Chapter 4

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The two nights passed quietly and calmly, as quietly as an existence amid a struggle between all and everyone can be called calm. At any rate, no gangs or monsters bothered the monastery inhabitants. The two girls tried to keep out of sight of Carlon, and the rest of their kin as well, though Celeste had asked the priest for permission to use the library. Under the pretext of studying sacred books, the earthling was going to learn to read and write - thanks to a nearby teacher. Who, incidentally, now wore a headscarf so as not to draw attention to the natural color of her hair.

The plans changed a little when Andrew saw the geographical atlas. There was not much secular literature in the library: the fire destroyed almost everything, only the rarities were hidden in a special room survived. Indeed, manuscripts do not burn. A book of maps someone had forgotten in a special repository, but could not return and put it back, so the girls and had the opportunity to consider together the outlines of the old world. One remembered the other saw for the first time.

Before the Plague, there were three continents on the planet - one, the huge Birel, in the eastern hemisphere, and two smaller ones, Kikin and Ossilanni, in the western hemisphere. There were also several large islands scattered in different places in the oceans. Despite the recent series of earthquakes, Alarika didn't think the outlines of the continents had changed much: the catastrophe had had little effect on nature. Civilization originated in three centers, one of which was the shores of the Good Sea; gradually these centers of culture subjugated the rest of the world to their influence.

Of course, people's favorite pastime became a war. It was thanks to wars that the first mages became heads of states, founded dynasties, and learned to transfer some of their power to ordinary people. With different variations of state structure, the equilibrium has been maintained throughout the centuries. The entire history of humanity has evolved around the Three Greats - the Middle Empire, of which Salvatia was a satellite, Zirhaba to the west, and Roh to the east. The latter two countries have recently divided the small continents between them once again, and the bloodiest battles have taken place between them.

The people who died in the last war were lucky compared to the survivors.

The Midlands Empire was located on the shores of the Good Sea, connected by two straits to the Cold and Dark Oceans. In fact, the Emperor ruled over a conclave of smaller, almost independent rulers, most of whom were closely related to him. The army was also considered united and, judging by the successful wars with its neighbors, was not the worst. Andrew was not interested in the details. The authorities were inactive, the Imperial family was dead, like almost all mages - so why fill the head with unnecessary information? Except for Thalea, the former rulers continued to rule their lands in only three coastal cities, in all the other aristocrats were exterminated. As a consequence, chaos and anarchy reigned. If relative order was maintained elsewhere, nothing was known of such places. Most likely, the coast was no longer safe: sailors sailed all over the sea, and rumors flowed to Thalia from all sides.

"I wish I had a detailed map of the area," Celesta said.

"It's no use..." Alarika replied. "We can't stay away from shelters for long, and there aren't too many people outside the city, either. I talked to a ghoul from the village a month ago. He said there was nowhere for people like us to go, no reason to, and too dangerous."

"Still, I would like to understand where the ships come from, where the borders of the Duke's domain are... The old towns have probably not yet been looted. What if we need it later? It would be good to capture one of the soldiers, they are always aware of the current situation."

The beauty looked at Celeste with amused amazement, with a touch of fear. Not everyone can look into the future, not knowing if they'll see the next sunset. You'd have to be either very sure of yourself, or a little crazy to make plans in their situation. On the other hand, this very position has the advantage of complete freedom of choice, because no matter what you do, it will not get worse. Will they be killed on another hunt, or will a vagabond accidentally wander into the monastery and slaughter the sleeping ghouls? Alarika's death hadn't been feared for a long time. She just hoped that something would eventually change, and that's why she lived.

A timid hope for change, coupled with a rare sense of sympathy lately, led her to suggest:

"There's a magician's house not far from here that still has some books. Of course, it's a terrible mess inside, everything of value was stolen by looters, but for some reason, nothing was burned. If you want, we can go and look."

She said, and she was frightened. She was used to spending all her time in her cell or wandering around the monastery without purpose. Celeste did not notice her excitement: "It's about four hours before sunrise. Do we have time to turn around?"

"Of course."

"Then go."

