ã€ŠMaginariumã€‹


 Foreword

    This story is 97.9% humour, 0.5% heart, 1.5% drama and 0.1% romance (in the author''s humble opinion). The style is quite light, except for a few moments. The series is inspired by various fantasy novels, including The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan, Discworld by Terry Pratchett, One Piece by Eiichiro Oda, Cosmere by Brendon Sanderson, and many others. The story is full of references to classic and modern fantasy, as well as common fantasy tropes. I also included a central theme (just in case) that runs throughout the story. I wanted to write which of these authors metaphorically wrote the recipe, who prepared it and who stood by and rushed everyone, but it would read as if I thought my work was on their level, which is not the case. The setting of the Faltess world is a cross between the worlds of Fallout and The Elder Scrolls (FallTES).

    I tried to deconstruct the monomyth, but I think I succumbed to the power of tradition in some places, and Gloomeye became one of the faces of the thousand-faced hero, albeit with a touch of irony.

    <hr>

    I decided to start writing books, and the easiest way I could think of was to write them and put them out there for everyone to see, so that I could get feedback that would help me adjust my writing and thus improve my writing skills. The only possible downside is a lot of non-constructive criticism, which demotivates me to stop writing. But the alternative is to spend 10 years writing for the desk drawer, and that would be much longer, and the only feedback would be my own biased one. Not to mention my ever-increasing paranoia that if I do anything long and alone, something will happen to it or to me, and all the work will be lost.

    I have no experience of writing books, I have not studied any courses or lessons, only reading experience. To learn something, I do practice and then theory with ready-made empirical data and questions. Just by reading a lot of theory, I forget the beginning by the end of the reading. It sounds technical, but what is writing if not engineering meaning with words?This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    I can point out two main disadvantages of Maginarium (it''s strange to talk about disadvantages in the preface? Perhaps it is selfish, because my aim is to improve my skills, not to sell the product (but the soul is bleeded in the text, I can guarantee that)). The first is the pace of the story, which is fast. Normal writers write descriptions of the weather, places, backstories of everything, speculations, and fill scenes with details. I do all that too, but more to visualise what is happening in the reader''s head.

    The second is prose. It is neither poetic nor ornate (although prose does not have to be poetic, it is defined as non-poetry). My style is not the most serious, but I would like to have a good style. I think this can only be solved by experience.

    Another problem is grammar. This is a translation of my book. Although I''ve tried to lick every sentence, I can''t rule out my mistakes and unsmooth flow of text. Fortunately, possible grammatical errors are easier to correct than anything else (it''s easier to add a comma than to rewrite the character arc of the main plot). I did what I could, come what may.

    <hr>

    Soundtrack - https://audiomack.com/tonalarchitect3000/album/maginarium

    The album generated with Suno and Udio. If I only have one chance of your attention, I choose Boiriann and Splinter. And then, if attention is retained - Gloomeye+Splinter. Yes, you can tell who my favorite character is. The eclectic nature of the story naturally shaped the music. Some tracks are meant for reading, while others simply capture the atmosphere of key moments.

 Prologue

    That day remains shrouded in uncertainty. We don''t even know if it was a day, a week or a month, because at that time, the time was severely compromised. The sky seemed to go wild: according to various testimonies, it showed different sights. This was followed by a similar erratic aberration in the natural world, with the earth, water, air, plants and animals went mad. Then humanity and other races came very close to the brink of their extinction.

    All we know is that magic is to blame.¡±The Great Chronicle of the World by the Chronicler of the Third Cave"

    "Meat!" a woman in stone dust jumped into a crowd and started a deformation.

    A dark-skinned woman proudly entered the newly created wall passageway (though her proud image suffered from the fact that she had to push and grab other passers-by through the new door to be the first).

    The hall had once been a menagerie or a prison. In addition to the usual unusual devices that were found on every floor of the tower, there were shelves of transparent cages reaching up to the ceiling, containing the skeletons of unknown creatures, with insanely long fingers and elongated skulls, with many small heads, or with a huge skull with one eye socket and powerful tusks, and many others. There were also empty cages with objects such as books or chairs. Perhaps these were also exhibits or the strangest forgotten prisoners. Or maybe shelves of junk are shelves of junk.

    "Mad thing! I told you to follow me!" the second woman said angrily, but suddenly her attention was drawn to a gold mask with a crown, studded with jewels, with gold chains and a lock on the back. After ordering the transparent material of the cage to drain away, the domineering woman took the item she liked and put it on. All the locks and clasps of the golden mask snapped shut in an instant.

    A smartly dressed man, looking like a wet crow but behaving like a small rodent (probably spreading the plague), entered the room after the now golden-faced woman.

    "The previous one was better," the man spat disapprovingly on the floor. Looking around the room, he became interested in the skeleton of the creature that was trying to claw its way to freedom. Entropy resistance, what could be more fun?

    "What do you care, slayer? You should rejoice in her intoxication with power, for you are connected,¡± the next man looked like a square colossus, filled with a lot of extra blood and that blood now trying to break free. The contents of the cages didn''t interest him, and he angrily knocked off a someone''s former part that had reached him. "Or do you feel sorry for the filth?"

    "Revenge!¡± the boy who had entered shouted at the evil man, his eyes glaring from under his eyebrows. He didn''t belong here. The boy glanced quickly at the broken silver scales, the empty bowl of which outweighed the pile of gold bars on the opposite bowl.

    The colossus was about to reply when the killer''s laughter rang out. There was no joy or vitality in the laugh, as if she had found it inside her and began to squeeze it out painfully so that it would die. The deformation is complete.

    She spread her arms, red to the elbows, and exposing her face to the rain of blood that fell upon her as she began to spin in place. Her iron breastplate was torn and sagging, revealing two scars that belied her femininity.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!"Come on!" the second woman peered impatiently up the next huge spiral staircase. They continued their ascent, arguing and insulting each other incessantly, only the boy scowled silently, leading the bloody woman by his hand. The relief (or time-worn bas-relief) of the tower inextricably enveloped the entire architecture: from the floor to the stairs, from the columns to the ceiling. What it depicted was already impossible to understand, except that sometimes strange faces broke through the smooth surface of the polished stone patterns.

    "I hate to interrupt you bastards, but did someone order dragon meat?" the second man walked over to a jagged hole in the outer wall and spat into it. In this unplanned window, many black dots swarmed against a scarlet sunset. "And hold the fool, or she''ll jump down to them."

    "Not-entirely-finished guardsmen. This is their last spurt of desperation. Shall we give them a decent fight so that the song will be beautiful?" the woman who claimed to be the leader asked pompously, but in the end she couldn''t help laughing. "Into the Abyss them! Ha-ha! Drag the outsider, so he won''t be carried in vain!"

    The man with the blood pressure took a bag from his shoulder and pulled out a battered man wearing a closed iron helmet. He dragged him roughly across the floor and placed the unfortunate man against the opening, grabbed a handy handle on the back of the helmet and used a lever on it to raise a visor. The outsider blinked in confusion as he adjusted to the light. He didn''t look like anyone else present. He didn''t belong here.

    The dragon armada was rapidly approaching, and the riders on scaly necks could already be seen. The captive finally focused his vision and saw them. And the madness began. The closest dragons suddenly began to fall, as if pinned to the ground by invisible giant hands. One had its massive belly ripped open and began to fall as a lump of flesh, black smoke billowing from its mouth. The chests and necks of the other dragons also began to explode. Proud, powerful creatures were being destroyed by an unseen force, like an evil child destroying insects. Seeing this, the outsider struggled and babbled in his own language.

    "What scum you are, you little bastard," the man holding him said with a laugh. "Even we''re not such violent abominations. And we are very violent abominations.¡±

    The prisoner fell silent, repeating one word, clinging to it like a drowning man to anything, and some of the dragons were able to straighten their falls and retreat into the sunset.

    "Broken," colossus said in frustration, sending the outsider through the opening after the dragons.

    They were about to go further up when they noticed a new woman. Her entire face was smashed, shattered and broken, as if she had fought a brutal opponent hand-to-hand and lost. But she was standing there, so what did the person who did this damage look like?

    "Here you are... Main actors..." the woman barely moved her broken jaw. She weakly raised her hand with the glowing object, and then the real madness began.

 Chapter 1

    Village at the Edge of the World

    Bye, losers and wimps! Thanks for the money and have a nice weekend! - Tip. - The note to the losers and wimps.

    "Cursed tri-curse! It were elf! Swear by Babyboy!" Mom exclaimed, pulling the baby out of his breast carrier and tossing him in the palm.

    Mom is former Mountain, a big man in length and width. Some might call him fat, but first of all, there are iron mines hidden under his slopes, and secondly, don''t! What if he finds out, what then? Got an escape plan, daredemon? Some settlers continue to call him Mountain, but that won''t last long, given that he constantly carries a baby. Characterizing names should characterize, at least in this community.

    "That''s enough, Mo... Mom," asked to stop Firster, the village guard (and you can only ask Mom politely).

    "What''s enough?" don¡¯t get it Mom.

    "Everything you do," Firster began, leaning on his spear (or rather a sharpened stick, but he called it a spear), "stop playing with the child, stop swearing at..." The gatekeeper looked at Gloomeye, trying to gauge his age. "...young people. And you don''t need to make up stories. Storyteller also said that after the Break there were no more elves, dragons, cows or other mythical creatures.

    Firster himself was pre-Break, but lived in the Old World in an unconscious age.

    "That there they''re gone is their problem, and ay''ve saw one!" Mom shoved the laughing baby back. "At the edge of the Pinching Forest. Elf''s so white, ears are sharp. Gloomeye, why don''t ya say something? Judge who is a-lyin'' here, ayn'' who has darn good eyesight here, ayn'' ken be trusted. You''re Wolves'' son, after all."

    "How does being the son of Wolves affect anything?" Gloomeye, who had stopped to listen and scratched Meat under his chin, caught himself and continued on his way out of the village. "Actually, we have to go, because Titus is already looking in our direction. So this will be a good way.

    "But Wolves...¡± said the guard to the retreating humans and a boarler, but they had already passed the village gate and didn''t listen.

    Gloomeye has two jobs: to keep an eye on a boarder called Meat and to keep an eye on the neighbour''s boy Giggler. In fact, he has one job: to keep an eye on two mischief-makers.

    The shepherd led his flock from the village to a new pasture. The village (small, with 27 human heads and 1 boarler) was called Worldedge because it was at the Edge of the World. At the very least, there wasn''t anyone far-sighted enough to see the other side or the bottom of the nearest chasm. Storyteller had assumed that they did exist, and that the Edge of the World was just a very large scar, but the village didn''t stand on ceremony with names - they were created by their essence, not by assumptions.

    The weather was excellent (it was summer, after all): there were no clouds in the slightly greenish sky, the air seemed to stand still, not doing anything silly to living things. Only the cacophony of alms in the distance disturbed the idyll. Dayorb was doing its job, illuminating everything beneath it. Its arcs were visible and almost straight, which meant they were not obscured by the lunar debris. Titus looked straight at the group. He was a giant (a titan, even) who had sat near the distant mountains for many winters, towering over them and perceived as part of the landscape.

    "Mom couldn''t have seen an elf, I''m telling you," Giggler said, leaping over the earthen curves and dodging footgrabs, tenacious shrubs. "Pa says that everything inhuman didn''t disappear after the Break, but just became different. And the changed elves are orcs. Like spriggans for fairies. So it was a ghost, I''m telling you."

    Giggler is Storyteller''s adopted son, so he knows what he''s talking about. Or rather, he knows what to say and how to say it. But knowing and doing are two different things. If he only said what he was sure of, he would have stopped talking a few years ago. Gloomeye was unable to imagine him being silent for a long time. Or sad, if to give a full description of the boy.

    Giggler is blond, with the tip of his nose pointing upwards. He is the only one apart from the boarler who can walk, but still needs the supervision of his elders.

    "Maybe," Gloomy didn''t argue with the childish fantasy. He walked calmly, occasionally pointing Meat the way. "But Mom''s dustbag exploded recently, and its spores make you see things that aren''t there."

    "So, on the adventure side..." Giggler immediately changed the subject. "You have to have a princess, can''t have an adventure without her, I''m telling you."

    "Yes, girls who don''t beat you up if you win a burping contest against them must be beautiful," Gloomeye thought of Crushy as one of the princesses in Giggler''s father''s stories and snorted at his own fantasy. Though he wasn''t sure if the kingdoms still existed. He could hardly imagine a hierarchy more complex than ''leader - subordinate''.

    "Let her be a villainess. Pa says that cheating expectations is what makes a good story, I''ll tell you that," Giggler climbed another frozen in time earth wave.

    "Your pa said a lot of things," Gloomeye pulled the boarler away from something wriggling out of the ground. "And that you should always keep your hero''s face in the mud."

    "That''s so these heroes don''t get too proud. And then they get up, wipe themselves, and give everyone a hard time. So that their inevitable triumph will be all the more triumphant, I tell you," the Giggler assured his friend.

    Walking to the newly formed scar, the shepherd looked expectantly at the others.

    "Are we going there again? We were told to stay away from big scars," Giggler removed the smile from his face. A rare sight.

    "Your father used to say that by defying authority we forge our own identities," Gloomy said. It was his turn to reassure Giggler.

    "And your ma made him climb a middleshroom after that. He didn''t manage to forge an identity that time," Giggler said, still following Gloomeye, and lifting the corners of his mouth again.

    They went under the ground, which had recently been swollen by a new scar, and opened the way to a new pasture. It wasn''t difficult, if a boarler could get through here, then anyone could (even Mom). The only challenge was the unbelievable stench coming from the ground, along with little bubbles flying in the air. It was not a very exciting mystery what was going on underground.

    The boarler didn''t want to walk on soft ground, so the guy had to push him. Meat moved heavily, he had already grown rounded sides filled with juicy meat, and more than the villagers wanted to throw them off. Then he would be able to frolic as before, lean and contented, and the village would have a feast.

    When Meat came to a meadow of harmless plants and ancient ruins, he began to hunt for underground myceliums, and Giggler looked for flexible stems to make a wreath. One job, really. Wreaths were not a man''s business, Gloomeye thought, but he walked the boy, not raised him.

    It was the ruins that attracted Gloomy here. They were made of grey stone with gold, blue and red inlays, already broken and shattered to understand the idea of the builders. They formed a sort of circle around a small hill. In the centre was a massive pillar, covered with obscure signs.

    The style of architecture was unfamiliar to Gloomy, but that didn''t mean anything as he only saw the architecture of his village, if you could call it that (but there definitely shouldn''t be any architects around). The ruins were elegant, long, but broken by time or enemies.

    Gloomeye found his familiar archway and lay down on the ground, resting his head in the opening. Unlike the wasteland surrounding the village, with its bare, twisted earth, there was grass growing, soft and non-aggressive, looking like blue hands held up in the air.

    The arch was no different from the rest of the ruins: it was also tilted out of the ground and covered in eyemoss, except...

    "Hiya," the arch intruded in Gloomy''s thoughts.

    "Hey. I questioned Storyteller as you requested, but I didn''t learn anything new. There was the world, then CRACK! It''s broken. Everything''s changed, sort of. I didn''t catch the Old World to judge. Did you remember anything?" Gloomeye thought back.

    "I am the Passageway. My memory is not like yours, organics: constantly sparkling soup in a meat plate. If I don''t remember something, then I can''t remember it by accident, like you, if your brain soup ingredient gets into a new place and position. I have even simplified this for you, there is also a lightning bolt that has to constantly strike the plate. I don''t remember the Old World either.¡±

    "The passageways usually lead somewhere. And you''re in the middle of the ruins. I''d understand if you were on the edge of these ruins, or if there were ruins of corridors all around you," Gloomeye remarked cautiously.

    "And your bone pot is cooking. It really cooks, I guarantee it. I seem to be able to read the cognitive functions of organics. Hmm, I can find old information about myself... So, I can also be wrong, like some organic? How embarrassing."

    "Cogtive what?" the guy even before only understood a third of what the arch was thinking, but ''cogtive functions'' is too much. Everything has a limit, especially sets of sounds. Mental sets of sounds.

    "Cognitive," the arch corrected him. "The words in your head. ¡®I want to eat¡¯, ¡®my imperfect organic matter requires constant attention¡¯, ¡®I need to find a mate¡¯ ¨C that sort of organic stuff. You know better than I do, I''m sure."

    Gloomy didn''t know what a ¡®mate¡¯ was, but he guessed intuitively and was a little angry. And "organic" sounded kind of condescending. ¡®Oh, these organics, but what else could you expect from these organics? You''re an organic, ha-ha-ha!¡¯ Gloomeye is usually more calm and thoughtful. He often asks himself if he needs the current emotion, and often the answer is ¡°no¡±, but he wasn''t ready for insults, not even from a living being, but from a piece of old rubbish.

    "And why would a door read minds?" the guy asked, just to call the archway a door. He had never seen a door, only heard of them in stories, but it must be humiliating for anyone to call them anything other than what they are. Isn''t that how insults work?

    "If... if there are no thoughts... then I need to raise the alarm," the arch thought, surprised that it was coming back to it. It ignored the door insult. "You''re all right. All sorts of thoughts are swarming in your meat top. So much energy of your body is wasted, you could have come to this Crushy long ago..."

    "Hey! I didn''t let you into my head to read my thoughts!" Gloomeye angrily adjusted a wreath that Giggler had put on him some time ago.

    "But what else is there to do?"

    "Smoke. They''re cooking without us, Gloomy!" Giggler furiously shook his guardian awake.

    "Calm down, Giggle. Meat is with us, what can they cook there? Besides, the smoke is black, clearly the cooking is spoiled. Hmm, you know what? Let''s go and see what''s causing so much smoke in our home..."

    "Hey, find out more about el..." the arch didn''t have time to think, as its interlocutor pulled his head out from under her.

    What is it, if not cooking? Fire? And why does the arch want to know about "el"? What is it anyway? Indeed, his thoughts were like swarmers. They walked home much faster, not being distracted by talking and jumping on bumps. Even Meat was in a hurry, as if he could sense the mood of the humans.

    At the entrance, they were met by Earlier, who had replaced Firster, his twin. The troubled guard sat on the ground, covering his injured arm:

    "These sons of witches have come to the village. If I were you, I would..."

    Gloomeye left his wards with him and walked briskly towards the source of the smoke. The mushroom storage was on fire, and eight new people were arguing with Merchant. The crowd looked like a dirty rabble who chose their leader by the amount of dirt on their body. Their chieftain, a dirty-faced man with thinning hair matted with sweat, was shouting something.

    Suddenly, the three outsiders standing beside him drew their weapons and began to wave them violently in the air. A broken wooden dagger fell to the ground next to them.

    "That''s our phrase," Wolves said, pulling another dagger from under his shirt. "''Values or life'' was what my great-grandfather used to say when he robbed your great-grandmothers."

    The villagers, who had gone to get their weapons, began to gather around him.

    "It looks like we''re no longer farmers," Wolves looked at the burning storage, "but a bandit clan again," he had unkempt black hair and a week''s growth of stubble. He looked formidable at the moment.

    Gloomeye took out his sling and was taking aim at the invader leader when his fighting arm was intercepted by Mom.

    "Your first should be special," Mom looked at Babyboy fondly. "Leave the killing to the grown-ups.¡±

    He really is Mom. Gloomy lowered his weapon.

    During the battle, arcs of light emerged from the mud-faced chief''s hand and pierced the heads of his men, causing their eyes to glow red.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.The invaders stood in a group, fending off all attacks, and each could fend off an attack directed at another. One of them, without looking, threw back his sword and parried a blow directed to his companion, who evaded both blows with his torso.

    "Magic! Magic!" shouted Shroomer, who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown after the destruction of the entire harvest.

    "Everyone can see it! Stop swearing!" Wolves shouted at him.

    The villagers surrounded the enemies and, though outnumbered, attacked hesitantly, not really knowing what to do. The invaders had real, rusty, and therefore even more dangerous weapons, and the villagers had wooden, planed "doohickey", as Mom put it.

    The only ones who really tried were Northman and Divider, but even they couldn''t hurt anyone. And those with slings and spear throwers had already spent their supply of projectiles on useless attacks. Merchant spun her stone on a rope, but as this rope was pre-Break, it snapped with her words "Witch''s crap!", hurling the stone at the enemies, who dodged in unison. It would be fun to watch if the groups weren''t fighting to the death. Once the attackers have recovered from the unexpected resistance, they will easily slaughter the entire village.

    Despite the advice, Gloomy put a stone in his sling and was about to hit the dirty wizard when there was a terrible roar and the boarler appeared. The enemies began to reorganise, but they didn''t seem to know much about boarlers.

    Meat turned sideways as he moved, separating his meat mass from his body, which flew by inertia into the invaders. Even with supernatural reflexes, you can''t dodge if there''s nowhere to dodge. Almost all of them crumpled. Only the puppeteer was lucky enough to duck into the place where the fleshy shaft had jumped over. But the side decided not to stop there and rolled on, destroying few aboveground buildings and collapsing village''s underground dugouts.

    Boarlers are huge alms, usually brown with white spots, taller than any human, regardless of which side they are placed on the ground. They gain weight on meat stalks on the sides of the carcass, digging out and eating middle- and megamyceliums. They need this body mass for protection during the Wild Hunt season. Then the meat is separated out as payment to the people who take care of the boarler, and the alms are straightened out. Their necks become very long, as do their legs, and they can reach the caps of megashrooms.

    Worldedge''s boarler, Meat, who had saved the village from starvation for many winters, and also just saved it now. They used him to dig up canals and dugouts. He found megamyceliums and helped collect megamushroom caps. Meat was also the only way to get into the general cache on the smooth rock.

    Now the boarler stood with his chest exposed for his attack, and which was speared by Earlier. The guard¡¯s eyes glowed, and an arc radiated from his head to the mage''s hand. Meat staggered and fell on his unbroken side. Gloomy walked slowly over to him. He didn''t see Earlier''s eyes stop glowing, and he looked around in a daze. And who had stopped the mage. And that the whole village was watching him in silence.

    Gloomeye wasn''t used to expressing emotion, let alone screaming. He just sat on his knees and watched his friend die. Such a human eye followed its shepherd until stop being alive.

    Wolves walked over to his son and squeezed his shoulder. He said nothing, and after standing there for a while, he went back to his business. He had a lot of it.

    "Is everyone else safe?" he shouted.

    "My arm is wounded," "I''ll have a new scar," "I''m all right!" a discordant chorus of voices answered him.

    "And why did I ask? We don''t have a healer," Wolves rubbed his neck in exasperation. "Then wrap the wounds in rags. And divide the meat, we must eat as much as possible before it goes bad. Separate the meat of the boarler from that of the attackers, don''t you guess?

    "My husband. We''ve lost everything," Merchant approached him. She wore her brown hair in a ponytail at the back of her head, her temples shaved and covered with small braids. An indelible painted pattern encircled her right arms, slightly visiting her torso. Gloomeye had asked her once what it was, but he hadn''t understood the explanation or the purpose.

    "It''s not much," Wolves said jokingly.

    "The words of a true leader," Merchant did not appreciate the joke.

    Wolves looked at his wife grimly. Now it was his turn not to appreciate the joke:

    "We don''t have a leader. After that incident."

    "Ah, if crowns had been given for stubbornness, you''d be an emperor by now. You and all the men of the world. But the false gods saved us from that," Merchant wrapped her arms around herself and began to sway. "But who am I to argue?" Just a damsel in distress at the hands of brazen brigands.

    The words made Gloomeye''s father''s face fall and his eyes bulge. When his wife began to remember that she didn''t belong to a gang, but to the merchant''s family that the same gang had tried to rob during the Break, it meant that the matter was serious.

    Everyone began to disperse, assessing the damage to the village. And there was something to assess: the entire mushroom crop that had just been harvested was burned to the ground, the only source of meat and access to the cache was dead, and almost all the buildings had been razed to the ground, both above and below ground. No one wanted to search the attackers, they didn''t look very nice, and they were touched by magic. Their weapons and trinkets were taken from them, but they didn''t have anything particularly valuable. Apart from the ring with the symbols on the mage''s hand, but no one wanted to touch that piece of jewellery (for obvious reasons).

    Storyteller came to the rescue. He always wanted to look mystical, but that was hard to do in Worldedge, where clothes were made from wild plants and alm skins. So he took it out on his grey hair. Giggler''s father was still searching for his own style, so half of his beard was down and the other half was twisted into intricate plaits that intertwined with the hair on his head.

    He examined the ring carefully, moving the dead man''s hand:

    "No, I don''t understand. I don''t understand any language. I''m Storyteller, not Reader. And even less Writer, I tell you.

    "Ugh!" Wolves spat in frustration.

    "Maybe it''s not him, but this ring has that power," Storyteller was superstitious and did not like to use words from the word ''magic''. This made his stories about the pre-Break world even more confusing. He also decided that since his clan was now peasants and not bandits, he shouldn''t swear. But it seems that from this day on he will have to.

    "We need to get rid of this stuff," Gloomeye''s father said, taking a few steps back.

    "I''m ready!" Gloomy volunteered, coming up to them unnoticed. "I still need a distraction, preferably somewhere other than here."

    Wolves carefully tore off the ring with a stick and wrapped it in several layers of the attackers'' clothing. Then he gave this lump of evil to his son. Gloomeye carried the magic ring to the Edge of the World. It wasn''t a very long walk across the waste-ground.

    Gloomy got his name because as a shepherd he had a lot of time to think, and his face reflected that. So now he was training his forehead muscles again. The ability to discard emotions was very useful for him, but the current emotion was not so easy to discard, and Gloomy knew less how to suppress emotions, and he did not want to suppress anything. It''s better to let go. "Live and let others live," Storyteller''s hero had once said, and Gloomeye remembered.

    The Edge of the World had the power to attract people, so, with a few respectful steps, Gloomy threw the ring into the abyss. He stared into the misty void for a moment, until he thought it was looking back at him, then turned and walked back.

    He returned in the evening. The villagers sat around the campfire and ate the cooked meat. Storyteller seemed to begin to tell a story about a knight and a princess, but was interrupted by Mom:

    "You a-talkin'' ''bout your rich folk again. They''ll all die in the end, jus'' like they always do, huh? We can''t chew Meat as it is, ayn'' here''s y''all with y''all''s deaths."

    "Are you suggesting that I add happy endings to my stories? What exactly is that, I don''t understand! They live happily ever after?" Storyteller was outraged. "Where did you see that? I''m telling you, Mommy!"

    "Ay suggest y''all shut up. If ya still can''t live without y''all''s made-up fantasies, then tell yourself when no one is aroun''," Mom replied in his manner.

    Seeing his son, Wolves nodded and stood up, interrupting the heated argument:

    "The chief should do it, but we don''t have one, so I''ll do it." He looked around at the villagers, who watched him in silence and made no objections. "You have all seen what happened today. Nothing glorious or good. And then it will only get worse. I understand if you want to leave, but I won''t let you. Now, in these bad times, we need everyone especially badly. Let''s cry, let''s howl, let''s feel sorry for ourselves, you can even lie down on the ground, sprinkle ashes on your head, just wait for the fire to burn out. I''ll give you tonight. But after that, get up, wipe away your tears and snots, and don''t let me hear any more complaints from you about today. We need strong people to start again. We will learn from our mistakes and restore Worldedge, even better than before. Here''s I''ve said it all." Wolves sat down beside Gloomeye. "How was my inspiring speech? Not too much..."

    "Very chief-like," his son took a piece of his friend.

    "You know, Gloomy, jokes aren''t like wine, they don''t get any better with time. They''re like this... this..." his father stared at his potsherd, which was filled with the extract of the milkmilk plant that Babyboy adored and everyone else hated.

    "What is wine?" Gloomy rubbed a taste crystal on his food.

    Wolves looked sadly at his son with a look "I created a life in a cursed world":

    "Drink from stale fruits. Certainly not mushrooms," he decided to change the dreadful subject. "You know your mother is old-fashioned, and she wants me to talk to you about death. In my opinion, you will come to everything on your own, of course, like everyone else.

    Gloomeye looked down at the dripping meat in his hands:

    "I''ve eaten his meat before, and I''m not doing anything different now. But for some reason, it doesn''t feel right."

    "This is what he wanted, to give us food in exchange for care, mostly yours. It is a contract. Like with plants. There used to be apple trees and wheat and flowers. They also paid us with food for our care. To us and to the bees. And they, in turn, paid us in honey. Which, by the way, could also ferment. This is what I call the harmony of the world!"

    "Thank you," the mood of Gloomy improved. Either from his father''s words, or from the atmosphere around him. Many began to shout something that sounded like a song in which an ancestor was called, and then always added "... dance with us now". Everyone (apparently) in all the families loved to dance and have fun.

    "Oh, so can we talk about women as well? Speaking of bees and flowers..." suggested the father, elated with his success, but his son choked on the food.

    With Wolves gone, Gloomeye was approached by Earlier, who held out a woodcarving that fit into his fist. It depicted an alm standing on all fours with a long snout. Very similar to the body part of the local alms. Looking closer, Gloomy noticed that the alm, like a normal alm, was made up of parts of her own kind: snouts, paws and tails.

    "It''s a wolf, or rather, wolves, or rather, my artistic vision," Earlier said. "This is what some amalgams looked like before the Break. But I was still a child then, and my memories are not very reliable. Wolves are pack animals, and your father was named after them.¡±

    "Apology is accepted," Gloomy turned the figurine around in his hands. "I didn''t think it was your fault, though. But the Planer can accuse you of trying to steal his name. And Mom could accuse you of planing something like that instead of guarding the gate.¡±

    Earlier grabbed Gloomeye''s hand, squeezed his gift into it, and whispered desperately:

    "It''s all magic. I didn''t want to do it, but I did. Why did people put up with this for so long? They should have hunted down the mages as soon as they knew who they were dealing with. We wouldn''t even have had the Break. Do you think these people," he glanced nervously at the place where the corpses had been dumped. "They didn''t want to either, but they were under control?"

    Then Giggler would come to him and entertain him with riddles. The riddles were simple, just descriptions of the surrounding objects and the question "What am I?", but Gloomeye was pleased with them. Then Merchant came to check on him and bring him more food. Then Storyteller still began a story, this time about an immortal man who drank the blood of humans and wanted to extinguish Dayorb, but accidentally helped others on his way. Gloomeye didn''t hear the end of the story, because he fell asleep smiling, thinking that the day wasn''t all that bad.

 Chapter 2

    Bad Day

    We need to get together and punish all these  *** magicians for *** our world! To a large organization! *** organization! *** *** ***! Come on, come on, we need some weapons, armor, hierarchy, slogans and other ***. Hey, you *** parchment scratcher, what are you scribb ¨C The transcript of the speech of Irrazard the Tongue-Tied, the first Mourneer.

    When Gloomeye awoke, he thought he had woken up in another dream. He saw a giant as big as a megashroom. He wore a loose black tunic and a black cloth that hung from his forehead band and covered his face. On the cloth were painted red closed eyes, from which the red drops flowed out.

    The wind ruffled this strip of cloth, revealing the fleshy face of a giant behind it. Over the giant''s shoulder was a rope from which hung huge cages covered with black cloth. The wind also revealed that there were people in them.

    The worst part was the bald spot on the top of the giant''s head. It made this monster not a dream, but a real creature of flesh and hair.

    Looking around, Gloomy realized that the entire village was packed with guests. They were all wearing "weeping" veils and either black robes, or tight black waistcoats with hanging half-skirts with (of course) black trousers. It looked like the giant was supposed to wear this uniform too, but there wasn''t enough fabric. Some had iron weapons strapped to their backs or belts, others carried coiled ropes, backpacks, or nothing visible at all.

    What also gave hope for the unreality of what was happening was that the guests were of strange proportions: some were very wide, some were too tall, and one of them had fur sticking out from under his clothes. There were also small alms standing on four legs, and creatures similar to them, but larger and with longer necks. Unfortunately (or fortunately, on the contrary), Gloomeye could not see them, they were in the distance.

    The villagers were at a loss and only whispered to each other. The guests were clearly uninvited, they ignored the fence and the gate, not great, of course, but understandable in their purpose. Gloomy heard the word "Mourneers" from Beard. Ma... that-figthers? My father was right when he said it would get worse, so worse?

    But it took so long to wait for something to happen that Gloomy accepted the reality of what was happening. Eventually, a man came out, also wearing a loose robe, but with three curved metal prongs on his circlet, as if they had been sculpted by hands out of clay. The three-pronged man was tall, thin (even skinny) and limping.

    "Ummmm. I see you''ve been running through walls to prepare for our arrival," said chief Mourneer in a young and uncertain voice.

    He nodded at yesterday''s attackers, who were piled up in the distance. A gust of wind showed that his lips were broke into a smile, which immediately twisted in anger at his stupid joke. Silently, his lips said something like ''demon''.

    Wolves took a step towards the lame joker:

    "My name is Wolves, and I am a hunter of the village of Worldedge. Now introduce yourself too and tell us what you need.

    The Mourneer ignored the question and hobbled over to the ash pit. He spread his arms and turned awkwardly, as if to highlight the surrounding ruins:

    "What is this? A garbage dump? Ummm. Where do you live?"

    "This is the centre of our village," the no-chief said proudly.

    Even through the veil, the leader of the Mourneers was taken aback by the answer. He must have thought Wolves was mad.

    "We were hunting a dangerous fugitive with forbidden knowledge. From there," the Mourneer pointed away from the village, "to here," he pointed at the ground beneath his feet. "If he''s not here... Ummmmm..."  He walked over to the corpses and began to stare at the mage''s remains, but his face was a bloody mess - whoever had killed him hadn''t been very gentle. "You couldn''t have killed him." Mourneer pointed a finger in the direction of the Edge of the World. "What''s in there?"

    "Absolutely nothing," Wolves explained just as helpfully.

    "Where''s your leader?" Mourner was beginning to get annoyed at what he thought was a conversation with the village fool.

    Merchant had crept up to her husband and was now desperately jabbing at his side with her elbow.

    "I am the chief!" The husband winked visibly at his wife. She began the process of rethinking her life.

    "Ummmm (with these "ummmms" the stranger bought himself time to form the next words into sentences). Let''s start again. Ummm. You introduced yourself, and I was preoccupied with other thoughts, and then I felt that I had missed the right time to respond. But it looks like I''m going to have to get over this awkwardness. I am Slizvert, centurion of the fifth century of the Hand of Mourneers. Yes, we just took the ranks of the Old Empire, I would have come up with something of my own. Ahem! We mourn for ourselves, for we are already dead. We have sworn an oath to destroy every manifestation of forbidden knowledge. This is our sacrifice."

    Slizvert began to rest from his long speech, staring at the villagers as they stared back at him. When there was no reaction, the centurion continued:

    "Do you see Aurgelmir? Of course you do."

    The giant, hearing his name, began to wave his hand, creating even more wind.

    "Hefty, isn''t he? Ummmmm. He doesn''t use his physical strength in battle. He..." the leader of the Mourneers turned his head towards the giant, took it away, but returned it immediately: "No, stop!" he waved his hands. "Stop being so friendly! When I''m threatening people by you!"

    A ghost suddenly popped out of the ground, frightening the villagers and Slizvert. The ghost looked like a transparent man wearing a Mourneer''s uniform, but instead of a veil, he had a tight-fitting bag on his head. The transparent man flew up to his leader and whispered something in his ear.

    "I told you not to do that again. Or was it another cursor? Who even thought of covering our faces? Ummmmm. Understood. Go back to your body. Ummmmm. And don''t jump out like that again." Slizvert looked at the crowd in front of him with a new look (probably. But he definitely tilted his head at a slightly different angle). "There''s really nothing there. Ummmmm. So what do we do now?"

    "Tell him the truth, Wolves! There ain''t no more patience to listen to his "ums"! Ay''m sure none of us here have, includin'' his folk!" Mom couldn''t take it any more.

    "Okay, I killed the mage. With this." Wolves held up his carved wooden dagger, which was broken in two and darker than usual. "He came to our home with a controlled mob, destroyed our food, attacked us, and tried to kill my son. That''s why he''s lying in that pile of corpses.

    "Kill me?" Gloomy thought. "Damn, I didn''t notice what was going on around me back then."

    "Ummmm. Okay. You, the hunter of the village of Worldedge, killed the bearer of the Norn Ring with this shard," if the leader of the Mourneers wanted to hide the doubt in his voice, he failed. "Ummmm. Where is that ring, by the way? As proof of your prowess?"

    Wolves thought for a moment and said, despite the fact that his wife grabbing his arm and bulging her eyes:

    "I took it off and threw it over the Edge of the World.

    Gloomeye didn''t like the way his father was lying. It reminded him of certain points in Storyteller''s tales.

    "Don''t believe the father, I dropped the ring!" Gloomy stepped forward.

    "No, it was me!" as if expecting something like this, Mom stepped forward, hiding Babyboy in his breast carrier.

    "Don''t listen to these liars, they''re protecting the old man. It was me, I tell you," said Storyteller.

    "What old man? You, the peg in the prime of life? They''re protecting the woman," Merchant said resignedly.

    The others began to speak, but Gloomeye noticed that Slizvert was watching him. It was hard to tell where the Mourneer was looking because of the veil on his face, but it was possible to guess the direction. His painted eyes suddenly gave the guy goosebumps. This Slizvert was an outsider with an army at his back, he could be expected to do anything. And the Mourneer didn''t move, even when it was Giggler''s turn to speak.

    "One of those, eh? Ummmm. I know I don''t look very impressive and I don''t talk very well. But you don''t have to put on a jester''s hat with bells on me. Ummmmm. I already have the crown of three phalanges on me, they don''t fit together very well. In general, what I''d say that weaklings and fools are not in the habit of becoming centurions. Ummmmm. As far as I can remember," the leader of the Mourneers made a speech, sweating a little, when all the villagers had spoken. "Put them in a cage. The special one. Let them agree on a general theory and who they choose as the ring-bearer, and I''ll talk to them."

    The giant set up one of his cages, and the grim Mourners (though perhaps smiling and making faces under their veils) stuffed the whole village into it. Then they covered the cage with a cloth. Darkness fell.

    "What have you done? It''s because of you, Storyteller!" Wolves seemed very angry."You put this kind of nonsense into their heads with your stories. Now they''ll think we''re hiding something. But in case you didn''t know, we''re not hiding anything. What a surprise, huh?"

    "Sept who threw the rin'' away, huh?" Mom rustled his clothes and wrapped the baby up tighter.

    "Just in case. It still doesn''t change anything. The ring was thrown away, and who..."

    "No point talking about it then. Now give me a place to explore the bottom," said Moose, Shroomer''s wife. Unlike her thin husband, she was a stout woman with thick red hair, which she passed on to her daughter Crushy.

    "Do you think they''ll put us in a broken cage somewhere?" Merchant asked her.

    "Don''t you feel that this is a pre-Break boards?" Moose replied. "And I hope prisoners here have been actively leaking fluids to rot wood somewhere."

    "I hope our captors'' prisoners aren''t leaking too much here, whatever they''re leaking," Stump, who had already lived a life of misery, expressed hope.

    "So what?" There''s still earth underneath us," said Forager, the village forager.

    "That''s just the thing, there''s a tunnel underneath us from my dugout to the communal storage cave. What''s ''whoo''?" Moose tsked at the disapproving whoos. "Like you don''t take whatever you want from there whenever you want. And as if there are some great values there.

    Everyone began to explore the floor by touch, because there was nothing else to do here anyway.

    "Ouch!¡±

    "Did you find it?"

    "Yesh, a shplinter. It''s shtuck and I can''t get it out wish my teesh."

    "Be quiet! Do you think that if they can''t see us, they can''t hear us?"

    Gloomy found the chipped board and, using his father''s dagger (why wasn''t it taken away, by the way?  Did they not consider it a real weapon?) he was able to separate it from the others. Then all together, which was more of a hindrance than a help, they hollowed out the entrance, breaking two more daggers in the process.

    "Can you get through?" Wolves asked his son.

    "Why am I the first? Giggler is smaller than me," Gloomy said in surprise.

    "Because it''s the most dangerous place for you to be. And Giggler will go with an adult when that adult can squeeze through the hole. In the meantime, go to the city, from the place where the brown alm attacked you, choose the direction where Dayorb usually happened during breakfast. Wait for us there, we''ll all catch up with you," with these words, Wolves gently but firmly began to push his son into the passage. Then he handed his son one of his wooden daggers.

    "See you soon," Gloomy managed to shout.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    The tunnel was wide, and only Mom would have had any trouble with it. The guy was walking, barely stooping. Gloomeye soon reached a pile of planks, knocked them down, and made his way to the storage cave. There, in addition to the fallen planks, were potsherds, a side of Meat, and dried herbs. He didn''t understand why Moose had bothered to dig a tunnel. Maybe she did it in the hope that the village would grow, which never happened.

    "What are we doing here anyway?" a voice came from outside. "We caught some savages and we''re waiting for something."

    Gloomeye clenched his fists. Offensive.

    "You know Slizvert and his mad plans. And don''t call them savages," Gloomy liked the other voice better. "Savages don''t sleep on the bare ground and in some ways prepare for tomorrow. They must be altered alms.

    No, even less. Gloomeye began to search for slingstones.

    "I didn''t sacrifice a friend, and I didn''t eat that muck to guard the beloved hummocks of human cattle."

    "This is our sacrifice."

    "You know how I feel about propaganda slogans.

