The iron flesh

Vtorak walked, but did not see the way. How Gordey could rise again. Why does the dead man pursue him? What kind of creepy magic does this to bodies? Why did Akshayah not take his soul?! Vtorak was afraid. He seem a silhouettes hiding behind the trees. It constantly seemed to him that someone was watching his every move from a bird's eye view. He was more afraid than ever. He threw out of his head thoughts of how a balding head, framed by gray hair around the edges and a beard at the bottom of his face, smiling with a gilded smile, shaking a severed piece of his jaw hanging on a skin flap, emerges from the darkness and looks into his eyes. So far, nothing has scared the brave warrior so far. Terrible monsters and dangerous thugs repeatedly stood in front of the Vtorak, but all of them were buried in the graves. None of them returned after the fateful blow of the sword. But Tigma escaped death. What is the chance that he will not deceive Akshayah again? It was necessary to burn the corpse and dispel the ashes in the wind... whatever one may do, but this world will still not notice another handful of ashes on its face.

Vtorak walked along wastelands and copses. For the first time in his life, he looked around cautiously. For the first time in his life, he afraid to fall asleep at rest. And, nevertheless, the enemy did not appear near him. Maybe Vtorak managed to cover his tracks? The wind was strong, perhaps he had swept the marks of steps on the ground and confused the smells so that even hound dogs would not have tracked the warrior.

"Damn, what am I doing?" - thought Vtorak, - "I'm under the heel of fear! It rules me... I can't sleep, I can't forget... it exhausts me. It can't go on anymore. Something needs to be done with him. Vtorak suddenly remembered how dwarfs said that any feeling can be found inside a person in the form of an animal. That through the image of the animal with feeling, he can interact, change and tame it. The warrior made a halt and made a fire. He intended to seek out his fear and subdue it. Peering into the dancing flames, Vtorak sank deeper and deeper into himself. When his eyes closed on their own, he discovered that he was again standing in the clearing of an oak grove, where he had once fought with his own fury.

He looked around. Glade was beautiful in the rays of the sun shining. Green grass and lush tree crowns, a fast stream and variegated flowers: all this was striking in the riot of colors. The bear stood beside him and rubed his leg with nose. Somewhere here should be his fear. But where is it? Vtorak walked around the clearing, but did not see anyone on it. Then the man and the bear went deep into the thicket. Somewhere above, birds began to sing, but they did not at all look like the personification of fear. It was rather... hope. Vtorak went forward, looked under every bush, every log, and now, finally, in an earthen groove between the roots of a particularly large oak tree, he found an orange clump curled up in a ball. He cautiously leaned towards the animal and slightly touched its fur with his fingers. The animal shuddered and, frightened, buried itself even deeper into the ground. "Don't be afraid of me," said Vtorak, "you and I are one. You are my fear. But don't worry, everything will be fine with us! Look at the bear and at me: we are born warriors and will cope with any misfortune, you don't be afraid. " The creature cautiously turned around and approached an outstretched hand. It was a squirrel. "No," thought Vtorak, "This is not fear, but rather a sense of danger. It can be calm, or it can be frightening, but now that I have found it, it will be much better." The squirrel raised bead eyes, black as agate, lovingly licked his fingers and, in the blink of an eye, climbed onto Vtorak's shoulder. He no longer felt fear. The warrior opened his eyes and saw the fire again. What practical advice the dwarfs gave him.

Having had lunch and a little rest, Vtorak set off again. He crossed over several ravines and walked through several forests before he found himself at the ruins of an ancient sanctuary, around which there was a cemetery, strewn with carved stone tombstones. The sky began to darken, and Vtorak decided to spend the night in the ruins of the sanctuary. He was already approaching the surviving carved portal when he noticed a light in the distance. He saw how a figure with a torch in his hands emerged from the impressive structure of the clan tomb. The warrior threw things off the threshold of the building and went into the light, wanting to talk with a stranger. For a long time he did not talk with people. The last conversation around the campfire ended not very pleasantly. The silver silhouette turned and Vtorak saw the knight. The old man's gray beard invariably dragged along the ground, and thick eyebrows, like snowy fir paws hanging over his eyes. The warrior looked at the carved tablet at the entrance to the tomb, but the name carved on it once was chipped.

- Khali, - the knight said, - Before I joined the Golden Circle, my name was Hali from the Cheshtaan clan.

- Whose crypt is it?

- My mother is buried here... father too... our whole family rests in this tomb.

- But why is the name destroyed?

- Some people spread rumors about our family. Dirty rumors...