Carlon gave the departing couple a long look. Since the new girl had come to the monastery, something had gone wrong. He couldn't say what it was, he just felt it. On the one hand, there was a visible benefit: the girl had ceased to embarrass Artak, and that was a good thing. In his mind, the priest called Alarika exactly that: a wench. He remembered what she had been in her past life and did not understand his Master's decision to bring her back to life. He did not doubt it - certainly not - for who was he to question his will? Perhaps God had decided to give the obscenity another chance, which she did not take. And he had gone to great lengths to try to explain the wickedness of her choice, to forbid her to sing, and to withhold blood until she had read the whole of the Great Canon. To no avail. The girl gave lip service to obedience, sabotaging all orders in secret. And yet she seduced his only truly loyal assistant.

But his instincts made him take a closer look at Celeste, and the longer the priest watched, the less he liked the girl. Her calmness and determination were not surprising; they could easily be explained by her character. Knowledge, mindset, phrasing, were different matters. Can not a person who has lost the memory and turned into a vessel for the demon to behave with the equanimity with which she acted, study the situation. It is impossible to rely only on oneself, to etch the adoration of higher forces to the end.

Carlon could compare; he had met ghouls who had lost their memories before. To them, as to himself, magic was a reality, albeit a shattered one. People did not doubt the existence of the gods, or, more accurately, it never occurred to them to doubt. They wondered, they looked for signs in the clouds floating in the sky, they consulted with experts about good and bad days, and they saw the supernatural in everything. For the new one, there were no true omens: She didn't even remember them, she didn't consider it necessary to take them into account, acting only from she's pragmatic considerations. And, as the priest felt, she did not believe the words about the punishment of the rotten human race, as if she knew something else that was not available to the others.

The senior brother thought, 'We have to do something.'

"Are you saying humanity will survive? - If the priest could overhear the conversation, he'd be surprised at how much his train of thought coincides with Alarika's conclusions. "It sounds like something from the writings of Pikran of Samonea, the philosopher who lived there. He thought the gods were creations of men. He wrote that "the intelligent animal will survive where the unintelligent animal will perish," for which he was executed."

He was a clever man. People often blame their sins and troubles on an unknown force - it's easier for them. Preachers are so popular now because they offer a convenient explanation for what is going on. Notice, not correct, but convenient and acceptable to most people.

"Silence!"

The conversation that had promised to be interesting was interrupted, and both undead listened eagerly. Finally, Alarika let out a light chuckle: "This is something new." After hesitating, she suggested: "Shall we go and have a look? That house had been standing for three years - it wouldn't fall apart overnight."

The frail girl nodded without opening her eyes. It made it easier for her to concentrate on the sounds: the creak of the wheels, the whimpering of children, the mooing of the few pets. There was the sound of metal objects rattling around on her belt like little bells, the sound of metal-stitched jackets and boots rustling. People, lots of them. Not the usual gang - much more.

Something's going on. Celesta nodded: "Let's check."

Andrew had intended to climb up to a higher place to see what was going on when Alarika dragged him behind her. The woman knew her way around the courtyards, and she took advantage of it. They wandered through the ruined buildings until they came to a two-story house with a leaky roof, then dove into the basement. At the very end of the long, wide dungeon, the ghouls nestled into a small window that gave them a good view of the street and the column of people walking down it.

"Do you understand anything?"

Alarika shook her head perplexedly: "I've never seen anything like this before. Refugees of some kind."

Indeed they did. Forty of the fifty people who walked were men, varying degrees of exhaustion, and a dozen women led four cows on ropes, dragged other livestock, and some carried children in their arms. Four cows were worth a fortune in today's world - it was worth guarding the column for the animals alone. But the man who had ordered the unusual caravan had plans of his own, and to fulfill those plans, armed warriors walked along the roadside. With swords and spears, in rough but strong armor. They must have been ahead, too, but the head of the detachment was poorly visible from the observation position where the girls sat.

"Why would they travel at night?"

"In a hurry, they want to get away quickly." Alarika made herself comfortable on the hard stones, philosophically wondering that it could be worse. "Or they plan walking all day, so they could be out of the city by nightfall and ready to make camp. It's safer to sleep in a fortified place, you know."

"Is there slavery here?" Celesta suddenly inquired.

"Now it seems so."

"Then they are slaves or voluntary-forced colonists. Somebody has to farm the land, dig it, work it. And the soldiers would guard them and at the same time look after them so that they don't run away."

"There aren't enough women," Alarika disagreed. "Rather, the men have to build houses for the settlers. There's no point in guessing; our assumptions are no more than a castle without a foundation: too little is known. The duke could be planning something else, something we didn't expect."

Celeste hissed, craning her neck. A noise at the end of the squad drew her attention.

"It seems to me that we were definitely not wrong about the status of these people. Look."