    "Don''t let the centurion hear you. He may be a half-wit, but he''s powerful. Come on, this dirt is clean, let''s go check another one."

    "Ha,''dirt is clean''! Well, you say stuff sometimes..." the voices began to recede.

    Gloomeye emerged from the cave into the light, looked around and crawled on the ground. This way he was covered in mud from head to toe, but it didn''t matter to him. If the two returned, they would surely be laughing.

    They''ll say something like "Look, a savage has got out to roll in the mud!" or "This savage is so stupid that he''s forgotten how to walk with his feet, isn''t that hilarious?" What does he do then? Stand up and say: "You''re wrong to jump to conclusions about people you''ve just met. We are not savages. Find out all our circumstances and only then judge"? Perhaps Gloomeye will have time to finish his speech at their leader''s feet.

    But he met no one, and no such dialogue took place. He reached the broken fence of the village, got up, and ran. When he was far enough away, Gloomeye walked across the wasteland to the spot where the brown alm had attacked him. His father indicated the direction with a riddle, suggesting that they might be overheard.

    This happened many winters ago in the Dry Channel - a large earthen channel with steep and dangerous banks. To get out of there, you have to stand on a steep slope, and then jump, catching on the overhanging edge above your head. Gloomy, at that age, couldn''t manage this trick. It was there that the alm met him.

    Forest alms always have a different number of limbs, and they are not always stable. But this one was standing firmly on all fours, with its head in front. The rest of its snout and paws were smaller and were placed on its back and sides.

    Fortunately, Gloomy was rescued by Mom, who was still Mountain at the time.

    Breakfast time had already passed, and the sky was a pale pink. Titus stared off into the distance. Gloomeye walked, trying to clean the dirt from his clothes, but only smearing it. When he reached the bank of the Dry Channel, he hesitated, bad memories flooding back.

    Suddenly, a deep, hoarse voice rang out from behind Gloomy:

    "Are you going to jump, or are you just going to wonder where the water has gone? It''s the perfect time for that."

    He turned instantly and saw a girl. She had long, and tangled black hair that hung down over her face. She was hunched over, moving slowly and smoothly, and her clothes consisted of two dirty-white cloths tied together at the shoulders (like a tunic), and a similar piece of cloth as a skirt.

    "Just noticed? And I''ve been following you since the blackies. No wonder they took you by surprise," she continued cheekily.

    "Just choosing a scenic place to bury a Mourneer spy," Gloomy had no idea what he was saying. His mouth had rebelled against the rest of his body and was now working on its own, not communicating with his brain.

    The girl came towards him, and he saw that she had a big mouth, wide-set green eyes, thick eyebrows, and a flat, short nose. "Crushy is prettier," Gloomeye thought for some reason.

    "That''s right. I''m a Mourneer''s spy. Their leader, Slizvert, sent me to keep an eye on you. And he told me to tell you about it. And to say this too.¡±

    "So he doesn''t know much about spying," Gloomy''s mouth said, matching the girl''s jocular tone.

    "He assumed that by showing you two tricks, you would relax and not notice the third, the most important one. Or that you''d fall for a girl''s face. Either the cloth on his head is opaque, or the circlet is pressing too tight on his skull," her lips broke into a smile that widened the mouth even more, but Gloomeye noticed that her eyes didn''t change. They were quite old for her age, perhaps he mistakenly thought her age was the same as his? "What he didn''t ask me to say is that he asked me to say ''And to say this too''. Do you understand? I suspect not. In general, you don''t have to trust me. But if I''m not with you, Mr. Rag-on-the-Face will send someone competent. I don''t need it, do you? Yes, he told me to tell you that he let you escape by putting you in a broken cage...¡±

    "Yeah, we..."

    "...with loose bars. Have you ever wondered why it was so easy for you to escape, ¡®hero¡¯?¡±

    "What does he want from me?"

    "Ah, I forgot to ask." The girl pretended to be remorseful and thoughtful, rubbing her chin with her fingers. "I will come back and ask him to write me a detailed report of all his plans. By the way, I''ll send him reports about us, but don''t worry, they''ll be utter nonsense, first class rubbish, with a little bit of truth mixed in."

    "There''s something wrong with your brilliant plan. But what?" the guy repaid her with his acting. "Oh, yes, my consent to your surveillance," the mouth seems to have brought his revolutionary army into the mind palace and is now executing the brain nobles. Gloomeye has just broken his record for the longest time he''s spent with girls in recent memory. Crushy was several winters older than him, and she was bored with him, and there were no girls his age in the village.

    "Listen, let''s discuss this later," the girl looked in the direction of Worldedge. "We have to get out of here, Mr. I-am-Vessel-of-Power-Boo-Hoo will soon send the pseudo-hounds after us. Well, so that we can unite by working together in order to survive. A plan? So, just stand here and blink like a fool? I don''t see how that''s going to help us."

    "What? What''s your plan? You''ve known about these hounds all along!" Gloomeye''s mood changed abruptly. The brain regained its rule.

    "Oh, by plan I meant running direction, you should know this area. Fighting with our wishy-washy forces is out of the question. In a straight..."

    As she spoke, Gloomy jumped down into the Dry Channel.

    "And in a straight line like this, where you so recklessly jumped without listening to the end of my sentence, they will easily catch up with us and destroy us!" the spy finished, catching up with Gloomeye.

    They had been running for a while when they heard that they were being chased. The pseudo-hounds ran after them in silence, only the ground flew out from under their paws. The guy looked around and saw that they were black four-legged creatures with a long muzzles and standing ears. They looked like the figurine Earlier had given him. Only their eyes (unlike all decent eyes) refused to stay in their sockets and now hung from stalks in front of their noses.

    "Run! Don''t look back!" the girl running nearby shouted.

    The ground beside Gloomeye exploded. He saw something red and covered in white spikes crawling back from the explosion. He turned again (ignoring the spy''s advice) and saw that something being returned to the open mouth of one of the pseudo-hounds. And the hounds themselves had shortened their distance considerably. Fortunately, the fugitives had reached the right area.

    "Let''s go!" Gloomy shouted. He rushed to the bank and tried to jump onto it, but two attacks from the hounds immediately blew up the spot where he was trying to cling. He was thrown back and pelted with dirt, and the attacks also sliced through his arm, tearing the skin off. But he had time to see what was being thrown at them - a tangle of fangs on long tongues. Fortunately, the attack had knocked down the earthen roof, reducing the bank to a straight wall, slightly crumbling. But how could he get there with the constant attacks?

    Something grabbed his leg and Gloomeye kicked in fright.

    "This isn''t the time!" the girl said from behind, crouching down as she held his leg and tried to put it on her shoulder. Gloomy understood and stood on it. The girl stood up, holding on to the ground, and the guy felt her swing from the blow in the back without even crying out. Desperately, he pulled himself up onto the bank and grabbed his rescuer''s arm, pulling her to him. Another attack scratch the girl''s legs as she climbed. Once out of range, they fell to the ground, panting heavily.

    "I''m sorry... I... I..." Gloomy said. He was very embarrassed. Just met a girl and kicked her when she saved your skin. You should have put her up! Good job, Gloomeye!

    "Nothing... important... touched... These snail spawns hit harder," she said, brushing something from her lips.

    "Thanks for the help. We need to check the wounds." Gloomy started to get up.

    "No," she shook her head, and her long hair scattered across the ground. "Look at them.¡±

    The pseudo-hounds continued to attack the bank with their tongues.

    "They''ll make their way here soon. We have to go," the girl said.

    She winced as Gloomy helped her to her feet. Her bare feet were covered in blood from lacerations above her ankles. Her shoes had either been lost on the run or never existed. He threw her arm over his shoulder, and took as long strides as possible to get as far away as possible.

    "I hope the view is really scenic. But there won''t be much of us left for the funeral," if the girl was trying to cheer him up with such a joke, she wasn''t succeeding.

    "We''re still carrying out our plan," Gloomy said, trying to save his breath for move, but answering anyway.

    "Okay. We''ve done the stupidest and most risky part of your plan, haven''t we?"

    "Err, yes."

    "Did you take confidence lessons from Slizvert?"

    Gloomeye had a plan, but he liked it less with every heartbeat. The memory of this place made Gloomy think that if they couldn''t fight, they would have to find someone who could. He also thought of Mom and what he had said yesterday morning. But how could he trust Mom''s words? It''s Mom! His dustbag also exploded. Apparently, along with the memories, gratitude for his rescue had clouded his brain.

    They went where he wanted them to go, but there was no one there, just a forest of dangerous trees, that wriggled their tentacles in search of prey. The Pinching Forest.

    "Don''t tell me you''re trying to lure them into those nasty trees," the girl said, growing steadily weaker. "Then we''ll have to go in ourselves, better to be torn apart by a thousand teeth. How fortunate that pseudo-hounds have a thousand teeth.¡±

    Gloomeye walked along the edge of the forest, hoping to find what he was looking for. He heard the patter of paws, but he didn''t look back. Finally, as he rounded a hill, he saw it. The elf was standing with his hand on the tree that was trying to wrap around him. He was very tall, taller than Mom, and dressed in a floor-length white robe that ended at the chest and hung in tattered rags over his arms. Strips of yellow metal intertwined with the fabric, clashing at the chest.

    The girl broke his gaze by shoving him from behind. She fell herself, managing to get her hand into the leaping hound''s mouth. Gloomy tried to help her, but a toothy ball hit his shoulder and cheek, knocking him to the ground. Was his plan really so stupid? It was the first time he had ever put a serious idea into practice, and it had been such a tooth-crushing failure. Oh, no teeth thoughts for now...

    Gloomeye felt the ground swell behind him. Looking back, he saw that it was true. Or it''s a combination of visual and physical deathbed hallucinations. There was a bubble coming out of the ground, like a stinking soil, only this one was very big. Finally, a huge metal face - no, a mask - broke through the growing mound from the inside. Then another mask appeared, sitting on the chin of the previous one. Both had smooth and graceful facial features. The first mask expressed surprise, the second - anger and the next - concentration. Then the body of these masks was released, wearing armour similar to the elf''s, only heavier and larger.

    At Gloomy''s side, the swollen earth released the giant sword that held the underground armour. Then a spiked ball on a stick, then an axe. The galloping ground stopped the hounds as they struggled to stay on their feet. Only the one that had tried to eat the girl''s hand was still on her.

    Gloomeye, falling, jumping and rolling, from the constant rotation of the earth, managed to notice that the multi-armed giant was constantly pulling a weapon out of the ground and dragging it behind his back, while the other hand was pulling out a new weapon. His face-shaped helmets also changed endlessly from bottom to top.

    A pseudo-hound tried to attack the armoured giant with its tongue. He stopped his earth mill and swung horizontally, cutting several of the hounds in half. The legged halves began to run away, their torsos dropping to the newly ploughed field without a cry and trying to crawl away as well, leaving behind not blood but a watery liquid. Others decided not to wait for their own slicing and rushed away.

    The hound that had attacked the girl also tried to run away, but either the girl held her tongue or the spy''s hand was stuck in its fangs. The hound only managed to pull its tongue back a long way when a huge mace smashed its head. The freed body ran off.

    When the earthshaking was over, the guy hurried over to the wounded girl. He saw that there were flaps of skin hanging from her arm, but the bleeding wasn''t severe. She waved her good hand at him, relaxed on the ground and closed her eyes.

    "We need to wrap rags around the wounds," Gloomeye suggested uncertainly.

    "A new word in treatment? Dirty bandages?" the girl cocked her head and looked at their clothes, which were more dirty than cloth. "Or do you want to rip off a piece of our saviour''s clothing?"

    Deciding not to argue, Gloomy cautiously approached the elf to thank him. Well, and look: it was an elf after all!

    "Wait, I was joking, don''t take me seriously!" the girl exclaimed worriedly.

    "I just have to ask," the guy stopped at a respectful distance from the armour summoner and addressed him with all the respect he could muster:

    "I''m a human from a nearby village. You''re an elf, aren''t you? Um. Thank you for saving us. Do you happen to know how to treat wounds?"

    In Storyteller''s stories, all the elves were arrogant and cold and had the same voice as the ghosts (but without the howling. Gloomy called that voice "sleepy lazybone"). But they treated humans patronizingly, like unwise children. Which, judging by what happened, was not so far from the truth. The elves didn''t like dwarves (though Gloomeye didn''t know why, because he didn''t think dwarves were much different from humans, especially short Thorn), and they were generally at odds with the winter fairies and the orcs.

    The elf didn''t change his position, only the tentacles of a tree took over more of his arm. He had a smooth, calm face with a small nose and long blond hair that fell to his shoulders. Gloomy even doubted if he was a male elf. But the chest plates were too tight, and the shoulders were too broad. The elf''s pointed ears were indeed long, but they were almost parallel to the ground. And his eyes were closed.

    "Lethargic," the recovered girl identified him. "All that''s left of the elven mage-warriors. That armour - it was his dream. We''d better get away from him before he has a nightmare."

    "Look, I''ve made you suffer so much..." the guy started, but the girl stopped him with a wave of her hand and words:

    "Don''t thank me or feel sorry for me. Have you forgotten who I am? The spy on whoever released these freaky alms after you. If you had been killed, I would have failed my mission." She abruptly changed the subject: "Oh, right, people give their names when they first meet. My name is Boiriann."

    "I''m Gloomeye."

    "I see. Is that what your parents named you?" Boiriann asked mockingly.

    "That''s right," Gloomeye turned and crouched down. "Take me by the neck with your hand, I need to get back on track so I don''t miss my escaped clansmen."

    "You want to carry me?" Boiriann clarified.

    "I''m sorry that I can''t carry you on my hands in front of me, but there''s still a long way to go," Gloomeye said.

    Boiriann wrapped her good arm around his neck, and he rose, tucking his arms under her knees. With one last look at the elf, Gloomeye walked back to the Dry Channel.

    "Wait, no sarcastic remarks this time?" the guy asked.

    "I don''t want to spill the rest of the blood I used to save you," the girl replied, somehow not believing her own joke.

    "You have a long name, can I shorten it somehow? Like Boi or Ann?" Gloomy gave Boiriann a light toss, in attempt to hold her more comfortably. "You can call me Gloomy, for example."

    "No."

    "But that''s what everyone calls me."

    "No Bois and Anns."

    "I see. Then I''ll give you a characterizing name. Cargo." Gloomeye''s mouth took control again and for some reason began to tease Boiriann. She was actually quite light.

    "No."

    "Splinter."

    "No."

    "Bloodflow."

    "My teeth are right next to your neck. No."

    "Sarcasm."

    "What a great nickname. No."

    "Splinter."

    "No. And you''re repeating yourself."

    "I''m checking to see if you''re really getting into the conversation."

 Chapter 3

    Threshold Crossing

    The streets of Nurom, the capital of Great Tataria, are always festive. During the day, the wide streets come alive with magical illuminations, flying platforms, merry songs and children''s games. The Universe Fairs are open all day (free admission!). At night, the terraces and verandas of the open-air taverns are filled with people under the light of colourful orbs. Men and women dance the semi-forbidden Wallwalker dance. Even during the war. - "Frugal Traveller''s Guide to Faltess, Volume 6, Expanded by Collective of Authors"

    Gloomeye was on the half-hundredth name when they reached Storyteller and Giggler. They were sitting in the shade of a lone middleshroom, talking about something.

    "I told ya we''d meet them on the way!" Giggler exclaimed enthusiastically, spotting Gloomy.

    "I told you," Storyteller said, either correcting or arguing.

    "Oh, did you find someone on the road?" the boy noticed Boiriann.

    "She''s No, I mean - Cloak, I mean..." Gloomeye said, confused.

    "My name is Splinter," the girl said, quickly jumping off Gloomeye''s back. Then, realising what she had said, she hastily corrected herself: "Boiriann. My name is Boiriann. And no other way. The Mourneers put me in a cage and made me spy on this hero. But I thought I''d rather be with you."

    "It''s not up to me alone to decide, but I don''t think we''re going to chase you away," Storyteller reassured, getting up to walk on. "We''re a bunch of rogues ourselves, we have to stick together, I''m telling you."

    Then Merchant with Babyboy caught up with them. She tended to Boiriann and Gloomeye''s wounds, noting the time of their escape and the fact that Gloomeye was his father''s son. Gloomeye didn''t understand what that meant. Can you not be your father''s son, or the son of a non-father?

    Then they were found by Moose, Crushy, Shroomer, Thorn, Stump, Firster and Earlier, Windblower, Forager and Planer. When Northman (who was indeed from the North, his white hair and blue skin confirmed it) caught up with them, he examined Gloomeye''s wounds and congratulated him on his first battle. Crushy, as usual, didn''t notice Gloomy, but she was talking to Splinter or Boiriann about something until her friend Rasca approached. So the whole village gathered again. They all happily accepted the new girl.

    The journey had been a long one, but fortunately Forager had found some slimy roots to chew on, which had helped to stave off hunger. Waterman tried to find underground rivers or springs with metal vines, which were the only good things in the village (not counting the Wolves'' daggers, which could be used to shave, which everyone who needed it did), but found nothing.

    They walked across the wasteland and the only variety was the ground, sometimes rising, sometimes falling, sometimes trying to bend or twist. In one place it managed to do so, and was able to spiral. Sometimes there were small scars, though one was quite large, but someone had put a megashroom trunk bridge over it.

    Gloomeye saw the village''s landmark for the first time - a huge stone arm sticking out of the ground. Of course, Worldedge had nothing to do with the construction of this thing, but everyone called it the Landmark. Only Mom walks that far from the village, and he told everyone about the hand.

    The statue was bigger than Gloomy had imagined, bigger even than the megashrooms, and the fingers were half bent, as if the hand was supposed to be holding something, but it was only holding a thicket of eyemoss. It was a woman''s hand, or, as he now knew, an elven hand of either gender. The whole procession stopped to admire the Landmark. It was hard to imagine that civilisation had ever been able to do such a thing, especially for Worldedge. And as Storyteller had suggested, the hand might have had a torso underground, which seemed logical, but so unreal.

    Mom and Wolves were the last to arrive. Wolves said they had been released after the Mourneers discovered that almost all the prisoners had escaped. And when he heard about Splinter, he remarked for some reason that Gloomeye was his son.

    The village had already left the area that Gloomeye might have called home. Is he really leaving it? Gloomy had lived here all his life, and now he was moving unknownward. Memories of home come flooding back.

    When Crushy was his age and he was Giggler''s age, she used to talk to him. There, he tried to plant what he thought was a megashroom in the centre of the village, and it turned out to be a whiplash that the adults had been fighting for two days. There is a group of travelling artists who, for some reason, were nearby and decided to give a performance for Worldedge. There is Mountain, who brought a small boarler from somewhere. There have been stories told by the Storyteller around the fire in the evenings, there have been attempts to descend to the Edge of the World on ropes, there have been attempts to hunt with his father, there have been invented adventures on waste fields with Giggler and Meat. All this will now be replaced by something else. And it was both terrifying and exciting.

    The group joked, bickered, and played riddles as if they hadn''t lost everything. Although not everything, they had them. Everyone wanted to talk to Splinter. That made her feel uneasy, which was reflected in the near absence of barbs. The fact that she called herself a Mourneer''s spy didn''t bother anyone. Either they thought it was a bit of a dash of madness (not a newfangled thing in the village), or they thought she had gone over completely to their side. Gloomy was of the same opinion, as she was kept in one of the cages the giant had brought with him. Even as a prisoner, she must have annoyed Slizvert, and he just wanted to get rid of her. He had underground ghosts to spy on anyway. Wait. The thought of spying ghosts became an unpleasant guest in Gloomeye''s already relaxed mind, and he began to look around warily.

    But he should be looking forward. The hairs on the back of his arms and neck stood up. The same happened to the others, as they all suddenly fell silent. It was only after a few moments that Gloomy realised what his body was reacting to.

    In the distance, a strange figure was walking unsteadily. They kept falling in different directions, falling and then, to avoid falling altogether, started falling in the opposite direction. The dragging of a long sword in their hand also kept them relatively vertical.

    Wolves stepped forward and placed his daggers between himself and the wanderer. As the figure approached, all Gloomy''s hair stood on end. It was a skeleton in rusty armour. When he was level with the others, he hovered forward, clutching his sword and slowly turning his skull to the crowd.

    "Where is... El... vinon?" he rasped.

    Wolves waved his hand uncertainly to the side.

    "Thank... you..." the skeleton thanked him and walked in the direction he had indicated.

    When he was far enough away, they all looked at Storyteller at the same time.

    "Magic Magisterium of Sorcerous Power," he swore, but then he caught himself, cleared his throat and said, "he died long before the Break, or there would have been more meat on him. And I''ve never heard of El-vinon. Perhaps he was resurrected by necromancers or Deathlords during the last war. I''ll tell you that."

    This event made everyone quiet. They walked until it began to darken and the crimson sky turned blue. Having found an island of safe trees, with their fluffy leaves constantly changing colour, it was decided to make a stop. It consisted of finding a soft enough place to lie down and sleep. Splinter led Gloomeye off to the side, to a mound that looked like a frozen wave, so they couldn''t see the others, and the others couldn''t see them.

    "I almost forgot, Slizvert asked me to test your combat skills. You''re not a mage, are you?" the guy had never heard magic spoken in such a dark tone before, though it was a common component of most curses, as rare visitors to Worldedge had confidently reported.

    "No, I would have left my family so I wouldn''t endanger them," Gloomy assured her.

    "It''s lucky that nobleness doesn''t ooze like sweat, otherwise we''d be drowning in that wonderful secretion right now," with Gloomy alone, the girl became sarcastic again.

    "Are you still going to deny that you''re Splinter?"

    "I don''t... oh, I don''t care. Splinter, then Splinter," she said, waving her hand. "Let''s see what you can do. And don''t underestimate me, fight with all your might. I''ll also teach you a lesson."

    Gloomeye wouldn''t underestimate her. He had been taught to fight by Mom and the father, but now the boy was tired, and the girl was obviously not so simple. In the stories, it was always shown in such cases (though usually by little old men) that it was not brute force that was needed in a fight, but the ability to direct it. Sometimes in Storyteller''s stories, even frail girls could beat big men, and then Northman and Mom would try to roll their eyes deep into their skulls.

    He dodged her feeble blow to the chest, caught her arm, and pulled it behind her, bending the girl in half.

    "Ah, you see..." Splinter croaked in a choked voice.

    The guy released her immediately.

    "A direct attack on a more skilled and powerful opponent will result in a shameful and humiliating defeat," Splinter began to rub her twisted arm.

    "Are you out of your mind? Are you a fool? Gloomeye couldn''t help himself. "You act like you''re some secret master of hand-to-hand combat, a great teacher of the lessons of humility, but you don''t really know what you''re doing, and you''re hurt!"Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "Yes, I''m a fool. Also a weakling. And a lot of other words," she moved closer to the guy. "But you know what?" she suddenly kissed the air between them. Gloomy stepped back in surprise and stumbled from her foot behind his. She sat on top of him, holding her fingers over his eyes. "That''s what mean tricks are made for people like me. The most important thing in a fight is to win. And then you can make up stories about your honour and nobility."

    Wolves came out from behind the mound, but immediately turned and went back without slowing.

    "Don''t wean me from honour as if I were a noble son," Gloomeye said, poking her in the stomach with his father''s dagger. "I am the son of bandits. You may have thought we were nice and funny, but if you try to treat us like fools, you''ll see what happens. Now, unless you want to dig your navel deeper, get off me."

    Gloomeye''s speech was born in his, as the familiar arch would say, bone pot, and his mouth simply expressed it. The guy threw off the offence from the first moments, but stood up for his kin because he knew it was the right thing to do.

    Boiriann stood up from Gloomy and smiled broadly:

    "You passed the test with honour - I mean, I''m sorry, with dishonour. Perhaps you''ll survive in the wastelands after all."

    Mom had caught an alm with horns and hooves, so dinner was delicious. Gloomeye lay on his back, staring up at the starry sky. Purple threads crisscrossed it, and a white vortex glowed in the distance. Also visible was the largest lunar fragment, with a hole in the centre and orange veins. Gloomy tried to find all the familiar constellations: the elongated Cockatrix, the complex Visceromancer, the funny and broad Council of Crowns, or the Dance of the Fat Men. Oh, and of course there was the wandering Venomous.

    Maybe Skull was looking at the stars too, and that got him thinking about life and the eternal:

    "And then what?"

    "Then we''ll go to the nearest city," said Wolves, who also lay down. The whole village was already lying down.

    "And after?"

    "And after we''ll gather information and decide what to do next. And then we will try to implement those decisions. And if we can''t, we''ll decide something else and try to implement it. The "Human Life" plan.

    Skull had no further questions.

    The next morning they continued on their way. Everyone was silent because of their thirst. Some were so hungry that they chewed a milkmilk. The weather was cloudless, and the blue sky was streaked with gold, turning everything beneath it golden. There were no clouds, which was a good sign, but this was summer, not the more predictable winter, so everyone could expect anything. Titus looked away.

    But everyone''s mood was normal until they reached a magerot. This is a thick, purple liquid that is not good to get into. And it was this magerot that occupied a vast territory that stretched beyond the horizon. On the other side, rocks popped out of the ground like sharp fangs. If the party wanted to go further, they would have to follow a narrow path between two obstacles.

    "Follow me in a line. Don''t hold on to each other. If you fall into this mess, don''t panic, just get out and pray... to someone," Wolves instructed.

    Gloomeye tried not to look at the dangerous slurry as he walked. He was probably under the impression of Storyteller''s tales about reality going ''crazy'' around magerot, but he really began to feel that something was happening above it: something invisible was spinning in rings, moving in the air as if under a cloth.

    The way was uneventful until they reached the trunk of a megashroom, which blocking the passage. Several people were standing on it, very dirty, thin and in ragged clothes. Among them was a horned man, with twig-like horns, and yellow eyes with long, thin, crisscrossed pupils.

    He shouted:

    "Give us all you have and we won''t kill you!"

    "An ambush? Seriously?" Wolves sounded genuinely disappointed. "Here is a straight line, your fallen mushroom is visible from afar. And you threaten? That is necessary for intimidation, but what kind of intimidation is there when you are much less numerous than we are? Well, let''s start again. We''ll leave now, and when we come back, you can tell us that this is a toll pass. That way you''ll at least have a chance of getting paid".

    "Don''t charm us, warlock," the horned man snapped. "Do you know how long we''ve been waiting for someone to come here?¡±

    "See! That''s why we stopped robbing: there''s no one to rob here," Wolves turned to his clan, turning the situation into a moral lesson as well.

    "Enough! We''ve done all we can," the horned man shouted again, though he wasn''t far away, he just liked to shout. He took a crudely shaped (and covered in finger marks) jug from his clothes and threw it at Wolves. As it flew, some of its contents - magerot - spilled out. Red and white veined flowers sprouted from where it had fallen, then withered and crumbled, leaving a strange, hard frame that looked more like bones than anything else.

    Mom, towering behind Wolves, swatted a flying projectile at the magerot with his hand. Gloomeye could have sworn that the spray from its fall resembled an upturned silhouette of a man.

    Wolves threw his dagger at the thrower, who fell forward and rolled into the purple liquid. It was as if it had lunged at a horned man, who began to change at its touch, as if underneath the skin of this body another non-human being was trying to put his skin. But then the transformation stopped and the body was covered in a golden crust, slowly sliding into the magerot. The rest of the ambushers managed to roll down to the other side of their megashroom.

    "Are you completely mad?" Wolves shouted, not jokingly at all.

    Another vessel came flying out of the shelter, which meant ''yes''. If they were taking their time making these jugs of magerot when they didn''t have any victims, then it was too bad. The jug hit the rock right next to Gloomy''s father. He staggered back, forcing the people behind him to take a step back. One of the villagers screamed.

    Wolves saw the next vessel and rushed forward. He rolled over on his knees and caught it, then threw it back at once. This was certainly not what the mad throwers had expected. There were shouts and the sound of more jugs breaking.

    The village seemed to come out of its stupor and began throwing projectiles behind the barricade. It was necessary to throw at an angle, and most of the projectiles flew heavily over the megashroom, but there were plenty of stones underfoot. The ambushers decided to escape from there, but the only place to go was the open area behind the mushroom. The slingers and spearmen didn''t spare anyone. Gloomeye threw stones from his sling, but when the enemy ran, he did not hit them in the back. No, they''re not special.

    "Missed one," said a voice from above.

    Gloomy looked up and saw the man. He was sitting on one of the flat rocks with his legs dangling. He was dressed in an elegant but shabby suit and even carried a walking stick. His face was sly. The man closed one eye and raised his forefinger and thumb to the other, as if he wanted to catch a fleeing bandit between them. Then he squeezed his fingers together, and there was a sound like a large number of dead branches breaking and someone large stepping in mud at the same time. Gloomy looked in the direction of the sound. In the distance, behind a fallen mushroom, there was a piece of meat, and all the ground around it was covered in blood.

    "Lo! Did you see that?" the man turned to the crowd below in surprise, pointing to the bloody lump with his thumb. "I squeezed my fingers together and he exploded. What a coincidence! No less a curious natural phenomenon we are witnessing for the first time. Spontaneous bursting of a body..." he looked at the expression on everyone''s faces, and his surprise turned to displeasure. "Oh, you have no sense of humour at all. Sure, it was me," the upper man spat to the side. "That''s my little quirk, left over from my last job - killing anyone with an evil heart at any distance. Did you, like, put a bunch of thorns in your mouth? He would have died soon anyway - fall into a scar and starve to death, but now, ho... He went beautifully and almost painlessly." The man began to laugh, the kind of laugh Storyteller gave to major villains.

    "Why are we attracting all the crazy mages in the area?" Gloomeye thought.

    "I''m not a mage. But if I had not been lenient with ignorance, I wouldn''t be sitting on a rock right now, but on a mountain of corpses of all the people in the world. And why... Because everything has a cause and effect. The first one wanted to get lost in the backwoods, and that''s you. After him came the pseudo-mages, I do not put it too scientifically? They set in motion a curious mechanism that attracted me as an observer," the upper man began, balancing a cane on his finger.

    "Can he read my mind?" Gloomeye panicked.

    "No," the non-mage reassured him. "So there''s no need to panic, I''m only here as a spectator. I want to see the adventure begin," he looked directly at Gloomeye. "You have little potential for magic, boy."

    "Leave my..." Wolves couldn''t stand it.

    "And you have even more," the strange man looked at Wolves. "And you," he pointed at Storyteller, then looked at Merchant, but said nothing to her. "But you''ll never be able to use even the weakest, childish magic," the non-mage said to Splinter, in an ''and here''s another funny thing'' voice. "Someone has burned you out from within, girl."

    "If you don''t want to hurt us, let us pass, we have to go," Wolves did not give up trying to control the conversation.

    "And if I want to? Then what?" the man''s voice thickened, then warmed. "Oh, everyone''s sense of humour is completely dulled by the demise of civilization. Am I really holding you back? I''m just talking all sorts of nonsense, and you''re just listening as if spellbound. But I suggest you take their stash, it''s buried under the rock behind me. Give the name you find there to the outgoing person. Who knows where else dragons live?" the dangerous man stood up on his rock and began to wave his hand: "Bye-bye.¡±

    After Wolves had used his daggers to cut down the steps on the mushroom blocking the passage, he began to search the bodies.

    "Do ya think it''s smart to follow thay ...err advice of ayy that there man aw whatever he is?" Mom asked.

    "I thought of that before he did," Gloomeye''s father reassured him.

    According to the evil tradition, the robbers had nothing of value. Gloomy looked at them almost with pity. Most of them died not from stones, but from the spillage of their mad projectiles. Parts of their bodies were changed: some had different skin or new limbs, and after counting their bodies, it was possible to conclude that an unfortunate (or fortunate?) bandit had been completely transformed into a strange little chubby bird alm, still alive. It could have been their fate, the fate of a bandit clan. Maybe it''s a good thing that Worldedge doesn''t have a chief.

    The cache was there, and there were a few round metal objects called coins, a pile of rags, dried herbs, and a jar of some clear liquid that no one dared to taste. There was also a round metal object with runes etched on it that the Wolves had taken. The most valuable item was the real axe that Mom had received. The non-mage sitting on the rock was gone when the cache was found.

    Earlier had stepped in the magerot during the battle and now he had six toes on his foot, all the same length. Firster suggested renaming him Lucky, but no one supported the idea.

    Everyone continued on their way, but now in a very gloomy mood. Gloomy thought about the mad non-mage''s words: "Do I have a weak potential in magic? Should it be ignored? I must admit, the display of magic power was impressive. What negative consequences could there be? Potential new world breaking? As if there is anything left to break. The close attention of the Mourneers, which I already have? So there are many advantages, but there are no disadvantages."

    The guy looked back at trailing Splinter. "Burned out from within and therefore unable to use magic? Did the Mourneers do that to her? Is she a former mage? Or do they burn out all people with magical potential?"

    Lost in thought, he got into a treacherous footgrab that cleverly skipped ahead heavier people, and Gloomy had to be pulled out by the whole village.

    Then a limping Earlier caught up with Gloomeye:

    "Do you think he did the meat trick beforehand? It can''t be, in the name of all that''s holy left, that people can kill people like that."

    "He''s obviously a madman, and it''s impossible for normal people to understand him," Gloomeye said reassuringly.

    "Yes, I knew that at once. And he slandered you, too. Magical sod!" but from the way the guard relaxed, he hadn''t realised it at once, but only now.

    But Gloomy knew that the madman couldn''t just randomly respond to his thoughts. So it wasn''t just a madman. The mage who finds it insulting to be called a mage. Because it really is an insult? Or is it because he considers himself so much, much higher than any mage?

 Chapter 4

    Humanists

    We don''t bow. - The motto of the Steel Collars, stamped on the back of their collars.

    The journey took two days, but was uneventful. The people lived on what they could hunt and gather from edible plants. Waterman found a geyser of water at a junction of scars, and everyone had plenty to drink. Finally, their destination appeared in the distance.

    "And this is a city?" Sewer asked.

    "No, it''s just that the wind accidentally shaped stones into a city," Splinter quipped.

    She felt at home now, using her snarky remarks to jab everyone except Mom and Gloomeye''s parents. Maybe she just didn''t have time.

    The city was big, very big. How many people were there? Gloomy vaguely imagined a crowd of more than a hundred people (and only recently, thanks to the Mourneers'' visit). And there would fit hundreds of hundreds.

    Around it was a wall of large earth-coloured blocks between white pillars. The wall was very uneven and crooked, and had obviously been repaired not exactly as the original architects intended, but reliably. It was impossible to get inside. Also because the wall was surrounded by a deep square moat, which was strangely accurate in the shape of the wall blocks.

    As they made their way around the wall, everyone looked carefully for holes and came to hate it, except Dwarf, who clicked his tongue in delight. He was a man of normal height, and got his name from the fact that he liked to dig, which he did in Worldedge. The little one was Thorn, but he refused to answer to ''Dwarf''. After wandering around for a while, the party came upon a group of armed men at a large stone gate, in front of which a moat had not been dug.

    The warriors wore real metal armour that glittered in the light of day. They had high metal collars that reached down to their chests, where they shone even brighter. In front of them was a man in real clean clothes - a black robe and a leather breastplate that connected his shoulder pads to his belt. Real clothes! He also carried a real walking stick. Not just a stick, but a walking stick. What to say - civilisation!

    He had a clean, lazy face with flowing, wavy hair (which was both light and dark) and half-closed eyes. He looked handsome, so Gloomy didn''t like him right away. But it was a green creature next to him that caught his eyes.

    They crouched down, listened to the coxcomb whisper in their ear, and then straightened up. And how! They were tall and sinewy, with very long arms that reached below the knees. The creature wore a ragged, dirty cloth wrapped in a heavy chain. Someone had carved rings around their neck (like a sadistic collar) and symbols between them. The lines were so thick that red flesh could be seen in them. The head was bald, except for a tuft of hair that stuck out like a stake. The ears were the same as the elf''s, but they were constantly shaking. The small nose, which seemed to be pressed into the skull, and the tusks protruding from the mouth reminded Gloomy of a boarler, so he liked the creature right away. Is he an orc?

    "You''d better accept the rules of the new world!" the possible orc shouted to someone at the top of the gate. No, she''s a she-orc.

    A group of people were also standing at the gate. One of them with a female voice shouted back:

    "No slavers in my city!"

    "Then the city shall no longer be yours!" the orc woman replied.

    "Leave or stay here forever under our stone rain," was the reply.

    The chief slaver noticed the arrival of the village, counted the people (possibly with subtraction) and waved his hand. His troops moved off immediately. There was a commotion at the upgate - a person was hanging from a rope. There was a special loop on it where they put their foot.

    "My husband is there!" shouted, as it turned out, a married woman.

    Gloomeye couldn''t make out what was a reply for her, but she began to descend.

    "What''s your problem?" the same voice shouted from the gate, clearly addressing Worldedge.

    "We''re looking for shelter," Wolves replied.

    "We can''t open the gate while the Humanists are camped nearby."

    "Can you open the gate a little so that one person or all of us can squeeze through?"

    "No!"

    "So what do we do?"

    "I have responsibility for my city, I don''t need it over you."

    The rope woman stopped at a distance equal to the height of the elf, or rather the lethargic, from the ground. Finding that the rope wasn''t moving, the woman jumped down and landed on her hands and feet, crouching. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a neat topknot, and there were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

    "If you want the gates to open, send the Humanists away," she suggested.

    "We can''t fight such a well-armed enemy, even if there are fewer of them," Wolves explained.

    "Not less, but more. Much more. Their main camp is nearby," the woman waved her hand, but realising she was trying to dissuade, not persuade, she quickly added: "Yes, there are mostly the mercenaries - Steel Collars. They are very proud and bow to no one. And force their clients to wear their contract at all times, and if they lose it, they leave immediately. My husband is there," she said in a low voice. "He did his duty by guarding the gate, but no one in the city will help him. I asked them not to send a man on such a dangerous job, but they..." the woman noticed that she was mostly talking to men and stopped.

    "Husband, we need to know more before we rush into the thick of magerot," Merchant warned.

    "Yes, we''ll always have time to make foes. ''Specially them who already have ayy whole name." Mom joined to the conversation.

    "We can do some scouting - just take a look and make a decision based on our strength. We have no reason to fight. For now. All the slingers and spear throwers will go with me, just as a precaution," Wolves told them.

    "And me," the woman said.

    Wolves nodded.

    "Kha-khem," Mom and Merchant cleared their throats at the same time.

    "Babyboy. Take care of the rest." Wolves pointed at them both. "Don''t worry about me, I''ll have Gloomy with me, he won''t let me get hurt," the father said, pulling his son to him by the shoulder. Merchant looked doubtful, and Mom frankly disbelieving, but no one argued.

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    The band approached the site of the slavers'' camp. It turned out not to be a camp, but a full-fledged military encampment. The Collars were building fires, cleaning weapons and conducting drills. In the centre of the camp, a large canvas hung from poles, reaching down to the ground. Apart from the mercenaries, there were people tied up with ropes and sitting on the ground. Slaves.

    Shroomer swallowed loudly and asked:

    "Well? We''ve seen them, and now the scouting is over?"

    "I would like to see this contract at arm''s length. That I would call a scouting," Wolves said thoughtfully.

    "Merchant didn''t send us directly there," Shroomer nodded nervously in the direction of the camp.

    "Merchant is your chief?" Wolves asked in surprise. "No one woke me when she was appointed?"

    "No. I mean, not a chief," the mushroom grower was confused.

    "Well, we''re done talking then," Wolves snapped, but then he thought and added: "And if you tell her, I''ll also tell her that you took her headbands."

    "I..." Shroomer tried to explain.

    "Hush! That goes for everyone. The wind brought us the contract from that tent, if anyone asks. Let''s hope that the enthusiastic roar of the city, the entrance under flower petals and an orchestra will drown out any questions. Or does anyone think we should side with the slavers?" Wolves asked, looking at his people.

    They all shook their heads vigorously, including the city woman.

    "You will spread out around the camp, just in case. Hide and prepare your projectiles. If I run in your direction, cover me. If there''s a noise and I don''t run, then go quietly to our people," the non-chief made a plan.

    Gloomy got the best spot - a mushroom grove on the edge of the camp. The middleshrooms were much taller than humans and covered with caps all over their stipes, the great place to hide. Almost at the edge of the grove, Gloomeye heard screams. He turned to see a slave, a tall, muscular man, breaking the ropes and running towards the woman who had come with them. She ran towards him, but fell and rolled down the hill.

    Something flashed across the man''s back, and he fell forward too, stopping after a moment of inertia. He did not move again, but lay face down. When the woman reached her husband, she lifted his head and howled. Gloomeye had never heard such an eerie howl, not even from big alms. The worst part was that it came from an intelligent being, but there was no intelligence in the sound. Steel Collars began to encircle the new widow.

    Turning around, Gloomeye saw the same man who had threatened the city through the orc. He was coming out of the middleshroom grove, adjusting his trousers and also watching the tragedy of the family. Gloomy leapt at him, put his father''s dagger to his throat, and pulled him into the mushrooms.

    The chief slaver dropped his stick, but his face didn''t even flinch, and his eyelids remained half-closed. Is he captured every day? It would be nice if he was.

    "You should hide your face," the prisoner said calmly.

    Gloomy kneed him in the stomach and tried to keep his voice as cold as possible. If the prisoner was calm, why should he worry?