- That's why you don't tell your name to strangers?

- Yes. People treat me better when they don't know anything about my ancestors. The Cheshtaa clan was one of the most influential in the old world. We had subservient villages in the valley. Probably, all the peasants hate their masters, but the world was so arranged... And now they take back their, as they are thinking, trampling the glorious name of my family. When only I was left of the whole clan.

- I see.

- No, Vtorak. You never had any kindred, - Vtorak looked at the knight, but the knight looked down sadly. Vtorak pondered words of the knight. The only native person for him was Varaha. His plans are not known, but even if he really decided to end Vtorak for one reason or another, he never had any relatives. Could he understand an old man who was afraid to be called by his own name because of the former power of the deceased ancestors?

- I'm going to Stargrad, Khali, - said Vtorak, - You can keep me company again along the way.

- Ofcource, I would do that. I also have to arrive in Stradgrad. Terrible things happen there.

- What kind? What happened? Hidden blacksmiths directed me there.

- So as me. Warlord Delius was sent out of the valley in search of resources and old allies, but raised a rebellion. Dwarf Gods do not want to spread in the city a cruel cult of worship of Akshayahu. The cultists make human sacrifices... Delius is an ardent admirer of the old gods, but the current government encourages the city to believe in the Pure and the Light. I don't know who is better to support in order to prevent the cult from growing. The old power is weakening every day. Although they call to worship the Light, their weakness can only play into the hands of the cult. And Delius... According to my assumptions, he will be in the city in a week. I see nothing wrong with his love for the old faith of his ancestors. Perhaps his strength will only weaken the position of the cultists. We need to keep up with Delius and find out what is really happening in the city.

- Good, I agree!

- Now you need to rest. I don't know how your road is, but mine was long and I was very tired.

The next morning, the rider and the pedestrian moved on. A joint trip for several days slightly amused both and cleared their tired minds of unnecessary experiences. Khali planned the next stop by the oak marked on his map. The flask of Vtorak, in spite of the heavy rain, had already dried up, and the knight had to share water with him.

- You know, - Vtorak began suddenly, - The dwarfs called me the Hand...

- It was high time to find someone, - the knight nodded. - Usually, there are four of us in the valley. But since Rod died in battle... and now even the Chetaka were overtaken by the cultists... All of this is very bad.

- Yes... I won't let you down, - Vtorak assured.

- The tree is already close, - said Khali, - we will soon get to the city. Yes, by the way... Please do not call me there by name. New nobles know my family and quickly guess who I am.

- Of course, as you wish... hey, look! - Vtorak suddenly noticed a sacred tree ahead. At its roots stood a man with a huge ax in his hands. With each blow, the ax bounced off the oak bark, as if from iron, but the man continued to try to break off a piece of it. Vtorak rushed forward and soon reached the oak tree. The knight spurred his horse and soon also appeared at the tree itself. Vtorak grabbed the ax from the man's hands and he turned on him. It was Orrick. Over the past years, he has not changed. Vtorak recalled words of this man that for him all this was just a night dream. The surprise on his face gave way to a warm smile. He stretched out his arms and hugged the warrior.

- How glad I am to see you! Very happy! he exclaimed.

- What are you doing with the tree?! - pushed the magician Vtorak.

- I need his iron wood... - Orrick said thoughtfully looking at the bark. - I would make a staff out of it that would have no equal in my world.

- Trees give us life... They are holy! - the knight frowned.

- Yes, yes, yes, yes... - the mage waved. He looked a little more at the tree, wondering something in his mind, after which he put his hands out in front of him and tensed up. His fingers began to clench more and more until the bark cracked. Vtorak and Khali watched as if spellbound, "It's just... a dream... just a dream..." Orrick whispered. With a wave of his hand, he cut off excess material and bark from a broken piece of wood, leaving a magnificent wooden staff in his fingers. Staff of indestructible wood. Water flowed out of the oak, like blood rushing from a wound. She fell to the ground and immediately absorbed into it.

- What kind of monster you are... - the knight whispered.

- Who cares, I'll get out of here soon. I need a souvenir as a keepsake. Do you feel sorry for the tree? You have such a lot. And this staff ... there will be great power in it.

- Kurva... - snapped Vtorak, - You are the curse of our world! You destroy everything in its path!

- And what about you? - Orrick directed the end of the staff to the warrior's face. - I heard that you burned a whole village, made a bloody massacre of peasants whom you wanted to sacrifice to your bloody gods. It's not for you to judge me, Vtorak from the Ashen valley.

