The mystery of the mountains

Ten years have passed. All these years, Varaha and Vtorak were inseparable. The mercenary had already trained his ward quite well in the possession of the sword and other types of weapons, so that together with him were even especially heavy assignments from emploers. They went around many villages during this time, many robbers died from their swords, a fair amount of scars appeared on the bodies of warriors. And yet Vtorak could not forget those words that he had heard by chance. Still, he could not completely trust Varaha. He unconsciously waited for him to strike, but this did not happen.

- How many did you kill today, seven? - Asked Varaha, sharpening his sword.

- Six, - answered Vtorak.

- I only defeated those three at the entrance, - the mercenary smiled. - It seems that soon you will bypass me in mastery of fight!

- No, - the student laughed. I just took them by surprise. Four thugs died before they could get their swords!

- Great idea of jumping through the hole in the chimney into the cave! They obviously did not expect this.

- Oh yeah! - Vtorak stared at the teacher's sword. The weapon was magnificent, as always. For so many years, Varaha has not changed him. He is rarely sharpened it. There were almost no parries on his blade. Amazing weapon.

- What? - The mercenary asked, noting a steady gaze.

- Nothing... Varaha, where did you get this sword?

- This is a long story, I... I don't want to tell it now, - the man hesitated.

- So when? I have already asked you to tell this many times, and you always said that you would tell me later! Tell me now, come on! Stop pulling.

- All right, then, - reluctantly agreed Varaha, - So listen.

That was many, many years ago. I guess I was even younger than you are now. As you know, I was a tramp and robbed in the gang. I remember that then we were utterly defeated by mercenaries from the village, not far from the mountains surrounding the valley. Only few of as survived. I escaped from pursuers up the rocky paths. They chased after me for almost half a day. When it finally got dark, they left me and went into the village. And so, I walked alone. Without food and water, wounded, who had no idea where I was going or why. I thought: "is there still salvation for me in this world?" Because I did not know if I could survive the cold of night without fire, which would undoubtedly show my whereabouts. And then fate smiled at me. I came across a huge lake in the mountains! Never before seen so much water in one place. Its surface reflected the sky, but there were no clouds in the reflection! There was only an endless dark blue expanse and a huge, luminous silver disk. What was happening seemed like a dream. I sat down and looked at the reflection for a long time, admiring it, walked along the shore and drank mountain water. It tasted great, the wounds stopped bleeding because of this magical water, and I felt much better when I got to my feet again.

The mirror surface attracted me and, although I knew that people from the villages would consider this water sacred, I unbearably wanted to swim in it. I climbed onto an outstanding rock and jumped from it directly into the reflection of a silver disk on the water. At that moment, some unknown force threw me ashore. But I was not at all where I was before the jump. I found that now I was on the shore of another lake, there was no sky above me: now both I and the lake were in a spacious cave. To my surprise, the water continued to reflect the radiance of silver and the blue of a clear night sky. And then they came to me...

- Who? - Asked Vtorak, breaking the pensive silence of the narrator.

- Dwarf gods.

- What?

- They are also called the Secret Blacksmiths, - added Varaha. - These are ancient stunted gods living underground, much closer to the water than we are. They do not let people in there, but they live among themselves peacefully enough and never fight. Their bodies are covered with patterns of obscure tattoos. These are ancient and wise creatures, but I only found out about this later...

- What have you done?! - with interest smiled Vtorak.

- Frightened, of course! I pushed them and ran away. They caught and reassured me. I went through several tests. Secret blacksmiths "forged" this person out of me and sent me to the world with a sword.

- What was these tests? - Asked young mercenary, burning with curiosity.

- I can't say that to anyone...

- Why not?!

- You see... I didn't accidentally tell you about this now. I understand that you want a special weapon. The one that will go through your life and through all battles with you... but this is not only the point.

- You're right. Over the years, I have broken at least a dozen swords, and you...

- I know you will want to find Moon lake and try your luck, - Varaha answered calmly. - If it chose you, you will also pass the tests, but you should not know anything about them ahead of time.

- Well, I get it, - the young man nodded. Moon lake?

- The dwarf gods told me that behind the clouds at night the silver disc - the moon exudes light, and during the day the golden - the sun. These luminaries have a special magic that people are not given to know. The dwarfs told a lot. They participated in the formation of the Kingdom of the Sages and personally created the military order of the Knights of the Golden Circle...

- Why do you call them gods? Are they immortal?

- Yes. They really are not afraid of Akshayah... Many times over the years I have returned to them, begging them to reveal to me the secrets of immortality. I prayed to hide me from the demon in their caves, at the appointed time for me... But they only turned away from me. And since then the lake no longer allowed me to go to them. The sword... that's all that remains of those meetings. It reminds me that there are ways to freedom from death, and all this was not a dream. It remains only to find the way.