    "Where is the contract?" Gloomeye demanded.

    "You shouldn''t apply for a job like this, although I appreciate the enthusiasm," still no smile, no fear in his eyes, no hint of human emotion.

    Gloomeye didn''t stand on ceremony this time and kneed him between the legs.

    "I don''t think you''re stupid, you''re just stalling for time. Turn out your pockets," Gloomy looked down at his dirty, tattered clothes, then at the coxcomb''s. " Although... Take your clothes off.¡±

    Gloomeye''s new suit was tight around the shoulders and the chest, but too loose around the waist. The guy kept the slaver alive by tying him up with his old clothes. He wasn''t the special, and it was more of a beating than a real fight. The important thing was that there was the contract on him. Gloomeye held it over his head and walked out to meet the mercenaries.

    Approaching one of them, he announced:

    "I have your contract, and now you serve me."

    "Do I call you Commander-son now?" the Collar replied mockingly.

    Gloomy looked into the mercenary''s face and recognised it as his father''s. He was wearing a Steel Collar uniform, and there was a cut on his neck.

    "But you have really outdone your father. This time," Wolves said more proudly.

    "That woman..."

    "I don''t know. But she was a good distraction, and I acted. They didn''t throw her to the slaves."

    Approaching a real mercenary (probably. Certainly not Shroomer in disguise) with a burned face and no ear, Gloomy again demanded service. But the Steel Collar didn''t respond. With a sigh, Gloomeye tore up the contract into small, useless contracts.

    The mercenary left immediately, and soon the army moved out. They left a half-naked man lying unconscious and a few Humanists. The slaves immediately pounced on them, not even bothering to remove the ropes from their arms and necks. The orc didn''t react to anything, just looked around absently. The body of the woman''s husband and the woman herself were nowhere to be seen.

    The company returned to the gates of the city with the former slaves. Gloomeye spent the whole time adjusting his loose trousers. Wolves was immediately approached by Merchant:

    "This is what you call scouting?"

    "We just took the opportunity," and to quickly change the subject, Wolves took off his armour and threw it on the ground. "How do they wear it? Fighting with an armour in addition to an enemy? This is stupid."

    Splinter approached Gloomeye:

    "First the handsome guy in the fancy suit left, then you went in the same direction in rags, and now you''re back in a similar suit. I''m at a loss to guess what happened."

    "Handsome? Are you giving out characterizing names now?" Gloomy asked.

    "Would you like me to give you one?" the girl tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Oh, I know - Gloomeye. I think it describes you perfectly, especially now."

    "Thanks. Splinter. I think I''ll take that great name. I''ll tell everyone to call me what you said?" Gloom-eye?" he adjusted his loose trousers again. What sorcery is this!?

    They were interrupted by the rumble of the gate opening, or rather a single door, but it moved on its own axis.

    A man stood in the passageway, wearing armour that resembled the chitinous plates of ballistilles - medium-sized alms that dug in headfirst and spat acid from the opposite side. Beneath the plates were moving joints, also of metal.

    The visor of his slender helmet slid back over his head, revealing an ordinary male face with a long nose and sad eyes.

    "Wait for Lady Rexana," he said as they entered the city. The gate began to close.

    The guards descended on ropes, this time all the way to the ground. They wore brown leather armour with spikes here and there that looked like they had been left over from the leather''s previous owners. Over their armour they wore a white loincloth with what Gloomeye guessed was the crest of the city, a pentagon with a schematic representation of a bird underneath. There were a lot of women among the guards, or rather, there were men among the guards.

    Then Lady Rexana came down. She had a square jaw and slicked back blonde hair with lots of braids. An alm fur cloak was slung over her shoulders and attached to her rich clothing by a round brooch with a thin dagger passed it, pointing upwards. A long scar on the right side of her face stretched from her lip, revealing a fang, and up to her eye, which only looked up, following the path of the wound. Her right arm was hidden behind her back.

    "You are enchanted heroes, magic touches you..." she began.

    The armour-clad man cleared his throat in embarrassment.

    "Oh, welcome to my city - Capital, noble lords. I am Rexana, ruler of this glorious city," the woman twirled her left hand and bent slightly. "And this is the royal downer, Aigo."

    The armoured man''s eyes widened.

    "Well, he''s a jester too. Yes, Aigo, armour doesn''t make you a knight, I still expect you to tell dirty jokes. And before we continue..." Rexana took out a dozen large gold coins and handed them to Wolves. "You have saved my city from disaster, which should be rewarded. Unfortunately, I don''t have much money at the moment, but..."

    "In the name of..." Wolves faltered (it was strange to use pre-Break expressive expressions, especially the names of old gods. It was high time to think of something new). ¡°That''s more than enough,¡± he took the coins and looked at them greedily.

    "Very well, then. Modesty adorns any person," the ruler suddenly became serious. "We have seen that the Steel Collars are gone, and one of you is now wearing the clothes of the Humanist leader. So the plan of Izolde, the woman who came down to you earlier, has worked. But I don''t see her or her husband Remus.

    "We haven''t found the bodies of Remus or Izolde," said Wolves.

    "I¡¯m very sorry to hear that. Zoldi was always been impulsive, and that never leads to anything good. Now, tell us who you are and why you were so determined to get into Capital?"

    "Our village, Worldedge, not far from here, has been ravaged by bandits, and we are looking for a place where we can start again. And where else but here?" Wolves decided that a little flattery couldn''t hurt.

    "Did you survive the wasteland on your own? I''ll take you, of course. I know how hard it is to fight," Rexana took out her right arm, which ended at hand level, and looked through it at Dayorb. "One blow was enough to make me quit. But I admit I would have taken you anyway. Most of you are men. I don''t know about other places, but Capital gave too many men to the last war. Register at the entrance first, and then we will discuss our cooperation. Perhaps a confident leader like you will see this as a demotion, but we now have a vacancy for Captain of the Guard".

    "We don''t have a leader," Merchant interrupted.

    "I''m afraid my ancestors won''t understand," Wolves grimaced.

    "We''ll discuss that later. In the meantime, you may choose any unoccupied house," the ruler left with her retinue.

 Chapter 5

    Capital

    Whoever draws the Sword of Light will lose their life. Try to draw a sword - 1 gold. - The tablet at the Sword of Light.

    The clerk was a small man with oversized glasses and unkempt grey hair that encircled his skull. He sat in a cabinet in his house by the city gate. The cabinet was piled high with parchments and scrolls that served as both table and chair.

    "Name?" the scribe shouted over the chatter of children of all ages running around.

    Their breeze held up individual pieces of parchment. Gloomy doubted there was any point in registering if a completed form was going to be placed under the ass or tossed around by children. But rules are rules.

    "Gloomeye."

    The clerk dutifully wrote the name on the parchment:

    "Occupation?"

    "A shepherd, though you might call me a nanny."

    The clerk looked at him over his glasses and smiled:

    "So I can call you a colleague?"

    "I''ve never had so many charges," Gloomeye said, but suddenly remembered the imbalance of men and women in the city: "Are these your children? Are you forced..."

    "Oh, no, what a rich imagination you have, young sir," the clerk replied. "I register all residents. And when little orphans are brought to me, I can''t put them out on the streets. But we digress. Spouse?

    ***

    Once all the bureaucracy was out of the way, Sewer suggested finding a tavern, and the suggestion was met with great enthusiasm by everyone.

    The city seemed to be the creation of giants. Gloomeye had no other explanation for how humans could have built such magnificent structures. Huge white columns, giant statues of men and women, multi-storey stone houses - it all made an indelible impression.

    Everything was covered in mud, some crumbled, some completely destroyed, the city was full of smoke from street fires and suspicious smells, but still impressive in its grandeur.

    The ground was covered with small polished stones, but there were holes here and there. The inhabitants grew strange spiral plants and mushrooms in these pits. They also bred some kind of spiky animals with eight very long and thin legs, crawling slimy lumps and boarlers. Gloomy even wanted to pet them, but decided to keep up with the others.

    There weren''t many passers-by for such a big city, but what did Gloomeye know about cities? People were going about their business, some working with cloth and clay. The procession passed a kind of bazaar where people sold things straight from the ground. Rexana made no mistake: most of the residents were women. Many looked back at the villagers, or rather the new city dwellers. Merchant took Wolves'' arm, something she had never done before.

    The city consisted of one large, wide street (not counting the many alleys between the houses) leading up to a hill where a huge building could be seen. Splinter poked Gloomy in the side:

    "We need to take a closer look at the palace."

    "Why?" Gloomeye didn''t understand.

    "Do you see palaces every day?" Splinter asked. "I didn''t notice, come to think of it, anything at your home."

    "They brought you there in a cage," the guy muttered, straightening his trousers. "Here. Make yourself a caustic answer. You''re such a causticity expert."

    Splinter began to think seriously about the answer: "How about: ''Even though my home was a pile of dirt, at least I had a home. Or: ''Your home is a cage, so shut your stinking mouth, you trapped scum.''"

    "Hey, I''m not that kind of bastard!" Gloomeye said indignantly.

    "Like me, huh?" Splinter didn''t give him a chance to answer, and walked over to a sword the company had just passed. The sword was stuck in the ground in the middle of the street, and solidified stone waves and cracks were coming out of it.

    "Whoever draws the Sword of Light will lose their life. Try to draw a sword - 1 gold," the girl read the sign next to the sword. Gloomy noticed that she could read. Or maybe she''s just making it up. Too bad it can''t be verified.

    "And why take it out?" Shroomer asked.

    "No need, that''s why it wasn''t pulled out," Wolves replied. "Come on, I think I''ve found a big enough tavern," he waved his hand in its direction.

    The tavern was a large room with long stone tables and benches (some even outside), and there were many people inside, who fell silent at the sight of the crowd entering, but soon resumed their conversations. The room was dim, thick with smoke, and smelled pleasantly of something fried. On one of the benches, Gloomy noticed an alm with a human body kit, dressed, but with an elongated snout and the size of Giggler. The funny creature sat with its legs dangling in the air, drinking from a cup made of planks tied together with metal hoops.

    Wolves sat against the wall, half-crawling out of his seat with his hands on his head. Storyteller and Giggler were arguing about something. Merchant and Moose were laughing at something of their own. Rasca and Master were discussing other customers. Gloomy thought that none of the stories he''d heard had characters travelling with their families; Storyteller always gets rid of the main character''s parents at the first opportunity. Perhaps this reflects his personal problems.

    A red-haired young man in an apron approached them and asked:

    "How can an ordinary owner of a simple tavern help you?"

    "All the best food! I''ll pay. And alcohol!" Wolves announced. "This is real life! We should have come to Capital long ago," he said to his people.

    "Oh, that reminds me of a story... Well, better not tell it..." the ordinary owner of a simple tavern smiled enigmatically and left to fulfil the order.

    When he brought back the food, Shroomer asked him about the Sword of Light.

    "Perhaps, I have only heard rumours, that before the Break there was a great and terrific hero who carried this sword... This sword was cursed, like all famous swords... The hero could part with his sword and armour right here... Anyway, that''s what people told me, believe it if you want," the redhead finished pointedly.

    "And the prophecy?" Beard asked.

    "Who knows these prophecies? It could be a warning... Only the person who wrote those words knows..." the innkeeper slowly backed away from the table.

    "Does anyone find this man very suspicious? No? Just me?" but no one replied to Shroomer as everyone began to eat.

    Gloomeye was given meat cut into squares and covered with plants and some kind of white sticky substance, as well as delicious water, which he liked even though it was bitter. When he was full, he began to listen to other people''s conversations.

    "...The Sky-Eyed Emperor is invading the South. This will obviously displease Dominica the Invader. We''ve had 15 winters without major wars, that''s enough," said the guard at the counter.

    Someone asked her something, and she replied:

    "Southerners have dark eyes. Your eyes are more green. Although I do not know what colour the sky is in the South, perhaps it is the same colour".

    "...Wil has put on another drunken show."

    "...Do you think the slavers will return?"

    Then Gloomeye heard a familiar word.

    "The Mourneers have gathered so many people, a real army. It is clear as a rake that to go to the Court of Madness, where else? The last remaining Court that practises magic, what an irony."

    "Yes. The Court of Madness, indeed," said the other.

    "But I don''t think the Mourneers will succeed. That Court, I''ve heard, has a huge monster the size of a city."

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    "Come on, everyone knows how rumours work. All before you have increased its size. Or a town of three huts. Now there are no real cities except our Capital."

    Gloomeye saw Splinter''s hand shake with the cup. She set it down on the table, spilling half the drink. Was she listening to this conversation too?

    "What?" he asked her with only his eyes. She shook her head and began to wipe the spilled liquid onto the floor with her palm.

    "Tell you what," Wolves said to the crowd. "I think we''ll stay in city for a while. It will not be superfluous to support our common fund with money. So everyone should find a source of income."

    "Speaking of money?" the innkeeper appeared before them, grinning broadly.

    "Is that enough?" Wolves asked languidly as he pulled out a gold coin.

    "It''s enough for one meal, but not for all of them, of course," the red-haired man replied with the same broad smile, but with the edges already slipping off.

    "But it''s gold!" Wolves said in childish amazement, but then immediately pulled himself together.

    "Don''t you know? We have a lot of gold. After the Break, mounts of gold appeared, right on the surface, the size of my tavern. Some oddball must have decided to get rich at a time when the world was breaking. This is called ¡®de-va-lua-tion¡¯. What we really need is metal money, because it can be melted down to make useful things.¡±

    "How about a discount for the saviours of the city?" Wolves asked without much hope.

    "Saviours of the city? How about saving a mountain of dishes from the dirt in my kitchen?" the tavern keeper''s smile faded completely.

    "Ha! I''ve already found a job. See how easy it is? You go and find us a better place to live," said the non-chief with false cheerfulness.

    The choice fell on a multi-storey building nearby. Inside, the building was made of white stone, with columns smaller than those on the street. On the first floor there were many rooms with square recesses in the floor and many metal pipes. In the walls were coloured stones that formed pictures: a bird with the head of a woman, or people whose legs were trunks ending in two petals.

    Gloomeye enjoyed looking at these pictures. Did humans create such things? So much work - just for beauty? I suppose it''s like the stories of Storyteller, only set in stone.

    It was possible to reach the top by means of well-hewn stones of equal length, so-called steps. Gloomy chose a room for himself and lay down on a flat, padded contraption. It is not known what it was really for, but now it will be his sleeping place. A cloud of dust rose into the air when he touched it.

    Gloomeye tried to make sense of what was happening, but was distracted by Giggler, who came in and said that his father was going to pass on all his storytelling skills to him. Although Giggle didn''t say it outright, it meant that Gloomy didn''t have to look after the boy.

    Then Earlier went in, or rather fell in, with his head stuck in the extended end of a broken pipe. Gloomeye helped him get it out. Then Mom, who was scouting the area. Then Merchant, who did the same thing, but from a different direction. Crushy came in, but when she saw Gloomy, she turned and left. Rustle crept past the door without saying anything. He liked to sneak around and keep quiet.

    Splinter was the last to appear. She must have been bored and found an excellent subject to train her venomous wit. Or she was preparing a report for the Mourneers. I should talk to her about it, but I haven''t got a reason yet. And she obviously had a bunch of jokes in mind for the answer.

    The next day Gloomeye went to the boarlers, but a boarlerherd with fused eyebrows told him rudely that his services as a shepherd were not required. Then Gloomy thought for a moment and went to see the clerk. Decimus, as he was called, poured the guy some fragrant liquid, but also said that his services were not required, as the older children look after the younger ones.

    On his way home, Gloomy sensed someone familiar in the crowd, which was very strange as he hardly knew any other people apart from Worldedge. Except for an occasional vagabond who sometimes became part of the village. But then his trousers slipped down again, and when he looked back at the crowd, the feeling was gone.

    Splinter met him at the house:

    "Hero, let''s go to the palace quickly. Let''s see how rooms need to be designed. Yes, now. You still have nothing to do but your pants. Pull them up as much as you like on the go," the girl pulled Gloomeye by the hand in the direction of the palace.

    She was right, so the guy followed her. He tied a knot in the side of his trousers to hold them up, but that was only a temporary solution. So he looked for a rope to make a belt. But instead of rope, he found Shroomer arguing with someone at a mushroom pit. Sewer was studying a sewing machine next to some woman. He also found pictures of birds with human heads on the walls and pavement. Someone, apparently much later than the creation of the pictures themselves, had drawn pentagons over the strange bird alms. Or strange people? Gloomy had never heard of alms with human parts.

    "Do you think they''re bird people or human alms?" he asked his companion who was dragging him resolutely.

    "Did you grow up in a hole? Oh yes, that''s right! There. It is the guide of mankind, an ancient religious symbol of the longing for paradise. The bird of paradise, in other words. They''re drawing to her the Star of Hope, I''ll leave you to figure out what that means.¡±

    "Wow, you have some knowledge for a human who spends all her mind power inventing indirect insults. Isn''t it offensive to call you a human? Do you consider yourself a human-sized stingback?

    "Not bad," Splinter nodded approvingly. "But you''re still indecisive - you leave yourself a path of retreat, turning an insult into a question. So you''re still a small stingback larva."

    So, exchanging barbs, they arrived at their destination. The palace was much larger than Gloomeye had imagined from a distance. Huge pillars rose high into the air, with red cloth awnings flapping in the wind between them. The wind carried red velvetling seeds that floated slowly through the air.

    At the entrance, which a lethargic could easily enter, balancing a middleshroom on his head and even jumping up, there were white cloths with the same symbols as on the guards'' loincloths.

    The guards guarding the entrance said nothing to the newcomers. They were trying to cope with the heat brought by the wind. The interior of the palace looked like a new Gloomy''s home, only much larger in every direction. Statues of bald men wrapped in rags, their heads bowed, lined the walls of long corridors.

    Splinter moved forward decisively.

    "Are we looking for something in particular?" Gloomeye tried to understand what was going on.

    "No, why should we? But if you see the inner garden, we''ll go there."

    Splinter found the garden quite quickly. It was a room without a ceiling or floor, with walls that reached to the waist, with artistically carved holes in them. Could it be called a room? There were colourful plants, unknown to Gloomeye, and people.

    "Were you expecting visitors, young lady?" a man stepped forward.

    He wore an odd stand-up hat with gold designs embroidered on the sides. Under the hat, he had slicked back, medium-length black hair and pointed sideburns. For some reason, the man had shaved in the small beard the X symbol, which reached to his eyebrows. He had round grey eyes, a long nose and slightly full cheeks. He wore a burgundy suit with four buttons on the chest and a long, hanging hem divided into two parts. Many chains hung from the silver epaulettes, some of which were attached to his right breast. A white shirt with lace cuffs peeked out from under the sleeves and neck, which was also decorated with a precious brooch. Black pants reached up to a slightly rounded belly, and leather shoes ended with upturned toes.

    The man''s name was Wil, and he worked as a majordomo in the palace, but not always. Before the Break, he was just a janitor. He survived the crash in a drunken dream in the cellar of his house.

    Wil was a pragmatist, lazy and selfish. He often stole from the palace and spent the money on alcohol and gambling in taverns. But there was one good thing about him - his love for pega, whom he had won in the "Emperor-Subject-Slave-on-Dice" game, which didn''t happen often. Pega''s name was Grassy, and she was grey with a white "sock". Grassy loved her new owner, even though he didn''t ride her.

    He was followed by a blonde girl who looked like Gloomeye by her eyes and Rexana by her fancy dress:

    "No. Maybe they''re just looking around the palace," she said, glancing over the visitors and losing interest in them.

    Suddenly, the well-dressed man fell on his butt, his eyes wide with horror. He pointed behind Gloomy, and the stranger girl glanced in that direction, also startled.

    Splinter screamed:

    "It''s a ghost! Hero, you know how to fight ghosts! Save us!"

    Gloomeye turned around and saw a ghost that looked like the one that reported to the head of the Mourneers. Only this ghost had removed the mask, revealing an ordinary face with strong cheekbones and a forehead, but transparent. He stood waist-deep in the ground and pointed a transparent dagger at the palace girl.

    Gloomy backed away and bumped into Splinter. She shoved him towards the ghost and screamed:

    "This is no time to be modest, hero! Only you can save our souls!"

    Gloomeye finally got his bearings. He resolutely walked up to the ghost and tried to dispel his head with the hand, like smoke. The cursor sank slowly into the ground, either because it worked, or out of shame for the guy.

    "He''s gone?" the palace girl asked, standing right behind Gloomy, looking anxiously at the ground where the failed transparent dagger thrower had fallen. "I mean, forever?"

    "Oh, yes, that spectral scoundrel won''t be bothering you for a long time, if not forever," Splinter continued to speak in her panic-solemn voice. "Gloomeye gave him a good thrashing. He knows how to deal with these types, enough to last him his unnaturally nasty eternal life.

    "Ah, I know who you are. From the group that chased the slavers away. And you were right there when it happened? There was an army of them!" the girl said admiringly.

    Gloomy was surprised that the girl wasn''t ignoring him or being sarcastic, but admiring him.

    "Yes, I took this little suit from their chief," he said, pulling the fabric at his chest as if to show the reality of his suit. It was a mistake, because when it returned, it retaliated by pulling Gloomeye''s trousers down. Fortunately, the upper part of the suit was long enough to prevent him from being mentally damaged for the rest of his life.

    The girl giggled and turned away, unlike Splinter, who opened her mouth and pursed her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

    "I can see that you''re much slimmer than the previous owner. My name is Dara, I''m Rexana''s daughter.¡±

    "I''m Gloomeye," the guy said. He had pulled his pants back on and was now clutching them tightly with both hands, as if in punishment.

    "My name is Splinter," Splinter said.

    "Yes, yes..." Dara waved her away. "We haven''t fully decided on our form of rule yet, so my status is uncertain."

    "The ruler''s daughter is a princess. That''s the villainess," the guy remembered his conversation with Giggler for some reason. Stop thinking nonsense, or you might say it out loud!

    "You saved my life, and I owe you a reward," Dara continued. "I''ll certainly think of something. Now, would you like a tour of the palace? You can even take your maid with you."

    "She''s not my servant," Gloomeye tried to explain.

    "Believe me, it''s better if I don''t know your girl''s status," Dara assured him.

    "Yes, you have spoiled me too much, master," Splinter said with feigned indignation and returned to her normal self.

    Gloomy suddenly realised that he was standing next to the girl and that she wasn''t a Splinter. He immediately broke out into a sweat.

    "Yes, princess," said Gloomeye.

    "A princess?" Dara giggled again. She seemed to like giggling. "Is that what you think of me? I like it."

    "Ah, Princess! Not Splinter, not Stinker, not Bag-of-Crap. Princess," Splinter said.

    "Is this your lost-in-development sister you''ve been forced to look after? I don''t see any other reason to put up with her," Princess said irritably. "You''d better come with me," she said in a different voice, pulling the Gloomeye''s arm, "and I''ll tell you all about this place."

 Chapter 6

    Serious Talk

    The wheel of fate turned again. Get me an eyes deflector and a suit. - The note from an unknown person to an unknown person, no one knows where.

    Gloomeye didn''t remember what Princess had said, or the sardonic comments of Splinter that trailed behind them. He tried to make sense of what had happened, but he had too little information.

    In the end, they said goodbye, Princess promised to send him an invitation, and Gloomy and Splinter went home. When they reached Gloomeye''s room, Splinter was about to walk past him into her next room, but the guy grabbed her by the arms and pulled her in.

    "We should have started this conversation a long time ago," Gloomeye informed her.

    "What, a girlfriend appeared and immediately became an adult with a whole bunch of serious conversations behind a shirt?" Splinter half-lay down on his soft sleeping spot, supporting her torso with her elbows.

    "Let''s compare our versions of events," Gloomy suggested, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as his soft sleeping spot was occupied. "You wanted to visit the palace, you were looking for a certain place, you found the daughter of the ruler, who was supposedly attacked by the Mourneer spy, which you also claim to be. Strange coincidences have decided to present us with this day.¡±

    "My version is exactly the same, only without the coincidences, but with the organisation of these events by me. I met the cursor, that ghost, this morning and asked him to attack our little princess so that you could rescue her nobly and gain influence at court. Is that bad?"

    "You''re not making it any easier to trust you," Gloomeye began to think about the new information.

    "I told you not to trust me!" the intonation of ''oh you'' was clearly heard in the girl''s voice. She lay on her side, her head resting on her hand. "But in this case, I just took the chance. The cursor found you without my help, and anyway, the blackies will try to kill the city''s rulers. They don''t let the weepers in here, in Capital. And maybe there''s another good, or rather bad, reason why, but I have no proof at the moment.

    "Are they mages?" Gloomy asked dully.

    "No, probably not mages," Splinter''s eyes darkened at the mention of magic. Gloomeye noticed that this was her only genuine emotion - hatred of magic.

    "Okay. Last question: to whom are you more loyal? If you have to choose between us and the Mourneers?"

    "I am not with the Mourneers. You can see that my face and hands are normal. I won''t show you the rest, but you felt when you carried me that I had an ordinary body. And there were no anomalies when we sparred, were there?" Splinter looked down at her body as if to confirm the truth of her words.

    When she saw the uncomprehending look in his eyes, she caught herself:

    "Demons! It''s their secret. Well, I''ll tell you, as further proof that I''m not with them. They drink magerot. Naturally, they die like swarmers. But those who survive gain powerful abilities. You think, why are they wrapped in their rags? The Mourneers are no longer human. Some have membranes on their hands, some have feathers on their chests. I''ve seen someone''s face arched inside their skull, a disgusting sight. And then they crossbreed with those with similar abilities to pass them on to their offspring. So, what''s the verdict? Am I to be branded a traitor and banished in disgrace, or shall we tolerate my company a little longer?"

    "Of course you stay," said Gloomeye. "If we were to banish all the unreliable, there would be no Worldedge. You''re our kindred now."

    " Well, if we''re done with serious talks, why don''t we switch rooms? You have such a soft bed."

    Splinter stayed for some time, but Gloomeye''s thoughts intuitively came close to what might be called the concept of false dichotomy: if one choice is false, then the other is not necessarily true.

    ***

    A few days of summer passed. Dayorb warmed the air and the ground beneath it, and they in turn warmed Capital. Gloomeye and Splinter explored the city, went to the bazaars, and once watched from the side as a group of citizens sang and danced in the evening.

    They met more and more representatives of Worldedge, who had found their place in Capital. Gloomy''s pants still tended to be on the ground, not on his hips.

    The girl suddenly had new clothes: a white shirt with open shoulders, tight trousers that only reached to her ankles, and a corset that turned into straps that wrapped around her legs to her knees. When asked about these clothes, she rolled her eyes and said that the guy was stuck in Cycle 499 of the 7th century, and now it was Cycle 0 of the New Era, and women could wear pants (although Gloomeye didn''t ask about that).

    The city somehow combined monumentality and gigantism with ruin and slop. The foul stench, juxtaposed with the intoxicating smells of food, created an intoxicating stench. They also saw peg stables, which they had missed on entering the city. Pegs were riding alms with incredibly long, powerful legs that had to be completely bent to sit on the ground. A leathery membrane ran from the front legs to the body, and the snout looked like a smooth, pointed worm. As Gloomeye approached a grey peg, its head split open into a few pieces, revealing a mouth full of flat teeth and small black eyes hidden beneath vertical eyelids.

    One hot morning, Aigo stood outside the house, wearing his heavy armour as usual:

    "Young Lady Dara is waiting for you. I''m here to escort you."

    Well, Gloomy didn''t have any special plans for his life anyway, so he agreed. Splinter followed, of course. When they passed the Sword of Light, Aigo gave it a thoughtful look.

    Dara was waiting at the entrance to the palace. Impatient, she shooed Aigo away with her hands like a little swarmer and grabbed Gloomeye''s arm:

    "Come quickly! The passage is stabilised!" Princess dragged Gloomy deeper into the palace. She chose not to notice Splinter.

    "Did Aigo bother you too much? That fool thinks he is a knight. He keeps walking around that sword in the street, licking his lips at it like a dangerous tree at a small alm. But he is afraid to use it, for fear of his life," Princess was nervous and spoke quickly.

    She led Gloomeye (and, reluctantly, Splinter) down a palace corridor that led nowhere but down. They were clearly already underground, at street level in the city gates, or perhaps even lower. The white stone around them began to darken until it was completely black. Eventually the group reached the bottom and walked down a long corridor with many doors and guards.

    A guy with things hanging from him and a rucksack twice his size was sitting by one of the doors. The door next to him opened and a girl stepped out, wearing a headband that protected her face from the black hair that fell in waves over her shoulders. She wore an iron breastplate with leather straps and leather trousers. Behind her was the hilt of a sword with a face-shaped pommel. She walked over to Gloomy, silently examined him, and left with the guy who was waiting for her.

    Strangely, Gloomy thought he had seen this girl somewhere, but his memories were vague. Could it be that she visited Worldedge when I was at an unconscious age?

    "We made it," Princess said, relieved. "Go to door 60, where the heroine Valkali came out. Then to 6.

    What''s behind that door? A treasure trove for heroes? Gloomeye went to door 60 and turned around, but everything he wanted to say got stuck in his throat.

    Princess was prostrate on the floor, whispering: "Glory to Evil." Splinter stared in surprise at this new side of Dara. Where has she taken us? Suddenly, the guy was pulled into the opening by an unseen force. He couldn''t resist and was dragged through the door, which slammed shut immediately.

    Inside the room-abductor, flat connected planks on the ceiling spun around a dim light that couldn''t dispel the darkness of the room. The whole wall was painted with the silhouettes of curved columns ending in a bunch of cut leaves, and the shadow of the ceiling thing moved on them. Unusual music was playing, but there were no musicians in sight. There were several doors, and Gloomeye tried the one he''d come through, but it wouldn''t budge. Of course it''s locked. How could it be otherwise?

    But the door with the number 6 on it opened without a problem. Gloomeye found himself in a dark room full of strange things. He recognised only a few: a bed and a table. On the table was some kind of box. In the centre of the room was a chair, occupied by a man in a strange suit.

    The dark cloth encircled his body, leaving only the triangle of his chest exposed, revealing a white shirt and a dark vertical strip of cloth on which something metallic glinted. In the mysterious man''s hands was a disgusting maggot the size of a hand. He stroked it, not noticing that it was smearing something sticky on his suit.

    But that wasn''t the strangest thing about the man. His face was always out of Gloomy''s sight. Only at the very edge of his vision could he see what looked like swirling and intertwining bands of darkness where his face should have been.

    "STOP TURNING YOUR HEAD!" A low, demonic voice rang out, echoing with flames. "THE DEFENCE ISN''T PERFECT, AND YOU''LL ACTUALLY BE ABLE TO SEE ME. THAT''S NOT WHAT YOU WANT."

    Gloomeye twitched with what he hoped was sufficient dignity. For some reason, he expected to hear a normal voice, since this creature was not dressed in demonic way (as the guy imagined demondom) and had a pet (though the choice was questionable). And such a voice must have belonged to a monster the size of a house, destroying that same house for the glory of chaos.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "I AM REGENT, FIRST AMBITION AND RULER OF THE DEMONS. AND THIS IS SELF-DESTRUCTION," Regent lifted the maggot with an nasty squelching sound. Gloomeye thought one end of the maggot was blurred.

    "Most people I know wouldn''t advise me to talk to you, sir," Gloomy said, as if apologising for the people he knew. And just in case, he used a respectful form of address. "You are evil incarnate. That is, not you personally, well, you personally and all your kin," Gloomeye made a good decision to shut up.

    "THAT''S WHERE YOU''RE WRONG, GLOOMEYE. WE ARE NEITHER GOOD NOR EVIL. WE ARE THE MIRROR."

    The guy didn''t know what to say. At least, he didn''t know what this mirror was. Now, in addition to good and evil, there is a new side to his world - the mirror? It must have been the beginning of the infamous demon''s fooling of mortals.

    "TOO BAD YOUR FRIEND SPLINTER DIDN''T SHOW UP. I''D LIKE TO TALK TO HER," the demon continued. "AN INTERESTING GIRL. AN INTERESTING PIECE. I WOULD CALL HER A PAWN THAT HAS REACHED THE END OF THE OPPONENT''S BOARD AND IS NOW CHOOSING WHAT TO BECOME. MAYBE EVEN CHANGING SIDES, EVEN IF IT''S NOT ACCORDING TO THE RULES.

    "What do you know about her?" Gloomy didn''t let the strange statements confuse him. And she is a whole human, not a piece. Well, maybe a skinny one.

    "IT WOULD BE RUDE TO DISCUSS A MORTAL BEHIND HER BACK, WOULDN''T IT? ASK HER YOURSELF, BUT SHE''LL ANSWER," Regent suddenly spoke in a demonic version of Splinter''s voice, "''IF YOU ASK YOUR FRIEND, THE DEMON KING, I''M SURE HE''LL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT BY ROLES, HE MUST BE VERY GOOD AT PARODYING VOICES, ESPECIALLY MINE.'' I WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT SHE WILL BE WRONG HERE. I AM NOT A KING, I AM THE REGENT."

    Gloomeye felt what he would have called surrealism, had he known. The demon ruler jokes by parodying Splinter, who jokes about being parodied by the demon ruler. Is he just joking? Or does he see the future? Or does he know people that well? Wait a minute! The demon ruler! Demon. Ruler.

    "Why did the Break occur?" the guy asked out of place. He remembered the question of another strange acquaintance, the arch of ancient ruins.

    "YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR KNOWLEDGE. FOR KNOWLEDGE, AND EVEN MORE SO FOR KNOWING," the demon either answered or refused to answer. "YOU WERE RIGHT TO REMIND ME OF THE BREAK, AS YOU CALL IT. YOU''RE MUCH MORE TALKATIVE THAN THE WOMAN BEFORE YOU, BUT IT''S TIME TO GET DOWN TO BUSINESS. UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU WANT TO DISCUSS VALKALI AS WELL."

    "Why should I discuss her?"

    "YES. EXACTLY. I WANT TO RETURN TO MY OWN DIMENSION."

    "I... I''m sure I know less about dimensional travel than you do," Gloomeye said, trying to tame the flow of information that was much more intense than he was used to receiving (even including the last few busy days).

    "I''LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING IN A MOMENT. AFTER YOU CHANGED THE WORLD, MY PRESENCE IN IT BECAME UNDESIRABLE FOR ME. BUT ALL THE PASSAGES LARGE ENOUGH FOR ME WERE BLOCKED. AND FOR HIM," Regent raised Self-Destruction again, realising that his interlocutor couldn''t see his head nod. "WE ARE TOO BIG ENTITIES. LUCKILY THERE IS THIS THING," the demon pointed with a sticky hand at a small metal box on the table. It was dark, but it was possible to make out some sort of ornate design on it. "THIS IS THE MAGINARIUM, THE MACHINE THAT CONTAINS THE GOD. NOT THE FALSE GODS THAT YOU HUMANS HAVE MADE, BUT THE REAL ONE. RELATIVELY. BY REPAIRING THE MAGINARIUM, I CAN MAKE A WISH AND GET OUT OF YOUR WORLD.¡±

    "And you want me to fix this thing somehow? I''m not very good at fixing gods from machines either," Gloomeye admitted.

    "YOU ARE CLEVER FOR YOUR CIRCUMSTANCES. IT NEEDS SPARE PARTS THAT WERE HIDDEN IN YOUR WORLD. YOU WILL BRING THEM TO ME, AND I WILL GRANT YOU AN EQUAL NUMBER OF WISHES. TO SAVE TIME, LET¡¯S SKIP YOUR QUESTIONS AND GET STRAIGHT TO THE ANSWERS. MAGINARIUM IS STRONGER THAN ME, BUT I HAVE ENOUGH POWER FOR YOUR WISHES. I CAN''T PICK UP THE PIECES MYSELF, BECAUSE I CAN''T BREAK OUT INTO YOUR WORLD. WE ARE IN A POCKET DIMENSION BETWEEN WORLDS. I CAN''T SEND MY SUBORDINATES EITHER, BECAUSE THEY SERVE ME, WHICH MEANS THEY ARE AMBITIOUS AND ALWAYS READY TO BETRAY ME. I CAN''T GUARANTEE THAT I REALLY WANT TO LEAVE, BUT THINK ABOUT IT, GLOOMEYE, HOW CAN I HARM THE WORLD IN ITS CURRENT STATE?¡±

    "I''m still not sure I want to work for the demons," Gloomy said, trying to increase his worth as Merchant had taught him.

    "YOU WILL BANISH THE DEMON RULER TO HIS DIMENSION. THIS IS AN OBJECTIVELY HIGHLY MORAL ACT. HEROIC EVEN. AND THE DEMONS... MY DEMONS WILL NOT RESIST YOU, BUT RATHER HELP YOU. NO HARD FEELINGS, ONLY GRATITUDE. THE CONDITIONS ARE BETTER THAN IN ANY FAIRY TALE".

    "Okay, I can look for some thingies for you," Gloomeye exhausted all his trading skills.

    "NO, TO WORK FOR ME, YOU HAVE TO SHOW SERIOUS INTENTIONS. KZARINA!"

    A woman wearing a tight black skirt, a white shirt, a red vest and an incredibly funny little red cap on her head came out of the wall. She had white skin and hair, and an inhumanly sharp face. Or maybe it was the darkness of the room that made it seem so. She carried a tray of a parchment and a thin metal spike.

    "I can neither read nor write," Gloomy said honestly. He knew what the items on the tray were for.

    "NOW YOU CAN."

    The guy suddenly realised that he understood the sentence on the parchment: "I agree" and two dashes.

    "READING WILL BE USEFUL IN YOUR QUEST. AND MY AGENT MUST LOOK PRESENTABLE. KZARINA.

    Kzarina pulled out her belt and placed it on the tray. Her skirt was tight around her hips so it didn''t fall off. How happy she is!

    "NOW YOU DON''T HAVE TO HOLD ON TO YOUR PANTS ALL THE TIME, AS IF THEY HAVE A PILE OF JEWELRY IN THEIR POCKETS. AND COME ON FOR A NICE NUMBER, I''LL GIVE YOU A THIRD GIFT - UNDERSTANDING LANGUAGES.

    "I... thank you. Probably. But I haven''t agreed yet."

    "YOU CAN LEAVE WITHOUT SIGNING THE CONTRACT. BUT I PROMISE THAT THE CONTRACT IS WITHOUT A CATCH. I WILL FULFILL YOUR TRUE WISH. IF YOU FEEL THAT I AM NOT BEING HONEST WITH YOU, THEN THE CONTRACT IS VOID. THAT¡¯S THE LAST THING I''LL SAY, AND IT CAN''T BE CHANGED."

    ***

    Princess and Splinter were waiting for him at the door, desperately oblivious to each other. Splinter was leaning back against the wall, and Princess was sitting on the floor. When she saw Gloomeye come out, she jumped up, threw her arms around him, and buried her head in his chest.

    "You''re alive, then, the Overlady (what? Did I go through the wrong door?) has made you Her Chosen One," she said, looking up at his face. Her eyes glittered, and her lashes fluttered rapidly. "I didn''t doubt you, Chosen One!"

    There were retching sounds, which Splinter was fortunately only imitating. Princess looked grimly at the source of the sounds and said through clenched teeth:

    "Maybe still execute her?" Dara looked back at Gloomy, her eyes hopeful.

    He''d never had much female attention in his entire life, and now it was too much.

    "I''d appreciate it if I was warned in advance about my meetings with rulers, especially demonic ones," the guy said indignantly to the air. "But it went well. Regent gave me a job. And he also made it clear that you would provide us with supplies for the journey, Princess."

    "Right! I''ll take orders immediately!" Princess moved away and ran in a manner that was clearly not typical of royalty.

    "Come on, tell me what happened there, I need it for my report," Splinter pulled him by the arm. "You didn''t fall in love with that demon-loving girl, did you? She''s such an obvious schemer. Or should I train you to resist the woman''s charms? Then we''ll have to find some tavern wench..."

    "Do you think her mother knows?" the guy put a finger in his mouth, which he had to cut to get blood to sign the contract (he also urgently needed a signature for himself. Gloomeye decided on "Gloomeye"). He did not dare to suck his finger in front of Princess.

    Splinter let go of Gloomy and walked over to a wall banner with the city''s symbol on it.

    "I''m sure now. Do you think this is the symbol of the desire for hope?"

    "Yeah, that''s what you told me," Gloomeye said, examining his wet finger. The bleeding had stopped. "That''s your ''You can''t trust me with anything, ever'' thing again, isn''t it?"

    The girl took the edge of the cloth and turned it over so that the star was at the bottom of the bird of paradise.

    "And that''s way is the fall of mankind into the Abyss. This pentagon resembles the pentagram, a symbol that is associated with the summoning of demons. They hid it in plain sight. Have you heard of... Who am I asking!? There is a sect called the Sisters of Regina, demon worshippers. I think they had something to do with the noticeable absence of men in Capital before or during the Break."

    "Oh," was all Gloomy said.

    "Have you already fantasized the ruler of Capital as your mother-in-law? Did you like the town and decide to inherit it?" Splinter quickly made up for the amount of sarcasm she''d missed during the explanation.

    "Princess said they haven''t decided on a form of government yet," the guy blurted out. He was already lost in his own thoughts, leaving the rebellious mouth to carry on the dialogue.

    "I see you''re hanging on her every word. Although maybe demon worship won''t be a no-no thing for you. What did you say about Regent''s mission?" Splinter decided to go on.