One of the women was too weak to keep up the pace. Either she had been hungry or sick, but gradually she began to lag behind. At first, the guards jokingly chased her, pushing her with their spears, then they transferred some of her belongings to other prisoners. It didn't help. Eventually, the woman collapsed from fatigue: she did not have the stamina to walk any further.

Three guards lingered near her motionless body while the rest of the squad slowly moved forward. The remainder risked their lives. Large groups dared not be attacked by bandits, ghouls, or the monsters that lived in the city, though in the countryside there were packs of creatures capable of tearing apart a few dozen trained fighters. For the most part, the creatures didn't like the light, but there were exceptions. Here, in the city, there was enough danger for three, even if armed, men. So the guards, conferring near a woman half-dead from fatigue, quite rightly did not want to stay away from their own for too long.

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After talking a little, they agreed. Two stood guard, while the third went to the woman and rolled her over onto her back. The first thing he did was to take off her shoes, turn them in his hands, put them aside, then he just as carefully pulled down her skirt and unwrapped the rags that covered her upper body. He ignored weak attempts to interfere, evidently not the first time he had done so. The clothes looked old and tattered, compared to what Andrew was accustomed to, but in the local conditions, they wore and not so. Eventually, the woman was completely naked, her possessions piled next to her. Suddenly Alarika grabbed Celeste's hand and squeezed it tightly, not taking her eyes off what was happening. The marauder scratched his head, trying it on, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the rubble wall, so that her bent-knee legs rested firmly on the ground, the rest of her body lying on the surface of the debris. He pulled up his shirt, made himself comfortable...

He raped meticulously as if he were performing some customary ritual, disregarding the encouraging remarks of his associates. The others, however, were not too diligent, peering intently into the darkness. They were afraid of surprises. Though the place was dangerous, despite its proximity to populated areas, an attack could follow at any moment. But no, the silence of the night was broken only by the sounds of nocturnal insects, and the soft moans of a tortured woman. At last, the rapist froze for a moment, exhaled, fell away from the motionless body, and cleaned himself up; his place was immediately taken by a second. History repeated itself, the only difference being that this time the victim was not moaning at all. She seemed to have lost consciousness.

The third soldier, who looked about sixteen, was in a hurry: his accomplices urged him on, advising him to finish quickly. The column was already far away, and even the rebels' keen ears couldn't detect its movement. But Celeste could hear Alarika's heavy breathing, normally labored, and see the blood trickling from her chapped lip. What was the matter with her? It was a common sight: women in gangs were generally considered property of some sort - why was there such a reaction?

The nervous rapist was in such a hurry that he tripped and almost fell when he tried to stand up, picking himself up near the ground. The others laughed lowly as they watched him awkwardly try to tie his pants. The first, apparently the leader, approached the motionless woman.

He pulled out a knife.

Alarika clutched at her neck.

In a mundane, indifferent manner, the man slit the victim's throat.

Celesta barely had time to grab her friend, who rushed toward the soldier. Right out of the way, like a beast. Surprisingly, enough bricks spilled out of the wall, widening the hole to a serious breach. Fragments of shrapnel sprayed the ghoul in the face, but she didn't notice, continuing to reach for the street. Her head and torso were outside, behind the wall, while her legs and Celesta, hanging on them, remained inside the cellar. The Earthling didn't understand what was happening. But he was sure they couldn't fight three armed men.

Alarika suddenly stopped beating, trying to break free of the embrace that held her. Her throat sounded like a howl or a moan, while her body stiffened in immobility. But her hands clutched tightly to the walls, and Celesta rushed to tear her fingers off one by one, otherwise, she couldn't do it. She couldn't see what was happening outside - she could only assume that the soldiers were running there as fast as they could. The cowards had long since died out, but the survivors knew they must attack if the enemy was in bad shape - the ghouls were recovering from wounds fatal to mere humans, but a severed head served as the final pass to the afterlife.

The howling grew, moving to a range inaudible to mere ears. Something ancient and wise inside Celesta, a primal instinct, twitched unhappily, demanding to go. To flee. It seemed as if the wistful and simultaneously furious sound was made not by a young, attractive woman, but by a dangerous mythical creature. Since the disaster, though, some myths have come to life. When she runs out of air, you can't just yell nonstop, can you? Indeed, Alarika was silent for a moment - to sigh and to reprise her awe-inspiring song.

