* * *

"Оh! I was just about to call you." As soon as I opened the van door, Anton gave me a "hello" instead. "Thought you overslept."

Yes, I might have overslept, as I had hardly closed my eyes that night, wondering if I was right in my speculation about my boss. If it hadn't been for the nasty call on my smartphone, I might not have been up in time

"Hi, guys." Saying hello to everyone, getting into the back seat. "Why... is it just the four of us? Are we just gonna go?"

Indeed, there were only Anton, Phil, and Hotey in the car.

"Numerology, utter nonsense when it comes to the material world," says Hot instantly. "But beyond the Arch... Behind the Arch, the numbers of the gods is not a minor detail to be dismissed and forgotten."

"Do we look like idiots, going in a group smaller or larger than the number of the Face of the Merciful?" Phil chimed in with him.

"There will be five of us, don't worry," Anton confirms their words, starting up the van.

"Who's the fifth?"

"It's going to be a surprise." Hotey grinned back and winked. "Trust me. You won't be disappointed."

Rick? Or is it Lance? Oh! That'll be an easy walk then!

Judging by where the van had turned, we were heading for the same Temple today as we had a month before. Which meant I had some time to sleep in. After apologizing to the boys, I put on my headphones and drifted off to a quiet tune.

"You snore!" Hot pushes me to the side.

"I don't snore." Before I even open my eyes, I automatically dismiss this brazen lie.

"Yeah, well, we hadn't heard." His gaze was so clear and honest that I almost believed him. "Get up, sleepyhead. Here we come."

Indeed, Anton was just parking, clearly closer to the Temple this time than then. Yeah, that's the thing. It looks like we've got a space beforehand. There's a classic bike pulling away, giving way to a van that looks a bit like the one Lance drives, but not his, it's red and a bit less aggressive, and it's driven by... A woman? There she is taking off her helmet...

Wow, Illea in a tight jumpsuit looks just gorgeous!!!! And with the short haircut, it's a chic look, complete and suited to her.

"Hello, boys." She greeted us as soon as we got out of the van.

"Will there be pies?" Anton is getting on my nerves today, forgetting to say hello to everyone.

"No, on the return... There'll be a picnic for you." And the chief patted the saddlebags of her bike. This simple gesture made my stomach growl.

"Then what are we standing around for? Who are we waiting for?" Putting the car on the alarm, An almost jumps on the spot with impatience.

"Indeed." Phil agrees. "We start early, we finish early!"

We walked briskly towards the Temple. The guys were almost running. Whether they were hungry or nervous, I couldn't tell.

"Boys, wait." Already on the steps of the Temple, the chief stopped us. "None of you have come with me before... I want to warn you... Me you know, and me I will become when I cross the Threshold... It will be a different me. A very different me. I have a peculiar pact with my Face, she doesn't interfere with my life, and I don't interfere with her having fun there. Anyway... Never argue with me beyond the Threshold. Keep your distance if possible. And don't let the Three Faces show even the slightest hint of your male chauvinism and supposed superiority. If you don't hold back, it could be bad, very bad."

"Are you going to kill us?" Hotey grinned.

"You've got the point straight and true." Illea stepped up a step and clapped him on the shoulder.

Hot's smile fell off his face as he knew as well as I did that she was not joking, not joking at all, not even a little bit.

The mood immediately went down, and we entered the Temple in utter silence.

Then we prayed. I prayed to the Face of Aphrodite for the health of Jenro, Mek, and Gerhard. I asked Ares to direct his daughter's fury at the enemy, not at our team. And for Face of Hades, mindful of the Goon's instructions, I gave the fear and uncertainty that had gripped me on the Temple steps. Yes, I was scared; I'm not a fearless hero, as paradoxical as it sounds with my Face.

The internal tension was so great that we reached the Arch without a word. It was only before the bloody veil of the Face of Ares that Anton spoke.

"Well... May Aphrodite's blessing be upon us."

He took a chest full of air and stepped forward. He was followed by Illea, who glided like a weightless shadow. I squeezed my eyes shut when I felt Phil's clap on my shoulder and overcame my fear by taking two steps forward.

Like last time, slight dizziness and a brief feeling of disorientation accompanied the Transition. Only now, I didn't fall, managing to stay on my feet.

I opened my eyes and looked around. We were thrown into a small clearing in a dense mixed forest. The warm, summer breeze barely stirred the sedge stalks, which were almost waist-deep. Judging by the fact that the clearing was surrounded by spruces as well as aspens and birches, we were somewhere in the middle ground.

After looking around and not noticing any danger, I noticed an oddity. The bikers were dressed in baggy, grey, obviously handmade, linen clothes: loose trousers, long-sleeved shirts, and simple-looking but clearly sturdy low boots on their feet. I was wearing the same thing, unaccustomed, but there was no chafing, and the weather was warm and clear, so it was not cold either.

Only Illea stood out from us, her outfit consisting of a cotton blouse, a light brown leather sleeveless jacket, light canvas trousers, and knee-high boots. And in the cut of the jacket, a massive necklace gleamed with cold steel as if it were a piece of armor rather than a piece of jewelry.

As I glanced around the group, I sensed that something was amiss. And it was only the gesture of Hot, who slapped his palm on his waist and then again, that suggested to me what was so wrong with everything that was going on that kept me awake as soon as I opened my eyes. My arms were empty, and no feathery arrows were sticking out above my right shoulder...

None of us had Attributes!!!

Where is my Bow?!