    As they walked, Gloomy told her about his recent conversation. Just in case, he didn''t mention the words ''Regent'' and ''demon'' again, even though he was sure that all the guards here wouldn''t mind hearing about demons. But in a world where there are Mourneer cursors, it''s best not to try your luck just like that. As for the discussion about Splinter, he just said:

    "He knows you, by the way. Still don''t want to tell me about yourself?"

    "If you ask your friend, the demon king, I''m sure he''ll tell you all about by roles, he must be very good at parodying voices, especially mine," the girl replied sarcastically.

    "He''s... not a king," Gloomy said thoughtfully.

    By the time he finished his story, they were already out on the street.

    "I''d like to get out of here, too. Out of this world, I mean. I believe him," the girl concluded. "So, what''s our first step?"

    "Do you want to come with me?" the guy wasn''t particularly surprised, but he was expecting different scenarios.

    "You''re a strange person, hero. How can I make reports away from you?" Splinter made the sign of doubting the sanity with her hand near her head.

    As they entered the tavern by the Sword of Light, they encountered Wolves and Merchant. Wolves was wearing an apron and a headscarf. He was wiping cups with a rag and telling something funny to Merchant, who was laughing and drinking at the table.

    "Father, I''ve been assigned a mission in the palace," Gloomeye announced immediately.

    "Great!" the father was delighted.

    "Splinter and I are going to leave here, and probably for a long time," the guy continued to develop his verbal success.

    Gloomeye''s parents looked at each other. Wolves turned serious and stood in front of his son:

    "Good luck on the road."

    "Aren''t you going to talk us out of this?" Gloomeye was really surprised now.

    "I have taught you everything I know: how to fight, how to hunt, well, the principles showed. I hope I''ve passed on my understanding of the world and life here," Wolves poked his finger at his son''s forehead. "Although Storyteller ran the place, which I''d like to negate.

    How can I stop you? By what right? My grandfather, even not from a good life, chose freedom. That''s what he called his gang, the Free People," Wolves hugged his son. "I was so afraid of being a father, I thought I was going to ruin everything. Thank you for being with me along the way, helping me out. It''s going pretty smoothly, isn''t it?" Wolves ruffled Gloomy''s hair. "You have to travel light on the road, so I''m sorry if it wasn''t smooth somewhere. And know that I forgive you, too."

    Gloomeye felt something in his throat. At that moment, Merchant came up to them and hugged them both, saying:

    "I''m not your real mother, but unlike her, I raised you, which makes you my son. We''ll always be waiting for you, just come back."

    "That was the demon lord. He asked me to collect some things to get him out of our world," Gloomy couldn''t lie at a time like this.

    "Wow, so he can give a real royal reward," Wolves chuckled contentedly.

    "You don''t mind?" Gloomeye realised now that all the previous surprises in his life (including the most recent ones) were child''s play compared to this one.

    "I told you about freedom. Free people do good, do evil, do nothing. But I''m sure you''ll do the right thing. Besides, I knew a..." Wolves glanced quickly at his wife, "...a representative of the demonic race. They are generally normal non-humans. More human than elves, if you ask me."

    After the family separated, Wolves hugged Splinter, and then Merchant hugged her:

    "Take care of my son, okay? You probably already understand the principle of men. How they like to pretend to be confident, especially when they don''t understand anything."

    "Hey!" Wolves protested for show.

    Splinter was stunned by the hug and it was impossible to read her expression.

    "I hope you''re not leaving right now, but at least tomorrow morning?" Merchant asked, brushing something from her eyelid.

 Interludes

    Slizvert

    Slizvert''s leg hurt, and he didn''t know why the pain was needed at all. I know my leg doesn''t work properly, you don''t have to keep telling me, stupid body.

    The centurion sat in his tent, his bad leg stretched out under a folding table:

    "You must understand that I am in charge, and therefore I need authority among you. And you''re undermining it with your parodies of me. Ummmmm. Is there something you don''t like about my office? Then talk to me about it. Ummmmm. And we''ll work something out together. And we haven''t even got to the point that it''s not nice to laugh at the sick.¡±

    One of the subordinates kneeling in front of him couldn''t stand it any longer and held his head:

    "Just beat us up in front of everyone! When we started, Dayorb was just rising, and now it''s setting! By noon we realised we were wrong!"

    "Ummmm. How can I harm my good people?" Slizvert was surprised.

    "Please stop!" the subordinate began to plead.

    "Please stop!" Slizvert repeated absolutely not similarly. "Similar? I''m going to parody you in front of everyone. This is called poetic justice."

    A cursorius entered the tent, approached the centurion:

    "Prelate."

    "Ummm. Remind me, what is ''prelate''? Is it above a legate?" the centurion looked confused.

    But the messenger suddenly writhed, crouched down and froze in the pose of a dead tree. Smoke and bright light poured from his wide open eyes and mouth.

    "Yes, I am above a legate. And a centurion," the messenger''s face said.

    "Ummmmmm. You must give warning when you take possession of a body."

    "There is no time. We are gathering. Frenzy is too strong."

    "Ummm. But I have a project, I told you. Slizvert hesitated. "I''ve also discovered a den of demon worshippers, you won''t believe where. So..."

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    "That can wait. The war can''t. We need you here, the three phalanges," the face said, and then it went out, and its owner collapsed to the ground.

    "Tough job, huh?"  the centurion sympathised.

    "This is..." the messenger''s throat tightened.

    "...our sacrifice. Don''t go on. Are you still here?" Slizvert turned to the guilty ones. "Tell you what, go and bring me a prisoner, of fourteen winters. Ummmmm. And hopefully no more¡­"

    Unable to believe their luck, the Mourners ran out of the tent, overtaking each other.

    Valkali

    At night, after a small feast in the tavern, Wolves went out. He liked the quiet of the city at night. He was admiring the moon shards when Valkali stepped out of the shadows. She stopped in front of Wolves, a short distance away.

    "Quiet?" Wolves asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?¡±

    The heroine waved her head vaguely.

    "You''ve been gone a long time," Wolves said accusingly.

    The heroine nodded in agreement.

    "But you look even younger than before," Wolves praised her.

    The heroine waved her hand as if to stop him.

    "You should see Gloomeye. He''s leaving tomorrow," the father chuckled. "After all, he''s just like you. How ironic. But at least he said goodbye."

    The heroine waved her hands at her shoulders and eyebrows, as if to say, "Such is life".

    "But I don''t blame you, I''m even grateful. I''m with Merchant now, and she''s a wonderful woman, even if she likes to be bossy. It''s like she''s not from our world, huh?"

    The heroine quickly patted her palms together in front of her face.

    "Do you know anything about Regent in the palace? He''s a demon," Wolves said, suddenly suspicious.

    The heroine nodded confidently.

    "That''s how it is. You will take care of the son, won''t you? I would do it myself, but my people need a leader."

    The heroine wiggled her fingers thoughtfully. Wolves sighed:

    "That''s the best answer I can get. Thank you for that. It was interesting..." Wolves wanted to say "to talk", but that wasn''t quite it, "...to get back in touch with you."

    The heroine nodded and stepped back into the shadows, disappearing completely into the darkness. Wolves went back to staring at what was left of the moon.

    Astoro

    Astoro rode on Zuzu''s shoulder and played with his cane. His plan to enter Capital''s markets had failed completely, but failure never bothered him. It was just a bad investment, and he was sure that his next attempt would be more successful, given the experience he had gained. A good businessman always allows for unforeseen circumstances in his plans. In this case, the boy who took his clothes.

    But the Humanist was not offended. Let him enjoy the one good thing in his life while he can. Every merchant had to take his goods seriously, and for Astoro all living things were goods.

    The orc carrying him stopped. The slave trader felt her muscles tense as she prepared for battle.

    "Attack, Master?" the slave asked.

    Standing in Zuzu''s path was a gnarled man dressed entirely in black. Light and smoke came from beneath his headcloth.

    "Wait," Astoro ordered, tapping the slave on the shoulder with his cane to make sure.

    "Mr. Astoro, I have a business proposition for you," the broken man said.

    Unforeseen circumstances can be positive.

 Chapter 7

    Unknown

    Pixies are small, parasitic forms of fairies. All they do is fly around and play tricks on people. No intelligence has been found in them. "Creatures of the Central Patch by Giz"

    In the morning, Gloomy had a headache, even though he only ate food and drank bittersweet water that night. But it''s clear that the pain wasn''t caused by the water, because Wolves gave it to his son again, and he felt better. Apparently, this drink relieves suffering. I wonder what would have happened to my head if I hadn''t drunk it yesterday. I should take some more.

    Dara and Aigo found Gloomeye sitting against the wall of the tavern.

    "Here are supplies and money for the first time, Chosen One," Dara said, pointing to the bag Aigo was carrying. "This should last one person for a few weeks."

    "Oh, but there will be two of us. And how are you going to manage the city if you can''t organise a two-person journey, ''Princess''?" Splinter floated out of the door.

    "And you can eat garbage that''s left on the road," Princess replied.

    "Being rude to your subjects doesn''t make a ruler look good, only a tavern wench. Perhaps you should become one before it''s too late." Splinter suggested.

    Each sentence of the argument was pierced into Gloomy''s brain with red-hot, rusty, patterned spikes. He took the supplies and said "Thank you".

    "Chosen One, one more thing," Princess''s tone changed instantly. "I overheard and found out that Valkali was also given this mission. She will visit the city of Truth, where there is a library with possible information. You''ll need pegs to get ahead of her. You can use the palace ones, they are idle anyway: grey Grassy and black Raven. For you and a guide, I recommend you hire. And sell your wench at a nearest den. You might even get a gold piece, but I don''t think so.

    "You help me so much and I don''t have anything to repay you with," Gloomeye said, not sure how to react to the free help. He just decided to pay attention to it, maybe Princess would notice and take it back.

    "Oh, I''m sure if you empty your pockets, you''ll find lumps of wool and thread," Splinter managed to interject.

    "You are a Chosen One. It''s an honour to help you," Princess said. "Just come back with a successful mission for the Overlady. And preferably with a story about how someone in your circle got their head smashed in because she wouldn''t shut her too-talkative mouth."

    After a moment''s thought, Princess gave Gloomeye a quick peck near his nose and ran off, shouting ''For a lucky road!'' Aigo was confused at first, then hurried after his mistress.

    "Oooh," chuckled a passing Giggler, "Gloomy''s got a bride!"

    "They say the venom of such beasts kills in a few minutes. I can strangle you right now and put you out of your misery," Splinter stood at his side, following Princess with her eyes.

    "They also say that anything that can become a problem will definitely become a problem," Wolves said from Gloomeye''s other side. "And this is exactly the situation, trust your father, he has a lot of life experience."

    Gloomeye slung the strap of the bag over his shoulder and walked into the tavern. He was relieved to be leaving the city. Princess is clearly not going to be a part of Worldedge, and the parts of Worldedge represented by Splinter are clearly not happy with her company. They''d both be better off away from each other.

    There weren''t many people inside, and those who were sleeping on or under tables. Only the red-haired tavern owner was busy writing at the counter.

    "I''d like to hire a guide," Gloomeye said, approaching him. This greatly frightened the writer, who tried to simultaneously crumple and tear up what he was writing:

    "It''s a shopping list!"

    "Good thing it''s not a list of guides."

    "You need the rat, Drat. He sleeps behind the tavern," the innkeeper tried to smooth out his parchment and put it back together.

    Gloomeye had seen Drat in the tavern more than once. He was about Gloomy''s waist high and almost completely covered in fur. He had an elongated alm face with a strange thin moustache, long sharp nails, and a long bald tail. Drat wore short dark green trousers and a dirty orange waistcoat.

    Now Drat slept in the mud, covered by a pile of rubbish. Storyteller had described such creatures, but they were always the first training monsters for novice heroes, and Gloomeye imagined them smaller. Think about the authenticity of all Storyteller''s stories.

    Gloomy took a stick from the rubbish and tickled the rat''s bare heel. He didn''t wake up for a long time, just tossing and turning. Finally he woke with a low squeak. When he saw Gloomeye, Drat jumped up, began to brush off his clothes, and squeaked questioningly.

    "We need a guide to Truth. There we will find out where to go next. The innkeeper told me to come to you," Gloomy decided to clarify just in case: "You''re Drat, aren''t you?"

    The rat snorted and linked his thumb and forefinger around his eye, then held up his open palm.

    "You want five iron coins? I can pay," Gloomeye realised. "Say, I haven''t met your race before, you don''t speak the common language at all?"

    The new guide shook his muzzle, circled the ground nearby with his high paws and mimed putting his foot in something unpleasant for that foot. Then he pointed at Gloomeye and himself.

    For some reason, Gloomy liked the fact that Drat didn''t speak (except for squeaky noises), but expressed himself with gestures. There was something painfully familiar about it.

    "So you were human, but you ended up in magerot? And it changed you so much?" the guy suggested.

    The rat nodded. He seemed impressed by Gloomeye''s ability to understand him, as far as his inhuman expression could tell.

    "I''m Gloomeye, but you can call me..." Gloomy paused, realising what he was saying, "...as you wish."

    "Squeak!" Drat squeaked back, and they shook hands (although one looked a lot like a paw).

    When Gloomeye stepped out onto the main street, he saw the whole of Worldedge: Nervous Shroomer, big Moose, bored Crushy, enthusiastic Giggler, Storyteller holding his son by the shoulder, huge Mom and little Babyboy, stern Firster, Earlier, who had cut himself again, bald Skull, suspicious Rasca, still drunk Master, short Thorn, thoughtful Windblower, quiet Forager, ridiculous Planer, joyful Sewer, dirty Dwarf, tired Waterman, gloomy Northman, cheerful Divider, bearded Beard, sad Stump, looking at the crowd of Wolves and Merchant, frozen Splinter, and probably Rustle somewhere nearby. Only Meat was missing (here and in general).

    Wolves gave his son a round piece of metal from the bandits'' stash, "just in case". After saying goodbye to everyone and promising Giggler a souvenir, Gloomeye, Splinter and Drat headed for the peg stables, a rag-covered pen where the pegs were kept. There, Valkali was already preparing her white peg, and her companion was preparing his grey, fat and short one.

    Splinter went to Raven, while Gloomy got Grassy. Glassy. So it''s her. Gloomeye was spying on Valkali''s peg preparation. For some reason, Glassy resisted being harnessed and refused to leave the pen.

    The impact on the gate was so hard that dust flew off it. Brooding over another knot, Gloomy jumped and Drat jumped next to him. Everyone in the stables (except Valkali, who was not impressed by the blow) began to watch the gate, not knowing what to do. Newly separated two pieces of the guard fell from above.

    "Attack! Attack the city!" shouted the woman in charge of the peg pen.

    A crowd of guards poured out of a nearby building, one of them starting to cry over the cut guard. The rest joined in looking at the gate.

    "How are we going to get to the gate if no one lets down the ropes?" said one of the few male guards.

    Valkali, meanwhile, had straddled her peg, which straightened its hind legs and soared high into the air. Once on the wooden platform attached to the wall, the rider leapt up again, towards the sentry platform at the top of the gate. There she kicked at a piece of machinery and a lot of looped ropes came down. Then she jumped out of the city, and her companion rushed after her. Splinter decided to jump to the top of the gate as well.

    Gloomeye''s pega was still stubborn as the girl glided back with Raven''s open membranes, past the guards climbing the ropes.

    "That''s the Mourneer giant, Aurgelmir," the girl reported.

    "Is he alone?" Gloomeye is already entangled in the ropes himself.

    "He alone isn''t enough for you? He''s unleashed his freaks, but you''ll see for yourself. That girl has already escaped and we have to go."

    "Should we do it now?"

    "Becoming a scone will make it harder for you to complete the task of the demon big cheese, hero. Or have you always dreamed of becoming a blot on the ground, so it is worth breaking a contract signed with blood?"

    At that moment, the guards reached the top, and one of them, already without legs, fell down with a hysterical scream, splashing blood everywhere. The pegs were visibly nervous, and if it hadn''t been for the tethers, they would have jumped away. Except for Grassy, who for some reason decided to stay. The guy looked deeper into the city.

    "Ah, you''re worried about your gang," the girl realised. "The weepers let them go, remember? They want Rexana and her demon-loving comrades. Well, if you want, you can stay here and stop him if he breaks through. For a second, maybe two."

    Gloomeye climbed onto his pega and placed Drat in front of him. Glassy whirled restlessly in place.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Listen to me! I''ll give you... what do pegs like?" he tried to bribe the pega.

    Splinter grabbed Glassy''s neck:

    "Listen, or we''ll feed you to the giant storming the walls."

    Convinced of the threat, the pega leapt onto the platform. Gloomy barely managed to keep himself, his heart pounding. After another jump, they soared over the gate. Glassy spread her membranes and hung on the air currents. Gloomeye gasped at the sight. He saw wastelands stretching to the horizon, the small Pinching Forest, the ocean of magerot, Titus below his neck, some distant buildings, the Edge of the World, where his former village had been, and even a narrow strip of something beyond that edge.

    Then his pega landed on the gate, and Gloomeye returned to the present moment. In it, on the platform above the gate, the guards were fighting with some gnomes. They looked as if someone had taken a piece of white stone and started pressing and pulling parts of it to make a human. Sharp caps merged with schematically marked faces of dents and sharp points. Worst of all, they all wielded huge knives twice their size, made of the same material as their bodies.

    The gnomes wielded their weapons with the extraordinary ease of creatures who weighed far more than their appearance would suggest. All the knives were bloody, and there were piles of slashed human bodies on the platform. There were white creatures among them, with cracks from which ordinary red blood flowed. The city guards did not give up, however, and continued to come in on ropes.

    With the next jump, Gloomeye flew out of the city and saw the giant. He put his hands on the wall and looked down. As the rider appeared, the giant looked straight at him. Blood dripped from under Aurgelmir''s veil.

    "The big guy can detach and animate his body parts," Splinter said as she caught up with Gloomeye, shouting over the wind. "I hope he loses all his teeth here."

    "You know a lot about him," Gloomeye shouted back.

    "You haven''t forgotten that he used to carry my cage under his armpit. And we all collectively decided to stop washing after the Break," Splinter complained.

    Gloomeye''s pega landed softly on the ground, but immediately soared back up with the rider. Gloomeye''s spirit soared with it. Although the jump from the ground was much lower than the previous one, he felt incredibly free and light, and nauseous. Still, he turned to look at Capital once more.

    "He''s not going to break through the gate. He''s only here to announce Slizvert''s intentions," Splinter caught up with him again, "Capital is the safest place in any case compared to the outer wastes."

    "But the guards..."

    "There are far fewer of them killed than it seems. The bodies just take up a lot of space," Splinter tried to reassure Gloomy. The wind blew her hair back, revealing her face. She''s not that different from Crushy, they''re both young women and there are more similarities than differences.

    On the way down, Gloomeye noticed Drat pointing to some structures in the distance. Right! Direction. Need that. He somehow managed to steer his mount in the right side.

    The buildings were rapidly approaching, and he soon realised that they were wooden houses standing on wooden pillars in the shadows of megashrooms. Are there really so many safe trees here, or is this a pre-Break settlement? Unlikely. From above, he could see the scars nearby, and the ground itself was just as twisted, in one place even forming an earthen canopy under which a group of people were crouching, throwing a knife at a drawing on the ground. Probably the people here had dismantled the previous settlement and rebuilt a new one to suit the realities of the new world.

    When he landed, Gloomy pulled the rope that had stopped the pega from jumping, jumped down, tied her to a stick sticking out of the ground and tried to recover. The nausea didn''t go away, it just got worse. Drat also jumped down and headed for the largest building, which had an overturned ship on its roof. There were six houses, and only someone who had grown up in a hole like Gloomeye could call them houses. A pre-Break person would have called them glorified huts, covered with old crooked planks and overgrown with eyemoss.

    "What is this place, Drat?" Gloomeye shouted, still trying to shout over the wind.

    The rat ran two fingers over his open palm, put his muzzle on the folded palms, ate a little, and then ran his fingers again.

    "A roadside inn? And why are we here?" asked Gloomeye, surprised at his own sagacity.

    Drat ran his claw across his palm and realised something. Splinter came down beside him and tied her peg next to Grassy, who bounced lightly on her paws, alternating her choice of limbs. Splinter''s peg looked at her with disapproval. He was all pride, even managing to bend his neck at a right angle, unlike the other pegs, where it was impossible to tell exactly where the neck ended and the head began.

    "Not bad for your first ride on a peg," the girl praised.

    "Have you ridden them before?" Gloomeye asked.

    "No, I just told you this is my first ride, and I congratulated myself. And your ride was very shameful. Shame on you," Splinter teased.

    "Oh, I would have rated yours, but you were behind me and I couldn''t see your ride."

    And so as not to continue the argument, which (based on life experience) could last many hours, and also to have the last word, Gloomy followed Drat into the big house.

    Inside, a small picture of broken lines hung on the wall (looking closer, Gloomeye realised it was a map of the area), and dubious-looking people sat at cramped tables, eating, drinking and playing board games. One of the women had a rope around her neck, the other end of which was held by a grim-faced thug. An old man in a tattered robe was running a stick over a hollow box with taut veins, producing squeaky sounds that could be mistaken for music from a distance. Several customers sat on the floor, swaying. Their pupils were narrowed to a point, and the whites could be called the reds. It looks like a monstrous poisoning by a dustbag.

    A group of small creatures with sickly pale skin and large eyes with vertical slits caught the boy''s eye. Another non-human leaned against the wall. Instead of skin, he had green scales, a long face and pointed teeth that didn''t fit in his mouth and couldn''t decide which way to protrude. He twisted a string with a small flying creature tied to it around his finger and let go just to twist it again. The little prisoner fluttered on transparent wings behind its back, its arms and legs like crooked twigs, and small pupil points darted erratically over its large yellow protruding eyes.

    "We have been in the tavern all night and all morning. Can''t live without alcohol for a few hours? A bad sign," Splinter whispered into his ear.

    "I''m just following a guide. I think he''s forgetting something here," Gloomeye said.

    "So, he really is a guide and not your new pet?" the girl asked in surprise.

    "My sense of humour hasn''t reached your heights yet," Gloomy said, noticing Drat sitting at one of the tables under the map, and walked over to him.

    He was blocked by a sweaty woman who seemed to have forgotten to put on her outer clothing today:

    "Darling, I provide a narrow specialisation of entertainment."

    "Believe me, he''d love to lose his virginity here and now, but you''re too good for him. He needs a girl who is cheaper and has no self-esteem at all," Splinter grabbed the guy''s arm and led him to Drat''s table.

    "Thank you for taking it upon yourself to protect my honour. That''s why I''m your friend." Gloomeye chuckled.

    "Just promise to protect our friendship like your virginity, and I''ll be fine," Splinter chuckled back.

    The rat squeaked, but no one knew what he meant. Immediately, a guy with protruding ears sat down next to them, panting. Gloomy thought that he wouldn''t have been able to walk around in the village for long without a proper name. The thought of home made him sad. Already?

    "Are you travelling?" Ears asked after he had barely caught his breath.

    The conversation didn''t go any further as Gloomeye was roughly lifted up and spun around by a bald, fleshy brute who was shouting:

    "THIS IS MY PLACE!"

    Without waiting for an answer, he punched Gloomeye in the face. He had nothing to do, but to fly some distance and break a couple of tables with his back (what to do, there was no choice). The musician''s creaking became noticeably more energetic.

    Quickly scrambling to his feet, Gloomeye spotted a dangerously fast approaching bruiser, currently resembling a wild boarler. The guy managed to jump back under the table and heard a powerful crack and cursing customers. From there, he was roughly dragged out by his leg and thrown against the far wall.

    As Gloomy fell, he saw Splinter lying on her side under a table, her head resting on her hand:

    "What, you broke out of the family nest and went all ''breaking bad''?"

    The guy didn''t have time to answer properly (and he didn''t have time to answer anything), because he was being dragged by the leg again, and he was forced to slip away from the girl. Turning around, Gloomeye saw that he was being dragged by the same goon (which wasn''t much of a discovery). With his free foot, he kicked the hand that was grabbing him, and it (after that treatment) let go of him. Jumping to his feet, Gloomeye leapt to the nearest wall, bounced off it and punched his opponent in the face. But he wasn''t impressed. He grabbed the guy by the throat and Gloomy suddenly felt the hard floor on his back.

    He wrapped his legs around the arm holding him, which looked more like a stalk of a middleshroom, and tried to pull it off. The big man didn''t like that, so he started hitting the floor and walls with that hand, which Gloomy didn''t like in return.

    Dismounting, Gloomeye slipped back across the floor to Drat, who was hiding under a bench. When his employer saw him, he held out his fists and shook them in support. Gloomeye managed to dodge an uppercut that broke the floorboards. The guy jumped up, grabbed something from a nearby table and threw it at the goon. The something was a plate of brown stew. It splashed in mid-flight and landed in the enemy''s face. He was distracted by his scalded eyes and roared with rage. This gave the guy the opportunity to hit him several times in the face, including with an elbow, drawing blood. Too bad the big man''s throat was protected by a powerful second chin.

    A backhand to the face ended the winning streak. The bruiser grabbed his opponent by the throat again, but the guy managed to loosen his grip and pull back the little finger of the powerful hand. The brawl swirled around the den, smashing the remaining tables and crushing the remaining patrons. When it reached the wall, Gloomeye saw the scaly freak standing next to him and spared no effort to combine the attempt to free himself with a forehead punch to the scaly nose. The freak fell senseless, and his little captive immediately broke free, clinging to the nose of his saviour''s enemy.

    The big man screamed and let go of the guy, who fell and threw his legs into the opponent''s stomach. This caused the bully to fall to his knees. He was finished off by a knee to the head, which Gloomy threw in a leap. The flying creature quickly flew away through the open door.

    Gloomeye, standing over his fallen foe, looked around. Customers were huddled against the walls, most of the furniture was broken, and the floor and walls were dented. The old man was no longer tormenting others and his instrument. And there was a huge figure behind him. Wait...

    Gloomy, who didn''t have time to recover, was picked up and thrown against the wall. He was held by a creature larger and taller than the previous opponent, with three arms: two like a normal human, and the third growing out of the armpit of his right arm. He used his normal hands to hold Gloomeye''s hands, and the third (abnormal) hand to search his prey.

    "Do you know how hard it is to find a board now? You''ll make it up to me, mageling," the creature informed the guy.

    The three-armed man found a bag of coins in his pocket and threw the mageling towards the doors. They did not detain him, and he flew out, landing on his back. That''s where Gloomeye decided to stay.

    "What was that all about?" Splinter appeared against the backdrop of Dayorb. She held her hands behind her back and bent down to speak to Gloomy.

    "You saw it all," Gloomeye said, testing his teeth with his tongue.

    "Squeak!" Drat appeared beside Splinter, holding a scroll in his paws.

    "It''s just hard to believe what I witnessed," Splinter threw a bag at the lying guy''s belly. "But thank you. I''ve collected a bunch of coins, and here''s your share for a great distraction and performance."

    "It was amazing! He was huge, and you beat him!" the big-eared guy joined the group of observers at Gloomy.

    "Yes, we travel. The answer to your question," Gloomeye replied distantly, admiring the swirling clouds against the blue sky.

    Splinter looked closely at Ears'' face, then exclaimed in delight:

    "I remember you! You were in one of Aurgelmir''s cages! Why has Slizvert sent another spy? Am I not enough? Or does he not like my reports? Of course I embellish them, but only for fun. After all, it is obvious that there were no dragon armies or dances with Regent at moonlight.¡±

    Slizvert''s new spy looked from Splinter to Gloomeye in surprise.

    "Say something. Accusations cannot be removed by silence." Gloomy had risen and was now examining his new nose shape with his hand, cocking his head to stop the bleeding.

    "I''ll go now. I think I''ve made a mistake," Ears panicked and decided to leave.

    "Wait. You didn''t know we''d be here. That was decided by Drat, who I only hired this morning. So you followed us on a peg, the Mourneers had them. If you don''t want to travel with us, give your peg to Drat. You don''t have far to go, and we don''t know how long."

    Ears began to run.

    "And tell Slizvert that no more spies are needed, otherwise there''ll be more of them than the ones they''re supposed to be spying on! Isn''t that silly?" Splinter shouted after him mockingly.

    "Did we all gain what we wanted? You got money, I got punches in the face, and Drat?" Gloomeye asked, finishing taming his face.

    Drat unfolded his parchment so that the company could see what was on it. It was a ragged map of the area.

    "Hmm, the exact same map I saw on the wall in that tavern. Let''s get out of here as soon as possible," Gloomy urged everyone. "I don''t want to continue my acquaintance with the three-armed one."

    "Didn''t you like the service?" Splinter hurried after them all.

 Chapter 8

    Caravan

    It is not known how this happened, whether it was an accident or a punishment from the gods, but the expedition that went south saw the First Fire, which had been hidden in the bowels of the land until that moment.

    The skin of the elves, dwarves and humans was darkened by the heat, and the hair of the humans, who were closest to it, was burned. The southern land was also changed: the rivers turned fiery, the soil hardened and melted, and the coral forests became forests of sea skeletons and giant shells. Only the horses that stood behind the fence got white stripes. "The Book of Distant Distances by Unknown Authors¡±

    Gloomy found a brown peg that wasn''t tied down, next to Grassy and Raven. The guy hadn''t seen this peg before and thought it belonged to the big-eared spy-not-to-be.

    "I should have asked for the name, now we''ll have to give him a new one," Gloomeye said, watching as Drat nimbly climbed onto his new mount.

    "Squeak!"

    "And if it was his peg," Splinter jumped onto Raven.

    "If he''s not his peg, then let his owner find the spy''s peg and take it," Gloomeye found a simple solution and sat on his peg as well. "Drat, we''re right behind you."

    The company soared up, and now Grassy was much more docile. She changed direction as Gloomy twitched her head ropes. The rat was not hampered by his short stature, it seemed to help him avoid the wind currents. He had a firm grip on Squeak''s reins, his hind legs bent and hooked into the saddle by claws.

    The flight, or rather the high jumps followed by the slow descent, pleased Gloomeye even more, though the nausea didn''t seem to go away. At the peak of one of the jumps, he saw a procession trudging slowly across the dead plain. It became the peak of his interest as well.

    At the next landing, Gloomy didn''t let Grassy jump again, but waited for his friends to arrive.

    "I could see loaded boarlers and people walking ahead. Do you think they''re friendly?" he asked.

    Drat rubbed his thumb against the others as if counting coins, then handed them out in all directions.

    "So they''re travelling merchants," Gloomeye guessed.

    Splinter looked at him suspiciously:

    "How do you understand him? His fingers itched, and then he started whipping the invisible enemies around him with an invisible whip, and then you said: ''Yep, they''re travelling merchants''."

    "Maybe it''s an innate talent," Gloomeye suggested. "There was no way to show it before," but the guy himself doubted it.

    "Do you also understand his squeak?" Splinter persisted.

    "No, maybe it''s just a sound to attract attention."

    "Squeak!" there was a note of indignation in the rat''s voice.

    "I''m just looking at all the possibilities," Gloomeye said, embarrassed. "Let''s meet the traders.¡±

    "You haven''t forgotten that the silent wench is on the same mission and is ahead of us in speed and confidence. Or are we going to rob her when she''s finished? Then you''ll still have to follow her," Splinter was still looking for ropes to make her peg walk without jumping.

    "I thought we''d need food and water on the journey, just like the pegs, and I didn''t even know what kind. And it would also be nice to find a safe place to sleep. These travellers, if they do not delay solving these problems, will at least share advice about the local roads."

    No one objected (and who could? Drat was an employee, and Splinter was an open spy), and the company went after the caravan.

    It turned out that a peg could walk on the ground by throwing its front legs forward and moving its body along with a rider, stretching its hind legs. At first the body was uncomfortable with this shaking, but it soon got used to it and fell into a rhythm with the movement of the alm.

    They moved quickly and soon a massive rump of a boarler appeared in front of them. Gloomy''s vision did not deceive him from afar: the alms actually had a pile of chests wrapped in cloth strapped to their sides instead of their sides. Nearby, mounted on striped pegs, were men who had become alarmed at the sight of Gloomeye''s party.

    The skin of the men of the caravan was dark, and over it they wore very wide white trousers, and over the upper part they threw a round cloth with a slit for the head in the middle, also white. Southerners. They did something, and some gods did something to them in return. Gloomeye didn''t remember Storyteller''s story about them very well, it was once and a long time ago.

    The southerners, meanwhile, took out curved metal sticks and began to hold them threateningly.

    "What do you want?" one of them shouted in a thick accent.

    "We''re just travelling to Truth. We''ve decided to come with you, if you don''t mind," Gloomeye shout back.

    "They look suspicious. Send them to the Daycatchers," the man said to his men without an accent. Ah, so the accent is only for locals?

    "Who are these Daycatchers?" Gloomy ventured to ask. Splinter looked at him in surprise.

    "Do you understand our language?" the southerner was also surprised, and again without an accent.

    "As you heard," Gloomeye chose calmness.

    "Fatron'' will want to speak to a native who knows the Outer Male," the southern woman joined in, it was clear from her voice as well as her clothes, which took on a certain shape.

    "Is this your chief? I would like to meet him," the guy decided to be polite when touching cultures.

    If he is executed for breaking some foreign taboo, at least he will not feel it was his own fault, as if he were being rude. But the southerners widened their eyes, their whites clearly visible against their skin, and some of the caravaners opened their mouths in surprise.

    "Do you even know the Outer Female?" the woman finally asked, coming to her senses. ¡°What about the Inner Female?"

    "You sure have a lot of dialects," Gloomy said, not understanding anything, which meant that all possible words were equally dangerous. But the one he chose brought a roar of laughter from the southern women, who turned out to be quite a few in the crowd. They knew how to laugh: with their heads held high and not holding back. The pegs moved uneasily beneath them, and the men looked at the women uncomprehendingly, but seeing their undisguised joy, they too smiled and hid their weapons.

    "If we hadn''t all gone crazy here at the same time, then you and they spoke a foreign language. I expected that from them, but from you, hero? You couldn''t read a few days ago," Splinter said, sounding surprised, confused and amused. Something between "What''s going on here?" and "Should I be laughing too?"

    "It looks like my gift from my employer is in action. When they speak with an accent, it''s in our language, but without an accent, it''s in theirs. By the way..." Gloomeye took out the round stone his father had given him. Indeed, the meaning of the runes was now clear: "Wind Cleaver". And what does that mean? A characterizing name? For a dragon?

    They were led to the front of the caravan, where Gloomeye counted six loaded boarlers. On the first sat a southerner with a prominent belly and a red middleshroom cap on his head.

    "The long-distance traveller greets the long-distance traveller, O all-knowing one," the portly man said, glancing at the newcomers riding beside him.

    "Ahem. Greetings," it sounded like a ritual phrase to the guy, but he didn''t know the answer and decided (in general) to say less words.

    "My iron people say you surprised them with your knowledge, even of things you shouldn''t have known, O open gate of my heart," Fatron'' looked at them again, but Gloomeye saw the smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

    "I just wanted to be polite," Gloomy said diplomatically.

    "Oh, it''s wonderful, the warm light of my home! Courtesy is the duty of all good people. The World Rebuilding is no reason to be rude. Did a man and a woman teach you our languages?¡±

    Gloomeye remembered the strange room with Regent and the demoness, and nodded:

    "Except for the one who was in the man''s arms, but he didn''t speak."

    "You must be a very close friend of theirs, O laughter that dispels the darkness," the man said with a satisfied look on his face, as if his guess had been confirmed. But Gloomy dared not say that it was probably wrong. This assumption is better than the truth.

    The guy looked at his group: Drat was concentrating on riding, and Splinter was watching the conversation, as if waiting for Gloomeye to turn around and say, "Well, stop playing along, let''s talk in the existing language."

    Glancing back at Fatron'', he noticed that a belt had ruffled riding boarler''s stubble. As he rode closer, he smoothed the boarler''s hair under the belt to make it more comfortable. The boarler glanced at Gloomy for a moment.

    "It will be my pleasure to welcome you as guests, my iron one," the caravan leader announced with an accent. "It''s nice to speak in the Inner Royal again," he finished without the accent and winked at Gloomeye.

    It seems that Gloomeye has inadvertently pretended to be a player in a game he doesn''t know the rules of, and it''s too late to back out.

    "We are ready to do the work," the guy hastened to assure Fatron''.

    "As you wish, O my industrious ones. Seifo!" the leader called to the other side of his mount. "Find a place for our new friends. Seifo is my heir," he explained to Gloomeye. "There will be a stop in the evening, then I would like to speak with you, O sweet of my souls."

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Seifo turned out to be a young man who had chosen not to wear a white cape, showing off his toned torso to anyone who wanted to see it and who did not want to. This annoyed Gloomy at first, but then, after evaluating the emotion, he decided to discard it. Fatron''''s group seemed to be a good one.

    Fatron''''s heir led them to the centre of the caravan. There he coordinated the movement of his peg with the others:

    "Watch out for possible enemies here. Aren''t you hot in black, wastelander?"

    Gloomeye didn''t know what the colour of the cloth had to do with it, but he didn''t feel hot, so he said it. But Seifo was already riding up to Splinter:

    "It''s always good to meet girls. I''m sure you''re a real..." Fatron''''s son brushed the hair from Splinter''s face with his hand and stammered. "...hair owner. You have real hair. Sorry, me do not good talk your language."

    "What a stunning compliment, it''s a good thing I''m on a peg," the girl suddenly realised what kind of trouble she was in. She turned her head slowly and jerkily towards Gloomeye, her tress still in Seifo''s hand. Well, of course! Gloomeye had a sneering smile on his face, and he would definitely take revenge on her for everything she had said about him and Princess. Just as slowly, Splinter returned her head to its original position.

    "Hero, tell him he can let go of my hair if he doesn''t decide to walk around with it for the rest of his life."

    "You can let go of her hair if..."

    "No, in his language. Do you hear how badly he suddenly starts to speak our language?"

    "I think I have to hear someone else''s speech first to speak it," Gloomeye discovered.

    But the language of the southerners was not needed, and Seifo let go of Splinter''s hair and jumped from his place.

    Throughout the day, southern women approached Gloomeye with ready smiles and started talking to him. They always burst out laughing at his answer. Some groping his chest and rubbed his skin, as if he might be a hidden southern girl. It''s a good thing no one thought of a real test. Gloomeye got tired of it after the third time, but he knew they meant no harm and simply entertained themselves as best they could on the boring road.

    In the evening the caravan stopped. The boarlers were set up in a circle, given food, and the caravaners themselves lit a fire in the centre of the living fort and began to cook or just relax. Gloomeye and Splinter had sore legs and butts after a day''s riding, and they lay down on the ground with their backs to their (also lying) pegs. Drat showed no signs of fatigue, only a desire to help with the cooking, but they wouldn''t let him, probably because he was covered in fur from head to toe.

    The southerners began to tell short, funny stories. Gloomy only realised that they were funny from the general laughter. For example: An alm walks into a tavern and says, ¡®Nothing is visible. Let me open this¡¯. But alms don''t talk, and if one of them wants to go into a tavern, people chase it away, or if it''s a big one, they runs away themself. Often there were wastelanders in the stories, but remembering that the wastelanders were here, and that one of them understood their language, a storyteller would often add ''well, or not them'' and continue a story.

    The food turned out to be a piece of hard, salty meat with a taste crystal and porridge with a mushroom flavour. Fatron'' sat down to talk with Gloomeye.

    The southerners called themselves the Children of Fire, but Gloomeye couldn''t hear the name, only the meaning, not the sound. An unexpected drawback of the talent. This land they called the Wasteland, and its inhabitants were called the wastelanders. Fatron'' has been leading a caravan back and forth from his lands for seven winters.

    When asked about the Sky-Eyed Emperor, he laughed:

    "You have given me back my rumour, O my enlightened one, that I brought to Capital. The Sky-Eyed Emperor or Dominica the Invader, I don''t care, as long as they rid the world of the Daycatchers sect. Look, O most observant one,¡± Fatron'' pointed to a deep, long scar on his elbow. "They make monsters out of people, land burn them. The asheater who gave me this scar was a flying serpent with a human body. How was I supposed to know that his mouth was on the top of his head?¡±

    Fatron''''s wares were all different: long-stored food, some ground into coloured powder, devices with fire inside, patterned strips of coarse woollen cloth, black ore, parchments (but they are not very popular here). From the Wasteland he brings cloth, mushrooms, meat, gold for jewellery, and all sorts of odds and ends from local artisans, such as metal vines.

    The caravanner could use an airship, which would make him an air merchant rather than a caravanner. However, this is dangerous because the states no longer control the skies, and it is much more expensive to maintain ships than a group of boarlers.

    The next few days were much the same, except for two occasions when the caravan strayed from the path to avoid a megashroom forest. Mushroom caps are easy places to an ambush, Fatron'' explained. The second time, the procession passed huge round pieces of gold jutting out of the hills. But no one even developed them.

    Gloomeye entertained the women and used his sling to scare away alms who approached the caravan. Seifo entertained Splinter, though not in the way he would have liked. His weapons decided to go further than the other weapons of the caravan, which were called boomerangs, and connected the ends. It was called a "chakram", a metal ring with a pointed outside (slightly larger than the open palm) that had to be circled around a finger and then released. Splinter tried to learn how to use it, with varying degrees of success, which was not well received by the others.

