Алексей Пехов - Shadow Chaser

He lowered the oak beam and stuck the torch into the sandbox.

After a few minutes of peace and quiet, I heard Kli-Kli’s voice through the darkness.

“Harold, are you asleep?”

“What do you want?”

“I was just thinking, Paleface will stop bothering you now, right?”

“Maybe. That’s if it was him, of course.”

“Well, who else?”

“Listen, you guys,” Hallas hissed. “Let’s get some sleep, follow Deler’s good example.”

I could hear the sound of quiet snoring coming from the ginger-haired dwarf’s bed.

“All right, all right,” Kli-Kli whispered.

I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Sagot! Paleface had almost reached me tonight!

“Harold, are you asleep?”

“Now what?” I sighed.

“Tell me, what do you think? Where has Balistan Pargaid gone now?”

“You’ll have to ask him that.”

“Jut shut up, will you?” Hallas howled.

“What are you yelling at, Beard-Face? Let me sleep,” Deler muttered without waking up, and turned over onto his other side.

“I’m not yelling, they’re the ones who won’t let me sleep,” the gnome muttered. “Kli-Kli, shut up!”

“All right, I won’t say a word,” the goblin whispered hastily.

I yawned and closed my eyes.

“Harold, are you asleep?” the whispering voice asked again.

Will he ever calm down? I won’t say a word now, just to spite him.

“Harold? Harold! ”

Hallas groaned and broke into a string of choice abuse in a mixture of gnomish and human language. “Kli-Kli, one more word, and I’ll lose control.”

“But I can’t get to sleep.”

“Then count something!”

“What?”

“Mammoths!” the gnome exclaimed furiously.

“All right,” the jester sighed. “The first mammoth jumps over the wall.… The second mammoth jumps over the wall.… The third mammoth jumps over the wall.… The fourth mammoth jumps over the wall.…”

Hallas started groaning again.

“The twenty-fifth mammoth jumps over the wall…,” Kli-Kli continued. “The twen-ty sev-enth mammoth jumps … over … the wall.…”

Something went whistling through the air above me and Kli-Kli gasped in fright.

“Why are you throwing your boots, Hallas?” the jester asked indignantly.

“You know why! If you don’t shut up, you’ll spend the night in the corridor!”

Kli-Kli sighed, turned over on the floor, and stopped talking. I was absolutely certain that the goblin had thought up some sly trick. But the minutes passed, and he didn’t make a sound.

I managed to get to sleep after all. Perhaps I was just tired after the long day, or perhaps the sleeping goblin’s snoring sounded like a lullaby.…

We left Algert Dalli’s castle at dawn, when the waking sun had just painted the edge of the sky a pale pink. Kli-Kli was yawning desperately and muttering sleepily, looking as if he would tumble off his saddle at any moment if someone didn’t support him.

At that early hour of the morning Milord Algert Dalli, his wife, and his daughter came in person to see us off and wish us success. Oro Gabsbarg was also there. I don’t know what Miralissa and Alistan Markauz had told the count, but we were given an escort of forty mounted men under the command of a certain Milord Fer, who turned out to be Dalli’s illegitimate son. Kli-Kli told me that in the Border Kingdom the attitude toward bastards was completely different from in Valiostr. As long as a man was a good warrior, it didn’t matter what blood ran in his veins. Fer was about three years older than Lady Alia and he looked like his father—short and sturdy.

Milord Algert had generously flung open the doors of his armory for us, and the castle’s three armorers had wasted no time in selecting suits for Hallas, Deler, Alistan Markauz, Lamplighter, and Marmot. So now our entire group felt more or less well protected, although the replacements were far from comparable to the armor that had gone to the bottom of the Black River with the ferry. Lamplighter received a personal gift from the count—the dagger with the precious handle.

Fer’s men were supposed to take us as far as a castle where a powerful garrison was quartered, ready to repulse any sudden attack from Zagraba. This castle was the final human stronghold; beyond it lay dense thickets into which no right-minded Border Kingdom warrior would wander without good reason.

Our road lay through coniferous forests with murmuring rivers and reinforced villages. The detachment was challenged from watch towers three times, and we came across five armed patrols.

The Borderland was seething with anticipation; the soldiers told us that the orcs were on the move in the Golden Forest.

“They’ve attacked two villages in the last month, Master Lamplighter,” one of the men told Mumr respectfully. “And they gave a detachment from the Foresty Hills a good hiding, too. Until recently, we only saw orcs once in every six months, and then in the distance, but now they’re testing our strength right along the border of the kingdom, searching out the weak spots. They say the Hand is gathering an army and dreaming of finally doing what they failed to do in the Spring War.”

“Could they really break through?” Mumr asked, frowning and squirming in his saddle. He had taken too much to drink the evening before, and today he had a splitting headache.

“Break through?” The soldier thought for a moment. “I don’t know, Master Lamplighter. If real trouble starts, then they’ll certainly try, only not in our lands. They’ll move past farther to the west, where there’s unbroken forest, with not many garrisons and, pardon me for saying so, the soldiers of Valiostr haven’t really been doing their job recently. Anyone could slip by the fortresses there, even an orc, even a crowd of Terrible Flutes—if they exist, that is.”

“Sagra forbid, if there is any serious trouble, we’ll be the only ones here trying to fight it,” said another soldier. “Before the main forces get here, and your regulars are assembled in Valiostr … How long is all that going to take? I’ve already moved my family closer to Shamar. It’s safer there; after all it is the capital.”

“What about the elves? Surely the elves will support you?” Eel asked.

“Elves?” The soldier glanced warily at the dark elves riding at the head of the column. “You know what Lord Algert says about elves? He says he’s sick of them and their promises.”

“Hold your tongue, Servin,” one of the sergeants said gloomily. “Fer doesn’t like any loose talk.”

“But I’m right, Khruch. I’m right, and you know it.”

“Maybe you are, but I still don’t like the idea of a s’kash across my head.”

“The dark elves make lots of promises, but who can understand them? They’re not like us.”

“The House of the Black Flame promised to send six hundred warriors to our borders, but not one has arrived yet,” said the soldier, spitting on the ground under his horse’s hooves.

The detachment halted for lunch at a village with no name. The horses were allowed to rest and we were greeted amiably and fed without any complaints, even though there was such a great horde of us. The short break did everyone good and the detachment moved on refreshed and invigorated.

“Fir trees, fir trees, everywhere,” Kli-Kli sighed, looking round gloomily at the landscape.

“What’s wrong with you? Is Zagraba supposed to be some kind of flower garden?”

Kli-Kli snorted contemptuously.

“Harold, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Yes, fir trees grow in Zagraba, but there are other trees, too. Pines, oaks, larches, maples, golden-leafs, birches, rowans, too many kinds to mention…”