The air hummed, filled with unbearably loud thumps of blades touching. Just as deafening is the noise in the forge, when the blacksmith, with a skillful hand, lowers the hammer on the sword blank, giving it the desired shape. But there was no smithy here, the forest was noisy here, and its indignant rustle was muffled by the furious clang of steel. The blows came too often, repeatedly causing him to dodge and retreat, circle and parry attacks from five opponents at once. There was no time to be surprised that so far he had not received a single wound. Only somewhere on the edge of consciousness beat a desperate thought that this fight lasts an incredibly long time and draws out the last forces. Vic was already accustomed to his own increased speed and endurance, which increased significantly at night. But still he tried not to get involved in any alterations, surprisingly too often encountered on his way. At first he attributed it to his own bad luck. And how else to explain that
Through the night forest, he rushed at a speed on the verge of his capabilities. Hearing caught uterine howling and soft sobs, as if someone was crying, but Vic tried not to listen to these sounds. There are no innocents in the dark of night, and he didn't see himself as a hero or a savior of the defenseless. Sometimes there was a screech. Several times I had to turn around and react to the fast pace of the pursuers. The blows in motion were blurred, but each time the blade met the resistance of cut flesh and even something harder. Vic did not think about the consequences and did not look at the unlucky hunters. His sense of smell and hearing told him about them before they were within striking distance. It was reassuring that they were all animals, albeit predators, but living beings. Therefore, he dealt only one blow and ran on, his goal was to slow down, and it is desirable to scare away, no more. It was strange that there were so many attackers, never before had animals declared
The path at the top of the wall meandered in a narrow strip, fortunately, rather high teeth did not allow falling down and allowed them to run without thinking about balance. Vic had almost passed the watchtower with the narrow stairs leading into the city when a desperate cry reached his ears. The Vistolet took a few more steps, knowing perfectly well what this cry means, and, grimacing, stopped. There was a nightmare down there, in which there was no point in interfering. He hesitated a little and, grabbing the nearest prong with his hand, hung down, trying to see what was happening. If it had been anyone else, he probably wouldn't have run down the stairs, rushed down, jumping several steps at a time, choking with a panic feeling that he would not make it in time. The sword trembled slightly in the fingers, and before my eyes was the picture I saw - a bunch of bony figures swarming over the prostrate bodies of two men, the limbs of the victims stretched to the sides, broke out o
Curls of dark blond hair fell in thick strands on a deathly pale face, still distorted by a grimace of pain, as if she continued to feel everything. Her chest was barely noticeable, but Vic already knew that the woman was still alive. Heard the beating of her heart, felt the smell of her skin that tickled his nostrils with a subtle aroma, the smell of blood .... The Vistolets grimaced, trying to drive away the delusion, and realized with surprise that he had been hearing an insistent rustling whisper for some time: - Go, go, go .... He glanced around quickly, not quite understanding where he was coming from. The children who were here did not react to him in any way. The hand mechanically, as in a moment of danger, fell on the hilt of the sword. Vic paused warily, listening more to himself than to his surroundings. The feeling was too strange, the whisper dispersed attention, pushing somewhere to move, just as now thousands of weak-willed creatures were monotonously walking outside
Someone raised those old, already long-lying dead in the ground, but ordinary people, the inhabitants of this city and its environs, also become walking corpses. Vic rubbed his forehead again, then touched the wound on his arm and winced. In Reet, the one who was bitten turns into undead, but here there is no special transformation, everything happens quickly and with merciless inevitability - they die, and then immediately get up as other creatures. But the wound must still be inflicted? Vic tried to drive away this thought, for some reason right now he didn’t want to think about his own future at all, didn’t want to realize it. This is scary. Perhaps he is mistaken, perhaps the reason is different. The surrounding reality was already terrible to a nightmare, but to know that you will definitely suffer the same fate…. He carefully walked along the corridor, looked into the next room, the shutters here were covered and he just threw hooks on them. Then he returned to the front door
Strange, but during all this time he hardly remembered Vistolza. He just knew that somewhere out there - very far away there is a house. Then came the realization that the concept of his own home for him is now somewhat different. There remained the house of his parents - their families, there were relatives and relatives, but already inaccessible to him beings. Because there was Reeta - a world that would never let him go. Never? Probably, it would have to break his heart with pain, and maybe someday it will be just that. Then, when there will be time for memories, for longing for parents, for sisters, for their native places. And now there was just a nagging emptiness and the understanding that this time may not come. Never…. Half a year before the opening of the Gates, a tingling tension began to rush in the air, and not only because great forces were waking up that would open the way to another world. One night, when the departed wanderers will return and new vagabonds will go on
Everyone sat down on the benches with relief, heard the name of the third of the best - Dercon - the commander of the fifth attacking team, and almost immediately the stands roared. The second one was named - Cravius - the commander of the scouts. The one who during the previous five years turned out to be the First at the Games was named. But today he did not become the winner, which means that his eternal rival, only slightly inferior to him, Milt surpassed him. The winner was announced with some delay, Vic didn't even listen, immersed in his own thoughts. I was struck only by the silence that followed - not believing, piercing, and then the stands roared again. For some reason, they started pushing him, two teachers ran up, jerked him to his feet and again forced him to enter the arena. He looked around in confusion, saw the faces of his parents, this time not smiling, but excitedly concentrated. On shaky legs, he moved towards the judges. The name of the one who scored the
He knew that he was not sleeping, he should not have been sleeping, and yet the memories resembled exactly a dream - very bright, but ghostly, which began to disappear immediately, as soon as he returned to reality. If his parents knew what girls he had now, they would know what he himself had become - a monster. An almost dead monster. monster. But they won't know. Never. And it pleased. Vic forced himself to move, shifting his position slightly to loosen his muscles. He peered into the twilight of the room, barely dispersed by the light of almost extinguished candles. I saw that both girls were lying with their heads on their stepmother's knees. He listened to the woman's breathing - quite even and deep, without interruptions, without hoarse wheezing, which he heard when that girl began to die in the garden. I turned to Kim. The boy sat with his arms around his knees, no longer trembling, apparently managed to come to his senses. He also looked at Vic.- What's next? the doctor a