Only by straining did Celesta manage to unhook her friend from the wall: one last tug toppled them both onto their backs. Without seeing the objects of her hatred in front of her, or simply tired, Alarika fell silent and collapsed. Maybe it was the bruising from the fall that did the trick, though the rest of her friend seemed to have borne most of the brunt. Whatever the case, the beauty lost consciousness, and Celesta had to throw her on her back and drag her to the basement exit. How much time had passed since the murder? It's not clear at all. As he turned around, Andrew looked at the breach. No one, just in front of the hole something metallic gleamed. To risk and linger, despite a burning desire to know what people were doing, he did not dare. First, to evade possible pursuit, to clean up Alaric. We'll worry about that later.

We didn't get to talk until the next day. She ran a fair distance and dumped her unconscious burden on the ground, trying to make it more comfortable. They had to beat her unconscious with a couple of whacks, which brought her back to life. She didn't seem at all aware of her surroundings, though, and looked as if she hadn't eaten in at least two days. She could think of nothing but blood.

They had to go hunting.

As might be expected, the hunt was unsuccessful. The shrieks echoed far and wide, and the people were alert and awake. There was no way to approach them undetected; small groups of three or four were impossible. To mess with so many ragamuffins would have been madness, which, unfortunately, didn't occur to Alarika's clouded mind. The woman had been stubborn, and Celesta had had to warn her off. She couldn't wait to see what would happen tomorrow. The night was drawing to a close, and the first rays of sunlight, still faint, were warming the air. They had to get back to the monastery as quickly as possible, wait out the day, and go out again in the evening to find their prey.

In her present state, Alarika would wake up a bloodthirsty madman, so any way to give her energy was necessary. Andrew thought for a moment, considered the consequences, and with an inward shudder sliced the wrist in front of the face of his friend - although at the moment it was more correct to call it a fang-faced maw. The ghouls could feed on each other's blood, though they didn't like the taste of it.

The woman clung so tightly to the treat that Celeste had to tear her from her wrist. Thank God, she was thinking a little better: the blood was having the necessary effect. She was stubbornly silent all the way to the monastery, however, and tried not to meet her friend's gaze. But with all her might nailed Paltin to the wall when he turned to her with some question - so that the back of a man disgustingly cracked. Andrew was even frightened: a broken spine takes a long time to heal, Carlon would punish him severely for this kind of willfulness.

The next night started with severe pain for both of them: their bodies insistently demanded energy. One had not yet recovered from yesterday's exhaustion, the other was sharing her blood - as a result, they could not think of anything but the search for prey. They could not leave at once: they had to answer for yesterday's fight. The older brother met them on the way to the hunt, in the courtyard, but after the first questions, he left. He saw that to ask about something or scold is useless: his words women do not care, moreover, a little more, and they will pounce on the priest who stood in the way of the desired prey. So instead of preaching, he had to escort his wayward children to the city.

Carlon heard an eerie scream shortly before dawn. The exhausted state of the girls, the weakness they felt, suggested that they were somehow connected to the strange event. Of course, there was no shortage of dangers in this city, and all kinds of accidents would do them harm, but... her instincts made her doubt that Celesta and Alarika had had anything to do with the accident. His desire to interrogate them, coupled with his concern-no matter how the priest felt about the girls, he still saw it as his duty to take care of all the members of the little colony - made him help find the prey.

The corpse was hidden in the basement of the destroyed house. This caution was not due to a desire to avoid human attention. Ever since the first uprising appeared, people had begun to burn their dead, so the number of ghouls grew at the expense of those who died of hunger or cold, the vagrants who died of accidents - in other words, the dead whose bodies had not yet been destroyed. Occasionally, those killed by cold weapons or beasts rose, but this rarely happened - only if the wounds were not too great. As a result, the monastery ghouls covered the bodies of their victims comfortably, counting on the addition to their cursed family.

Only then could Carlon begin the interrogation.

"And we don't know!" Celesta looked with clear, honest eyes. "We were walking through town, looking for the living, when we came upon a strange creature. It looked like a sheet hanging in the air, with torn edges. It screamed. Alarika was the first to go, and she took most of the hit - I got only a bit."

Alarika nodded, looking at her sandals.

"I grabbed my sister and ran," the younger girl went on with her story. "We were lucky that the monster didn't follow us, distracted by the soldiers."

"What soldiers?"

The priest reproached himself for his foolishness. He should have questioned the girls separately - then they would not have conspired to lie. He did not doubt that the story he had heard was false, though he could not understand why he was being lied to.