    Gloomy asked to be trained as well, but the caravan master''s son said that no training was needed. Gloomeye took that as a compliment.

    In the evenings, there was always a bonfire and stories that reminded Gloomy of his village. He learned that the southerners were afraid of the Burning Man, or just a Burner, and he was afraid only of laughter. That''s why the Children of Fire laugh whenever they can, especially in the Wasteland, where the wastelanders underestimate Burner.

    Alm attacks became more frequent, which was unusual. Once they were even attacked by bird alms - black flying creatures with many wings and beaks on their heads, but without the rest of the expected body parts. They were all called "murder" for some reason.

    The caravan rarely encountered travellers. They usually made way for the crowds of boarlers in silence. But not a band of Mourneers on pegs - they were moving in the opposite direction to the caravan.

    As the long line of people (or whatever they were) landed and jumped, flashing past Gloomeye, a burly Mourneer with sawn-off  horns on his forehead slowly approached. He rode up beside Gloomy and announced:

    "You are not a southerner," it sounded like an incredibly profound revelation.

    Gloomeye was about to say, "What gave me away?" but then he thought, "Why make trouble if you can not make it?" He also noticed that Drat was hiding under the boarler''s cargo-side.

    "Yes," the guy agreed.

    "Why? The southerners don''t usually hire locals," the Mourneer turned out to be persistent and stupid.

    "We just share a common way. I  was able to make them laugh, and they like that," Gloomy tried to put an end to this unexpected interrogation.

    "That''s strange. I don''t like strange. That''s smell of magic," the new philosopher concluded.

    An alm of murder appeared out of nowhere, swooped down on the Mourneer, ripped off his veil and flew away with it. Gloomeye saw that the victim of the air attack had no nose, only three slits, and in the yellow eyes the black pupil was trying to split. The Mourneer quickly covered his face with his hands (or whatever it can be called now?), then jumped with his peg, chasing the thief.

    "Demons! Bad news!" immediately appeared Splinter with Seifo. After a moment''s thought, she added: "I think I should change my swear word. Perhaps "heresy"? There are no more churches, no one will be offended. Heresy! Bad news! I spoke to Yar, the cursor assigned to us, the one you exorcised so well in the palace. He said that Almcatcher and Alm are following us. These Mourneers are putting the alms on us because they are unhappy that we have joined the caravan and want to hurry us."

    "They control the alms? Just now a Mourneer was distracted from me by a part of the murder," Gloomeye said.

    "Yes. Almcatcher. Don''t think the blackies are a homogeneous organisation. Ours are of the Hand, and these are from the Eye. They have a kind of internal competition: who will cut more wizards and all that."

    "Let them try to attack us, we''re not afraid," said Seifo.

    The last Mourneer brushed past them, and Drat scrambled out of hiding.

    "Are we far from Truth?"  Gloomeye asked.

    "Squeak!"

    "Half a day''s journey," Seifo replied.

    "Then we''ll leave quickly. Get ready to show us the way, I''ll say goodbye to Fatron''.¡±

    Seifo perked up and spoke to Splinter:

    "Why don''t you stay?"

    "Oh, if you looked like Gloomeye, and acted like Gloomeye, and were really Gloomeye, and he was you, then yes," she said.

    Seifo, having heard the rest of the story, soared up on his striped peg.

    "That was necessarily cruel," Gloomy said.

    "But it''s true. My job is to keep an eye on Gloomeye, not Seifo," Splinter didn''t even realise she had offended Fatron''''s son.

    "You see, people, even men, have feelings," Gloomeye said.

    "Well, go, stay with him, then I''ll have to stay too," the girl sent Raven forward, but then slowed down and took the chakram from her belt. "You think I should return his gift?"

    "So you want to finish him off? If I were you, I''d apologise to him while I talk to his father." Gloomeye went to the front of the caravan. He felt he knew Splinter, but perhaps he was too quick with his senses. He''d known her for less than a month, not his whole life.

    The leader of the caravan was, as always, sitting on his head boarler.

    "We must leave you, Fatron''," Gloomy said, matching the other''s movement.

    "May you walk the cool paths, O breather of my hearth smoke," Fatron'' replied, his eyes fixed on the road.

    "Thank you for giving us shelter and your food, and we haven''t done you much good," the guy continued.

    "The long-distance traveller bids farewell to the long-distance traveller," Fatron'' looked at Gloomeye and smiled. "You are always welcome in my caravan."

    When everything was ready, Drat, Gloomeye and Splinter jumped on their pegs. It still took Gloomy''s breath away. But out of the corner of his eye he noticed that a shadow behind him, in the distance, had also jumped into the sky with them. With the next jump, it did not even think of disappearing, but actually grew. With another jump, Gloomeye saw that it was a large bird-alm with many parts (at least seven heads, all with small, downward curved beaks) and a small rider. Even if they are smaller than Drat, the alm is much bigger than a peg. At the next jump, Gloomy saw that there was a murder of smaller alm beside the big alm, and that the rider was all in black.

    "Is that Almcatcher coming for us?" he shouted to Splinter, who had lost a little of the rhythm of her jumps compared to the others, and now appeared as Drat and Gloomeye began to slide down.

    "Yes!" the girl managed to shout.

    Gloomeye waited, then jumped together with her:

    "How well have you learned to use your chakram?"

    "Let''s not discuss that. In any case, the chakram will not return, even if it does not hit. It will be a one-off attack.¡±

    Gloomy had prepared the sling projectiles in advance, but found only soft stones in the area, which crumbled when they hit any hardness. A small grove of megashrooms appeared ahead.

    "Move faster! Open the membranes closer to the ground," Gloomy decided.

    This speeds up the jumps, but Almcatcher was still getting closer. Several parts of the murder outstripped the main pursuit and reached the fugitives, but Gloomeye threw stones at them, not hitting them, but forcing them to fall back. Almcatcher herself could already be seen. She was a thin woman, with two brown braids sticking out from under her veil.

    "Which one of you wizards cut up my hounds?" came her voice on the wind.

    "It was an elf!¡± Gloomy shouted, but she didn''t hear him or ignored him. Then why ask?

    "Simurgh, attack!" she commanded her riding alm. Simurgh gained altitude and put out sharp claws on the paws in front of him (or rather, in the direction of attack. Given the jumble of body parts, an alm''s front could be in all directions)). The high metal walls of the city loomed far ahead. But the megashroom grove was very close.

    On landing, Gloomeye managed to grab the head ropes of Drat''s peg, who was about to jump again.

    "Into the grove!" Gloomeye shouted. He tried to duck under the caps of the approaching megashrooms.

    The pegs could move quite quickly on the ground, especially if they sensed a large predator nearby. Simurgh waited a while for the hunted to appear, but then, realising their plan, he rushed down and destroyed a mushroom cap under which Splinter was passing. A curtain of spores flew from it, stopping Simurgh for a few seconds.

    The city walls were getting closer, but to reach them they had to get out into the open. Almcatcher smashed another megashroom directly over Gloomy''s head, and debris rained down, almost pinning him down. Nearby, Drat''s peg jumped onto a mushroom''s stalk, also dodging, and bounced off it with great force, swaying the entire megashroom.

    On leaving the grove, the rat repeated the bounce to speed up. Gloomeye tried as well, but Grassy didn''t understand and stopped in front of a stalk. This saved them, as Almcatcher''s alm crashed into the spot in front of them, apparently hoping that the victim would accelerate on the bare ground and not stop. As Simurgh''s heads gathered together, Grassy jumped on her own, much higher than her usual leap. Gloomy barely managed to stay on her back.

    He could already see the city gate and a guard wearing the same armour as Aigo, but he also noticed a shadow above his head, blocking out the light of Dayorb. Gloomy felt death approaching. He didn''t let the pega straighten her membranes and swooped down. She straightened and looked like a spear. He pressed himself against her back, feeling the wild heartbeat of his mount. Or is it my heart? It was only a short distance to the square opening in the wall where the guard stood.

    When there was only a tiny space between them and the ground, and fear gave way to almighty terror, Gloomeye let go of his pega''s membranes and she stopped her high-speed fall. But they couldn''t get up again in the wind, and Glassy fell to the ground, throwing the rider from the saddle. A roar of victory came from above.

 Chapter 9

    Truth

    Many people believe that such the cure is worse than a disease. Many fear the Iron Rain more than its causes. Many think the Griffon Armada is scarier than the Dragon Guard or northern horrors. And they''re right. "A Month Among the Paladins by Victor the Researcher".

    As Gloomeye finished his tumble he saw the giant claws of Simurgh flying towards him, close to the ground. But Grassy got in Simurgh''s way (not on purpose, just recovering). Almcatcher tried to move her alm away. She succeeded, but one of Simurgh''s wings hit the ground and he whole collapsed.

    Gloomy flew into the city with the alm and his rider, but unlike them, he didn''t get stuck in the gate, but kept flying. He tried to get up, but it was harder than usual. Drat ran over to help him.

    The Mourneer was not badly hurt, as she jumped easily from her riding alm. Gloomeye noticed that under her raised veil, instead of a face, there were twisted tree roots or muscles, each covered in white human skin. They went down and pretended to be necks. For some reason, Gloomeye wondered how she spoke and how such a body allowed her to control alms.

    The answer to the last question was not long in coming: from the side of the Almcatcher flew one of those, what do you even call them? A body rope? A tentacle? It bumped into Simurgh. He stirred and pulled back into the passage, then soared over the city wall.

    "Who treats their pegs like this?" Mourneer hurried over to Gloomy, who was still trying to get up.

    The gatekeeper and Splinter, leading Raven and Grassy by the head ropes, entered the broken passage.

    "It was the elf," Gloomeye said.

    "What elf?" Almcatcher stopped in front of him.

    "The one who cut up your pseudo-hounds," the guy explained.

    "You broke the pass protocol," the guard said, sounding offended. Splinter stood behind him and watched.

    "I''m a Mourneer, and I''m hunting a dangerous - him," the Mourneer pointed at Gloomeye.

    "Here..." but the guard didn''t finish, for there was a clang of metal behind Gloomy. Everyone turned at the sound to see Valkali pulling her sword from her shoulder. Her face remained calm, but the hand holding the hilt was shaking violently. Her sword of many plates began to bend like a whip. Valkali''s companion stood beside him, his head in his hands, eyes and mouth open in horror.

    A nasty, sharp voice rang out:

    "I''m all for murder, of course, but your little page-boy has been talking about breaking the law in this city for so long, he''s going to have a stroke."

    The face-shaped hilt of her sword said so. At the moment, it was moving with a richer expression than its owner.

    "No!" the guard cried in despair. "This is the first degree! Even zero, if you use that sword! You can''t! At least go outside the city walls."

    The heroine, meanwhile, drew her flexible sword fully, and it fell around her in rings that rippled.

    "Valkali, stop!" Almcatcher put an arm around Gloomeye''s shoulder and pulled him upright. The tangles of her body ropes could be felt under her clothes. "I don''t know why you''re not happy, but there will be no conflict in this city. We''re in Truth, remember?"

    The general panic was passed on to Gloomy. He didn''t understand what was going on, but he wanted it to stop.

    "Don''t," he said, looking at the silent heroine.

    Valkali returned his gaze calmly, thought for a moment and swung her sword in one motion. With a disappointed sigh, it immediately retreated behind its owner (like a good, non-possessed-by-mind sword).

    The heroine went to her peg and led it out of the city. Her page hurried after her, dripping sweat on the pavement. She arrived earlier than we did. Did something stop her on the way? Or had she been searching for information for so long? She wasn''t expecting us, was she?

    "Let''s just do your business in city and leave, fine?" the guard said as he went to his post.

    Gloomeye turned his face to the head of the Mourneer who was still holding him, and decided this was the right moment to ask:

    "What do the Mourneers need me for?"

    "I don''t know and I don''t care," Almcatcher replied, looking at the guy and then, catching herself, pushing him aside.

    " I told him that Slizvert doesn''t report to us," Splinter said, coming up to them.

    ***

    " Wait for Alm, then we''ll trash you together," Almcatcher had been following them for half an hour. "Oh, good tavern! Too bad it doesn''t sell booze, like all the other taverns around here. The city has only one way out, and you have nowhere to run from us."

    They left the pegs in the peg stables after feeding them. In the caravan, Gloomy learned that pegs only eat plants. Now the company went around the city and examined it.

    The city was made entirely of silver metal: walls, pavements, multi-storey buildings. Huge banners depicting an alm with a bird''s head and wings and a beast part swayed in the wind. It didn''t seem right to Gloomy - without rocks or trees, the metal city was absolutely human, and it didn''t seem alive. And the whole city should be warming up from the daylight, even though the guy only felt cool. The sky was dark blue, Dayorb was hidden behind clouds. The wind brought freshness and ruffled hair and clothes. There was no ruin like in Capital - clean people walked everywhere, there were no affairs in the streets: no bazaars, no fights, not even public quarrels. And what do the inhabitants do here? Have they hidden their affairs in their houses?

    "We are Mourneers, we are legions, you will not hide from us," Almcatcher continued without pause.

    "What''s with the laws in this city?" said Gloomeye over his shoulder, trying to put a stop to the unnerving chatter.

    "Don''t you know? It''s all written on a huge sign at the entrance, oh right... Here the only punishment for breaking the law is death. And the city itself will attack the intruder."

    "And why degrees?"

    "The speed and pain of the attack depends on the degree. But the result is always the same - death."

    "So Valkali was bluffing, and you believed her," Gloomeye said, finding something to tease the Mourneer with.

    "Where were you before?" Almcatcher was surprised. "I thought everyone knew heroine Valkali."

    "He grew up in a hole at the edge of the world," Splinter explained kindly.

    "She is the Chainsmith of the Southern Ocean, the Ravager of the Ruins of Zazar, the Executioner of the Dirty King, the Destroyer of Holes in the Shapes of People of the West. I think she''s crazy."

    "And here''s another question: she has an obviously magical talking sword, and the Mourneers are after me, who only has magical patience," Gloomeye continued, building on the success of the Mourneer''s distraction.

    "And an apparent magical talent for comparison," Splinter said.

    "We have a truce. Five centuries, five hundred men, have tried to take the sword from her. The score: five centuries - zero in her favour," Almcatcher caught up with everyone (it makes it easier to hold a conversation).

    A monument appears in front of them, showing a man in Aigo armour standing on a pile of people. One man in particular stood out due to his vastness and angularity. On the pedestal was the inscription "There is only one God".

    Standing next to the monument was an old man with dishevelled hair and shabby clothes. When he saw the new audience, he brightened up and shouted:

    "Repent, you who have forgotten the gods! The gods have only gone to test our faith! They will return to reward the faithful and punish the unfaithful!"

    "Heresy," said Splinter. It is not clear to whom she was addressing herself: the preacher, the monument, or all at once. Or perhaps she was just remembering her new swear word.

    "It is ironic that only in the only city where religion is preserved can this man preach about false gods. In other places he would have been torn apart," the Mourneer commented.

    "Sinner! Blasphemer! The gods are not false gods, they are true gods!" the preacher replied in his loud way.

    "Let me guess, the Mourneers have a truce with this city as well? You choose your enemies by their strength," Gloomeye said. Almcatcher didn''t understand, or pretended not to understand.

    After walking a little further, they came to a crowd blocking the passage and looking towards the centre of the street, where a strange procession was taking place. People wearing white masks that didn''t show any emotion were moving slowly, pushing platforms on wheels with tall poles on them and people standing on them. A strange animal (also wearing a mask) moved slowly on its six legs. The crowd watched the parade in silence, some carrying children on their shoulders, while armoured men stood at equal distances.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    "Today is Equality Day? It is clear why there is almost no one on the streets - everyone is here!" Almcatcher was pleased with her discovery.

    "You know a lot about this city," Gloomy said.

    "Yes. I was born and raised here. I wanted to be a paladin, to wear the Armour of Strength, but they won''t take women there. They say it''s unfair for a weak woman to take the place of a man. But I wasn''t too offended," but the tone of her voice betrayed her words.

    They walked back to the tavern the failed paladin had recommended. On the way, Drat suddenly turned into an alleyway that was cleaner than the main street of Capital. From there he returned, carrying in his paws a magerot-like mass the colour of the starry sky.

    "Oh, I didn''t know there were cats here, or whatever they''re called now?" Almcatcher crouched down in front of the rat and began stroking the cat. The cat lifted a column from its mass, ending in two protruding triangles, and a sound was heard, like the sound of trees being cut with a special tool - a saw. The creature flowed from Drat''s paws to the ground and from there into the hands of the Mourneer. Most of all, it looked like water coming to life.

    "I''ve never seen creatures like that before," Gloomeye admitted.

    Drat pointed at himself, then followed something moving on the pavement, pointed at the cat, and caught the air in his claws.

    "Catching little rats? And you like it?" the guy doubted his translation.

    The rat started to eat, then missed the food, watched something swirl on the floor again, and finally rubbed his stomach.

    "You don''t like small rats because they are competitors for food?" Gloomeye suggested.

    Drat nodded and began to pet the cat as well. Gloomeye joined them, and then Splinter, pretending to stroke the cat ironically, as if to say, "Look what you look like from the outside". The sound of sawing trees grew louder across the street.

    Entering the tavern, Almcatcher (still holding the cat) sat down at a table and began to stuff her face with the bread that was on each table. Her face ropes worked just as well with food as a normal mouth (maybe even better, as the crunching sounds and flying crumbs filled the space around her).

    "I don''t have any money, by the way, so pay for me," she said, crunching her bread cheerfully.

    Gloomy had just noticed that her braids weren''t hair, but twisted ropes that made up her body, only they were very thin and small.

    He also began to explore the tavern. It was small, with a narrow passage between leather-covered tables and chairs lined up against the walls. The innkeeper was rubbing the long bar with a towel (they all definitely enjoy doing it). There was no one else in the room except the company that had come in.

    "We could have run away now, and you wouldn''t have paid for the food, and then the city would have killed you," Gloomy said, sitting down opposite the Mourneer.

    "Na-ah. First, I could pay with work. People of Truth meet each other halfway in frivolous crimes. Secondly, this bread is free. It wouldn''t be fair to starve in a settlement full of people," Almcatcher explained, dropping crumbs.

    "Okay. But I could, although I definitely won''t, pretend to attack an alm, for example, this cat. You love alms, don''t you? You were worried about the pseudo-hounds, and you chose to collapse rather than hurt my peg. You would have tried to stop me. And then the city would have punished you," Gloomy said.

    Almcatcher stopped eating or moving, just pressed the cat closer to her body. After much thought, she said:

    "That plan won''t work now that you''ve revealed it."

    "Yes. I liked you precisely because of the love of alms. I want you to like me too, by honestly admitting that I could have easily stopped you, but didn''t. Perhaps you will stop following us in a nice way? How do you like this offer?"

    Almcatcher looked at the cat that had spread out in her hands:

    "I think it will take me a while to find good hands for Droplet. And to make sure they''re really good. It might take a day, maybe three. But then I must do my duty, for I have sacrificed so much for it. And I can''t stop Alm, or rather I can, my power works on him, but I won''t. He''s my friend.

    They ordered food: soup made from long, thin plants in a deep bread bowl with small pieces of dried bread. Almcatcher told them how to get to the city library, and Gloomeye, Splinter and Drat said goodbye to her and went there.

    "Let''s hurry. Who knows, maybe she''ll find good hands very quickly," Gloomy said.

    "Yes, the less time we spend in this city, the less likely it is that something not ours will stick to my hands. How am I going to explain to the city later that it wasn''t me?" Splinter supported him.

    "Squeak!" Drat squeaked, lagging behind because of his short legs.

    The library turned out to be a long, unadorned building (like all the others in this city), except for the sign "Library" above the entrance.

    A Northman emerged from it (not Worldedge''s Northman, just a man from the North, with blue skin and white hair (and the name Northman can cause confusion if you know more than one northman)). He wore close fitting white armour with a fur collar and also had a predatory, clean-shaven face and aggressively bright blue eyes. What was he doing in the library with that expression on his face? Perhaps he was looking for a book called "How to Kill. Just Kill".

    Inside, immediately from the entrance, there were endless shelves of books. Gloomy was impressed. And every thing is like Storyteller, just a thing. I could pass the time better grazing Meat and Giggle if we had a library. And if I could read.

    Then Gloomeye remembered that he could read. Regent must have given him this gift not only to sign the contract, but also to look for clues in such books. But (as it turned out) there are a lot of books in the world.

    A dry old woman and a young man were sitting in armchairs by the window. The woman stopped looking at the wall, slowly turned her head and looked at Gloomeye, but not at his face, but somewhere in his chest.

    "Meat," she said, and, losing interest, went back to the wall, where there seemed to be something very interesting to her. Or behind the wall.

    "Yes, yes, dinner is coming soon, mother," the man said, putting down his book and touching her hand. There was a square on his clothes with the words ''Head Librarian Justin''. "Can I help you?"

    "I need some information about... er... there is such a thing..." Gloomeye suddenly realised that he had forgotten the name of the thing he was supposed to fix. "Did Valkali come to you? We need what she needs."

    "Yes, she did a few days ago," the librarian said. "She needed some information about the Maginarium. This is a free library, and I have no right to forbid you to seek knowledge, but I want to warn you. Warning in the basement. Once you have it, talk to me again.¡± The man picked up the book again. On the hard cover was the inscription ''The Great Chronicle of the World''.

    "That doesn''t sound very sinister," Splinter said.

    The basement was accessed by an ordinary spiral staircase and a heavy but unlocked door. Inside was a small room with a single bed in the centre. Windows circled the room, showing the sky through long wells. The light of day came through one of them.

    Approaching the bed, the guy was horrified to see a skeleton on it, covered with a rag up to the collarbone. The skeleton was covered in cracks, and some of the bones were chipped and shattered. It turned its head towards them, green lights lit up in its eye sockets. Gloomeye and Splinter jumped in fear, and Drat ran from the room.

    "Don''t be so afraid of me, you can see the state I''m in, even though I''m a goddess," the skeleton said. Her jaw did not move, and it obviously could not. "Or what do you call us now - a false god."

    "The g-g-god of d-death?" Gloomy began to stammer.

    Laughter erupted from the skeleton, and the gleam in her eyes turned into crescents, the corners pointing towards the rest of her bones:

    "Death is dead. I am Life."

    "We were told there was a warning here. Is that you? Will the librarian do the same to us if we continue to search for the Maginarium?" Splinter recovered more quickly than Gloomeye.

    "Justin is better than that. He sent you to me to tell you how the world was destroyed. I destroyed it."

    "Oh, you. I can see why you''re still under house arrest," Splinter wagged her finger at the goddess. It was unclear whether the girl had become fearless, disbelieved, or valued a joke above possible consequences.

    "With the Maginarium? Can you tell us why the Break occurred?" Gloomy pulled himself together, though he doubted it was the right time.

    "Listen carefully," Life said gravely. The lights in her eye sockets became dots again, and Gloomy heard Storyteller''s tone. "Our world is one of many. We found that out when we learned how to open doors to other worlds. A very long time ago. The era of prosperity began. We immediately received knowledge and technology that others had spent millennia to acquire. Otherworlders also came to us, for example, dragons are people from another world of giants, mad winds and animals with six limbs.

    We should have stopped when the Old Empire tried to take us over, but they were still affected by magic, their world is very interesting, and we are greedy. Then something changed for them: outsiders from there began to nullify and prevent magic, magbeasts began to collapse alive under their eyes, flying cities fell. Then we realised something important about the nature of magic. Just in time, we thought, as we continued to open new doors, one of which led to a world of the Unthinkable Ones. They tried to destroy us."

    Gloomeye suddenly remembered his familiar arch that tested whether a person was thinking or not. The atmosphere in the room began to grow eerie, and Life began to feel like a mad Storyteller.

    "We would have lost if we hadn''t created the Maginarium. It gave us the answer: the living gods. The people''s faith gave us incredible strength. Ask Justin''s mother, if you like, why the moon is scattered across the sky.

    The process of creating a god was called Covering, we covered ourselves with the guises of personifications of processes and things. We defeated the Unthinkable Ones, but continued to create gods to fight each other. When all the good and neutral gods were created, it was the turn of the evil ones, and then the real perversions began. What do you think of the god of Pointless Animal Torture? Syphilis? Desecration Of Memory? Infanticide?" the lights of Life''s eye sockets turned red. "I have shown the people their gods. That they are not gods, but humans, in the worst sense of the word. In all the skies of the world. The power that powered magic and gods, human emotions and faith, break the world. Why do you think everything has changed, except for the people?"

    When Gloomeye and Splinter came out of the basement, Justin was already pouring cups of dark liquid. He pulled out three more chairs, one of which was occupied by Drat. He sat down and drank from his cup, his little finger sticking out.

    "I see you''re scared of Life," Justin said, pushing Gloomy into a chair and handing him a drink. There were a few specks of dust at the bottom of the cup, but the flavour was pleasant. It was the same drink that Decimus, Capital''s scribe, gave him.

    "You don''t have to believe her implicitly about breaking the world," the librarian said, setting Splinter down and sitting in his own chair. His mother sat up straight and stared at nothing, as if detached from the reality. It didn''t seem appropriate to ask her about the moon.

    "We don''t know exactly what happened. Humans are cynical and cruel. Do you think they would be disappointed in the same gods?" Justin looked out the window at Titus and took a sip from his cup. "Don''t you think it''s strange that a giant has been sitting there for fifteen winters? Ah, well, you didn''t experience the world before the Break, for you all changes are just normality. I was there with Life, in the Tower of Myths, during the Break," the librarian continued, still looking at the giant." And we are not the only ones. We still underestimate outsiders. Well, or the world broke in a completely different place, who knows?"

    It seemed to Gloomy that Justin was thinking out loud rather than talking to them, jumping from topic to topic too quickly. The drink was delicious (but not better than bittersweet water).

    "You still want to fix the Maginarium? For Regent''s sake? You can be useful to your family without serving numbered demons," Justin said, looking at Gloomeye.

    "If we break the world again, what''s the big deal? Maybe it''ll return to your normal," Splinter said, sipping her drink loudly.

    "I''ve already made up my mind," the guy said.

    "The Maginarium came from the Flying Academy. They also dismantled it there and scattered its parts all over the Central Patch. This is the Fallen Academy now, but the records should remain," Justin said resignedly.

    Gloomeye looked at Drat, who nodded to confirm that he knew the way.

    "Be careful, it was a centre for the study of magic and now it''s a source of magerot," the librarian warned.

 Chapter 10

    Chase

    In the north, the winter fairies rule. Snow lies here all year round, and titans and horrors walk among the ice towers that scratch the sky with their sharp peaks. From this region, the fairies send snowstorms to the rest of the world that last for exactly three months."The Book of Distant Distances by Unknown Authors"

    On the way back, Splinter suddenly grabbed Gloomeye by the sleeve and pointed at a building:

    "Is that what I think it is? Baths! Oh, it''s a place where people wash themselves. Mmmm... Washing is..."

    "I know what it is. Do you think we have time?  Gloomy asked. He was a little depressed that he didn''t have to use his reading skill.

    "Almcatcher has been neutralised by the cat, and Alm is waiting for us anyway. So let him wait a little longer," Splinter dragged the guy to the baths.

    There they had to pay a small, wrinkled old lady four gold pieces. She led them into a room in the style of this city - an iron box with benches and some chests against the wall.

    " Clothes," the old woman said, pointing to the chests, then to two doors. "Man, woman," and having done her duty, she left.

    Splinter started to undress.

    "Hey! I''m here! And Drat," Gloomeye reminded her, a little panicked. He wasn''t sure if Drat was a male, but he didn''t even think to check.

    "Oh, right. The shame of being naked. There is such a thing. But everyone has it under their clothes. It''s like keeping a secret that everyone knows," Splinter sounded annoyed at such a stupid delay. "Remind me, do I have to be embarrassed with girls too?"

    Gloomeye didn''t answer and stepped out of the door leading to the entrance, scooping up the rat. As he waited, he realised he didn''t know when to go in. Maybe leave altogether? But there are his two gold pieces.

    Understanding Gloomy''s distress, Drat began slowly imitating Splinter''s undressing. Then, just as slowly, he folded his clothes and walked to an imaginary door. The guy counted to ten and then went back in. Of course, the girl had already proved that she wouldn''t be embarrassed (although, come to think of it, Splinter could have been waiting there for a joke). But the door was already open, and Splinter was gone.

    Gloomeye and Drat undressed (the rat''s entire body was covered in fur, except for his stomach). They put their clothes in the chests and went to the men''s bathroom.

    In the bathroom, most of the space was taken up by a square niche filled to the brim with water. Water flowed from the walls in a steady stream. No one else was there. The room reminded Gloomeye of the first floor of his house in Capital. Was it also a bathhouse?

    To Gloomy, such use of water seemed a terrible waste. Instead of supporting life, it was being polluted with bodies. In any case, he really wanted to believe that they wouldn''t drink the water afterwards, or at least purify it.

    Splinter''s muffled voice came from behind the wall:

    "Hero! Are you in there? Shall I tell you how to wash?"

    "No!"

    Drat walked into the pool and started to swim on his back. Gloomeye went into the water too. It was surprisingly pleasant.

    "Are you and Drat alone in there?"

    "Yes."

    "I have three women here. They look at me strangely."

    "Then don''t talk to us through the wall."

    "Why? Let them watch," Splinter replied proudly for some reason.

    Gloomeye suddenly realised that these women might come with him to the changing room. Who would have thought of a shared undress room anyway? Maybe he''s the one who''s crazy and everyone else is normal? Or is it the city itself? Women aren''t afraid of men because of the inevitable punishment? Or is this how equality and justice are understood here? Maybe I should be grateful for separate water rooms.

    "Call them when they want to come out. Or stop them if I call out that we''re coming out," Gloomy said.

    "I''ll get in their way, but remember how useless I am. I don''t think I could handle even one of them, they look strong," Splinter replied.

    "You are not useless, you got us the money when I lost it. Without you, I would still be in Capital doing nothing. Actually, no, I would have been eaten by pseudo-hounds," Gloomeye defended his friend from her.

    There was silence on the other side of the wall. Gloomy caught himself:

    "No, don''t attack them! Not even as a joke! Have you forgotten where we are?"

    "Have you forgotten that I''m a Mourneer spy?" Splinter''s voice was unusual. Serious.

    "How can I forget when you keep reminding me? Remember I warned you too? I''m not stupid and I don''t need to be protected from reality."

    ***

    Gloomy came out only after making Splinter swear that no one was in the changing room. He quickly retrieved his clothes, which were clean, warm and smelled pleasantly of the library drink. Underneath his clothes was a piece of fluffy cloth that the guy had used to wipe his body and hair. After changing, Gloomeye slipped out the door and waited for Splinter and Drat.

    The rat fluffed up his fur, and Splinter came out with wet hair, making her look even scarier. They waited in the room for a little while (until they were dry) and then headed out of city.

    Grassy sniffed warily at Gloomeye as he tied the ropes around her. No wonder, his scent had changed. He thought the pegs deserved a wash too.

    There were no gates to Truth - why would they need them if the city itself destroys any invasion? The party rode out on the pegs and immediately saw Alm. He was a powerful Mourneer, his entire visible body covered in grey-white fur, the veil protruding from what looked suspiciously like an alm snout. His black clothes were loose at the bottom, like those of the southerners in the caravan nearby, preparing to camp. Alm was sitting on a metal structure that had been crushed and flattened by some unknown force (possibly him). He was talking to Fatron''.

    "This... um... Alm is following us, do something," Splinter said, pointing at the Mourneer to the guard at the gate.

    "I don''t know if his pursuit is justified or not," the guard replied.

    "Squeak!" the rat pointed at Alm, then at the city, and slammed his fist into his palm.

    "He''s waiting for us, so he''s not stupid. He will follow us there until we decide to leave. I doubt he can be stopped as easily as Almcatcher," Gloomy looked at Truth. He saw letters stamped directly on the wall, listing many offences and at the end ''punishable by immediate death''.

    Alm noticed them, broke off his dialogue and jumped down from his building. It breathed a sigh of relief (metaphorically speaking) and straightened up a bit. Fatron'' grabbed the Mourneer''s arm, but he jerked it away without looking, knocking the caravan leader to the ground. The Mourneer threw himself down on all fours and made a great leap. Gloomeye thought so at first, but then he noticed that Alm''s feet were still in the same place. His body expanded, and the clothes on him now looked like a Babyboy''s bib.

    "Up!" Gloomy commanded. The pegs straightened their legs and soared up. Alm ran after them.

    The Mourneer ran with all his limbs, throwing his massive upper body forward and then pulling the smaller lower body up with it (somewhat reminiscent of the pegs'' movement on land). At one point, he was so close that he almost caught the leg of a jumping Grassy in his jaws (which turned out to be exactly like the carved figure of the Firster).

    Then Gloomy straightened her membranes a little later and landed right on the back (well, backed) of the intensely running Mourneer. The upward bounce threw Alm back a bit. Gloomeye began to alter the timing of his descent so that his opponent couldn''t predict when they would land. The Mourneer''s overgrown torso had swallowed his neck, and he couldn''t look up.

    Drat hopped ahead, and Splinter followed. The Mourneer was either trying to catch Gloomeye specifically, or just going after the last one. Scars began to appear on the ground, which had to be avoided as well.

    On the way, a huge chasm appeared, which anyone (not living at the Edge of the World) could call the Mother of All Scars. It was impossible to see where it began and where it ended. Drat jumped over it without hesitation. Even when he started gliding from the topmost point, he landed on the edge, but did not jump further, waiting for his companions.

    Splinter jumped after him and also landed safely. Gloomy didn''t think and jumped off the edge of the scar. In the middle of the jump he was relieved to see that he could make it, but as soon as his pega straightened her membarenes, a strong wind began to blow from the right and she spun around on her axis, along with the rider.

    Gloomeye lost track of his position in space, the whole world spinning in front of him, until Grassy slammed sideways into the chasm wall. She barely managed to catch the edge with her front paws and began to slide slowly into the abyss. Gloomy wrapped his legs around her and grabbed the ledge just below the edge. Splinter and Drat were already running towards them.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Grassy was sliding down much faster than Gloomeye, and his knees were already under her armpits. Looking back, he saw Alm stop at the opposite edge of the chasm, but not his mass. It was as if it had flowed into the outstretched hand that was now rushing towards them. The hand was huge (it could completely encircle the hanging guy with the peg), hairy, with outstretched claws, and more like a paw than a hand (yes, here Gloomeye was wrong).

    The claws stopped very close, the paw hung a little in the air and fell down, slamming into the wall of the scar, where it quickly shrank. The wall cracked and Alm staggered, falling backwards. Gloomy was distracted by Splinter''s hands clutching his arms. She dropped to the ground and dragged him along.

    "Pull the pega!" Gloomeye shouted at her, feeling his strength wane.

    "If it makes you fall, I won''t jump after you," Splinter said, but grabbed Grassy''s paw anyway. Drat slid forward and grabbed another. But it was only when Raven wrapped his neck around Grassy''s that they were able to pull them out.

    When they were all on solid ground, Gloomy slid back into the saddle and Grassy turned her head and opened her black eyes, looking straight into his face as if to say, "Where have you dragged me?" He patted her on the head.

    "Remember when we barely made it over the natural barrier from the pseudo-hounds, but it only slowed them down? I hate to disturb the idyll, but I think this is exactly the same thing," Splinter said impatiently, sitting down on Raven.

    "Squeak?" Drat squeaked.

    "I don''t understand. You''re squeaking, Drat. You realise that, don''t you?" the girl didn''t understand him.

    "Alm is probably just tired. His manipulation of the body must take a lot of effort, judging by the fact that Mom is ten times bigger than Giggler and he eats the same amount more. And he, Alm, will easily overcome this scar, having guessed to enlarge his legs," Gloomeye told the rat.

    Drat led the way, and the others followed. The dark clouds above them began to leak. Gloomy tried to stop the raindrops from disappearing by catching them with his water skin, but the speed of movement on the peg made these attempts unsuccessful. When he finally gave up, he saw a structure in the distance. It looked like a tower without walls.

    "Drat, let''s go to that tower!" Gloomeye shouted.

    The tower turned out to be long, hewn standing stones forming a circle. On top of them (in addition to eyemoss) were flatter stones, with some standing stones on top of them, and others on top of them. The tower was three storeys high, the last one badly destroyed, its fragments stuck in the ground near.

    "Let''s hide upstairs," said the guy. No one objected.

    The pegs easily reached the top, took off their riders and lay down on the wet rock with their legs bent. The rain was already falling steadily (good thing it was warm). Thunderclaps could be heard and lightning could be seen in the distance. Gloomeye knew this had happened before the Break (and he had witnessed the summer storm more than once), but he didn''t understand the reason. Perhaps some of the gods had survived and were now fighting in the sky, striking lightning from their weapons?

    Gloomeye knelt at the edge and looked in the direction they had come from. Splinter lay on her belly next to him and, resting her chin on her hands, began to look for Alm as well. Then, when she was completely soaked, she looked at Gloomy:

    "Four gold pieces brilliantly spent. Is that your luck or mine? Drat''s?"

    The rain pushed her hair out of her face. Crushy is more beautiful, of course, but how much closer Splinter is to me.

    "Maybe this is our luck together, without sarcasm. Alm has a long nose, which means he can smell well. The rain will wash away the odours."

    "So you''re pretty lucky, aren''t you? What about bad luck?" for some reason the girl looked serious and even frowned.

    "Alm," Gloomy whispered and crawled away from the edge, pulling Splinter by the leg.

    This time, the Mourneer distributed his weight evenly and was as big as three Moms. He ran on all fours, crouching low to the ground.

    "As soon as he''s gone, we must go down. Here we are closer to the sky, and it is angry today," whispered Gloomeye. So Northman often said, fearing that the sky would crack and a piece of it would fall on him. "Drat, is there a place to hide nearby?"

    Drat took out a battered map and laid it on a rock in the rain. He poked at a spot with his claw, but his muzzle looked uncertain. Still, he made up his mind, ducked his finger under his palm, pointed up to his waist, then caught himself and pointed higher than himself, began tapping something invisible on the stone beneath his feet, and finally lifted something on his outstretched arms and scattered it around him.

    "You know, if Drat goes mad, we won''t know about it," Splinter whispered.

    "He''s talking about a dwarven dungeon," Gloomy translated.

    Dungeon... Storyteller could tell the whole story in a dungeon. Heroes and heroines descended there, there were great treasures, but also hordes of enemies and traps. And considering it''s a dwarven dungeon, it''s probably going to be huge.

    "Are you sure we''re ready for the dungeon?" the guy turned to Drat.

    The rat shook his head, but then he stuck out his index finger, made a downward arc, and now it was his thumb''s turn.

    "Ah, so there is a way out, and it will bring us closer to our goal?" Gloomeye guessed.

    "How do you do that!?" Splinter couldn''t help but exclaim, quickly glancing down.

    A clear "aha" came from below. Alm''s hearing wasn''t bad either. The whole tower began to shake, as if someone very strong was pushing it.

    The group rushed to their pegs. They were already jumping from the leaning tower, which collapsed completely in a few moments. Since it was able to survive the Break, the tower held firmly to the ground, which meant that Alm was no weaker than Aurgelmir.

    The chase continued. The rain did not hinder the jumps, just unpleasant and more difficult to glide, it was only possible to slow down near the ground. Fortunately, the Mourneer was also slowed down by the rain and the sodden ground. Gloomeye tried not to lose sight of Squeak, Drat''s peg, but he still missed the moment when he didn''t jump again. Gloomy had to go back to the place where he had last seen the rat, even though every instinct screamed not to close the distance with the pursuing predator.

    The rat stood by the stone archway, trying to claw at the gap that cut through the gate in the middle of the archway. The arch was small, hidden by a hill at the back, and there was some kind of pattern on the rounded doors. Gloomeye only had time to make out the symbols that meant ''Sanctuary 16'', but he didn''t have time to notice anything else as he rushed to help Drat. Splinter joined them. It seemed to Gloomy that every heartbeat was the last before the huge, clawed body lunged at him.

    The doors slid open and the group ran into the dungeon. The pegs didn''t even need to be pulled, they just came crashing in. In the darkness dispelled by a torch, they saw one of the pale creatures with large eyes and vertical pupils - the same ones Gloomeye had noticed in a den near Capital.

    "Close up! We''re being hunted!" the guy shouted, trying to pull the doors out of the hole in the wall where they had hidden.

    "The Sanctuary is open to all," the creature said. "Even to humankind."

    "Even an angry Mourneer? Although he''s half-human, half-alm," Gloomeye mentioned. "Well, there he is, look."

    Sure enough, Alm burst out from behind the wall of rain, scattering raindrops. He looked terrifying, claws out, big and uncomfortably fast, his fur matted and glistening with water. The doors flew out of their hiding places in an instant, slamming shut in the middle.

    "You should have spoken Dwarferis right away, human," the creature grumbled.

    "Use your gift again? You were lucky to get it, but maybe next time you could ask for some weapons? Like that silent wench''s sword, that would be nice," Splinter muttered.

    Gloomeye looked at Drat, who gave him two thumbs up. Well, at least somebody is happy. There was a heavy blow at the door.

    "The Trollfather''s beards! Have no fear, the doors have withstood the World Collapse, and they will withstand a changed one. I must warn you that the Sanctuary is descending into another dimension, and your human magic won''t work here, thank the First Stone!" the creature gloated.