- Amazing...

- Now we are still traveling companions, but in the morning we will go on different roads.

- What?! - surprised Vtorak, - How? Why?!

- Since you convinced me to tell you about the Dwarfs, be a man and bring your own path. You really should look for the Moon lake. The mountains are over there, can you see? - He pointed to a distant mountain peaks, hidden by fogs and only barely visible on the horizon, - And the lake itself will seem to you if it considers that you are worthy to speak with dwarf gods.

- Why don't you want to come with me?

- This is your way. It's only yours. I do not want to become a burden on him. Later I will find you myself, or you will find me.

- But, Varaha ... - the young man first felt the tears coming to his eyes, - You are like a father to me...

- And so I don't want to bother you anymore. From now on, you are on your own, - the mercenary hesitated. - Besides, the Secret Smiths brought their verdict to me. I am no longer pleased with them. Perhaps they felt that I had turned off the path indicated by them. Perhaps they are right.

- So be it, - Vtorak agreed, coping with his feelings. He was sure that Varaha did not notice his momentary weakness. It was incredibly important for him to remain strong in the eyes of his close friend and teacher, and therefore he could not openly show his almost kindred warmth. Varaha did not say anything else, and his student had nothing to add to the conversation. And so ended the evening campfire: in silence.

The next morning, Vtorak woke up earlier than Varaha and, casting a farewell glance at the sleeping comrade, set off. Despite the fact that the mercenary showed only the direction, Vtorak reasoned that if his design would help him find the lake once, then it would not allow him to pass by the necessary ridge of mountains. So he moved forward, completely relying on fate. Confidence in fate responded with an extraordinary ease in the heart, which made it a little more fun to go.

It has been several weeks since Vtorak left Varaha. The mercenary walked through the villages, sometimes carrying out orders to earn his bread and milk. High mountains stood firmly on the horizon. Their white snow caps attracted travelers eager for water, but people were in no hurry to move there. Among the peasants, rumors wandered about the monstrous creatures that lived in the mountains, who never let go of the travelers who came to them. Listening at dinner in the tavern, Vtorak secretly hoped that the peasants could be frightened by the tales of the Dwarf gods that really existed in those places.

That evening, Vtorak also sat in the tavern, where he had already rented a room for himself at night, and wondered what lay ahead. Somewhere nearby was a group of peasants, but their voices did not interrupt the thoughts of a tired traveler immersed deep in himself. Now, reflecting on his goal in such detail, he realized that he had become somewhat obsessed with it. Vtorak did not know exactly where to go. He did not know why all this happen. The sword of dwarf gods became for him the embodiment of recognition that they could bestow. He was happy to be ready to serve someone whose goals would seem worthy, since he could not find a worthy goal for himself. Varaha lived on a thirst for victory over Akshayah, and this gave him strength. He made his every step meaningful. Vtorak went confidently, inexorably, but it is not known where.

A peasant rose from the next table and went to the mercenary:

- Master warrior, good evening ...

- Pretty good, - answered Vtorak, - What do you want?

- Yes, here we guys thought ... - he looked back at his friends, - There is no more strength in the ashes and dust picking. We crave glory! What is there to vegetate all my life, so the world has not looked? No! It is necessary in...

- The world will disappoint you, - Vtorak remarked skeptically.

- Yes, we would at least see the mountains, or there... the ruins of ancient fortresses... did you saw them, master warrior?

- I saw.

- Duck, that's sounds good, hey?

- So go, the road is clear.

- We alone will not go far after all. You, brother, take us with you! Learn to fight! We will come in handy in battles!

- Do you have a weapon? - The mercenary squinted at the group of peasants at the table.

- We will take the pitchfork from the barn! For the first time they will do.

- Are your wives and mothers ready to let you go?

- Oh, don't worry about this, master warrior, we will decide for ourselves! - The man smiled. Vtorak thought about the proposal. The peasants were clearly not warriors, but in a battle with several opponents they could at least occupy several of them, while the Vtorak would deal with the others one at a time. In addition, traveling alone became unbearable.

- Mercenaries are hired for a fee when they want them to guard a caravan or travelers, - the mercenary answered evasively.

- Yes, but we ourselves want to accompany you. You will see, we will not be a hindrance!

- Well, as you wish. I go out tomorrow morning. Gather at the inn and take everything for a long journey.

The next morning, going out onto the porch, Vtorak discovered that there were much fewer people who wanted to go with him than there had been the day before in the tavern. Seven awkward men with shovels and pitchforks crowded in front of the tavern in anticipation of their commander. The sight turned out to be quite unprepossessing.

- I say right away, I'm not going to answer for you, - said Vtorak, going down the steps.

- For glory and honor! - exclaimed the first man, and the whole group moved away from the village for their leader. Vtorak had never had to command before. He was wondering what it really was.