Ви Корс - The Mist and the Lightning. Part I

"No. Too lucky, to my mind," Orel said. "That arrow hit his heart, didn't it?" He pointed at the oval scar on Nikto's chest.

"A lethal wound," Lis said.

"And this one, on his side. The scar is quite recent."

"He has nine lives," Tol snorted.

"And a bunch of problems as well," Orel added. "I'm quitting."

"Are you crazy?" Enriki stared at him. "What are you thinking of?"

"I'm not breaking him any more," Orel said firmly. "I've had enough."

"Do you know what it means for us? What if he really is a conspirator?"

Nikto shifted, rising somewhat, tossed his hair away from his face and looked over himself: waist-naked, his pants pulled down.

"Did you want to fuck me?" he asked in surprise.

It was like a signal for everyone. Tol bent over cackling, and all the others looked at Nikto and laughed.

"Come here, have a drink," Tol said to Nikto quite friendly.

"Yes, Nik or whatever, really, have a drink with us," Orel agreed.

Nikto got up, clasped his heavy belt, walked up to the table and made a few gulps from a glass.

"May I dress?" he asked.

"Yes, we let you go," Orel said.

Walking back to the pole, Nikto started gathering his scattered possessions.

"Fuck, why did you cut the bandages?"

"Wanted to give you a shot quicker," Orel explained. "Should've told us your veins are shit dead."

He called for a servant and told him to bring new bandages.

"You are skillful," Enriki said watching Nikto wrap his arms in a few seconds.

"Who stuck the needle?" Nikto asked gloomily.

"I did," Lis smiled.

"Thanks," Nikto thought for a moment, "Lis."

Lis laughed. "Aren't you happy? I did my best."

"Oh yes. There was no other place, was there?"

"Well, you'll just have to stay away from your Unclean bitch for a couple weeks," Lis shrugged, "big deal."

Nikto gave him a glance but kept quiet. He was picking up his bracelets from the floor and habitually locking them on his arms with a soft click. When he reached for one of the bracelets behind the post, his long blonde hair fell on the side, baring his back that was completely covered in lash scars.

Friends looked at each other.

"One cool back you have," Lis said.

"Ah, so that's what you wanted to see," Nikto said. "Stripped me, looked at my scars? And now do you let me go because you see I'm a warrior like you?"

"Sit down," Orel said.

Nikto sat down at the table and finished his wine. Tol gave him a cigarette. Nikto glanced at him.

"Thank you." He smoked, leaning against the tall back of the chair. His hand with a missing finger pushed away his hair, revealing the scar crossing his forehead. He examined Tol, Lis, Orel and Enriki with sharp eyes.

"It is not long till the morning," Orel said. "The gates will be open soon, and you will be able to leave the Upper City."

"And what about your job?" Nikto smiled wryly. The disfigured side of his face didn't move.

"Not the first problem of ours. And not the last one," Orel answered. "Not your concern, too."

"You're not so stupid as you seemed at first," Nikto said.

"All right, don't try to play smart," Lis interfered. "We're letting you go – be happy."

Nikto shook his head.

"I am." He walked up to his bag on the floor, picked up his cloak.

"You've ruined my cloak." He looked around. "And what about my mask?"

"Mask?"

"Yes, mask. Black, made of that hard… mm…" he stumbled trying to find the right word, "stuff. I don't know how it's called in your language."

"Who took off his mask? Tol, you did! Where is it?"

"Arel, I… I tossed it to the chimney," Tol said somewhat guiltily. "I was so pissed off!"

"Shi-i-it!" Nikto squeezed his temples with his palms. "Cloak is torn. Mask is burnt! Any patrol will stop me when I look like that!"

"All right, I'll give you my cloak and my mask," Orel tried to settle it. "And you'll walk out of the Upper City without a problem."

"Without a problem! I don't have the right to be in the Upper City at all!"

"I know," Orel smiled.

"See ya," Nikto walked to the door.

"Wait," Orel reached for him. "I'll see you off to the door and give you your weapon. It's upstairs."

His friends exchanged glances but didn't say anything.

"As you wish," Nikto muttered.

In the dim light of the dungeon his face crossed with a scar looked frightening. Half-paralyzed, it seemed lifeless, more fitting for a dead man than a living being able to bitch about ruined things.

They walked up from the dungeon to the ground floor.

"Here is your sword," Orel lowered his eyes avoiding Nikto's gaze. The servant brought a cloak and a mask.

"My slave will bring them back," Nikto said.

"Never mind, they are yours."

"Fine," Nikto wrapped the cloak around himself. A moment before pulling up the hood he stopped and looked at Orel. Nikto's eyes were grey and cold. "Something else?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Nik was never your name, was it?"

Nikto's lips curved in a resemblance of smile.

"Never before."

"And you've never lived in the local outpost."

"Just for a short while."

"And you're not the slave of the Unclean and you don't follow their orders."

Nikto was smiling. "You're very persistent, prince Arel. Farewell."

He pulled up the hood and walked out of the castle. Orel followed him with his eyes.

"No," he said quietly. "Not farewell."

Chapter 2

Conversation with Mark

"So, Lis was right," Orel said. "You also know Nikto."

"Yes, I do." Mark met Orel's gaze. "If you see him once, you won't forget, right?"