    "Sorry, you speak Dwarferis, so..." Gloomeye began, but stopped mid-sentence, realising that the question might not be polite.

    The creature looked down at his hands and sighed.

    "So I''m a former dwarf, Foremother''s sweaty cups! And now I don''t know who I am, twisted by your human magic.¡±

    "Oh," was all the guy could say.

    "''Oh'' exactly. Go get what you came for, I need to keep an eye on the monster you brought us," the former dwarf lost interest in the newcomers.

    The wide steps down began immediately after the entrance. As the group approached, the fire torches lit up with different colours, but never fiery, and as the party moved away, they died out. The group walked down the stairs until Splinter broke the silence:

    "Well, when are you going to yell at me? Or rather, you can yell and Drat can beat, crush and trample the air?"

    "Why? You''re not going to do that again, are you?" Glommy asked in surprise.

    "I''ll do something completely different next time. I have too many stupid things to do and too little time to repeat them," she looked unusual in the unusual violet light, and Gloomeye couldn''t read her expression.

    "Although Drat can beat the air if he wants to," the guy looked at the rat.

    Drat shook his head. It didn''t look so strange in the non-fiery coloured torchlight (or rather, it was so strange that the unusual light didn''t have much effect on its perception).

    They descended deeper and deeper. Gloomeye tried to see the beginning of a new dimension, but everything was still the same as in the current one. Only once did it seem to him that the wavering shadow behind him, like a human silhouette, had two holes where the eyes should be.

    Finally they reached a statue. A man in armour was kneeling on the pedestal, his helmet pressed against the shoulder of the creature embracing him. It was a strange-looking helmet, tapering at the top of the head, with a flat front and many holes of varying sizes. Stems of small plants grew out of the holes. In the back of the consoled one''s was a sword, the tip of which protruded from the chest. The comforter had small features and a long, pointed nose that curved upwards. The nose was really long, it could easily be held with two hands, and even space would be left. She was also on her knees, wearing a robe that flared downwards and a high cone on her head.

    After admiring the statue, the group walked out to a large square. It was in a large cave, lit from above by a huge orange crystal. Around the edges of the square were small turreted houses, all made of grey and red bricks. There was a cliff nearby, without any fences, and on the far walls of the cave were similar platforms, at completely different heights. There were several creatures sitting on the cliff, their legs dangling into the abyss. The crystal shed little light, and it was difficult to make out the inhabitants of the Sanctuary.

    As they walked on, they could see that all the creatures here were just sitting or lying down, not reacting to anything. Only once did a small ball of black fur walk past them, on legs but without arms, and only the whites were somewhere in the centre of the monsterling. Gloomy noticed the former dwarves and the same long-nosed ones as the comforter from the statue. All wore unusual costumes, and some even had transparent bubbles on their heads. They passed a huge bald head, much larger than their body, hiding in a pile of rags. There were some armoured creatures, but they didn''t show any activity either. All their armour was different, the proportions were never the same, and the helmets were always oddly shaped: either bloated or too narrow, or with ridiculous inserts like plants, balloons, and even stacks of books, or engraved with calm or crying faces.

    The guy walked over to a stooped figure in a blue cloak and hood that hid their face. The figure was leaning on a staff with a shriveled old hand and looked very small, as if a normal person didn''t have a lower body. Little things were scattered around the creature: spirals, boxes, circles and little things made of light.

    Gloomeye decided to buy a souvenir of his first dungeon and tried to start a dialogue:

    "Do you sell this? Do you take human money? How much does it cost?"

    The figure looked at the guy with the hood and waved their hand vaguely. Gloomy took it as ''I don''t care, take what you want''. But he didn''t take anything, just in case he''d made a mistake in the translation.

    After leaving the square and climbing the steps to the exit, Gloomy finally found the right word to describe Sanctuary 16 - melancholy. Unsurprisingly, Storyteller rarely spoke it. The feeling was passed on to the guy, and judging by the fact that his companions were also silent, preferring to lead their pegs behind them, they had the same feeling. Perhaps this is how another dimension works? Though the magical folk had reason to be sad without it.

    They encountered no traps, no treasures, no hordes of enemies, not even the shabby awakened evil that had lain dormant since the creation of the world, but they were dead tired as they climbed to the other exit.

 Chapter 11

    Knowledge

    Prelate doesn''t want to waste his power communicating with you, so I''m writing you this letter. How''s the Actually, I can''t really trust parchment with classified information. I''m where I should be, and our new allies should be arriving by now. They will bring resources and a new plan. Try it out where you need to, and we can use it for the ultimate victory over madness. Oh yes, send the one with an unpronounceable name after I''d rather write him a separate letter.

    - Your centurion. ¨C The message for the fifth century of the Hand.

    At the exit of Sanctuary 16, they were met by a white creature with black dots instead of eyes, a crooked slit instead of a mouth, and a smoking pipe sticking out of it. It was dressed in shapeless clothes and a cap (if it can be called that) of yellow and orange leaves. The creature opened the doors, which slammed shut as soon as the company left.

    The rain stopped and night fell. The moon shards were clearly visible in the cloudless starry sky. It smelled like it should after a rainstorm. Titus looked in their direction.

    "Do you think Alm can find us?" Gloomeye asked.

    "If only a ghost flying underground who''s been watching us for a long time could tell him," Splinter snorted.

    They all looked at each other and quickly saddled up. Drat studied the map again and began to point the way. The pegs had to run along the ground so that Alm, if he was nearby, wouldn''t notice them gliding carelessly over his head.

    There were more and more scars in the area, getting deeper and wider, until the ground just gave up and became one big canyon. Ahead was a plain of barren land with a chasm meandering through it. Gloomy risked a glance down - it would have taken him many metres to reach the bottom. And if that wasn''t enough, there was magerot below.

    It did not care about such trivial things as earth attraction and the laws of fluid behaviour, and when it reached the steep canyon walls, the magerot began to flow upwards.

    "How fast will it consume the world?" Gloomy thought, but  realising he''d said it out loud when Splinter answered him:

    "Not in our lifetimes, I hope. But if it does in ours, I''d like to turn into a cat. Judging by your behaviour, everyone would have rushed to pet me and carry me in their arms."

    After a while, they reached a cliff. At the bottom was a vast pit filled with magerot, with a giant human skeleton sitting in the centre. Truly gigantic, the company on the pegs would not only fit on its skull, but could also get lost from each other there. Gloomeye saw it from afar, but refused to believe his eyes until the last moment. The giant was half-submerged in the magerot and looking down, giving the impression of a sad man sitting on his knees. A suspension bridge made of ropes and wooden planks led to the top of the skeleton, and another bridge connected the skull to the other side of the cliff.

    "Dem ... heresy! Ah, to the demons! The demonic heresy! Regent himself would have said the same thing!" Splinter exclaimed.

    "Squeak!" Drat confirmed.

    "Did Titus have a brother? Why don''t we have stories about them?" the girl continued. "He''d scratch his ass and change the whole history of our lands."

    "The skeleton is not strange here," Gloomeye explained. "Magerot only changes and consumes the living, right? It was probably an ordinary person who had entered this magerot. He grew to this size, then died, maybe there wasn''t enough air in the world to breathe, or some organ didn''t change. The magerot took his living flesh, but the skeleton is more of an object, like a stone, it did not change. I''m more interested in who made the bridges here and how."

    "Speaking of bridges. I''m not going to walk on them. Nightmares are much more inviting than this," Splinter said, gesturing to the wind-tossed planks on the ropes.

    "Squeak!" Drat warned, pointing back. A creature that looked uncomfortably like a running Alm appeared in the distance.

    "We have no choice. He''ll tear us apart with his claws if we don''t cross and cut the bridge," Gloomeye said.

    "Still not convinced," Splinter looked from the speeding Mourneer to the perilous bridge.

    "Drat, you''re the lightest of us, can you lead the pegs now? If they pass, so will we," said Gloomy.

    Squeaking, Drat tied the pegs together with ropes one by one and led them to the bridge. The planks creaked and swayed, but they held. Gloomeye looked at Alm, and now it was clear that it was him.

    "Close your eyes and I''ll lead you through," the guy suggested.

    Splinter obeyed reluctantly, holding out her hand. They walked slowly across the bridge. The girl squeezed Gloomeye''s hand so tightly that he could feel her rapid heartbeat more than his own. At the openings of the fallen planks, Gloomy took her foot and put it on the next plank.

    "I''m walking on solid ground, how else? Humans are made for the earth, not the sky. And it''s full of bright plants and small alms," Splinter whispered to herself.

    The rat had reached the skull, and the guy and girl were in the middle of the path when Alm reached the bridge and stepped onto it, which immediately collapsed under his weight. Gloomeye managed to grab the plank with one hand, but the impact of the titan''s skull almost caused him to lose his grip.

    "The magic of the elfkind!" cried the girl. She opened her eyes and grabbed Gloomeye''s arm and the board with renewed strength.

    Glancing down, he regretted his decision. In addition to the disgusting height, he saw that the big Mourneer had also grabbed hold of the edge of the bridge and was now trying to dig his claws into the bone. Pulling the girl up higher than him, Gloomy shouted:

    "Crawl up!"

    Gloomeye felt pain in his arms as he crawled up. He wasn''t used to climbing the (now) vertical ladder. His head was spinning and his consciousness seemed to have gone out of his head, but he kept putting his shoulders under the girl''s feet to speed her up. He didn''t dare look down, but he could feel something shaking: the ladder, the skeleton, or himself.

    Suddenly, the Splinter''s feet disappeared, and instead of a new plank, he found a void. Got there! Gloomeye saw the restless pegs and Drat, Splinter on all fours, shivering, and (what he hadn''t expected) Valkali jumping right over another bridge on her white peg. Each of their jumps knocked out planks and tightened ropes, ready to break and end this mockery at any moment.

    Alm! Need to cut the bridge, but with what? Then kick the Mourneer when he appears, but given his strength and mass, this will do nothing. And Gloomeye had only the strength to tremble.

    Alma''s face appeared from over the edge, assessing the situation. Then the Mourneer swiped Gloomy away with his paw. He flew to the side and began to slide down the skull. The last thing he saw was Valkali reaching the top of the skull, breaking her bridge.

    "Gloomeye!" called out an unfamiliar female voice. Was it Valkali who cried out? Can she speak? Or was it Splinter''s voice distorted? Or perhaps...? No...

    So far, the slope was allowing him to slide down slowly, but he knew it would be over soon. The rounding of the skull will go down, which means he''s waiting for the abyss, the magerot, the bottom. What a stupid, unknown death. And I haven''t achieved anything in my life. Gloomeye now understood the people of Sanctuary 16 very well. At least my sadness wouldn''t last long.

    Above, the metal rings of the heroine''s sword swirled. Gloomy saw a bloody explosion from the direction of the ladder, followed by Alm''s paws and head flying down, followed by his body. Well, at least I''m avenged.

    The rings in the sky did not stop, and there was another explosion above, this time from a blow to the skull. Out of the dust flew the end of a sword, coming out of the bone and slicing it open behind it. And the sword flew towards Gloomeye. Really? Another sword ring knock a hole somewhere near the temple and joined in the shattering of the skeleton. It began to shake all over.

    One of the shakes threw the guy, and he flew down, not slowing down at all. Fortunately, the sword reached him and pierced his shoulder. Gloomeye clung to his rescuer with his hands, despite the severe damage to them.

    "I am death, not salvation," the sword growled, but then it was surprised. "Hmm, familiar blood."

    At the same time, the skull ceased to be a skull and became bone fragments that flew to the magerot. The sword, along with Gloomeye impaled on it, flew up. Valkali caught them there, on a piece of debris that had already begun to fall. With a flick of her hand, she gathered up the sword and slid it behind her back, ripping it out of Gloomy''s wound and hands, and with her other arm wrapped around the guy, placing him on her peg. He didn''t even jump, just opened his membranes and began to glide slowly towards the skeletal shoulders.

    The giant''s torso began to roll slowly forward and down, but Gloomy hoped it wouldn''t sink completely into the magerot. His friends were also glading on their pegs. And Grassy with them. Not that she had much freedom to move around, but it seemed to Gloomeye that after all she''d been through, she''d rather run away from him.

    The group landed on one of the slowly falling skeleton''s shoulder blades. Everyone jumped off the peg to keep their balance on their own feet. Gloomy looked questioningly at his savior:

    "Thank you for saving me, but now what?"

    She held the invisible cup in her hand, then turned it over and looked at it expectantly. Could it really be Drat calling my name? He is an upright, intelligent alm, the voice could be anything. Gloomy looked at the rat blankly. He held up his forefinger and carefully drew a semicircle. It''s not a good time to forget how to read gestures.

    The titan''s ribcage began to sink, and Gloomeye felt the air above the magrota shift again. But he also heard a rhythmic sound, like a whisper pretending to be music. That''s exactly what I don''t need.

    As it fell, parts of the skeleton caused the magerot to spray, and it liked that so much that the spray continued without the bones falling. The magerot swallowed the skeleton almost whole, leaving only part of the vertebrae and the shoulder blades. It was a good thing that it seemed to have been hunched over in life. With a final push, the dangerous liquid took pity on the humans, leaving them a small island to survive on, but almost at their feet.

    Splinter lost her balance from the impact and flailed her arms, trying to regain it. Gloomeye lunged at her and managed to grab her arms, but her legs separated and she fell backward into the magerot. Instantly on her feet, she spun around to assess any damage, then turned to Gloomeye for help:

    "What have I got there? Everything is fine?"

    "You have a good butt," Gloomeye reassured her.

    The butt was actually quite skinny. If it was good, the guy wouldn''t say anything out of embarrassment.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "And you have a tail now," he added.

    The back, after getting acquainted with the magerot, decided to continue, and now the girl has a small (finger-sized) tail, more like a hanging strip of skin. Splinter didn''t react as Gloomeye had expected. No "Oh, you''re the only tailless freak in our group now" or "Where''s a knife to cut that thing off?" Splinter just started to cry. Her face was wrinkled and red, snot dripping from her nose, and she held out her shaking hands.

    Gloomeye, already proficient in gesture language, thought he understood her. He stepped between her arms and put his arm around her, thinking he should be kinder to her. She buried her wet face in his chest. A crazy magical liquid gushing out all around them, but fortunately it didn''t reach the humans. Rainbows, northern lights, halos, reverse rainbows, and mirages appeared in the sprays.

    "Never... Never again," Splinter squelched.

    Gloomy didn''t know what she meant. When he could show his age with the fingers of one hand, he discovered that emotions were always a choice. He had learned to discard the unnecessary ones, but he suspected it made him less understanding of other people. Why get angry for more than five seconds outside of a fight? What is the point of wanting the unattainable? What''s the point of being sad? Maybe Splinter was upset by walking on a rickety bridge at high altitude, or by the tail, or maybe even by Gloomeye''s fall into the abyss? Or all of them together had a cumulative effect.

    "Okay, your butt isn''t just good, it''s great, don''t be so upset," the guy muttered. If he had turned around, he would have seen Valkali''s grin.

    Splinter snorted and sprayed more snot on Gloomeye''s clothes. Then she pulled back and looked at her work. She stopped being heartbroken.

    "I''m sorry. You can blow your nose at me if you want," the girl apologized.

    Valkali chipped away at the ledges in the sheer walls with her sword, which grumbled incessantly at its misuse. And with it, she dug into the ground above her makeshift steps, pulling herself, the peg below her, and the passenger in the back onto those ledges. Gloomeye didn''t even know which was stronger: her hand holding the sword (even though it was shaking) or her legs holding the peg. Perhaps this magical sword gave her such power, not only was it able to speak, but it also had some kind of beyond the pale length. Valkali took short breaks to rest or let her sword rest. The last thing she pulled out was her peg.

    "Thank you," Gloomeye said.

    "Thank you," Splinter said.

    Drat gave Valkali a thumbs up, and Valkali put her hand on her chest and bowed slightly (and her peg lowered his head a little. Not a bad trick). Valkali and the rat obviously didn''t need such archaic things as language to understand each other. The heroine then jumped into the darkness without further ado.

    The company decided to move away from the cliff and rest. They fed the pegs, treated Gloomeye''s wounds, ate dried meat, drank water and lay down on the ground. But Splinter decided to speak again before entering the dream world:

    "What chance did we have of escaping?" she said thoughtfully.

    "100%, since we escaped," Gloomeye replied, already ready to fall asleep.

    "The bridge collapsed just as we had time to climb up in front of Alm. Valkali suddenly came to our rescue at the last moment, which means she happened to be nearby and decided to help. The skeleton didn''t get completely underneath the magerot, but left us a little space to live. This is an incredible series of successes, and on the verge of failure.

    Gloomy hadn''t thought much about luck before. He knew from Storyteller''s tales that the lower the odds, the closer the success (and a one-in-a-million chance was a guarantee of victory). Conversely, if everything is conducive to the fulfillment of plans, then the hero should dig the ground to hide.

    "Titus looked at us, his gaze brings luck," he suggested.

    "I''ve heard it brings bad luck," the girl protested.

    "So my good luck and your bad luck balanced each other out," Gloomeye said. "And everything happened as it did."

    ***

    In the morning, after a breakfast of crumbled safe plants, dried meat and a sweet, viscous substance they spread on flatbread, the group continued on their way. They enjoyed the lack of pursuit, the warmth of Dayorb and the light headwind. The empty plain continued, but now several looping scars cut it into islands.

    "By the way, write Valkali to your harem, hero?" Splinter rode to Gloomeye''s side. "We already have the princess of Capital, the dirty wench of the den for fun, and all the southern women of the Fatron'''' caravan will provide us with money and exotic goods. But the heroine of monstrous power is just the thing for protection. And she won''t bother you with talks."

    "I think she''s my mother," the guy said thoughtfully.

    "Errrr... What an answer," something incredible happened after the Break: Splinter found no answer.

    Gloomy noticed that her eyes were now engaging in general facial expressions, and that emotions were beginning to appear in them. How long ago? It''s hard to see her face, hidden by her hair. And she began to keep her back straight.

    "Merchant did not give birth to me, and I remember Valkali from my childhood, and not so many women came to us, and even more, left without a trace. I understand the language of gestures very well. She comes to our rescue, even if she doesn''t know that we are her direct competitors, from her point of view we are chasing her. The sword found my blood interesting, perhaps because I share it with its owner. And I also feel that way," Gloomeye said.

    "O-o-o-o-okay. Thank you for doing me such a favour. I''ve been making jokes about you two all night. And now what? Throw them into the nearest scar?¡±

    "I am sorry I was born of her and ruined my mockery. You can save it for another woman," the guy apologised.

    Splinter wagged her finger at him,

    "So be it, I forgive you this time, but I don''t want you to do it again."

    "Don''t you consider yourself a member of my harem?" Gloomy decided to change the subject from his supposed mother to Splinter.

    "No, but why am I there? Do... what?" the girl was surprised.

    "At least you already keep records of women. What should I call it? The manager? The scribe?"

    As they talked, they rode up to the Fallen Academy.

    It was a small island, tucked into the nearest edge of a large pit that stretched into the distance. Inside the pit, as was to be expected in the area, was magerot. On the island itself, there were several collapsed multi-storey buildings. It looked as if the island had descended from the sky and continued to do so, reaching the ground and digging a hole.

    The party entered the island through a tower that had fallen onto their cliff, ending in a broken spherical dome. Inside, the tower was spacious, and daylight filtered in through the colourful shards in the windows, painting the floor (which used to be the walls) in different colours.

    The island where the Academy was located was a sad sight. The buildings were in ruins, some lying on their sides, others reduced to piles of rubble. It was hard to imagine what the Academy had looked like before its fall. Different styles, decorations and colours could coexist in the same heap of ruins.

    In the middle of the ruins, a statue of a man with a very prominent bird''s nose, slicked-back hair (perhaps because the sculptor did not want to bother with his real hairstyle) and powerful eyebrows fell on its side. His arms are outstretched, as if he doesn''t quite believe (because of his appearance) that he can''t fly, and it''s worth a try. Broken glass balls lay around him.

    The island itself was small compared to Capital or Truth, with one end visible from the other. Inspecting the buildings, however, took several hours. All around them were shredded, white, sprawling creatures that looked melted, like some of the food in Gloomy''s bag. Only their faces, looking up from their torsos, were dark. One creature was huge, and several smaller ones could be made from it.

    "Do you think...?" Splinter asked the hanging question hesitantly as she stared at the surrounding ruins.

    "If you''re talking about monsters, yes. But the buildings were already destroyed by the fall, it was the Flying Academy," Gloomeye assured her, though he wasn''t sure if some of the debris hadn''t been further shredded and moved by his mother.

    Eventually they found the entrance to the preserved building, for it was not made of glass and stone, but of glass and metal. But it was very tilted and halfway underground. Inside, there were rooms, corridors and a large hall with empty shelves and a mountain of books on the floor.

    The books piqued Gloomy''s interest, and he sat down on the sloping floor and began to open them. Someone long dead had created a book, and now Gloomeye was practically communicating with them through time and place, with his thoughts and emotions. This is... a kind of magic.

    Unfortunately, the communication didn''t go well. The thoughts the ancients wanted to say to Gloomeye were (to put it mildly) incomprehensible: ''The Soulflow at Bifurcation Points'', ''The Limit of Accuracy in Homuncular Temporal Retrograde Experiments'', ''Thought Experiments on Destabilised Emotional Personifications (Demons) and their Retrospective Consequences''. What kind of combinations of meanings are these?

    He was distracted from studying the ''Influence of the Observer''s Animus in Harmonising the Desynchronised Universe'' by a persistent tap on his shoulder from Splinter. Gloomeye looked up and saw the ghost.

    "Have you started asking for reports directly from me? What impertinence!" the guy returned to his book.

    "This ghost isn''t a Mourneer," the girl informed him in a panicked voice.

    Gloomy jumped to his feet and saw for himself. It was a transparent woman, like the Mourneer''s cursor, but blue in colour. She wore a floor-length robe, with long hair and pointed ears that stuck out like little alms'', not like the elf he knew. She was also only slightly taller than Gloomeye.

    "Sorry for the mess, visitors. The physical-skinned librarians who could have cleaned up are dead, and their shift hasn''t been sent yet," she said.

    "G-g-ghost?" Gloomeye stuttered a little, confused.

    "I''m a projection, not a ghost. It is sad to see such a drop in the level of knowledge of those rising to the Academy."

    "Mmmm... We actually went down to the Academy. Don''t you know it fell? And about the Break of the world?" Gloomy decided to enlighten the projection with his knowledge.

    "Well, of course I don''t. I am a projection. Are you trying to give me new information now? After my creation? Seriously? Shame on you," the transparent woman scolded him.

    "And how do you work as a librarian? You look after the books, don''t you? When they bring in a new one? Who has taken a book, who has returned a book? That''s new information, isn''t it?" asked Gloomy.

    "Okay, you''re not such a fool. I pretend to be a piece of furniture so that visitors will leave me alone and leave quickly when they find what they need," the projection admitted. "So you are here on purpose or just: humans see ruins - humans go to loot the ruins.

    "Do you know how to remove a tail?" Splinter interjected quickly, knowing that Gloomeye would take all the time he was allowed with his main quest.

    "I assume we are talking about a real tail and not an academic debt?" the projection smiled, but no one supported it and the smile faded. "Just break down the spell that gave it into its component parts and see how you can reverse each of them. That''s really the basics."

    Splinter darkened:

    "It''s not a spell, it''s just the magerot, thankfully. And don''t say you don''t know what it is, you''re floating in it on the pavement level."

    "We don''t do wild magic. Ask the Deep Academy, they can sink so low. The pun was intended. And don''t you want to stop being a rat?" The librarian turned her attention to Drat.

    He had been busily pacing, hands clasped behind his back, taking in the surroundings. He turned and shook his head.

    "Are you an elf? I saw an elf once, he was different from you," Gloomeye decided to take the opportunity to ask as well.

    The projection sat down on an invisible chair, crossed her legs under her robe and clasped her knee with folded hands:

    "Even you, as two humans, are not identical copies of each other, especially if one of you is a wildling, even if unintentionally. Yes, I''m a projection of an elf," she began to swing her leg impatiently. "But that''s not why you''re here, is it? Let''s get down to business, or do you want to know if all elven maidens are frigid and if we like to be pulled by the ears?"

    "Does Maginarium mean anything to you?" the guy decided not to annoy the librarian with the question "what is frigid?" and got to the business, as she suggested.

    "The previous visitor left a book about it over there," the elf pointed in that direction. "But may I ask you not to tear up the books? It''s already an unnecessary pile of rubbish, but I still feel like my heart tearing along with the parchment."

    Gloomeye had guessed what he would find as soon as he saw Valkali on the bridge. But he didn''t want to think about it. Part of the page was missing from the open book, there was only the beginning: "...So it was decided to break the devil''s machine and hide the parts in different places of Faltess. Here they are:..." and the end: "...and the last part was stolen by the Court of Madness. May the true gods have mercy on us."

    "Learned everything we needed to know and made sure we didn''t. A true loving mother," Splinter looked at the torn book behind Gloomeye.

    "No, she left a trail. She separated our work so we wouldn''t look for places where she had already taken a part," Gloomy explained. He still wasn''t quite sure what to make of Valkali. On the one hand, she had abandoned him as a child, but on the other, he did not know her circumstances.

    "And where does this lead, so generously and nobly left to us? I can''t see it from here."

    "Have you ever heard of the Court of Madness?" Gloomeye asked.

    Judging by the way Splinter turned white and widened her eyes, she must have heard something.

    "Something," she croaked.

    ***

    "One last question: do you have anything on... magic for beginners?" Gloomy asked the non-ghost.

    "Deep Academy. Only the basics are taught there," said the projection, now lying on a pile of books. ¡°Though, no, human, the old laws of magic no longer work, the new ones must be rediscovered. Perhaps you will be a pioneer in this," the elf said seriously, raising her head.

    "Are you going to choose a profession you can''t name in polite society?" if Gloomeye hadn''t been lost in his own thoughts, he would have heard the serious tone in Splinter''s voice.

    "Yes, but what''s the big deal? Is extra self-defence a bad thing? And much more powerful than all the others we have," Gloomy said.

    "Because it''s magic! Magic! I thought you knew what was wrong with absolute evil," she said, sounding genuinely upset.

    "I''d know why magic bothers you so much if you told me about yourself," Gloomeye snapped at her.

    "I''m ending this conversation," Splinter ran out of the hall and tried to slam the door, but it was broken and didn''t reach the jamb.

    The guy immediately regretted his words. Splinter didn''t need to talk about herself. Everything she had said before was a sign of her good will. He decided to apologise to her.

    Splinter came back and stood next to Gloomy, looking at the same books as he did:

    "I''m not going to tell you about my life. It''s very boring. Yes. Very boring. Only if you really need to fall asleep quickly, and even then, if your life depended on it."

    "I''m sorry."

    "No, I''m sorry. I have no right to demand anything from anyone. If you wish, you can become an archmage."

    The projection raised her head again and looked at them:

    "Kids..."

 Chapter 12

    Journey to the West

    Leave me alone, you idiots. - The first and last commandment.

    "So what is the Court of Madness? A city?" Gloomeye asked, peering at the map with the rat.

    The lower left of the map was completely painted over (perhaps the cartographer marked the Edge of the World this way, or got tired of drawing, or just freaked out). And the lower right corner of the map was separated from the rest of the area by a thick line with the inscription "Lots of water".

    The map generally showed only the nearest neighbourhoods. Below the arrows pointing beyond the edges of the parchment were the names of unknown places (such as "Whirlwind Gorges" or "Archipelago of Evil"). Their whole way from Capital to Truth was to the right, then up to the Academy. Now they had to reach the Court of Madness, which was to the left of Capital.

    "Before the Break, there were many Courts: the Court of Tho'', the Court of Allmight, the Court of Secret Steps, the Empty Court. Unfortunately, the only one left is the Court of Madness, which is responsible for performances," Splinter replied quietly.

    "Why ''unfortunately''? What''s wrong with performances?" the guy didn''t understand. The performance of travelling artists was one of the most vivid memories of his childhood.

    "Not only did they perform at the Universe Fairs, but they also performed dark rituals and public executions with fire and iron. And rumour has it that they were also purifiers of other Courts, hiding corpses and other evidence somewhere, probably using them in their demonic festivals," Splinter looked directly at Gloomeye and said with a firm voice, "and now they''re trying to revive the magic."

    "It''s clear why the Mourneers are attacking them," the guy realised that the girl had some history with this Court, but did not dare to ask, especially after their last conversation.

    "I''d call it a war. Are we really going there? Into the middle of hell?" Splinter broke her record for non-sarcastic sentences in a row.

    "We can do some scouting - just take a look and make a decision based on our strength," Gloomeye said. "And we need to find a settlement on the way to replenish our supplies."

    "Yes, delay gathering, hunting and finding water as long as possible. Panic training at the last moment is very motivating and invigorating," Splinter sighed resignedly.

    ***

    Gloomy spotted the people and turned his pega towards them. Judging by the doors and windows in local megashrooms, these were also local houses. There were many orcs among the inhabitants and they looked like the orcs of the previous owner of Gloomeye''s outfit, only most of them were bulkier and broader at the shoulders.

    The orcs dressed like humans, in dirty rags, and did the same things or even harder (like two orcs harnessed like pegs, pulling a large rusty blade that tore up the ground). They didn''t look much like Storyteller''s orcs, who would have killed and eaten everyone else by now. Perhaps he was avenging a grudge against a particular orc.

    One of the villagers saw Gloomeye get off his pega. He dropped a crate that was leaking dust and ran over to Gloomy. What he said shocked the guy:

    "In a world where music unites us,

    We formed a damned choir.

    We have been given by fate not to stop,

    To revel in all the days and nights of songs.¡±

    "I can''t help it, my rhythm is bad," Gloomeye said quickly, walking away from the denizen, dragging Grassy behind him, then waving to his newly arrived companions.

    "Ah, how strange and unusual this is,

    But the troubles of life are inevitable, and we are used to them.

    We are like puppets on strings,

    Can''t just shut up, ah!¡±

    Splinter and Drat began to back away on their mounts, and Gloomy tried to pull away from the singer so that the pega''s jump wouldn''t hurt him. Some of the villagers, including the orcs, joined in the attack on the ears and began to sing in unison:

    "Magic, forever upon us, oh no!

    It turned us into a singing sonnet.

    The rhythm is deafening, the words like a spell,

    The soul in the melody trembles with a curse!¡±

    "I really can''t help you, especially with the length of your lines," Gloomeye said in a panicked voice.

    "We have been granted an unusual share by the vile tramp,

    But the price is terrible - to speak without will.

    Like a caged bird, we must sing together,

    For freedom has bidden us farewell!"

    Most of the villagers sang now:

    "And all over the world the echo of our sadness resounds,

    We were forced to paint our every breath with eternal music,

    But the heart continues to create hope,

    That one day the curse will be broken.

    We spin in a whirlwind of our tortures, songs and fables,

    Until our hearts turn to dust".

    Gloomeye finally jumped and darted away. He hated it when Storyteller began to sing in his stories, and he was afraid of picking up that melodious curse.

    ***

    Next to the leafless forest, the company found another settlement. In it, the building style was chosen to be a pile of stones stacked in a circle, with semi-circular earthen roofs. Green plants grew on the roofs, constantly catching insects with their toothy mouths and sticky tendrils. Nearby rocks sheltered a large cave decorated with colourful patterns.

    Gloomeye landed beside a dirty girl and boy. They were wearing something similar to what Sewer did in Worldedge. The girl was very surprised and the boy stepped forward:

    "We don''t like strangers. They''re nothing but trouble."

    "But to us, you are strangers. And when you compare the threats, you outnumber us," Gloomeye said.

    He inwardly scolded himself for not being polite when arriving in a new place. But constant contact with Splinter made his reaction to barbs quick and unintentional.

    "Are those the pegs?" the girl asked enthusiastically. "Can I pet them?"

    Gloomeye nodded, and the girl shyly walked over to Grassy and began to stroke her neck. The pega turned her head and looked questioningly at her rider.

    "Gaifulla, these pegs are strangers too," the boy said resentfully.

    "And now these strangers know my name, Boreas," Gaifulla said.

    Boreas covered his mouth in horror.

    "Oh, and this is a trained alm? Have you taught it to walk on its hind legs? For what?" the dirty girl pointed at the arriving Drat. "Can I pet it?"

    "Ask him yourself," Gloomy said.

    Gaifulla cautiously approached the rat, received a generous nod of approval, and began to stroke him.

    "It''s dangerous to pet Drat like that, he might like it and demand it from us, and I won''t do it," Splinter said.

    "Are you heroic adventurers? You have clothes and pegs and a pet mascot, and such a well-fed one at that!" Gaifulla looked admiringly at the newcomers. "You have probably seen the edge of the world, passed through terrible dungeons, crushed giants, banished higher demons to their majestic worlds!"

    Gloomeye considered her words, remembering what had happened to them before, and corrected her:

    "About the demons, we''re still working on that."

    Splinter nudged him in the side and showed him how she writes down the enthusiastic girl in his harem with her finger on her palm.

    "Of course not! Don''t give strangers the idea for lying. They''d say they met an old god who told them the reason for the Break," Boreas tried to calm his friend down.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "I''d like to buy some food and water and get some rest," Gloomy said, thinking that now that Valkali had separated their work, there was no need to hurry.

    "Uncle Olm in that house over there can help, but he doesn''t like outsiders," Boreas pointed in his uncle''s direction.

    "I thought you were the ones who first decided to hate outsiders against your ancestors'' wishes," Splinter chuckled.

    "Thanks, we won''t be long," Gloomeye said and went over to Uncle Olm.

    He turned out to be a very thin, dirty man, sorting through the hollowed-out rock crates that took up most of his house (or it was a general warehouse).

    "Strangers? We don''t like strangers," he said grimly.

    "It''s not for me to say, but I don''t think your village''s slogan is very good, especially during the tourist season," Splinter interjected before Gloomeye stopped her.

    "We just want to buy supplies and rest," Gloomy said quickly.

    "We''re not..." Uncle Olm peered at Splinter, "...particularly rich, but we''ll share what we can. You can sleep here for now.¡±

    "Ahem. Thanks," Gloomeye examined the floor of the hut, which was wet, lumpy earth.

    As Olm left, Splinter folded her arms across her chest:

    "Cannibals."

    "They''re probably just hiding something magical that keeps their settlement afloat. What do you think, Drat?" the guy said.

    The rat lowered his head to his shoulders, grinned and began to cut the air with invisible daggers, then threw them away and began to look around cautiously.

    "Former bandits? Just like my clan. Oh, didn''t I tell you?"

    Drat waved a hand.

    "Anyway, it''s much better than the singing village. We''ll give our legs a rest from riding and then we''ll get out of here."

    Splinter didn''t argue, as usual, and sat down on the ground with her legs stretched out. Soon Uncle Olm came in with swollen, dirty roots and a jug of slightly muddy water. He asked for five gold pieces for them, and Gloomeye paid, but with the feeling that he had been cheated, but where?

    Afterwards, the girl who had met the company looked into the hut:

    "Heroine, I need to talk to you in private," Gaifulla said, looking pointedly at the men in the room.

    "Oh no," Splinter grimaced, "it''s about what am I thinking? Do you want to talk about disgusting body stuff? There are mothers for that."

    "I don''t have a mother. We don''t have many women in the settlement," the resident said sadly.

    "Okay, okay, let''s go. Just hurry," Splinter jumped to her feet and pushed Gaifulla forward.

    Drat and Gloomeye exchanged glances. They didn''t have to wait long for their friend to return, but she was moving strangely (un-Splinter-like), more feminine. Splinter leaned against the door, bent her leg and leaned one sole against the wall, one hand resting on the back of her head. This pose was as far from what one would expect from the girl as possible.

    "Gloomeye, we''ve had a little rest, why do we spend it so boringly?" Regent''s parody of her sounded more like her than her current intonation.

    The guy was sitting on a crate, looking at this Splinter in silence. She didn''t wait for an answer, but swam over to Gloomy and leaned over him, one hand on the wall:

    "A young woman - check, a young man - check, a journey almost alone - check, reasons not to become a couple - none." She began to trace a finger across Gloomeye''s chest, and he followed her actions with his eyes.

    "And your parents don''t mind either. Judging by their age..." the girl sighed and stopped. "How long will you not stop me? Or did you believe me? No, he''s using your mind to create me. And your mind is not so simple, I know, for I am a product of it."

    "Where is Splinter?" Gloomeye asked darkly.

    "I know what you know. You realised you were talking to a combination of his mind and your memories. He''s a beast, he can''t even talk, and I''m not even material," the illusion flew through the guy''s cheek. "But I won''t distract you, you must hurry to save the real me. Just don''t torture her too much by telling her about the disgrace I''ve just done," and with that, the fake Splinter vanished into thin air.

    Olm was digging in the ground nearby:

    "You haven''t eaten? I''ve worked so hard with these fruits," Olm said, looking disappointed. He gave himself away by saying that he could only tell whether his fruits had been eaten or not if they made it difficult to walk. But that didn''t matter now.

    "My companion, do you know where she is?" Gloomeye asked him bluntly.

    "It''s not my job to look after strangers. Maybe she''s gone," the resident suggested.

    "Exactly!¡± Gloomy pretended to think and rubbed his chin. "She wanted to give up everything, give me her peg, and go out into the wasteland."

    Olm fell for the thick sarcasm (Splinter would have approved) and was delighted:

    "It''s good that we''ve got that sorted, but now it''s best if you leave too".

    Moving to a safe distance, Gloomeye called out loudly (but not shouting):

    "Cursor! The cursor! The Mourneer! What was your name? Yar?"

    But no one answered. They''ll have to find Splinter themselves.

    "There are two possibilities: either Splinter is in that big cave, or she isn''t, and then we''ll have to follow her trail on a long journey. Along the way we will find her, lose her, almost reach her, face difficulties, and make enemies and friends. It may take cycles," Gloomeye explained to Drat.

    "Whew!" Gloomy wiped invisible beads of sweat from his brow as he watched Splinter from the entrance of the cave. There were benches in irregular rows, and at the end was a stone table that caught the light of day. Splinter sat in a cage made from the bones of a large alm, surrounded by a crowd of people in black robes with their hoods thrown back. Knives hung from their belts, as well as knives on sticks or even two-bladed daggers. Some of them were played by spinning rusty chains with sharp weights at the ends (and some of the chain rings had other chains attached to them). The guy didn''t know how to fight with such weapons, and he didn''t intend to find out. He could try to fight his way through, but then he and Splinter would find themselves in a confined space surrounded by enemies.

    The transparent head sticking out of the ground startled Gloomeye, even though he had already called out to its owner.

    "We can''t make direct contact," the cursor said in a calm voice.

    "The only way left is direct contact, since our intermediary is in trouble," the guy nodded to the cave cage.

    "I can''t help you. My body is far from here and I can only influence the physical world by controlling it."

    "Same trouble. But we can manage with our bodies. Just keep an eye on Splinter. If they do anything suspicious with her, let me know, okay?

    "Actually, I need to keep an eye on you... But you obviously won''t leave your friend behind."

    As Gloomy emerged from the cave, he noticed another head hiding from him. It ducked into a thicket of some of the plants grown by the village. The heavy movement made it sway. But the guy didn''t care about it right now. He threw himself into a thicket of plants, breaking many of them, but the spy was knocked to the ground. It was Gaifulla.

    "I''ll scream!" she said.

    "Thanks for the warning," Gloomeye said, putting his hand over her mouth. With his other hand, he held the girl''s hands behind her back.

    "Don''t try to be special. You know, you were right: strangers are nothing but trouble. I am a stranger to you, you are strangers to me. If something happens to me, you won''t care, just as I won''t care if something happens to you. But my friend is not a stranger to me at all. And I will make sure that you are even more right, so that your great-grandchildren will remember that you are right," he tried to calm his anger, but it still came out in his voice, even if it was muffled.

    Fear welled up in her eyes, she believed him and nodded her head. Gloomeye moved his hand away a little, but so that he could immediately put it back in its place.

    "Will you kill us all for your beloved? Will you also torture us? It''s ... it''s so romantic!" Gaifulla sighed. Her fear was replaced by her usual elation.

    "I doubt very much that you could have told her anything that would have made her decide to live in a cage in this cave. You kidnapped her. For what?" Gloomy pushed his anger aside.

    "Give her to the Upper One. He was sent by Regent Himself, along with the demon of desire, to protect our village," Gaifulla replied.

    "I''m Regent''s agent myself," the guy said.

    "And what does Regent look like?" the girl asked suspiciously.

    "In a strange suit, the face is always out of sight," Gloomeye said hopefully.

    "I don''t know if it''s true or not, but it sounds intriguing. It may well be," the girl nodded in agreement. "But others won''t believe you. They are more distrustful."

    The guy finally let her go:

    "Have you got your sect robe?"

    "It won''t fit you. We''re running out of black cloth, so it''s too tight even for me," Gaifulla said, measuring Gloomeye with a glance. But when she saw Gloomeye''s expression darken, she hastened to add, "Boreas has the right size, he got his robe from his father."

    ***

    A robed figure with a hood pulled over his head entered the cave. He began to make his way through the crowd of other robed figures. But before he got halfway there, he was stopped by a loud noise that sounded like a giant trumpet. Then a cultist appeared, also robed, but wearing an askew mask made from the skull of a horned alm. He adjusted his mask and motioned for everyone to sit down.

