and small cuts, I looked more like a cold than a living person, especially after running away from a nocturnal predator – a Blue Claw, a large and dangerous forest cat. Why was I running away from a stalker? The answer is simple – I don't get paid for them. And there are many like him.

      I staggered forward to the fence. From afar, the villagers noticed me and lined up on the walls with weapons. The old townsman didn't want to open the door to me at all, he didn't believe that someone could overcome the forest at night. He ordered the crossbowmen to fire a volley at me, mistaking me for a cold traveler – a common thing. But he changed his mind immediately when a black arrow struck a meter from his head.

      "It's a hunter!" The old man shrieked as if for the last time. The liquid and sparse strands of hair that knew no shearer surged in all directions, and his eyes swiveled madly. I had already gotten close enough to get a good look at his image. The silly palming had stopped. The villagers weren't firing in the opposite direction except for the accuracy of their shots, so terrible was their accuracy. One of them had managed to discharge a crossbow into his leg. So in the background, while it was not up to him, one curly-haired boy with freckles kept reloading his crossbow and shooting arrow after arrow. The headman had to come closer and give him a cautionary slap and personally confiscate the weapon.

      "Have you got fenugreek in your ears? Didn't you hear the orders?" the old man reprimanded the child.

      The chains of the gate rattled, and I covered my heart with my black-gloved hand against the dust as they thudded to the ground. More on instinct than with any benefit. That's what we were taught in the Order. "Whoever covers his face with his hand is dead! You have to cover your heart!" The dust cleared and two men in half armor stepped out cautiously toward me. I thought to myself that I had only seen such armor in Feanoth Castle with the Count's dancers, and it didn't cover anything.

      "Look, a living man!" exclaimed one of the guards. The golden-haired one even tried to poke his finger at me to make sure that he wasn't an obsession, but stopped halfway when he met my hard stare.

      "He's a creature hunter, so he's already dead…" the other man said, but he had to stop halfway through, the crossbow bolt in his forehead. I was staggering, which made the picture even more graceful.

      "Why am I dead?" I asked demandingly. "Oh! I was really very curious!"

      Very slowly, as if reluctantly, the villagers raised their crossbows a second time and pointed them at me.

      "Don't be angry, all of you who have been in the mountains, well… haven't become half-dead, that's why you cover your face," he was almost choking. He swallowed convulsively, threw a slanting glance at the comrade behind me, who waved his hands, confused. I scrutinised the sweat trickling down his forehead. He rolled his eyes out of his orbits, too. How he was shaking!

      "No, they didn't." I unbuckled the mask from my face with my free hand. The lock clicked. The mask crunched rubber and paper, revealing my face. Then I tucked the crossbow into its mount on my back and entered the settlement. If the guards wanted to search me, they seemed to have already changed their minds.

      In the meantime, the village chief had descended. He was supported by two young men. It was evident that the descent from the wall, which was mostly of fences and a mound of stones between the old walls, was no longer a feasible task for him. Once at the bottom, he leaned on a knotty but polished stick.

      "It's been a long time," he began, and squinted at me, "It's been a long time since we've seen travelers here, but I haven't seen your brother in ten years."

      "The creatures coming down from the mountains are more and more dangerous, and the neophytes of the Order are more and more often killed in fights. It takes all their strength to contain them, and almost no one survives the five years it takes to finish their service and return to the world of the living."

      "And you survived, then?" the redneck asked. "What a question to ask," I thought. Confused by the age-old wisdom, I even thought about the past. I remembered many things from my past in fragments. How I had passed the rite of passage into the guardians of the fast and how I had woken up after five years of oblivion, lying on my back in the snow.

      It was thawing then, the snow was wet, but I remembered the sky, shining with a silvery white light like a pearl. I had seen them when I was still a novice of the Order, unloading boxes in the harbor. The Order's herbalist used them to brew something. The blue light flickered between the clouds, and somewhere high up, strands of Jodkheim flowed, caressing my face. Some marvelous birds were singing, hopping from branch to branch of a pine tree. It was then that I realized that my debt to the Order was paid, that I was free.

      Realizing that he would get no answer, the Elder pursed his lips rather nastily. He looked at his companions as if he had forgotten where they were, or was looking to them for support and guidance. And then, having gathered his thoughts again, he turned to me.

      "We are pleased to welcome you to our village, mylsdar. What business brings you here?" The headman scratched his gray and sparse hair. I could see three large brown moles on his head through the thinning gray.

      "The Earl of Feanoth Castle is going to ride to Kostegrad next month, and he needs the hunters to clear the Rube Tract of particularly dangerous creatures of the cold and cold. Especially the cold ones."

      "The Rubezhny Tract?" the Elder wondered. "It runs south, right by the old castle. I remember, in the old days, there was a village called Sgulli. It was fun in those days! We had caravans and times. Not like now…"

      I bit my lip, I knew it was in the middle of nowhere. But I also knew that the locals would be quicker to bring me up to speed. I needed to understand what was troubling the village and what was dangerous in this land.

      Another boy ran down from the wall, looking like two peas in a pod like the bounty hunters behind the old man's back. I looked around. The villagers coming down from the wall were all basically the same face, like close kin. "Seems like they've been living here in isolation for years, in this very wilderness. And really, where would they go? It's the darkness around them that has made them prisoners of this wilderness." The boy handed me my black arrow wrapped in a white handkerchief.

      "Your arrow, sir," he bowed and handed me his great treasure. I thanked him and took the instrument. As soon as the boy handed over his burden, he immediately ran off somewhere and disappeared among the courtyards. I looked at the village headman talking about the rich past, the merry days, the frequent visits of the southern traders and the harsh living conditions, and decided that it was time to take the initiative. This way, we can negotiate until Jodecheim's demise.

      "These are dark times! I'm telling you," the old man, who had become hoarse from his long speech, wagged his finger.

      "Do you have any black arrows?" I interrupted the Elder.

      "We don't have black arrows, Mr. Hunter," the old man began to shake his