"At night a column of settlers left the city. Apparently, criminals with guards." Alarika still didn't look up. "There's a woman... trailing behind..."

"And three of the guards killed her," Celeste said. The priest could see the worried look she threw at her friend. "I don't know if they survived; we ran away too fast."

"How big was it?"

"Who?"

"Monster."

"I thought it was my height," the new girl shrugged. "I couldn't vouch for that, though."

"Sister Alarika, what do you say?"

"I don't remember, senior brother."

The beautiful woman stepped aside and turned away. She showed a reluctance to talk, unlike her friend, by the way. But Carlon didn't want to ask her anymore. The priest valued his time.

"I understand your fear, sisters. But you have forgotten that everything in this world happens by the will of our Lord. He has allowed you to be reborn, and he has kept you from destruction. You must remember this and believe it. Your faith is weak, and therefore fear has possessed your souls. You should not have flared up at Brother Paltin who was only caring! Apologize to him. And by atonement I appoint you to draw water and wash the floors of the temple - it is not right that the house of the Lord become desolate."

The priest chuckled inwardly. The girl hated Paltin, apologizing to him would be the worst punishment for her. While the girls were busy - and they had much work to do - the elder brother could go to the scene, verify their story. And perhaps Artak should be ordered to keep an eye on Celesta. The former artist is angry with her because of Alarika's lost favor, so he would do his bidding diligently and with all his heart. Let him search. Perhaps he will notice something interesting.

Waiting for Carlon to get a decent distance away, Andrew pulled Alarika after him: "Let's go."

The woman did not resist, though she walked slowly. She had no answers to Celesta's questions and didn't want to voice the ones she did have. The memories were too personal. At last, they reached the roof of a relatively sturdy house with a good view of their surroundings. It was hard to overhear a conversation in a place like this.

"What the hell are you rushing to the soldiers?"

"I... When I saw them kill that girl... Do you know how I died? How would you know... Almost like that. I was in a gang, 20 of us. Winter, no food, nowhere to get warm. It's a long story. It's the same for me - they stripped me, fucked all of us, and cut my throat. There were more of them, though."

Alarika spoke confusedly, with long pauses between words. She was pouring out the memories she'd been holding back, the blackness in her memory that she'd tried unsuccessfully to forget. The beautiful face was distorted in a grimace of pain, and tears streamed down her smooth cheeks.

"As I saw... It seemed - I'm there, they're killing me again! I couldn't tell you how frightened I was! Then... I think I pounced, tried to hit me, someone was holding me. I don't remember the rest; you know better than I do."

Celesta listened, silently hugging her sobbing friend and soothingly stroking her hair. Who would have thought. Before, Andrew hadn't wondered how his new friend had survived those damned three years. Of course, he understood - both from the stingy hints dropped, the short stories told, and simple logic suggested - that Alarika's fate was a difficult one. A young girl who had spent her whole life under the wings of caring parents, wealthy and loving, beautiful, talented, accustomed to the care of others, suddenly found herself alone. There was no one to protect her, she was not ready for the wild laws of a changing society. It must have been difficult for her, especially with her looks.

It is strange how she did not turn to mean, did not callous, did not go mad. Through the cynical mask she wore, a tender and vulnerable being was always visible - Alarika's capacity for compassion was not completely absent, either. Yes, she was selfish but selfish and kind, as paradoxical as it sounds.

Simultaneously, other thoughts rattled around in the head. So Alarika could tell me nothing about her terrible scream. Intuition told him that there was no point in asking any more questions because she would remember nothing. She would only end up exhausted. Pity, Andrew would have liked to get a weapon, comparable in power to Carlon's abilities: to have an ace card up his sleeve is always useful. The Earthling remembered the effect on him of the sound that burst from the throat of the enraged woman and was quietly glad that the main blow came to the soldiers. It was a strenuous ability, but logically it would become easier to apply as he mastered it. Perhaps a little practice? Andrew imagined himself standing in the middle of a ruined city, screaming at the top of his lungs, his lips curled up in a grimace. It was a delirious picture.

We have to visit that basement. Take a look around. See if anything turns up.

"Calm down." Alarika stopped sobbing, just wrapped her arms around Celesta, and howled softly. "It's all in the past. No one will ever do that to you again, I promise. No one will ever hurt you again, do you hear me?"

"Really?"

"Yes. I give you my word."

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