    "I''ve already called the Upper One, so let''s hurry. Bring the virgin!" the head cultist said in Uncle Olm''s voice.

    Two large cultists (this is where the black cloth was spent) opened the cage and pulled out a bound but resisting Splinter. She was dressed in a white robe and her hair was cut so that it did not cover her face. She looked unusual with her face uncovered.

    One of the crowd stood up and began to approach the place where the main action was taking place. Olm noticed him:

    "Why are you standing up? Everyone should have the same opportunity to see the Great One. The meaning of a common uniform is equality. And who are you? Take off your hood, we''re all in this together.

    The figure who stood up stopped, but after a moment''s thought, he walked on. Meanwhile, the new Splinter was placed on the table and her feet were tied.

    "Stop him or her. We don''t want to be embarrassed in front of the Upper One," the chief sectarian ordered. But a stone from the troublemaker''s sling shattered his mask and knocked him over on his back. The slinger ran to the bound virgin. His hood fell off, revealing him to be Gloomeye.

    "Gloomeye! This is a cult!" Splinter shouted in delight.

    "Are you su..." Gloomeye began sarcastically, but didn''t finish.

    A huge head descended from above. It had an elongated nose and a rat-like moustache, but it was covered in pale green scales from which a silvery mane of hair sprouted. The head slammed into the table, hiding Splinter, and then slipped out through the hole in the ceiling. The girl was gone.

    Gloomeye grabbed his head in both hands and turned to face the crowd:

    "I was wrong. You will have no great-grandchildren."

    Then the cultists dragging Splinter pinned Gloomy to the ground.

    "She''s alive! The Upper One has taken her to his home!" Gaifulla shouted from the crowd, and was quickly led out of the cave.

    "I work for Regent!" Gloomeye said as he was hauled to his feet.

    "You can utter anything, for you hold the angst of future sacrifice (isn''t it a little late for grandiloquence?)," Olm said, standing before him, examining the cracks in his mask, wondering if it had become more sinister. "What is written on the tablet given to us by our Lord?" the cultist pointed to a stone tablet sitting on a hollowed-out shelf in the cave wall.

    "''Leave me alone, you idiots,''" Gloomeye read honestly. Judging by the shocked gasps, they didn''t know what it actually said.

    "Demon blasphemy!" Olm shouted.

    At that moment, a huge monster squeezed into the cave. It was covered in brown fur, walked on six legs, and had several tails that looked like active whiplash. The monster''s face was flattened at the top and bottom and cut in two by a wide, toothy mouth. There were no eyes, only a large alm nose. As the monster began to spread through the cave, the cultists prostrated themselves in horror, including those holding Gloomy.

    "It''s him, Desire. It''s a stranger," Olm snitched, kneeling down and pointing at Gloomeye.

    Gloomeye realised that this was another illusion, just like the lustful Splinter earlier. He spun the stone in his sling and hurled it at the monster''s nose. But instead of passing through, the stone struck the more than real nose. Desire broke from its slow, menacing gait, spun around in panic, scattering benches and cultists, and scampered out of the cave with its tails between its legs.

    "Stop demon-blaspheming!" Olm shouted again.

    "Regent has given me the ability to speak any language," Gloomeye announced. However, when he noticed that the cultists had risen up and were approaching him, he stepped back. "And I can read any text. Do you have anything else to read besides that tablet?" Gloomy positioned himself so that the stone table stood between him and the crowd. The village slowly surrounded him.

    "Oh, and he, well, his secretary, gave me this!" the guy pulled out his belt and proudly showed it to the cultists. His pants fell off. At that moment, Gloomy noticed the cursor''s head peeking out from under the sacrificial table.

    "How do you feel about lords of the dead?" Gloomeye grinned.

 Chapter 13

    Damsel in Distress

    Unlike other law-bound schools of magic, wild magic is poorly understood due to its complete unpredictability. It is impossible for two identical experiments to yield the same result.

    Though most mages regard wild magic as something lowly, some archmages consider it to be a manifestation of primordial chaos, and the order of our world is, in their view, only a temporary special case of chaos. "Magic For Dummies by Collective of Authors"

    "Here is the Forest of Infinity," announced Boreas. He agreed to show the impoverished party the way. "There is only one road that leads to the Tower of the Upper One. Now give me my robe. Um, please, Mister Necromancer."

    The demonstration of the ability to summon a ghost frightened the cultists. Apparently, they didn''t really want to meet the dead people of the area. Given their occupation, it''s understandable why. They said that the Upper One''s lair was in the nearest forest.

    The trees there looked like black, lumpy snags that someone had decided to dig into the ground (for fun). On many of the crooked branches, on close inspection, one could see smaller branches, and on them, even smaller branches, and so on, until the eyes could no longer distinguish the next smallness.

    Gloomeye threw Boreas'' clothes at him and asked:

    "Are these trees safe?"

    "If I were you, I would worry about Lord Upper One, as the entire forest is his domain," Boreas replied. Noticing the expression on the new necromancer''s face, Boreas answered the question anyway: "Yes, but only if you don''t touch them, and if you do, they hurt. Not like..." the boy stopped abruptly and took to his heels. I certainly hadn''t expected a tearful goodbye...

    Gloomeye rode out of the trees on a black peg. Except that Gloomeye was sitting on Grassy next to Drat and was about to enter the forest.

    The doppelganger had the same build and face as the original, but was dressed all in black and wore a circlet on his forehead. Short dark hair, grey eyes, intense gaze - it was all not only similar, but indistinguishable.

    "Are you another illusion of Desire?" Gloomy asked him.

    The doppelganger cocked his head and repeated in the same voice:

    "Are you another illusion of Desire?"

    "I am not, at least not this morning. I am an original," Gloomeye wanted to believe.

    The copy of Gloomeye put his head back in place and turned his circlet so that the Mourneer''s veil moved over his face. Immediately, his peg jumped up.

    "That could be a problem, so it''s bound to be. But now we have the more pressing problem," Gloomeye followed his second self with his eyes to the sky.

    Gloomy and Drat rode their pegs, leading Raven on a rope. The half-dead forest loomed over them, not cheering them up.

    "Squeak!" the rat said, unable to bear the silence.

    "We don''t have to defeat that monster, we just have to save Splinter. If anything happens, we''ll split up: You go to the top of the tower to look for her, I''ll try to distract the monster, and then we''ll just run away. Yes, the Upper One can fly, but we can get lost under the trees," Gloomy tried to come up with a plan.

    The road was straight and led directly to their destination - the Tower of the Upper One. It was a tall structure of hewn stone, with an open entrance and the remains of a gate nearby. The tower was torn apart in several places, but this was less significant than one might have expected - the upper parts were simply hanging over the lower, and nearby stones were floating nearby. The monster house itself bent slightly, leaning to one side.

    But the gaze broke Desire, who emerged from behind the tower wall.

    "I''ve come for a girl!" the guy announced, stepping forward to block out Drat. He darted aside with such speed that he became a blur.

    Now that he was alone with the monster, knowing that it wasn''t an illusion and that it was twice the size of an adult, Gloomeye felt a sense of dread. It was a reasonable feeling in this situation.

    The beast just stood there, wagging its tails. Gloomeye stood as well. He didn''t dare look at Drat, who was running towards the tower so as not to give him away. Finally, tired of doing nothing, Gloomy took a step towards the entrance. A pile of meat, fruit, bread and jars of something appeared on the ground.

    "Is that for me? Thanks, but I don''t eat fake food," Gloomeye took another step.

    Desire sank to the ground. Iron coins rained down all around. The guy took another step and a field of glittering, ornamented swords appeared. Another step and Splinter appeared with her old hair and clothes.

    "You''ve already realised that these illusions are his self-defence. He''s afraid of you," she said.

    Gloomeye placed a stone in the sling and began to spin it. The beast leapt to its feet and hid behind the tower with a strange ''i'' in its throat, and the false Splinter vanished into thin air. Then there was a sound like giant wings flapping, and a strong wind blew. The Upper One noticed Gloomeye.

    +++

    The rat climbed up the side of the tower, clinging to the gaps between the stones with his claws. He overcame the wall breaks by jumping on nearby flying debris.

    At the very end of the vertical path, something large flew down. The top of the tower hadn''t been designed to be a top - someone strong had just torn off the roof and probably a few floors, leaving only fragments of the walls that gave away the original design of the tower.

    Once inside, Drat saw a pile of gold, consisting of coins, figurines, candlesticks, plates, teeth and other excesses. Next to it was a pile of corpses in various stages of decomposition, all wearing white robes.

    A gooey Splinter looked down from the far edge.

    "Squeak!" Drat announced his presence.

    "Drat? Are you saving me?" the girl looked back at him. "But do you understand that I don''t understand you? If only Gloomeye were here..."

    Drat showed Splinter that their friend was diverting attention.

    "Yeah, I''m glad to see you too, but we''ll dance later, okay? How do we get down?"

    Drat showed a scramble down the wall.

    "And it''s not time to scratch your back," Splinter walked to the edge next to the rat and looked down. "Going down isn''t an option. You can''t trust my hands and feet any more than you can trust me. We can''t go into the tower either, I''ve looked in there, it''s madness," the girl looked back at the corpses. "But I have an idea."

    ***

    As the Upper One landed, the ground shook beneath Gloomy''s feet. The monster stood on all fours. Its wings, spread over its body, were so large that it could completely wrap itself in them. Alms usually have one type of skin: either feathers, scales or fur, but this alm had all three: long silver hair hanging from his snout, a greenish-scaled body and white feathers wings. He was also huge, much bigger than Desire, and his size was comparable to the size of Gloomeye''s house in Capital.

    The Upper One arched his long neck and looked to the left, then to the right, but left a transparent vision of his first pose, so he was now looking at this afterimage.

    "I SEE HE''S NOT WEARING ARMOUR. WHY ISN''T THE KNIGHT WEARING ARMOUR?¡± the Upper One moved his mouth, and his voice was similar to Regent''s, but slightly softer. There was also an almost childish resentment in it. "I HAVE DONE MY PART HONESTLY: AND THE GOLD, AND THE TOWER, AND THE MAIDEN."

    "Sir Upper One, I am not a knight. I only came for my friend," Gloomeye ventured. He would have run if it hadn''t been for Northman''s training: "The surest way to lose is to panic." It was only through the experience of his entire conscious life that Gloomy was able to throw off (or rather, kick it a few metres away from him) the fear .

    The monster looked directly at the guy, leaving another image, the first one slowly fading away. Gloomeye noticed that the monster''s eyes were different: one with many dark pupils embedded in each other, and the other with just a single black dot.

    "IS THIS A HUMAN TRICK OF YOURS? YOU ARE CUNNING CREATURES. WHERE HAVE YOU HIDDEN YOUR SWORD AND ARMOUR, KNIGHT? AND WHY HAVE YOU DISGUISED YOUR HORSE AS THIS FROG-WORM? HOW WILL YOU FIGHT ME?"

    "Are you a dragon?" Gloomeye sounded more enthusiastic than he should have. "Why do you follow racial stereotypes? Surely we can agree as an intelligent species."

    The dragon looked at the fading vision of his head:

    "THE KNIGHT IS STILL TALKING. YES? TELL HIM? THAT''S WHAT SWORN ENEMIES DO." The dragon looked back at the guy. "WHEN THE THREADS OF REALITY WERE BROKEN BY YOU, HUMANLINGS, AND THE AIR BECAME ALIEN, WE LOST OURSELVES. FORTUNATELY, WE FOUND A FRIEND, A TRUE, TRUE FRIEND - THE THIRTEENTH DESIRE, AND HE EXPLAINED EVERYTHING TO US."

    Gloomeye saw Desire peering cautiously over the side of the tower. It was not clear why he was doing this, for he had no eyes. Or perhaps the eyes were small and hidden, like the peg''s.

    "That''s not your friend," Gloomeye said, stepping forward. "This is a demon. A numbered demon. And he has driven you mad."

    Richly decorated armour began to appear on the guy''s body, and an intricate sword appeared in his hand (not even clenched into a fist). Another illusion of Desire. The dragon jumped up and down on his forelegs with joy.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "KNIGHT!" he roared. "KNIGHT! I WILL EAT YOU, AND THEN - YOUR SQUIRE, WHO DISHONESTLY SAVES YOUR LADY BEHIND MY BACK, KNIGHT."

    The new knight (how many professions did he manage to try out that day?) rushed into the tower. The monster opened his mouth and twitched his lower jaw with loud clicks. The smell of decay and death filled the air.

    Gloomeye managed to run into the tower and jump as the wall of fire entered the passage. Even without touching the flame, he felt an incredible heat that turned into pain. His illusory armour was completely useless, and the sword wouldn''t drop no matter how hard he shook his hand.

    Inside, the tower looked much crazier than... anything else. The nearest spiral staircase led up to infinity, and at the top was a jumble of steps leading in different directions, most of them impossible for a human being. On the walls were chairs, armour, stacks of books and a table with a cup of fruit on it, all of them oblivious to the earth''s attraction.

    The mad dragon''s head appeared in the passage and Gloomeye ran for the stairs. To see if it was an illusion, he held out his hand, and it stretched to infinity, following the stairs. Then the arm immediately pulled back and became normal. The ladder did the same as soon as Gloomy stepped on it. There was no time to think about what was going on, and the guy rushed up.

    "WHY IS HE RUNNING AWAY? COWARDLY KNIGHTS IN THIS CENTURY," the monster grumbled, pushing his huge bulk behind Gloomeye. His body parts grew and shrank as he moved. It was the same with Gloomeye.

    The guy remembered his father''s gift. What had the madman (and now Gloomy suspected he was a false god) said? Something about a name and dragons. Gloomeye took the round stone with the runes ¡®Wind Cleaver¡¯ out of his bag.

    "Wind Cleaver? Is that your name?" Gloomeye shouted at the dragon.

    "I DON''T KNOW. IT SOUNDS FAMILIAR, BUT THEY CALL ME THE UPPER ONE NOW. SO WHAT?" the dragon replied, pausing for a moment to think.

    "Nothing."

    "FIGHT ME, LITTLE KNIGHT!"

    As the monster changed sizes with the guy''s hand, he turned and tried to hit the dragon (or rather the dragonling). Only the arm that flew past Gloomeye''s body became normal, and when it flew towards the monster, it became smaller, almost invisible.

    "There are several spaces with different dimensionalities of reality in them," Gloomeye discovered, at the same time reinventing the existing word. But how does that help me? Not at all. It is even bad if I and the enemy are constantly changing shape.

    "THE KNIGHT RUNS AWAY! HE DOESN''T FIGHT," the dragon bellowed resentfully. "AND I''VE CARVED A VULNERABLE SPOT, JUST AS IT SHOULD BE!" the monster stopped just inside the magnifying space and puffed out his chest, revealing several broken scales and red flesh underneath.

    Gloomeye was about to launch the only metal projectile he had, but he realised just in time that he wasn''t smart enough to aim, given the difference of spaces.

    He broke into a run and reached the horizontal gap of the tower. From the outside it looked small, a metre or two, but from the inside the gap was ten metres. The world outside was different too: the trees were taller, the day was brighter, and a white cloth, descending from somewhere above, trembled near the opening.

    "HE HAS NOWHERE TO RUN UNLESS HE CAN FLY, AND KNIGHTS AREN''T SUPPOSED TO FLY. BATTLE AND DEATH LIE AHEAD," the dragon announced. "MUST WE GIVE HIM THE RIGHT TO STRIKE FIRST? YES, IT WILL BE FAIR, GIVEN OUR SUPERIOR SIZE AND COURAGE," the dragon paused and looked expectantly at the "knight".

    Gloomeye saw that his opponent had returned to his true size and decided that there would be no better chance. He spun the sling and struck the enemy''s vulnerable spot. The metal ''Wind Cleaver'' projectile caught between the scales and the body, but it didn''t have any noticeable effect.

    "YOU SHOULDN''T DECIDE TO HIT SO LIGHTLY. I''LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO IT," the monster opened his mouth again and started clicking his jaw.

    "You were going to eat me," the guy chided.

    The dragon stopped his jaw:

    "I ALREASHY LET SHE GASH OUT, I CAN''SH GET MY SHAW BASH WISHOUT A SHPARK. YOU''LL HAVE TO BURSH."

    Splinter''s chakram flew out from behind Gloomeye and stabbed into the dragon''s vulnerable spot, pushing Gloomy''s projectile deeper into the flesh. The monster staggered.

    "FINASHY..." the dragon whispered (relative to the volume of his normal voice) and collapsed. His body began to roll down the stairs.

    Gloomy looked back to see Splinter and Drat standing next to the outer cloth, which had stopped swaying.

    "Hero?" the girl asked uncertainly.

    "Well, there''s a girl who calls me that," Gloomeye''s armour began to dissipate. He took another look at the rolling dragon, who kept changing his proportions. "We should take your chakram, I''ve heard that dragons turn into mountains when they die."

    The girl ran up to him:

    "Gloomeye! Did it burn you? Your back is all swollen!"

    ***

    Is the dragon the special? No, it''s the killing by Splinter. Gloomeye looked at the girl again (how many times already?).

    They rode the pegs slowly, so as not to hurt the injured guy. The cloth on his back was torn and had to be knotted around his neck. Desire was nowhere to be seen, and the group gathered up the gold Splinter had thrown down (before descending on the bound robes) and set off for their destination.

    The girl kept shaking her head, trying to get her non-existent hair back on her face. She now had bangs falling to her eyes, and her open face embarrassed Gloomeye at first, as if his friend had forgotten to put on an important piece of clothing. But all her clothes were on Splinter (the cultists put sacrificial clothes on top of her). Why they didn''t take the chakram hanging from her belt is unknown, but perhaps they didn''t realise it was a weapon.

    "Can we get back to those bloody hair-stealers? You should have seen the pile of bodies. We''ll wag our finger at them, tell them it''s not the way things are done, and then we''ll burn them all and scatter the ashes," Splinter suggested.

    She twirled a crown and gold chains in her hands, trying to create a shield from the looks in her face. But sighed and put them back in her saddlebag. Obviously to avoid misunderstandings with everyone in the world, especially robbers.

    "Yar already knows, he will tell the Mourneers. We''ll leave the destruction of villages to the professionals. Besides, you robbed them of the murder weapon," Gloomeye said, taking the opportunity to look at her again.

    Splinter looked confused:

    "Why don''t we put this murder on your account? You did all the work, you lasted so long, and I just threw my chakram where you did. I just feel like I stole a feat from you."

    "What was that, Splinter the Dragonslayer? I couldn''t hear you, and I''m still trying to figure out how to tell all the bards in the world about you, so that they can sing your praises, Splinter the Dragonslayer, for centuries to come. You still killed the dragon, and I only prepared it for sacrifice. (Killing and preparing a victim for sacrifice are the same root words in the Gloomeye language - translator''s note)

    "I shall then go down in history as Splinter the Bardslayer. Or as Splinter the Stop Singing About Me. Wait a minute. Did I hear you right? Are you stooping to puns, Gloomeye the Stooped to Puns?" the girl tried to squeeze in as many jokes as she could, apparently she endured for a long time, but then she got serious. "That was pretty lucky, don''t you think? Anything could have gone wrong, but the opposite happened. You have a ball with the name of the dragon you met. And it turns out that if you put it under the skin of a dragon, you can defeat it."

    "It was that madman, remember? He told us about the cache, the gift to the outgoing person, and dragons. And it is logical to assume that in the same area as the dragon, there will be weapons against him. And most importantly, the Upper One wanted to die," Gloomeye explained. "Why are you so concerned about our luck?"

    "Slizvert asked me to pay attention to it," the girl said.

    Oh.

    ***

    They came to a large rock with many plants growing in its shade. A log house stood in a hollow in the rock. The house had a smoking chimney that ran along the roof of the cave to look out. Next to the house, a muscular old man with a naked torso was chopping wood with an axe. His long grey hair was tied back in a knot at the back of his neck, and there were many metal rings in his beard. He made firewood from wood that looked unsafe: its branches were smooth, long needles.

    "Excuse me, can we buy food, water and some burn medicine from you?" Gloomeye asked him.

    "What do you want, wanderers? Do you bring plague, robbery, or new ideas that corrupt the young?" the old man asked as he continued to beat the trees.

    Gloomy didn''t know what to say, but Splinter did:

    "And what do you specialise in, wilderness dweller? Cannibalism? A hidden community that knows nothing of the Break? Demon worship? Please note that I was sacrificed in the previous village, I hope you have something new?"

    The old man stopped and looked at the travellers:

    "Such insolence towards elders should be punished. Go inside and my old woman will feed you. This will be a lesson to you," he said, and went back to his woodcutting.

    Inside, the house was filled with many small things of unknown purpose. The air space was occupied by all sorts of dried plants. As the group entered the house, an old woman in a dark dress was distracted from stirring the brew in a large cauldron.

    "You''re here, which means you survived a conversation with my bodyguard. What willpower you have!" the old woman put down her large spoon, dusted off her hands and looked carefully at the guests.

    "Is he your bodyguard?" the guy chose the question.

    "Well, of course! I live alone in the wilderness, it''s very dangerous. I wonder why other hermits don''t hire bodyguards," the old woman noticed Drat. "If you''re looking for a great healer, I hate to disappoint you, but I have to. I do not know how to perform reverse metamorphoses, especially incomplete ones."

    "Do you treat burns?" Gloomeye turned and untied the knot, revealing his back.

    "You had a fight with a dragon?" the old woman joked, coming closer.

    "Yes, the Upper One, but his real name is Wind Cleaver. He lived not far from here," Gloomeye admitted.

    "Lived?"

    "Yes. Splinter killed him."

    "Turned me in completely, then? To the second passerby?" the girl was indignant.

    "Well, now Splinter will have to kill the dirt on your back. Go through that door, there is a cave with a spring. Wash his wound and spread this on it," the old woman handed Splinter some ointment in a clay jar.

    "I can wash and spread myself," Gloomeye declared.

    "But I can see the length of your arms and the mobility of your joints. Men, lie at least about what is not in full view of all," the old woman turned to the girl again: "My old man is like that, too. Let yours tell him these stories. And then listen to a professional."

    The cave was very small, with a trickle coming out of the wall. Everything was covered in eyemoss and glowing blue minishrooms. The light from them filled the cave with calm and a bit of mystery.

    Gloomy sat down by the stream and Splinter began to pour water from her hands onto his back. The water was warm and pleasant, and he even thought it was a spring with healing powers.

    "These two have lived together to an old age and still don''t get tired of each other''s barbs," Gloomeye decided to add his voice to the murmur of the water.

    "What do you mean, ''tired of each other''s barbs''? Maybe you''re tired of breathing, too?" Splinter didn''t understand.

    "And how do you see yourself in old age? I..." Gloomeye began, but flinched as Splinter, without warning, slapped him with the ointment hand and began to rub it a little harder than if Gloomeye had done it. He immediately forgot what he was talking about.

    He returned without the girl, who had stayed to wash up. There was the old woman waiting for him, already eating Drat, a clothed old man in the corner, and a plate of food. On the plate were sweet fruits baked in bread and sweet water.

    "Thank you. How much will it cost?" the guy asked between chews.

    "What do we need the money for? To buy their skins from the animals?" the old man replied, polishing his axe.

    Then Gloomeye began mending his clothes with a borrowed needle and thread, as Sewer had taught him.

    "I''d rather tell your fortune on the cards, I don''t want to lose the skill," the old woman said, pulling out a deck.

    "The ability to draw cards and remember their fuzzy meanings?" the old man snorted. "Run if you want to, lad, I''m not that young, but I''ll try to stop her."

    "I don''t mind," Gloomy agreed, but then clarified. "About the divination, not the detention."

    The fortune teller sat down at the table and drew the first card, showing a man in a cloak with a staff:

    "The Wizard. Oh, don''t grimace. Yes, the cards are before the Break. And no one is going to redo them. It means you have hidden potential. Not necessarily magical.

    The fortune teller took out a second card showing a deep pit with houses on the walls. Some of them had tongues of flame flying out of them:

    "The Dungeon. A bad card that means sudden bad changes. You will face severe trials. Here I am, just to entertain you and myself".

    The fortune teller drew a third card. Gloomy couldn''t believe his eyes at first. On the card was a bird alm with a female human head. She was looking down at a circle with thick wavy lines coming out of it. It was just that the card was turned upside down for Gloomy, because he was sitting across the table from the fortune teller.

    "The Star of Hope. If you have hope, you will achieve what you want," she said.

    "Now find someone who has no hidden potential, who doesn''t expect bad changes, and who doesn''t have much to hope for," the old man chuckled.

    "Yes, it''s all nonsense. Just a stack of pictures, not a drop of magic in them," the old lady suddenly agreed. "But if you have to make a choice and you don''t know which one - you don''t care or you don''t have enough information - why not ask for cards? They''re so beautiful."

    At that moment, Splinter entered the room:

    "So, where''s the Blood Altar?"

    The group sat around for a while longer, talking about their journey and exchanging rumours. Then they said their goodbyes and left. Gloomeye left two gold bracelets on their doorstep, not as payment, but as a gift.

 Chapter 14

    Bridge

    Accepted. I know the object you want. And there is no order field in that city, so wait for the gift in the usual place. - Shadow. - The note is in its usual place.

    "Demons! I should have asked about the tail!¡± Splinter shouted suddenly.

    "Do you think she had anti-tail ointment?" Gloomeye asked.

    "I''ll never get rid of it if I keep forgetting it exists," the girl replied.

    "Then it''s not such a big problem."

    "Once again you''re trying to ruin my complaints about life with your logic," Splinter suddenly looked carefully at the guy and added, "and you don''t have one at all!"

    They hopped up to the Steel Collar military camp, which was similar to the one near Capital. But there were the Mourneers here too. They were immediately distinguished from the mercenaries by their discipline. Or rather, their lack of it. The mercenaries were either polishing their weapons or training, all in full uniform, including sharp collars. Gloomeye suspected they even slept in them, which seemed very unsafe. But the Mourneers could lie down (which they did right on the ground), some of them playing dice or cards.

    Beyond them was another wide scar, or perhaps it was a pre-Break chasm, crossed by a wide stone bridge that could easily have carried ten people shoulder to shoulder. The bridge was secured with large iron hooks to the edges of the ground below. Gloomeye saw no evidence that humans could build like this after the Break. On the other side of the bridge was a tall castle with houses all around it, surrounded by a high stone wall (something like a village smoothly turning into a small town).

    "There aren''t enough spiked plates and swinging guillotines on the bridge to let us know we''re not welcome," said Splinter, lying on her stomach on a small hillock and looking out over the camp.

    "We''ll have to go around the scar, although if they built the bridge here, it''s the best place the builders could find to cross. Which is very bad for us," Gloomy said, lying down beside her. Drat was also lying down, but just resting.

    "No, you know, there aren''t enough megawasps in the air to complete the picture," Splinter decided to interrupt the conversation and continue the previous thought.

    "We can try to disguise ourselves as the Mourneers, their uniforms are perfect for that," Gloomeye continued. "Only they''re standing here, obviously because they''re not allowed in."

    Suddenly, a large shadow obscured the light of Dayorb, and the sound of many wings flapping could be heard. Next to them, Almcatcher landed on her large bird alm.

    "You? And I immediately thought I recognised those dots below," the Mourneer jumped down from Simurgh.

    "Almcatcher?" Gloomy stood up and wanted to add "What are you doing here?" or "What wind brought you here?" but that would be silly. Of course she''s doing what the rest of the Mourneers do here - following orders.

    The cat slipped out from under Almcatcher''s clothes and plopped down on the ground.

    "What, there are no good hands in Truth?" Splinter rose. "Considering they live in Murder City, I''m not surprised."

    " Droplet didn''t want to leave me. I honestly didn''t use my powers on her," the Mourneer seriously began to justify herself, but then it''s her voice became serious: "So Alm is definitely dead?"

    Gloomeye felt embarrassed, as if he was the one who had stalked and tried to kill her friend instead of the other way around, but he didn''t lie:

    "Valkali killed him."

    "After the ritual, he changed, became a fanatic. I said it would ruin him, but he was determined to sacrifice not only his previous life, but this one as well," Almcatcher grew sad, and decided to change the subject. "Would you like to cross the bridge? Simurgh can take you straight to the gate.¡±

    "You want to help us?" Gloomeye looked up from stroking Droplet on his hands.

    "Otherwise you''ll do something stupid like put on our uniform. Who needs your nonsense? Not us, not you."

    ***

    "We won''t allow any armed groups until we know where our people are," said the captain of the castle guard. He had a receding hairline and a fleshy face more suited to a blacksmith than a warrior. He was dressed in plain iron armour, like the soldiers behind him, only the helmet was not on his head, but in his hands.

    "We have a war there," the Mourneer he had argued with on the bridge pointed somewhere behind the castle. "We''re making sacrifices, even for you."

    "And we let you pass freely. But now we learn that you work with slavers and their mercenaries. And after you passed through, we started losing people. No other troops pass through here. Unwillingly, we wonder if we should support your side."

    "We''re fighting mages, you bastard! I repeat:  they are witchcraft magicians! Did you hear that, you degenerate?" the Mourneer was really angry.

    "And you? Do you think we don''t know that you''re all wildlings? You are not allowed in Bridge. The rest of the people are free to pass through," the captain put on his helmet.

    The Mourneer took out his folding spear and readied it for battle.

    "The rest of the people are here!" a voice called from above. Three people (or rather, two people and a rat) were gliding on pegs from a huge bird alm that hung in the air.

    "What does that mean, Almcatcher?" the Mourneer cocked his head.

    "They really need to get through, Centurion. If not for the sake of the common people, what are we sacrificing for?" came the answer from above.

    The captain nodded to the soldiers to let the descenders pass.

    "Are you letting them through? There''s a huge rat among them!" the Centurion shouted at the captain.

    "They don''t have the veil of mourning, the steel collars, or the rope in their hands that leads to a human collar. That makes them welcome guests in our fortress," the captain explained harshly.

    "You have one day to open a passage for us. After that, we will consider you accomplices of the Court of Madness, with all the consequences," the Mourneer turned around, but then looked up again. "And with you, Almcatcher, I will also have a talk."

    "Put seeds in your pockets before a battle, we need a garden here," the captain threw after him.

    ***

    "You will visit the sisters first. Tell them why you want to be on the frontline between the Mourneers and the madmen. And why that Mourneer helped you," the captain said over his shoulder as he led the group towards the castle.

    "Is that necessary? You said..." Gloomeye followed him.

    "All I said there was to declare our intentions to this Mourneer. It is called diplomacy."

    "Then you understand that we want to get out of your fortress as soon as possible, because with your excellent diplomacy it will soon be razed to the ground," Splinter said.

    The captain stopped, turned and pointed a finger at the girl:

    "She will have to keep quiet at the reception. You will be meeting the noble ladies, and the last thing a commoner needs is to show how witty she is."

    "I advise you to keep your hand over my mouth in advance, I know myself," Splinter was not offended.

    Inside the walls, between the one-storey stone houses, plants grew, people and alms scurried about. It was relatively clean and peaceful. The group turned off the main road that led from the bridge to the other exit of the walls and headed for the castle.

    From the square base of the castle rose a tall tower of hewn stone, topped by other pointed turrets. There were many guards and servants inside. The windows were multicoloured, which coloured the light that came through them. Gloomeye had never seen so much furniture in his life: chairs and tables that also had something on them ("Well, this is completely superfluous!" Gloomy thought, forgetting that the weight of his bag was due to the many gold items inside), paintings on the walls, armour, red flags with a schematic representation of a bridge - in general, a lot of things. It seems that the people here did not even know about the Break.

    The captain led them into a large, spacious hall with dining tables and two identical thrones on a small dais. In addition to guards at the walls and scurrying servants, there were two women in the hall, dressed similarly to Rexana. One, with a black braid slung over her shoulder, stood with one hand on one of the thrones while the other hand toyed with a small knife, twirling it between her fingers. The other was an exact replica of the first, only slightly plumper. She sat at the table, eating.

    "Lady Guinevere. Lady Uthera. These three wanted to cross your bridge, and they were helped by a Mourneer on a huge bird," the captain got down on one knee and tried to bow the company as well. He only succeeded with Splinter and Drat. Gloomeye pulled away, bowing his head only slightly. His father and grandfather had bowed to the nobles just to see how valuable their boots were.

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    "Nice to meet you, I''m Gloomeye and this is Splinter and Drat. Drat on the right, and on the left..." Gloomeye glanced at Splinter and immediately realised he was wrong in what he had decided to clarify, "...and on the left is not Drat."

    "Welcome to Bridge, I am Guinevere Pontis and this is my sister, Uthera Pontis. We rule this fortress," the plump sister smiled pleasantly.

    "Why have you brought these filthy peasants into the Great Hall?" the slim sister lifted her nose haughtily.

    "Uthera, it''s not polite to call people dirty to their faces, even if they are dirty. And they''re clearly not peasants," Guinevere tried to shame her sister.

    "Why have you brought these unclean vagrants into the Great Hall?" Uthera corrected herself.

    "They are going to Hreb, not running from it. I thought it suspicious," the captain hesitated.

    "We have business there. I can''t tell you the details. And I''d rather not name my employer," Gloomy realised as he spoke that he wasn''t helping himself at all.

    But Guinevere disagreed:

    "You see, Elfred, it''s not suspicious at all. Now that we''ve settled the matter, you might as well stay with us. Be our guests for a while at least."

    "Stop embarrassing us! Do you remember how angry the father used to be when you brought little animals here? And now you''ve switched to low-born humans?" Uthera was filled with cold rage, the knife in her hand spinning at double speed.

    "It''s you who shame us. The father is no more. And stop playing with the knife," Guinevere showed she could be angry too. "Mala, give our guests rooms, they''re empty for nothing."

    Uthera lifted her nose so proudly, as if she were the one who supported the surrounding reality, and if she lowered it, everything would collapse.

    "I''m sorry to interrupt," Splinter said, "but are we going to ignore the fact that the Mourneers are camped nearby and preparing to storm us?"

    "Don''t worry, Splinter, right?" the plump lady reassured her. "We are protected by powerful elven magic."

    Gloomeye looked around, but none of the servants or the guards reacted to "elven magic" as if it wasn''t a curse. It also made him uneasy that Elfred had called Simurgh a bird instead of an alm, in the old way. But now he understood what was wrong with this place. Not only did they live here as if there had been no Break, but they also thought in the old way.

    "One last question, if I may," the guy said.

    Uthera shook her head, but Guinevere nodded, which Gloomeye took as permission:

    "Did you have people kidnapped after the Mourneers went through here? But how exactly? Were they just grabbed as they passed? And that was during the day?"

    "What are you trying to say?" Elfred pressed.

    "It means that someone is helping them, if them, from here in the fortress. Maybe it''s not even Mourneers, so there''s no need for the siege," Gloomy finished quickly.

    "So get on with it," Guinevere said happily. "Elfred, get them some help."

    Uthera rolled her eyes and muttered:

    "Let the peasants come to the table... If only the father were alive..."

    ***

    "This is where they lived," Philip said, opening the door to a house with a metal thingy. He was a young guard assigned by the captain to help with the investigation.

    Gloomeye and Drat started looking at things (and Splinter just sat on the floor), which didn''t take long because of their small numbers. A flattened cloth on dried plants, a stool with two clay cups and a pit of ashes. On the floor was a small, dirty cloth man that looked suspiciously like a cut-off piece of the floor cloth. Gloomy picked it up:

    "What is it?"

    "It''s a doll, a child''s toy. A woman lived here who adopted an orphan."

    "Squeak!" Drat found a trapdoor under the cloth.

    Under questioning eyes, Philip explained:

    "It''s a secret way out of town. It is in every house."

    "In the event of a siege of the town, eh? Then it''s of no interest to us," Splinter said sarcastically.

    "Probably. But I don''t remember anyone using it. We''re well fortified, so why should we run?¡±

    Gloomeyed and the rat tried to open the secret passage, but it wouldn''t budge. There wasn''t even a handle.

    "It''s useless. Passageways only open from the castle, and only noble blood can use the mechanism. That is, only Lady Guinevere or Lady Uther. This is a reliable tool, magic!"

    The only unexplored place was the ash pit. Gloomy didn''t ignore it.

    "And these ashes are from what? It''s not firewood or plants."

    "It looks like parchment. Orders are written on it in the castle and given to the peasants to carry out. Lady Uthera is very proud that her peasants can read," and the guard was proud of Uthera.

    "Were the houses searched after the abductions?" Gloomeye keeps asking.

    "Of course, the captain has checked it himself," Philip said.

    "I have news for you. Good or bad - it depends on your revolutionary mood. One or both of the sisters have been selling people to the Mourneers. They sent them down a secret passage, where they were captured, and then the captain went round the houses destroying the evidence. At least that''s the only explanation I can give on the basis of this evidence."

    Philip started to draw his sword.

    "Really?" Gloomeye surprised.

    "I took an oath to serve the Pontis family," the guard said grimly.

    "Did this family take any vows? Like to protect their people? Otherwise, it''s stupid to keep oaths for those who break them."

    Philip thought for a moment, then pushed his sword back in its sheath:

    "That''s why the captain made such eyes when he ordered me to help you. ''Help you''. And which of the sisters?"

    "I think it''s Guinevere," Gloomeye admitted.

    "Guinevere!?" Splinter and Philip shouted at the same time, and Drat squeaked.

    "Guinevere isn''t the one with the knife," Splinter said, thinking the guy had got it all wrong.

    "I know. But in every crime investigation story Storyteller tells, all the criminals are ones an investigator has met before. So I tried to narrow down the circle of acquaintances here. And if you have to choose between two suspects, where one is hostile and angry and the other is friendly, then it is always friendly, so that the listener is deceived. As if friendliness prevents criminal intent, or can''t be faked," Gloomeye could see that his authority in the eyes of others was rapidly diminishing. So he decided to save it with another piece of evidence: "She''s also plump, so she doesn''t know the measure in food, and she doesn''t have the willpower to resist her vices. She may have succumbed to the urge to sell her people for money."

    But it didn''t help. Respect quickly turned to disappointment, and the guard seemed to think he was sheathing his sword too quickly.

    "But why did she order the Mourneers not to be allowed in?" he asked.

    Gloomeye thought.

    "She doesn''t care much for them. Is your defense really that good?" the guy finally asked.

    "Her ancestors nearly went bankrupt paying the elves for magical protection. And for creating the abyss. And everything still works, because the Break didn''t affect the fortress or the abyss in any way, though I heard that the earth was like waves in a stormy ocean."

    "Wait, did their ancestors create the abyss? What for?" Gloomy asked.

    "What ''what for''? To charge a fee to cross the bridge," Philip said, surprised at the lack of understanding.

    "This is not a declaration of war. This is diplomacy," Gloomeye had a revelation. "Guinevere simply wants to raise the price of passage."

    ***

    When the company arrived at the gate to the bridge, where there was a peg stables nearby (in which they thoughtlessly left their pegs (though they were helped to a decision by the order of the commander of the crowd of soldiers and the crowd of soldiers themselves nearby)), the Mourneers were already there. The sisters were talking to the Centurion as his men passed. Guinevere was glad to see Gloomeye:

    "So we didn''t have to fight. I always say that diplomacy will save this fallen world."

    "We''ve just finished our investigation. Do you want to know who sells their subjects?" Gloomy asked. "Oh, I gave you a surprise ahead of time."

    Guinevere''s complacent expression faded, and she turned to face the Mourneer:

    "Did you recognise them? Are these your criminals? How wickedly they have taken advantage of our hospitality. Shame on them. So there''s a bounty on their heads?"

    But he didn''t have time to answer, for Uthera was loudly indignant:

    "Ginny, what does that mean? Didn''t you hear that tramp blatantly accuse you? Are you going to leave it like this?"

    "Underground passages! She ordered them to go down to the underground passages where the Mourneers were waiting for them!" Gloomeye shouted, calculating the distance to the peg stables.

    "Ginny? If this is true, then these people don''t belong here!" Uthera took a step towards her sister.

    Ginny''s face changed from that of a kind aunt to that of a wicked witch:

    "Do you believe the smelly plebeians now? The father would have been disappointed."

    "Enough!" the Centurion decided to end the family drama with something more dramatic. "The Prelate is tired of your Old World games. It''s new now. That''s why we''re taking this fortress."

    Guinevere''s eyes bulged:

    "You wouldn''t dare! We are of noble blood, but you are not!"

    "Please contact the Old Council. Ah, yes, it''s gone, like most of the realms," said the Centurion with grim satisfaction, but then he noticed Gloomeye, Splinter and Drat slowly moving towards the pegs. "Stop them! The Hand needs them for some reason."

    Meanwhile, Uthera took a few steps back, holding out her hand with a ring in which a jewel glittered brightly. Gloomeye, like everyone else nearby, felt himself being forcefully pulled to the ground. His vision began to darken until it was completely black.

    Gloomy came to as he was being carried on someone''s back, their arms wrapped around his legs. The bearer''s back and arms were quite small, and the bearer gave off a pleasant smell, albeit with a hint of sweat. As most of his consciousness returned to Gloomeye, he suddenly realised who was carrying him.

    "Uthera?" he whispered.

    She stopped instantly and threw off the living weight.

