Chilled exorcist

"I'm grateful to you, K'Yoevghan. This is an invaluable gift." He seemed to let go a little.

"If I'd known," K'Yoevghahn said in a low growl, "that you, humans, had such a mercenary mess, I never would have come to you."

"You didn't complain much the last time we gathered gold," I grinned, remembering my recent contract.

"Gold," the dwarf said, raising his index finger, "shines brightly, but here, if it's not a trick, it's just bad smelling.... foolishness! What was the point of you binding yourself to the Order again? You should have smashed a couple of dragon eggs over their heads instead of agreeing to it. You're very wrong, buddy!"

I sighed.

"I don't understand it, absolutely not!" The dwarf waved his hands away again. "Don't ask, I'll never go with you," he turned away, waiting for something to happen, and froze. He must have been expecting me to talk him into it. In that moment, I realized how much my friend trusted me. If I insisted right now, he would go, even in spite of his premonition.

"I understand you, K'Yoevghan. I'm not asking you to, it's my personal thing, you know?" I tried to give him a hint.

"Personal, you say?" He rubbed his beard from top to bottom with his right hand. That gesture meant many things to dwarves. K'Yoevghahn shifted his eyebrows and said, "I have a wife and children in the north, and that's personal, I understand, but what you find 'personal' in the Order, I don't know," I shrugged.

"Friend, I'm not asking you to come with me this time." The words sounded as if they weren't spoken by me. So different from my usual tone. The dwarf stayed still for the first time in our long journey, then shuddered as if startled out of his thoughts. He shook his head again and nodded, "All right, have it your way, old friend," he patted my shoulder. The dwarf could only do that because I was sitting up. "When you're done with your business, come visit us in the Blue Mountains. I'll be waiting for you."

"It's a deal," I gave him my hand, and we shook hands on the verbal agreement.

"Not goodbye," the dwarf said angrily and walked away. Without turning around, K'Yoevghahn went to the door and slammed it so hard that the plaster flew off, covering the entire threshold. My heart skipped a beat. I shook my head, "How childish is that?" And after a little while, I walked out towards the playpen.

The dwarf was gone in the hallway.

There was a half-human-sized porcelain vase in a deep alcove across the hall from my room. A cart of fruits and vegetables passed me in the hallway. The peddler, not letting go of the hand luggage on wheels, nodded at his wares, offering them to me, but I shook my head negatively. Then he walked on down the mosaic laid out here.

As I went lower, I saw a dwarf blacksmith pouring some kind of liquid into a kind of furnace mechanism. The splashes flew in all directions, hitting the fire, which was eagerly embracing them, and the apron, which was already very unattractive and shabby-looking. Looking down, the dwarven smith took a pair of tongs and began to extract the small bronze plates coming out of the machine. "Lamellar armor!" I guessed. "Looks like preparations for the upcoming tournament are well underway here."

Further down the underground corridor, three girls sat at a loom. I had to go down two more floors and through the dwarf halls to reach the central hallway with festively dressed merchants and similarly dressed craftsmen. Then it would be easy to get to the inner valley from those rooms.

…

The crowd was cheering! A rare spectacle for Theanotus was about to begin. A man in brightly colored festive clothes entered the arena to a standing ovation. The people in the stands stopped whispering when they saw Herold. With a smile, he held his hands up in the air, showing everyone his inflated and worn over his wrists cloth doughnuts – dumplings. It would not have been easy for him to shout over such an excited community, so he had to show his palms in three directions before everyone gathered paid attention to him.

"The Trial of Chivalry, to select the noble and elevate them to dignity, as well as the Tournament of Recognition for the best mercenaries of the County of Feanoth and other lands, cannot be opened without the traditional battle between two mounted knights!" proclaimed the Herold, and then, gaining air, continued, "Therefore, Count Feanoth has chosen two brave and noble men to fight for the honor of the Castle of the Stag's Crest, and thus open the tournament!"

Finally, the trumpets sounded and the knight Ulrich appeared on the arena. It is he, and Ser Wimal Yaneso, who should open the honorable tournament. They are honored for their exploits. Ser Wimal Janeso, a knight from the Fortress of Ruch, who left the Lands of the Last Light to fight evil, and it should be noted that he fought very successfully. No sooner than yesterday, he identified two sectarians from the Cult of Bones right here in the capital of the county, in the castle of Feanoth, right in front of the ring. For this feat, he was awarded a medal personally from the hands of the ruler of these lands and the honor of being the first to clash his lances in today's tournament. His horse, a rare color for our lands, was as white as snow. Clad in armor, it thumped its hooves and snorted in impatience, waiting to begin. The same whitened cloth that covered the armor of the knight who sat upon it bore the mark of a blue heraldic sprout unknown to me. Sir Wimal gripped his spear tighter when he saw his opponent.

Knight Ulrich, in bright green robes, made a small circle of honor, warming up the crowd and shaking his lance, and so, a little later, took his seat. His black horse snorted and bellowed almost every time he pulled on the reins. I knew nothing of him, but the Herold, who had before announced the exploits of Wimal, spoke of Ulrich, "This honorable knight named Ulrich Stormwind, on his way to Castle Feanoth, defended the village. After single-handedly slaying at least a dozen dangerous foes on his horse, he also helped the wagon reach the settlement and provide food for the starving inhabitants! Meet the knight Ulrich of the northern frontiers! And may the noblest man win!"

I looked around at the unusual colors, "Green robes, not at all peculiar to northerners, he must be from the lake dwellers in the very east." A golden swan glittered on the fabric, a small, barely noticeable detail.

Ulrich threw up the visor, and it closed. Wymmal began to accelerate, casting a light shield over himself. The green knight responded by activating the runes on his cloak. "How interesting," I thought, "where did a mere knight get the Order cape of a guardian of the foothills?" The hoofbeats intensified. The crowd held its breath. A peal of thunder! The two riders fell out of the saddle.