Orel looked away, got up and walked to the window. He looked through it not saying anything, with his arms crossed on his chest. Mark also kept silent, watching Orel as if calculating something in his mind. Then he said:

"I think it'll work for you!"

Orel looked back.

"I nearly killed him!"

Mark shrugged. "So what? Me too."

"Yes? And what?"

"Nothing. We're friends now."

Orel walked back to the table.

"A strange friendship – between a friend of the Unclean and someone who fights them," he said.

"He helped me like no one else," Mark's eyes flashed with an unhealthy sparkle, his fingers twitched nervously. "Thanks to him I created a real hell for the Unclean in the west! How we killed them! How we killed them, Orel, if only you could see it. If only any of those fat townsmen could see it! We slashed them! Hanged them! Burned them! Tore them apart. We razed their houses to the ground. We chased them to the very mountains, freed the outpost and many people…" Mark stopped suddenly.

"I see you are a real warrior. A rare thing in our times," Orel said.

"Nikto is a warrior, too."

"I know, figured that out. But he's a warrior of the Unclean."

"You can stop worrying about it. Yes, he is a warrior of the Unclean but he isn't their ally. More than that, I think he hates them."

"Why is he with them then?"

"The cities of the Unclean accept him as a warrior, hold him as an equal and even higher than many of them. And humans don't accept him."

"But you? Haven't you accepted him?"

"I have but he can't team up with me, the Unclean will kill him for that."

"And can he team up with me?"

"Yes, he can. You don't interfere in the business of the Unclean. If you make Nikto your friend, the Unclean will be your friends, too. Your power will multiply, and I heard, prince Arel, your state of affairs is horrible now."

"Perhaps it is, but I don't want to become a toy of the Unclean for the sake of that power! My independence is my strength."

"Not a toy. But having an ally won't hurt you."

"Do I hear it from you? You who fight them to death? I can't believe my ears."

Mark shrugged. "To each their own."

"And that girlfriend of his. That perfect sample of a non-human! She'll cut the throat of anyone who dares harm her precious. I hope you haven't seen that monster."

"I brought her to him from the west."

"What?"

Mark laughed.

"Her name is Amba. I brought her from the west."

"Why?"

"It just happened."

"Can you tell me?"

"Why not? I see he's got to your heart, I know you too well. You'll be a nice pair. New times are coming to the City, together you'll be formidable."

"I haven't decided anything yet."

"Oh, you have."

"Well, it doesn't mean he'll agree."

"He will. Nikto is attracted to humans. And you are from the upper society, rich, noble – exactly what he needs."

"Then tell me what you know of him!"

"Destiny brought us together in the far west. My squadron attacked a caravan of a slave trader. He sold them in village markets. One of those slaves was Nikto. We freed them all and hanged the trader. Many of the men we had freed joined us. We took the ill ones to our camp. The first one who noticed Nikto was an old warlock from my suite. He told me: 'I feel he's dangerous, Mark, we should get rid of him.' I just laughed – but I was stricken with the color of Nikto's hair. At first I took him for an old man, his face was hidden behind a black mask. I asked the slaves who joined us: 'Who's that old man?' They said: 'We don't know. He was picked up on the road.' He was very ill, never said anything, and the slaves didn't see his face. But the servants of the slave trader who had seen Nikto's face begged not to take him along. They told their master such a slave would bring bad luck. But the slave trader didn't listen to them. Then I took off his mask and saw a young man who had no undamaged place on his face. He was cut in a way that even my experienced warriors were shocked. I saw the traces from 'black water' on his arms, the collar, the wounds from chains, tattoos of the Unclean and I figured out he managed to escape.

"I couldn't miss such a chance! We treated him, healed his wounds. In exchange I asked him to tell me everything he knew. At first he kept silent. And had he not wanted to help us, he wouldn't have said a word, no matter what we'd do to him. I raised my sword over his head several times, and he didn't even flinch, as if he didn't fear death but on the contrary, desired it. But I couldn't kill him. I got to love him. He was so young yet so tortured. At some moment I understood that I'd just let him go, and it was when the warlock told me Nikto was ready to tell us everything he knew. The old warlock said: 'He's reading our thoughts,' and I think it was true. Nikto understood what I thought of him, what I felt. It was his way to thank me. The warlock and all the Unclean called and keep calling him 'son of the Devil' but I don't believe it. Could a son of the Devil respond to kindness like that? Only later I understood what he'd done for me. He'd been so far west as no one else had.

"He drafted the layouts of farms and villages of the Unclean, told about their outposts and other things. Without him I wouldn't have had triumphed! I asked him if he'd follow me but he refused. Then I promised to avenge him, avenge everything that'd been done to him.

"He said to me: 'What the Unclean did to me is nothing in comparison with what others had done before them.' I said: 'They slashed your face.' He said: 'I did it myself.'

"He said it so seriously that I felt uneasy. And I didn't ask him anything else.

"We parted. I went to the west and he, to the east. Bidding farewell I warned him that the Unclean would get him sooner or later, to punish him for betrayal. He just smiled. He probably knew what he was doing.

"That woman – Amba – he described her to me, said she was his owner and asked not to torture her but to kill her quickly. But she is very cunning and when I killed all her family, she wrote to me asking to take her to Nikto to the city, and then no Unclean in the city would harm me.