- How do you know about the peasants?

- One of them survived. Yes, fair-haired fat man. He told about you in the village.

- So, he still managed to get to the village then... - he was taken aback by Vtorak.

- Did you hope, not? - Orrick smiled. There was no answer, and he continued the story, looking curiously at the newfound staff, - His friend... such an unusual type... not a human... asked me to revive the dead peasants. I thought, why not! In my world, I'm not capable of this, even as a magician, but here...

- What other friend? - asked Khali.

- He did not give his name, we just met in the village. Strange, he did not look like an ordinary peasant... I felt in him great magical power.

- Gordey! - guessed Vtorak, - You revived Gordey... right?

- I tried to revive two more... But somehow I did not succeed with them. And I did not ask the name of the latter. By force of will, I returned his soul back to the body: since she had not gone too far. There was a force of anger in her. Oh, it was nice to put it back in the body. She blazed with hatred, like a torch. However, this was not enough... I needed more strength to completely revive him. I caught the raging soul of the restless Tigma warrior nearby and connected them with each other in one body. It turned out hm... quite interesting.

- It is incomprehensible to the mind... - the knight turned white with horror.

- So you have a too primitive mind, mr. knight, - remarked Orrick, - it was necessary to sew parts of the body with something. And there was nothing except iron, so I used it. The work turned out to be rude, but of high quality. I hope he doesn't go crazy... soon.

- He doesn't went crazy, - the warrior said, and looked into the eyes of the magician. - He found me recently and I killed him again.

- Hmm... - Orrick thought deeply for a moment, as if analyzing what he had done wrong, that his creation was defeated, after which he took a deep breath and shrugged, - What a pity... It was a unique experiment. I'm afraid I overdid it a bit and made iron the nature of his body. It seemed to have grown into it. It became one with him... tell me, did his skin not seem to you stronger than usual?

- I do not want to talk to you, - snapped Vtorak, - You created a monster that almost ruined me!

- But then you finally met someone equal in strength! Everyone has the right to life. Some even have a chance for a second life.

- Shut up, - snapped Vtorak and walked away. He wanted to kill Orrick. To hurt. He wanted to maim and torment this intruder, who proudly, fearlessly mocked at any danger or law of this world. He was annoyed by permissiveness, in which the magician who had strayed between the worlds bathed. But the warrior remembered what happens to those who get in the way of Orrick. Vtorak wouldn't even have time to pull the sword from its scabbard. Unfortunately, Orrick was infinitely powerful.

- Not long left to endure! - Orrick shouted at his back. - Soon I will find the Pure! He will open the sky for me, and I will leave your world! Bear with me a little more, old friend! - Having said this, he laughed out loud and sincerely. The knight caught up with Wtorak and went beside him.

- I don't like what he said, - said Hali.

- Don't you like it?! But I'm just furious! Look at his complacency! He considers himself a god here!

- In fact, he didn't destroy that much as you want to believe. Yes, there is a certain arrogance in him, but at least he has not changed our whole world with his strength. And until he destroyed our lands, although he could, for sure. But did not do it. He respects this place, - Vtorak measured the old man with a cold look, - I do not like another thing. The fact that someone quite consciously decided to check the boundaries of Orrick's power, offering to resurrect the murdered peasant!

- What? What are you talking about?

- There is only one person in the valley obsessed with an interest in magic. He is an invisible shadow. He is always hiding in the dark. He is the greatest priest of the forgotten god of war. They say that in the valley under his heel there are a lot of influential people whom he once helped to climb to high posts. This is a great warrior who believes that Akshayah should be destroyed.

- What?

- Exactly! In our world, as the Dwarf gods say, there were three Primordial deities. Light, Darkness and the War that united them. It is said that this priest was gifted by the ancient god of war and with the help of this power he defeated the demon of death and not only became immortal, but also took a particle of Akshayah's power to himself. Having wounded the demon, he decided that he could kill him and take his place himself in order to command death. This man is very dangerous...

- Is he still a human, if all this is true?

- I do not know. But the information that he is interested in Orrick for a reason is an undoubted fact.

- This is bad...

- I know. Later it will be necessary to report on this to the gods. Well, okay. Now our concern is to get to the city. Heck!..

- What?

- We forgot to replenish the oak water.

- And will he still be able to exude her after all that he has done to him?

- Will be able. The tree will not die, it is very strong!

- I do not want to go back there, can you go alone, Khali? I beg you.

- Okay, give me your flask! - the knight laughed merrily, took a water tank and galloped in the opposite direction.