Ulrich rose at once and, throwing off his crumpled helmet, bared his sword, showing that he was ready to continue the fight. But Wimal rose slowly, a splinter from a spear that had been shattered to pieces embedded under his right shoulder. With a fierce determination he also drew his sword and stood in a defensive stance, more like a swordsman than a swordsman, holding the weapon with his left hand. His right hand he preferred to throw behind his back.

The crowd roared as the knights began to circle each other. Ulrich made a lunge, but Wimal did not react to it, and then abruptly went on the attack himself. A swing to the right, a swing to the left. The knight took advantage of the fact that his opponent was holding a sluggish sword rather than a swift rapier and was able to sidestep his opponent and kick him in the back, causing him to slip forward on his knees. However, such a dangerous maneuver almost cost him his helmetless head. The crowd gasped in horror again.

Wymmal rose, intercepted his sword, and lashed out with chopping blows at his opponent. Gracefully parrying the next lunge, Ulrich crouched down and tried to reach his opponent from below, poking him in the other knight's forehead. The one from Fortress Ruch was now helmetless as well. The Herold looked at the Count to see if he had the will to stop the fight, but Theanoth shook his head, willing them to continue. Oh, and could he really stop this fight even if he wanted to? I think so, but then the tournament would not have taken place, and would have been postponed for two weeks at the very least.

"It looks like Wimal has decided to use his main arm despite his injury!" Herold shouted, and the crowd roared again. Wrinkling his nose, Ser Janeso drew his weapon with his right hand. After a couple of swings, both knights froze, stopping their blades at their opponent's neck.

"An even match!" Herold announced. The crowd erupted in cheers and turned to shouting.

Wimmal Janeso extended his hand to the green knight, and the latter shook it firmly with his gauntlet.

Count Theanotus rose and, raising his hands, called for silence.

"I admire the skill and nobility of the brave knights of the first contest of the tournament! At this solemn conclusion of the duel, I consider the Tournament of Order Trials open!"

Chapter 5: "Laughing Sister"

My breath hitched as I stumbled over the roots. My side stung mercilessly. Through the forest, deeper and deeper into the thicket. I ran for my life. An owl bear was on my trail. Goosebumps of foreboding ran down my back, and I jumped back sharply. Just in time! The mythical beast tried to make a dash, to knock me off my feet, but blue-green lightning flew forward, breaking the shrubbery and low branches. Changing direction, I found myself on a natural stone bridge over the dried-up bed of a deep stream. I turned and plunged into a small ravine, nearly breaking both my legs on the small rocks. I couldn't confuse him; he was already here. His pecking sounded from above, "Click, click, click, click." He lagged behind only a little and ran after me along the steep bank, still hesitant to jump down.

I screamed because I had stepped on a sharp rock with my heel, but I didn't even think of slowing down. For some reason I remembered the Order's conspiracy. The belief was that it was supposed to help before a hard fight. I didn't want to fight an owl bear, but I had to cheer myself up somehow.

"Where darkness does not enter the heart,

Where the dwelling of the brave stands.

I am the blade that fights darkness,

The protector of men who adds to the days,

A new dawn will come – yes."

The creek bed ended in a full-flowing river. I stood on the bank, gathering my courage to step into the rapid. To the right and to the left there was a thicket of brush like nothing I had ever seen, except in this forgotten wilderness. A pecking sounded right behind me, and I turned around. The owl bear was slowly approaching. He saw that there was nowhere else to run-the river blocked my path. His beak snapped, his eyes burning with the fire of rage. I turned away, not wanting to look at him.

Securing my crossbow behind my back and stowing my lantern in my bag, I jumped into the river. The swift current swept over me. I was immediately swollen. My feet hit something. Miraculously avoiding the rocky rapids that made the water gush over them, I heard a growing noise.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh," the water murmured. Fish were jumping out of the water, spreading their wings.

"Oooooh, asshole righteous follower of Yodckeim," I bellowed, almost in tune with the raging water, getting hit in the face with a fish tail.

A few moments later I felt weightless over the abyss. My hands tried desperately to grab onto something. The waterfall was soaring, and I couldn't see where I was falling. I barely thought to brace myself-the impact of the water knocked the breath out of me. A splash of blood tasted.

Consciousness faded like a candle that had previously illuminated the world around me and was extinguished by a sudden gust of wind.

…

The huge blue-haired cat dragged its prey out of the river like a kitten and threw it on the steep bank, unable to retrieve it entirely from the water. The cat growled, sniffed its face. The predator's vibrissae twitched. She looked at the man again and abruptly, with two paws, stood on his chest.

Consciousness returned to me, but I couldn't breathe. I was twisted and bent and started coughing. Every time I tried to frantically inhale, I collapsed again, expelling the remnants of water from my lungs. It seemed like this hoarse coughing would never end.

Finally, I was able to catch my breath and looked around. There was a beautiful girl next to me with no clothes on. I froze in surprise. She was sitting right in front of me with her hands on my chest. When she saw that I came to my senses, she smiled. I even stopped coughing, "Am I dead or still alive? Who is it then?" An unusual feeling of euphoria spread throughout my body.

"Shade, stop it, there's no need to try to eat him. He's our guest," a woman's voice came from behind me. I couldn't turn around and look back, staring ahead mesmerized. The next moment, when I blinked, the obsession stopped. In front of me was a huge predator – a cat. It was blue-boned. Her soft paw pads rested on my chest, and her released claws left marks on my cloak. With a growl, the beast gracefully retracted its daggers into its pads, stood up, and walked to where the order had come from.

A demanding female voice sounded, "Are you going to sit like that, hunter?"