    "To you, I am Lady Uthera, a heavy commoner. And what do you eat in the outside world that makes you so fat? I thought you fought for every crumb." Lady Uther''s hair is dishevelled and her clothes are soaked with sweat.

    "Are you saving me?" Gloomeye stood up and rubbed his bruised tailbone.

    "Of course I''m saving you. It is my duty as a ruler to take care of the commoners, so that the commoners will take care of my power." Uthera sounded annoyed at having to explain such obvious things. "If you can go, then let''s go. I really hope you didn''t pretend to sleep while I carried you, you filthy vagabond."

    "Thank you. But where are the others? Um, Lady Uthera." Gloomeye looked around. They were in a dark corridor lit by pale lights hanging in the air.

    "I got the others out before you, of course. First my sister, then my people, then the girl with the rat, then you." Uthera walked down the corridor.

    Gloomeye hurried after his saviour:

    "And the pegs..."

    She glanced back and gave the guy a look of displeasure and weariness:

    "The pegs for big men."

    To prove her point, Raven soon caught up with them, three guards lying unconscious on top of him like saddlebags. The peg had been driven by a frightened resident.

    As Gloomeye stepped out into the open beyond Bridge walls, he saw one or two hundred people. Some of them were lying on the ground, others were sitting above them. A woman with a wounded child in her arms ran up to the lady as she stepped into the light.

    "My lady! My son..." she spoke, fighting back tears.

    "Useless peasants, can''t you stay unharmed?" Uthera cut the sleeve of her dress with her knife and began to bind the baby in his mother''s arms.

    Captain Elfred came to her and knelt down:

    "Lady Uthera, Lady Guinevere has come to her senses," waved his hand at Guinevere who was sitting on the ground. She was sitting up straight on her ass, her legs stretched out in front of her, her eyes fixed on nothing and she looked dazed.

    "I hope so, Captain, because she''s been out of it for a long time," Uthera said, still taking care of the baby. "Check again with a good slap in the face."

    "I didn''t want to, but you know, Lady Uthera, my daughter is your sister''s servant." Elfred stood up, walked over to Guinevere, took off his iron gauntlet and gave his lady a good slap across the face, knocking her to her side.

    "Now arrest her, Captain," Uthera ordered. There was no emotion in her voice other than her usual arrogance.

    Splinter and Drat approached Gloomeye, leading the pegs. The girl took her Raven and handed the ropes of Grassy to Gloomy.

    At that moment, the fortress wall was shaken by an explosion. Uthera looked in that direction and said to Gloomy:

    "You''d better go where you''re going, there''s no time for you now, vagabonds," she pulled the ring off her finger and threw it at Gloomeye. "Here''s the investigation fee. There''s no more magic, but you can sell it."

    Gloomeye caught the ring with a large, dull, cracked gem.

 Chapter 15

    Abyss

    A hero is not one who easily defeats strong opponents. There is no heroism in pure strength. A hero is someone who overcomes himself with difficulty. A hero is someone who stands up and carries on in the face of circumstances that would leave others broken. - The scribbled note in a pile of rubbish, doomed to be unread.

    The company confidently jumped to its goal. Dayorb curved its arcs across the soft red sky, leaning towards the horizon, and a strong, cool wind blew away the summer heat. Titus looked in their direction.

    Black-clad figures could be seen in the nearby megashroom groves. They were cutting and chopping the megashrooms. Nearby were huge water pumps, barrels and pipes, pumping water from underground rivers. The company tried to avoid these places on the ground.

    During one of the jumps, Gloomeye noticed someone. At first he thought it was someone close by, but then he saw a lot of people and the city next to him. It was a monster that would make Aurgelmir look like a dwarf compared to an elf. But this creature was the opposite of an elf - fat, even flabby, striped and horned.

    Noticing that Splinter had stopped popping out from the side, Gloomeye turned around. The girl decided to freeze on her peg.

    "This is Frenzy, that''s for sure. Should we turn back?" Splinter looked up at the guy as he approached her.

    "Have you met him before?" the guy asked.

    Splinter shook her head:

    "But I know exactly what he is."

    "If we turn back now, it was all for nothing. At least we''ll scout around to make sure we don''t stand a chance," Gloomeye began to persuade.

    It didn''t take long - Splinter nodded uncertainly.

    They found a Mourneers camp not far away. Although it could only be called a camp because all the dwellings were tents. This camp was much larger than Bridge, and not much smaller than real cities like Capital or Truth. And in terms of population, it exceeded all of them put together. Black-robed people scurried between the black tents, minding their own business. In the distance, the Mourneers became an unbroken black river that washed over Frenzy. One of his arms was encased in a crag, and with the other, he was striking at the battlefield.

    "Squeak!" Drat pointed to a pyramid-shaped city nearby, which was separated from the battlefield by a chasm.

    "Is that the Court of Madness? I think it''s going to be harder to get in than I first thought," Gloomeye said thoughtfully.

    There was no sarcasm of such a fruitful topic, and the guy looked at the girl to find out the reason for the lack of sarcasm. Splinter glared at the furious titan who was trying to crush the little men.

    "I suggest we change our clothes and find some maps or secret documents about the way to the city. I''m sure the Mourneers have plenty of saboteurs and spies behind enemy lines."

    Splinter finally broke off her contemplation of the battle and looked at the guy:

    "That plan again? Is there something wrong with your clothes that makes you want to change them so badly? Well, what do I care? I''m already working for the Mourneers, and now I''m touched by magerot. Consider changing into my own uniform," the words were Splinter''s, but the intonation was that of the undead searching for Elvinon, or Splinter of first encounter with Gloomy.

    "I think your work is done, Drat. From here we''ll find our way to Capital, with what we need or by giving up," Gloomeye counted out five iron coins and handed them to the guide. He put the payment into the inside pocket of his vest and looked at Gloomeye. Gloomeye looked at Drat.

    "Is it really such a good pay and was it worth the work you did for us?" Gloomy broke the awkward silence.

    Drat waved his hand vaguely. Then, after a moment''s thought, he picked up the pegs ropes and pointed at Dayorb, making a circle with his index finger.

    " You want to look after our pegs for a day? Thank you. If we have to go anywhere again, I''ll find you. And even if we don''t, I''ll find you anyway. I hope we''ve become friends," Gloomeye said.

    "Squeak," Drat said in agreement.

    "So it''s too early to say goodbye. I''ll see you soon," Gloomeye waved.

    He and Splinter headed for the outermost tents at the edge of the camp. Inside were couches and trunks full of the Mourneer''s uniforms without veils. But what chance did they have of meeting someone who knew them by sight in such a large crowd? There weren''t many of them, just Slizvert and Almcatcher, who didn''t want to give them away, even though she said she didn''t approve of the idea of changing clothes. Besides, not all the Mourneers here wore a veil. Those with human or near-human faces either felt no need to hide them, or simply bragged to less fortunate colleagues.

    Picking up a minimally sagging uniform, the group donned a disguise over their clothes and made their way to the large tent where the most important documents were supposed to be stored.

    Everything went smoothly until a man with a burned face and no ear, wearing a steel-collared armour, called out to them. Are there the Steel Collars here too?

    "You! Contract thief! I recognised you," he said, walking briskly towards the unfortunate scouts.

    "It''s just my face. A lot of people think they know me," Gloomeye tried to wriggle out of the situation. He noticed that many people had stopped to watch the scene "Exposing Spies, A Tragedy in One Act".

    "I have an absolute memory," the man said, grabbing the spies by the shoulders. "It''s you. You can''t just steal the contract this time, it''s well protected. And what am I supposed to do with you?"

    Before the guy could advise him to let them go, another of the Steel Collars appeared and said to the man:

    "Pulhr, I''ll take care of this. I''ll take them where they belong."

    Gloomeye recognised the woman as she approached. She had come down from the gates of Capital to show the Humanist camp. Only now she had no hair on her head. So she''s joined the Collars?

    The woman snatched the captive spies out of the man''s hands. He nodded and went about his business.

    "Did you recognise us?" Gloomeye whispered to the woman.

    "Yes," she whispered back and began to push them deeper into the camp.

    "Thanks for saving us, but where are we going?" the guy asked.

    "Not outside the camp, that''s for sure. Think how suspicious that will look."

    Gloomeye calmed down and started walking ahead of his rescuer. Splinter walked beside him, her eyes fixed on Frenzy raging in the distance.

    They came to a pit covered with a cloth stretched over poles (as if the pit could suffer from the rays of Dayorb). Beside him sat a man in ordinary clothes: an unbuttoned shirt over his bare body and knee-length trousers.

    "Who are they?" he asked lazily.

    "Enemies," the woman replied, pushing the guy and the girl into the pit. Before he fell, Gloomy had time to turn and see that the pusher''s pupils were tunnels leading into the flames of madness.

    After flying a short distance, Gloomeye landed on a mountain of rotting middleshroom caps. The only source of light in this gloomy place was the dim glow of translucent mushrooms stuck in torch holders.

    Some people grabbed him and Splinter, threw them to the ground, tore off their disguises and took their bags. They were then roughly led down a corridor, which was roughly dug out and had roughly hewn wooden supports. Much roughness appeared in the lives of the heroes.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    As he was led into the darkness of the dungeon, Gloomeye considered the situation. Obviously, he had made a great stupidity, trapping not only himself but also his friend. Come to think of it (and the timing is perfect), Slizvert might have described my appearance to others. Almcatcher and Alm knew who to follow, and the Mourneer on the bridge said something about the Hands needing us. And how could I use a disguise that didn''t cover my face? What was I thinking? The reason was most likely his recent daring successes, such as helping to slay a dragon or uncovering Guinevere''s plot. This made him more presumptuous than he needed to be. But what were the chances of meeting two people who knew him by sight, the Collars? 100%, if he met them...

    They were led into a cave where a group of armed men and a familiar orc stood around a crowd of unarmed people. The ceiling of the room was low and she had to kneel with her straight hands on the floor. There were more mushrooms and more light in the cave, and Gloomeye now understood the meaning of the carved runes on the orc''s neck: "Control" on one side and "Pain" on the other.

    "Master Astoro, more slaves have arrived," said one of the men leading the new captives.

    The figure next to the orc turned around, and Gloomy realised that he had made no great stupidity, but a grave mistake. Astoro turned out to be the head of the slavers near Capital, who had been beaten and robbed by Gloomeye. He was now wearing a long cloak that completely covered his body. The cloth fell from the large metal shoulder pads, revealing only one hand resting on a cane.

    "Oh, Mr. Gloomeye, how nice to see you! And here you are, Ms. Boiriann, nice to meet you. You barely made it to the party. Put them in the same row and call Mr. Slizvert," Astoro said, cruelly destroying Gloomeye''s hopes of a bad memory. The slave trader spoke seriously, without a hint of a joke or a smile. Even his half-closed eyes did not open.

    The people were drawn into a line and a man in a ridiculous helmet began to walk around them. The helmet had metal horns that protruded forward along the entire length of the headwear. Between the horns was a thin net. The helmet-wearer watched each slave carefully and drew conclusions: "Coward", "Will resist", "Already mad".

    About one man he said:

    "Touched by magerot. He plans to kill us all with his abilities. Something to do with blood."

    "I''d like to see his face when he tries, but you can''t count on enemies. He may try, and in the same second, the madmen may decide to turn off their order field. Or our allies may defeat them and forget to warn us. A bloody collar for him, then sell him," Astoro ordered.

    The man held up his bleeding arm, then stared at it in surprise as they dragged him under their arms.

    "He tried anyway. Thank you," said the main slaver.

    Next to Gloomeye, a guy of strange appearance kept whispering:

    "This is all wrong. This shouldn''t be happening. This is not right!"

    "You''d better not attract attention with your strange mutterings," Gloomy whispered to him.

    The strange guy looked at the advisor in surprise, and his not very big eyes widened as much as they could. The inspector who came up to him was a little more surprised - he fell to the ground and shouted:

    "THE CURRENT IS TOO STRONG! EMPIRES WAGE WARS AMONG THE STARS! ELF-SLAVES AND ELF-ENSLAVERS! WORLDS DIE AND ARE REBORN! THE FIRE MEGASHROOMS ARE CURSING THEM!" the screamer''s movements became quite jerky until Slizvert hobbled up to him and took off his fancy helmet. The screamer immediately went limp and lost consciousness.

    "Ummm. An outsider. We''ll take him," said his rescuer. "Surprisingly, they still appear, even though the Empty Court is long gone." Slizvert fiddled awkwardly with the helmet. "Can I try the mindscope?"

    "It''s bad luck to give an Old World artefact to a Mourneer. But for the sake of our union, I am willing to overcome any superstition, Mr. Slizvert," Astoro waved his cane invitingly.

    Slizvert put on his helmet, but to Gloomy''s disappointment, he didn''t fall down and convulse. Even the three tines of his circlet didn''t cause any visible discomfort under the helmet.

    "So many naked women... Ummm. I have never seen so many dressed in my entire life," the Mourneer was about to take off his helmet, but something stopped him. "Ummm. Interesting..."

    "Are you taking Mr. Gloomeye and Ms. Boiriann as well, Mr. Slizvert?" Astoro interrupted his muttering.

    "Ummm, no. I''ll leave them to you. We need to punch a hole in Hreb as soon as possible. After all, it worked so well in capturing Capital," Slizvert removed the mindscope with obvious regret, handed it to one of Astoro''s men, and turned his face to Gloomeye. It seemed to him that the Centurion had mentioned the capture of Capital, where Worldedge was located, specifically for him.

    The outsider was caught by the arms.

    "What are you saying? Where am I being taken?" the outsider shouted, looking hopefully at Gloomeye, but stopped as they put on him some sort of iron helmet with a handle on the back and began to lead him into the darkness of the corridor.

    I must warn Splinter that this is no the time to be impertinent. Knowing her, Gloomeye was surprised that she hadn''t made any comments yet. But when he looked in the girl''s direction, he was stunned. Splinter was on her knees, hands behind her back, looking down at the ground. Is it Splinter? Or had she been switched in the darkness? Slizvert took a step towards Gloomy and leaned close to his ear. He saw an ordinary young male face beneath the folds of the veil.

    "When luck is on your side again, find me at the gate to your current employer. I''ll be with your family. This is a threat. Ummm. Now this will be motivation," the Centurion took a small box from his pocket and threw it to Astoro. The orc caught the box and handed it to her owner.

    "Maginarium''s detail. Ummm. Please keep it," Slizvert finished.

    "You give me a lot of strange assignments, Mr. Slizvert. You''re squeezing as much as you can out of our alliance," the head slaver said respectfully. As Slizvert limped towards the exit, Astoro and his orc approached Gloomy.

    "Like the outfit, Gloomeye? I won''t take it away from you, it will remind you of our fateful meeting. On the contrary, I''ll give you something else," Astoro pointed at the guy with his index fingers pressed together.

    A second later, the green fist rammed into Gloomeye''s stomach. Gloomy didn''t like it very much. He bent over and wished for it to stop. But the fist had other plans. It hit him again in the head and threw him back against the wall.

    "Two blows will do, we don''t want to spoil the goods," Astoro stopped the orc. She bent down before her master:

    "Am I a good girl? Praise me, Master," she said.

    "Yes," the master agreed and patted the slave on the head. Then he looked at Gloomeye, lying in the dust, and for the first time his face changed. He smiled. That smile frightened Gloomeye more than Aurgelmir, Alm or Wind Cleaver.

    As promised, no clothes were taken from Gloomeye, and the other slaves were dressed in tattered rags. They were led down a corridor that kept going up. At one of the forks, the slaves went a separate way from their belongings. Gloomy tried to remember this place, for he had already begun to think of an escape plan. They hadn''t checked him with the mindscope, but he was sure it would have said "Will resist". As well as the fact that Astoro knew it without the artefact. And not only did Slizvert know, he thought it was only a matter of time before Gloomeye escaped. He''s a strange guy, and he''s stuck on me for some reason. I should have asked him directly when I had the chance.

    Escaping looked like a difficult task, with slavers and the Steel Collars everywhere in the tunnels. At the end of the road was a dead end, deepened with pickaxes by men in rags. At the sight of the new group, they dropped their instruments and left under guard. Gloomeye and the others were forced to continue their work. The guy was given a pickaxe and began to pound on hard stone, which was difficult not only because it was hard physical work, but also because he had to stand at an angle. The pieces of stone were picked up by other slaves, including Splinter, and taken away. At one point another slave brought in logs to support the walls and ceiling. The guards were bored, sometimes shouting advice, mostly focused on speeding up and increasing the power of the blows. No one struck anyone, but the guards carried their weapons openly, and some of them had their hands on them.

    Gloomy had lost track of time and was very tired. Like some slaves, he asked to go to the toilet several times, mostly to rest his body. The toilet was a corner with a bucket. The overseer stood with his back to Gloomeye. This could also be used for escape, although the toilet seems to have been constantly moved as the excavation progressed.

    After a while, a dirty child dressed as a slave brought a pot of stew and began to pour it into the cups. The soup was greasy water with hard, tasteless bits.

    After lunch, Gloomeye worked for about the same amount of time as before lunch. Then the slaves were led into another tunnel. After passing another group, they were led into a small cave separated by iron bars with a door. The door was locked, of course. Splinter immediately lay down against the wall and turned away from everyone. Gloomeye collapsed onto his back. He was so tired that he could hardly think. Still, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. The other slaves followed Splinter''s example, either lying down or leaning against the walls.

    "Is anyone from Bridge here?" Gloomy decided to speak.

    No one answered. Very bad atmosphere for planning an escape. Northman said that you can only lose when you have given up or are dead. It''s often the same.

    But then the guy noticed the slave child, the food deliverer. They sat with their knees drawn to their chests and nodded.

    "Know that Guinevere has sold you, but Lady Uthera has already punished her," the guy told everyone the good news, just in case.

    "Good..." said the child. They had long hair and a very dirty face. Gloomeye was glad to get at least some response:

    "What''s your name? My name is Gloomeye. And that''s Splinter over there."

    The child shrugged, and their eyes began to dim. This is bad, I have to keep talking.

    "Then I''ll make one up, okay? Everyone needs a name," Gloomeye looked at the child, trying not to give them a humiliating characterizing name, which was not easy. "Are you a boy or a girl?" he finally asked.

    "Girl..."

    "Then you will be Girl. After you can change your name. Or leave it. You''ll be old Girl, isn''t that funny?"

    The girl nodded. The fading of her gaze stopped.

    Judging by the routine, several similar days passed. Gloomeye worked at one time, talked to Girl and slept at another. Sometimes Girl would work a different shift, and then Gloomeye would try to strike up a conversation with someone else. But everyone preferred to lie in silence, basking in their grief and their chosen solitude.

    Splinter accepted slavery worst of all. Her eyes became vacant and constantly downcast. When she wasn''t working, she was propped up against the wall Gloomy hoped that, once freed, she would return to her old self. But what if the reason for her apathy was Slizvert''s treachery? Were they really that close?

 Chapter 16

    Escape

    Endless. No end. End less. No end. End. No. Less. End limb. Limbless. The End. - The scrawled inscription on the wall of the slave cage under Hreb.

    Gloomy continued his hard work, sweating as usual. Dust settled on his wet face, and he couldn''t take a deep breath. As he struck the pickaxe again, Gloomeye heard a new sound. In his circumstances, such an event could not be ignored, and he paused to see what was going on.

    It turned out that a slave''s pickaxe broke during the swing and the metal part landed in the neck of a guard. He collapsed to the ground, and the unfortunate slave was surrounded by other guards and impaled on all sides. It didn''t help that he held his hands out in front of him.

    One of the guards ordered:

    "Put them in the sack and get them out. And cover the corpses with earth, we have a secret operation, they must not be discovered from above".

    Gloomy continued his work. A few days later, he picked up four small stones from the ground and hid them under his clothes.

    In the evening, Girl began calling for help. A guard came to the sound and saw Gloomeye and Splinter lying lifeless.

    "What happened here?" the guard asked as he entered the cage, but he already understood.

    "They fought and strangled each other," the small slave explained, whimpering and crawling away from the newcomer.

    The guard waved a hand in front of the slave''s face, examined the neck, which was beginning to bruise, and then checked the pulse in both hands. There was no pulse, nor on the slave girl.

    "If this happens again in your group, I will invite Master Astoro here. Is that clear?" the guard glared at the slaves, then threw Splinter at Gloomy and dragged him out of the cell by his legs.

    He dragged the bodies for quite a while before another guard called out to him:

    "Where are you taking these slaves?"

    "Stuff them in a bag. They''re dead."

    "Did you check?"

    "Yes, no pulse."

    The guard who had called him crouched over the fallen slaves:

    "And it didn''t bother you that this slave was wearing the master''s old clothes?"

    "I''m new here and I''ve only ever seen Master Astoro in his cloak."

    "This is the special slave, and he and the master have a common history. You''d better take him straight to him, but first let''s make sure they''re really dead."

    Gloomeye opened his eyes and looked at the guard with his sword drawn.

    "What happened?" Gloomeye asked curiously.

    "You tell us," the guard slid his sword back into its sheath.

    "I just lost consciousness, and I don''t know what happened next. Here, I woke up, I look at you," the guy sounded like innocence itself.

    "Okay, back to the cell. And you, rookie, learn to determine death," the wise guard might not have believed Gloomeye, but he didn''t show it.

    When Gloomeye and Splinter returned to the cell and the door closed behind them, the guy pulled out stones he had hidden under his armpits to stop the pulse in his hands. Then he had to pull the stones out of Splinter''s armpits because she didn''t do it herself and went to her favourite wall. His throat hurt from being hit by a stone, but it was necessary for plausibility.

    "It didn''t work," Girl said disappointedly.

    "You''re playing with fire, kids. You might not be so lucky next time," a slave with a half-shaven head tried to shame them.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    "If we don''t play with fire, we''ll be in the dark forever," Gloomeye said some nonsense, but he was beginning to get annoyed by the slaves'' apathy, and each time it became harder to shake it off.

    ***

    After a few more days of hard labour, Gloomeye volunteered to go to the toilet. As the helmeted guard approached, the guy pointed at Splinter:

    "That girl wants to go to the toilet too."

    "Can''t she say it herself?" the walking guard asked irritably.

    "No. She''s been working here for so many days and you don''t know her condition?" Gloomeye said indignantly.

    "Exactly. My brother is the same. Just like our parents died, he just sits there and doesn''t say anything. He doesn''t do anything unless he''s asked to," another guard suddenly supported Gloomeye.

    "All right, let''s go," the volunteer guard reluctantly agreed.

    He led the group to the bucket, and when he turned his back on Gloomy, Gloomy attacked him. He pressed his hand to his victim''s throat until he lost consciousness. Gloomeye then changed into the guard''s armour. He waited for a man wearing a helmet (honestly using the toilet with helmetless guards) so that the stolen helmet would hide his face. His eyes, nose and mouth were all visible, but it was better than nothing. Splinter made no comment about what had happened.

    Gloomeye dragged the stripped guard onto his back. If anyone saw it, it would look like a guard carrying a slave somewhere and leading a slave girl. Finding a corner that might have been a toilet at one time, Gloomy threw the body off and squeezed the neck tubes again, just in case. Then he took Splinter by the hand and went to find the place where their things had been taken.

    On the way, they met Girl, who was dragging her pot of food. Gloomeye guessed that she had dragged her load all the way from the Mourneer''s camp so that the smoke wouldn''t build up in the caves and attract the madmen''s attention.

    "Hey, you! You''re coming with us," Gloomeye ordered, for there were guards nearby.

    The girl looked up, recognised the guard (which is bad. Disguise is needed for lack of recognition) and nodded happily.

    There was no need to wander for long; there was only one fork in the tunnel. It led to the guard''s resting cave. There was real furniture there: boxes, tables and chairs where the guards sat, ate and talked.

    "Wait for me here," Gloomeye ordered, and stepped into the slavers'' den. There he began to examine their crates.

    "Hey, newbie! What are you looking for?" one of the resting guards asked good-naturedly.

    "Where do we put the slaves'' belongings?" the "newbie" asked.

    "In that trunk," said the good guard. "Where are you taking the slaves?"

    "To see Master Astoro. They tried to escape by knocking out one of us," Gloomeye explained, opening the right trunk.

    The guard whistled:

    "I don''t envy them. I''m not in the habit of envying the slaves, but these - especially. Apparently, one of them doesn''t envy herself either."

    Gloomy found his bag and reached in, trying to be discreet. He found his sling and his father''s dagger. He tucked them, and some other item, under his clothes. Splinter''s clothes were there too, but he decided it would be too suspicious to take them too.

    Gloomeye held the bag in his hands as if it exuded a miasma of disease (for greater believability in the acting) and led the slaves into the corridor. Together they came to another fork in the road, one way down and the other straight ahead, and there was a light breeze. The guy decided that this was the best sign of the way to freedom. And it turned out to be true (in a way). There was an opening to the sky and a sheer cliff with a small mountain path. Astoro''s green slave was also there, he was sitting beside her at a table with many piles of parchment and stones on them.

    "Successful slave escapes spoil the necessary atmosphere in the team," the master of the Humanists informed. His face was just lazy again. "You took your friend with you, of course, Gloomeye. But why do you need this child? Children are very inefficient, believe me."

    "I decided there was no need for her to wait for me to return for the others," Gloomeye drew his father''s dagger and held it between him and the enemies.

    The orc was instantly at his side and Gloomeye''s weapon was clenched in her fist. There was a cracking sound and blood flowed from her fingers.

    "I don''t like punishments, they reduce the effectiveness of my goods," Astoro sighed. "But without punishment, the effectiveness drops even further. This child has been here longer than you, so he is responsible for your little rebellion. Ten good strokes of the cane on his back and you''ll be working off the time you spent trying to escape. But it''s you who''s going to strike, Gloomeye."

    Astoro took his cane from under his cloak and held it out to Gloomeye, and his personal slave grabbed Girl. Gloomeye took the cane and weighed it in his hand. Heavy. Splinter stood with her hands and eyes down.

    " Whether this is a good strike or not is up to me to decide. I advise you not to be a sadist and only give ten strokes," the Humanist grandmotherly advised.

    At first, Gloomeye was about to comply, but then he saw the look on Girl''s face before the orc turned her back on him. The girl was about Giggler''s age. And what if it was Giggler? Gloomeye turned to Astoro and slammed the handle of his cane into his face. It came off the cane''s frame, revealing that it was the handle of a stiletto hidden inside. A long green hand immediately grabbed the rebel by the throat.

    "Well? A good one?" Gloomy croaked.

    "I''m sure that was the worst strike of your life, slave," Astoro said, regaining his balance and pointing a finger at Girl.

    Without looking, the orc struck the child with the back of her free hand. The blow landed in her throat, there was a crunch of broken spine, and the girl flew into the pass.

    She didn''t scream, and neither did Gloomeye. Just like Splinter. No one screamed at that moment, everything was quiet and ordinary. Gloomy just froze, not believing what was happening. He didn''t notice Astoro picking up the stiletto and walking straight towards him.

    "I''m going to have to increase your punishment, but don''t worry, it won''t stop you from making up for your lost time, slave," Astoro said, driving the stiletto into Gloomeye''s right eye.

 Chapter 17

    Death

    ¡°          ¡° - All empty parchments waiting to be written on.

    Gloomeye was lying on his back in his cage, and now he understood Splinter, who was lying not far away. It''s better to do nothing, maybe he can disappear into the world as if never existed. His eye leaked onto his face and some of it had got onto his clothes. Intense pain throbbed in his eye socket, along with the pounding of his heart. Darkness began to thicken on the right. Small, but eternal.

    He lay there, oblivious to the passage of time, until Splinter broke her days-long silence:

    "I was born in a pit like this. I was able to free my body, but my soul stayed there. And now it was dragging my body back. In the cage, in the prison, in the darkness..."

    ^^^

    Young Boiriann was led into her home, a cell in the earth where you could only lie down. Even she was cramped, let alone her parents. The ceiling in the cell was so low because above them was another cell with another family, and above that another and another.

    Dad was already lying with his face against the wall, and mom was lying on her back. Boiriann threw herself into her arms and sobbed.

    "Oh, come on, Ann, it''s like you saw a troll," Mom joked, stroking her child''s head.

    "They torment you so much!" the girl wailed through her sobs.

    "They want to make you a sorceress, magic is emotion," mom explained softly.

    "I don''t want to be a sorceress! I don''t want you to get hurt!"

    "Believe me, sweetheart, I don''t want to do that either. And your Dad doesn''t want to, even though he liked to lose at cards. But our world is broken. Only magic can put it back together again.¡±

    Boiriann calmed down a little, more from exhaustion than from a revision of her view of the situation. She took a key from under her clothes.

    "What is it, Ann?" Mom was frightened.

    "This key was on the table where you are being tortured. No one saw me take it. Perhaps we can escape..." the girl suggested.

    "Oh, Ann. Don''t tell anyone," Mom snatched the key from her daughter''s hand. "I''ll try to save us."

    The next day, instead of the usual torture room, Boiriann was taken to a striped man with horns covered in a cloth (also striped) that looked like a strange hat.

    "Ah, here''s the orphan," he said, looking at the girl.

    "I am not an orphan," Boiriann corrected.

    "Your parents are dead, Wrath-14. Just now. That makes you an orphan," the striped man corrected her.

    "No, you''re lying!" the girl shouted.

    "Denial? Very good. Well, since we can''t torture your parents for lack of them, we''ll have to move you to another experiment."

    The next time, Boiriann lived on a platform that didn''t quite fit her. The platform was at the top of a huge pillar, so long that if the girl fell, she would be suspended for tens of seconds. Below, the wasteland spread out, and in the distance some structures could be seen. But it was better not to look down, or her head would start to spin and it seemed that the next gust of wind would blow her down.

    Every day the pillar was lowered and she was fed and measured. Then the pillar was raised back into the sky.

    But one day, the pillar Boiriann lived on came down and never came up with her. She was in a semi-conscious state when she was brought back to the Striped Man:

    "We have found you new parents, Fear-54. And you become Wrath-14 again. Oh, you''ll get along, you all love to scream so much."

    When Boiriann was brought home, the adults were already there. A woman and a man were crying, their arms around each other. The woman looked up at the girl and asked in a hoarse voice:

    "Who are you?"

    "My name is Boiriann. I lived here with my parents."

    "Can we just call you Boi?" the man asked.

    Boi nodded.

    The new parents shared a similar fate to Boiriann''s family. Only their child was being tortured, and they were forced to watch.

    Boiriann entered her home, her voice hoarse. Boiriann collapsed in her home. Boiriann walked into her home, smearing tears of blood. Boiriann was thrown into her home. Boiriann entered her home, she ran out of tears. Boiriann limped painfully back into her home. Boiriann crawled into her home. Boiriann entered her home. Boiriann entered her home. Boiriann entered her home...

    Boiriann did not enter her home. She was led along a familiar path through dark corridors. She couldn''t walk because she was afraid, and they dragged her by the elbows. All she could feel was growing panic, nausea and a tremor so intense it was transmitted to her porters. Boi was taken to the Striped Man.

    "Hello, orphan," he said, and his face cracked. The girl would have recognised a smile if she hadn''t stopped at some point to understand what it is.

    Boiriann heard a hum. It was a hum from the very foundations of the world building. What the First Gods heard as they created the Universe. This primordial hum grew and a more ancient silence began to break in. It became like the sound of drums coming closer, like earth - to a man who had fallen from the sky. An endless hum followed by an endless silence began to overwhelm the world. Everything trembled, pulsed and began to turn red. The walls, the ceiling, the objects, Boiriann''s insides, especially her eyes, trembled. Is she building herself into the trembling world, or is she sending a ripple through everything? Judging by the spreading cracks in the walls and the way people were running around, the outside world felt the same as the girl. Darkness came at last.

    As Boireann came to, she saw two dark silhouettes against the bright white.

    "It''s definitely a wrath demon, but it''s incredibly strong, and it''s clearly a numbered one. Our power was barely enough to subdue it. It is clearly above the level of Malice, Hatred, and even Fury."

    "So we can think of a name for ourselves. What about Frenzy? Was it definitely Wrath-14 that caused it?"

    "She is the only one who has lost all emotions and therefore the ability to use magic. Either this girl created a demon in her critical moment at the cost of everything: humanity, soul, magic and the future, or it''s just an unbelievable coincidence and an inexplicable demonic self-birth. Which, as an archmagus, I''m not prepared to accept."

    "Can she regain the ability to use magic?"

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "It is possible. If the emotions return. In time. But in our conditions this is impossible."

    "So she''s useless to us. Throw her out.¡±

    "Frenzy will attract a lot of attention. Have you heard of crybabies'' scouts nearby?"

    "That''s an order. And do it alone. Then come to my office."

    Boiriann was plunged back into darkness.

    ***

    "I didn''t feel anything at first. But then Slizvert gave me a goal - to destroy the Court of Madness. I thought it was the best thing for the world. But now I realise that all I want is revenge. They destroyed me, and I want to destroy them in return. Now my revenge will be taken without me.

    But judging by the way the world works, nothing will happen but the triumph of the Court of Madness. They will have unlimited power, and we will all be Boirianns and Girls."

    The girl finished, and there was silence. Gloomeye continued to lie on his back. No, waiting to disappear into the world is foolish. He must take non-existence into his own hands. Just not breathing will not work, the body is stupid and will cling to existence. But if you can put something in your throat...

    Gloomy searched the area for suitable rocks. As luck would have it, they weren''t there. Then he felt under his clothes for the sling and the object he had taken with the dagger. He lifted the object to his eyes (now half useless) and began to turn it in his hand, examining it. It was a figurine of wolves that Earlier had given him earlier. Gloomeye had forgotten all about it. The alm-not-alm that gave his father his name.

    That''s right, I have a family. There are parents, though fewer than Splinter''s - only three (though I do not know about Valkali''s private life (she travels with some guy)). And the parents have friends - Mom with Babyboy, Moose with Shroomer.

    Yes, and I had friends (though a long time ago) - Meat, Crushy and Rasca, and now only Giggler. Giggler has a father - Storyteller. What did he talk about? The deeper the hero falls, the higher he can climb?

    And the others? Firster and Earlier, Northman and Divider. They''ll be disappointed if I don''t come back. And the whole Worldedge.

    Don''t I have any friends outside the clan? Dara? Seifo and Fatron''? Old hermits? Even a couple of Mourneers helped along the way - Yar and Almcatcher. Lady Uthera? Drat who speaks the language of his first mother? And Splinter? She''s in need of help right now, and he''s just lazing around. What was he thinking?

    Gloomy hid the figurine, tied the sling around his leaking eye and stood up.

    "I''ve figured out how to get out of here," he said to Splinter. "We''re helpless, so we need help. We need to start a slave revolt."

    Splinter looked at him in surprise, as if she had seen a new person instead of an old acquaintance.

    "Haven''t you had enough, one-eyed? Just don''t try to involve us in any of your stupid games," the half-shaven slave said.

    Gloomeye looked at the slaves. It will take several months to gain their trust, to slowly drag them out of their apathy and grief. Or...?

    "Tomorrow we''ll give the masters a fight, whether you want it or not," Gloomeye heard his father''s commanding voice. "I''ll start, and then I''ll let them know that we''re working together. All slave owners suspect their slaves of plotting rebellion, and they''ll believe me. You will have a choice - fight or death. Pity... it''s a pity Girl is no longer with us, she would have warned another group.

    Some of the slaves looked at each other and started to get up. At least something!

    "Better save your strength for tomorrow. And if you get up to fight me, remember that I am full of energy because I am determined to fight, and you are a wreck because you have given up and are preparing to die. And the guards will rush in here, open the door, and I''ll let them know that this is the beginning of our escape plan together. But we don''t have any pickaxes at the moment. Choose."

    "Gloomeye, are you sure?" Splinter whispered weakly.

    He looked back at her and smiled:

    "Absolutely not. But tomorrow we will be free from this slavery."

    ***

    Gloomeye banged his pickaxe hard against the stone. The other slaves, with the exception of Splinter, kept looking at him nervously and whispering to each other. This was not lost on the guards.

    Gloomy found a rock that was very hard, and he tried to knock out the rocks around it. He was approached by the fan of antagonizing him, under the pretext of taking the pieces away:

    "When already?" he whispered.

    "Are you impatient now?" Gloomy smiled.

    "What is it that you can''t keep your mouth shut? Your days are like one!" the guard who had been knocked out by the guy yesterday shouted at them (before work he had told Gloomy that he would no longer take him to the toilet, and now he always kept a certain distance from the guy).

    "What are we waiting for? We''re only going to get tired!" said one of the burly slaves, driving a pickaxe into the head of the nearest guard.

    The slaves immediately turned on their guards. They tried to draw their weapons, but all the rioters were close to each guard, either by accident or design. Only one guard managed to draw his sword and wound a slave before being stabbed by the mob.

    "Attack!" Gloomeye shouted. "All together, as agreed!"

    "And that was your entire plan?" Splinter asked.

    "It was easier than it seemed," the half-shaven slave said, surprised at himself.

    "All thanks to you, good sirs. Your long subservience has lulled their vigilance. Well done!" Gloomy said. "Now I suggest we take their weapons and change into their armour."

    "I hope this works and you stop trying to disguise yourself as an enemy," Splinter said.

    They killed every Humanist and Steel Collar along the way, losing only two. Gloomeye stormed into the rest room, smashed the tip of his pickaxe into the slaver''s face, and went to the crate to collect his belongings. He used the pickaxe to hit his former masters at least once with the weapon they had given him.

    At the next fork, Gloomy decided to go straight ahead instead of going down. The guy really wanted to say goodbye to Astoro. He was sitting at a table near the entrance to the mountain path, and next to him, of course, was his pet orc. Seeing the aggressive crowd, the master stood behind his slave.

    "Did you think of piling on us with the whole bunch? The expected risk in my business," Astoro pointed at Gloomy. "Kill."

    "No! Stop! Don''t attack us!" Gloomeye shouted at the orc who was about to attack. She was surprised and stopped.

    "Attack! Your master commands!" Astoro ordered.

    "Do not listen to your former master! I defeated him and now everything he has is mine, don''t you see? I order you not to attack!" Gloomeye ordered.

    The slave looked from Astoro to Gloomy and back again, undecided.

    "And you bring me far more losses than gains," the Humanist said, as emotionless as ever. "Zuzu, die."

    The runes on Zuzu''s neck began to bleed. The slave staggered to her knees, clutching the floor with one hand and trying to stop the bleeding with the other. While everyone''s attention was on her, Astoro took out his stiletto, for some reason, circled around and stood on the mountain path. The path was so narrow that he had to stand sideways.

    "Cancel the order," Gloomeye stepped onto the path, pickaxe in hand.

    "If you say so, gloom eye. Zuzu, don''t die, just cark it!" Astoro touched Gloomeye''s outstretched weapon with his own, spun it around, and knocked it into the abyss. Zuzu collapsed to the ground.

    "Zuzu, live!" Gloomy shouted, but it didn''t help: the runes were harder to fool than their prisoner.

    "Gloomeye, catch it!" Splinter grabbed a sword from the nearest ex-slave and threw it at the guy. He just turned around and immediately returned his gaze to his opponent. Just in time, as Astoro stabbed him in the face, and Gloomeye dodged, escaping with a cut on his cheek. The tossed weapon fell into the abyss after the pickaxe.

    "I don''t know how to use a sword anyway," the guy dodged another attack.

    "Then come back and we''ll throw weapons at him," Splinter suggested.

    "Let me take my revenge properly! We will fight one on one!" Gloomeye sounded annoyed at the constant distractions from mortal danger. He dodged three quick jabs, but the last one still slipped over his shoulder.

    "You want to play noble? Remember what I taught you when I was on top of you!" Splinter ignored the surprised stares that were directed at her.

    "Have you forgotten what I told you? I don''t need to be taught, I''m the son of the bandit," Gloomy pulled out his belt and took it in both hands. The pants fell down, of course. Sounds of surprise and disbelief could be heard from the crowd watching the duel.

    "Stop him! Can''t you see he''s gone mad?" one of the former slaves called out.

    Splinter turned to him:

    "Gloomeye is the sanest of us all," she proudly stood up for her friend.

    "Nice belt, but I don''t remember it coming with my clothes that you stole," Astoro said, throwing a few more jabs that Gloomeye dodged.

    "A gift from the Demon Lord Regent," Gloomeye explained, catching the enemy''s stiletto in the loop of his belt.

    "How..." Astoro started, but Gloomeye took a step towards him and smooched the air. The Humanist master''s face showed surprise, and he fell, tripped by his opponent.

    Gloomeye immediately caught him by the throat with Regent''s gift. Astoro''s feet slipped off the path, but Gloomy held him by the belt. The stiletto flew off into the abyss as the slave master tried to undo his new collar with one hand and find a handhold with the other. Gloomeye took a more comfortable grip on the belt and lifted the enemy up, leaving him with no support.

    Astoro''s face became less beautiful by the second: it grew fatter, redder, and his eyes had decided to become external organs. When the former master stopped fighting, Gloomeye released him into the abyss.

    "Here''s the special one," the new killer said wearily. The crowd, which had been holding its breath until now, erupted in cheers. The guy''s arms and legs were shaking with tension, but he still limped over to the dying Zuzu. Her upper body under her throat was completely covered in blood, which had already formed a puddle underneath her (the blood is red, the same as in humans).

    "Was I a good girl?" the orc asked weakly.

    "You were the best girl ever. The best in the world," Gloomy said, stroking her head. She died shortly after.