Barely had that thought formed when I heard a quiet but very clear voice echoing right through my head:

During this Pilgrimage, each of you may call upon the material Attributes of your Faces only once, for a period not exceeding one hour. The total time for performing the Feats in this Pilgrimage is unlimited.

I waited for something else, some kind of instruction or mission statement, but... The Voice said nothing more. I looked around at the others, puzzled, and saw almost as much bewilderment on the faces of the Goons as I had felt. Only Illea was not confused. Instead of reflections and flapping eyes, she jumped up to the small birch tree in one fell swoop. With a professional kick, she broke the tree at the root and then broke the trunk in half against her knee, thereby providing herself with a primitive, but at least some kind of weapon.

"What to do...?" I couldn't help asking a question, looking for a tree for myself, but all the trees in my sight were either too frail to be used as twigs or too tough for me to break with my bare hands. To be honest, I would rather have broken my leg on that birch tree than make any kind of weapon out of it.

"Kronos..." Anton muttered back through clenched teeth. "That I should go on another Pilgrimage with you! - He looked at me as he said it, and I was the one he was talking about. "The first time was the Trial of the Face, and here's the second, and such bullshit!"

"Odysseus' fortune in all its glory." Phil gave him a little encouragement.

"What are you guys talking about?" I really didn't understand.

"Your Face was very 'lucky' to find all sorts of adventures on his arse." Explains An. "And that 'luck' always reverberated to those around him as well."

"But what does that have to do with me?"

"And, moreover..." Hotey shook his head as he approached me. "Alas, Face's influence is even... No, especially! In such detail, here... Beyond the Arch... It's always very tangible."

"Hey... Confused sheep." Illea calls out to us in a voice that sounds like contempt. "Haven't you ever been to the Free Search?"

"What?" was all I could squeeze out in response.

"No."

"No."

"No."

Three consensus responses from the Goons. I didn't like at all.

"Pfeh..." snorted the chief, looking down on us. "Babies."

I'm sure if someone else had said it in that tone, there would have been a fight. But it was Illea, in the form of her Face, who said it, and the bikers didn't start a fight but rather pulled their heads into their shoulders.

"We only heard..." Anton kicked the grass angrily, plucked one of the stalks, and chewed it fiercely. "Free Search is a Feat where you don't know what you're supposed to do. Rick had been in one once. He told me it took him a month just to figure out what to do. He was in the middle of a quest that took him a month, and then he had to drag an ancient artifact from Aragon to Baikal to drown it there because the Quest had demanded it."

"Yeah, he also mentioned that the whole Hike took him eight months." Phil's voice is not fun at all, and I get it.

The time beyond the Arch flows according to its own laws. No matter how much time a man spends on his Pilgrimage, if he survives, he will always leave the Arch forty-two minutes after he has crossed its threshold. It does not matter whether his Feat has taken a minute or tens of years. Exactly forty-two minutes will pass in the material world, not a second more, not a second less.

And Runner is really cool, taking seven months from Aragon, which is on the Iberian Peninsula, to reach the shores of Lake Baikal. Without maps, satellite navigation, or perhaps even a compass. And I'm sure some tried to prevent him from performing this feat. I wonder, could I do it? I have my doubts...

Kronos!

What am I thinking about?!

Who cares if I can repeat what Rick did or not? I have other things to worry about right now!

"All right, don't be a wuss!" An is pulling himself together. "We've gotten out of worse situations. First, we have to look around. Maybe there's someone nearby who needs help, and we'll get through the Quest quickly."

He is clearly uncomfortable, but he is doing a good job of pulling himself together and remembering that he is the leader of this quest. I'm not sure Illea accepts his leadership, though; she's staying away and acting as if she's not even with us.

"Do not go outside the clearing, do not approach dense thickets! Do not leave each other's sight."

Since all sorts of monsters can be found on the Pilgrimage, Anton's order is perfectly reasonable. It would be safer not to move one step away from each other at all until we understand what's ahead of us. But there is a possibility that every second could be important, which is probably why An is making this decision.

But no sooner had we taken a couple of steps than Illea grabbed her self-made stick, swore like a dockworker, and strode confidently to the edge of the clearing.

"What looking for?!" She grinned. "There's a gap there, probably a cutting or a road."

I looked in the direction she had pointed and indeed noticed that there was some open space behind the trees. I cast a glance at Anton. He froze for a moment and waved dolefully, then gestured for the Amazon to follow.

Exactly after the Amazon. The person she had become here, beyond the Threshold, Illta resembled little of the woman I had known; she had become different. No, not in appearance, but in behavior, facial expressions, gestures, and even her voice had changed. From the embodiment of this side of her personality, I wanted to stay as far away as possible.

We lined up behind each other, obeying Anton's gestures, and followed the chief in her footsteps. I was second to last, and Hotey was at the back of our peculiar column. I was a little shaken by the suspense, and the worst of it was that the boys, whom I thought were experts in the Arch, were also in the same situation for the first time. It turned out that the only one of us who had any idea what we were up against was Illea, who did not look like herself, and I did not want to ask her about it.

After a couple of minutes, we came out onto a country road. Or rather, it seemed that way to me at first. It was narrow, without hard pavement, just tamped earth with distinct ruts from narrow, clearly not rubberized wheels. It was an easy road to jump over, not even two small cars could make it across. There were no drains, ditches, or barriers, and it was more of a wide, heavily used path than a proper road. The road was not as straight as I am used to, but wiggled like a brook, skirting all kinds of obstacles.

"Just as I thought we were supposed to be here." In a tone of triumph, Illea said, leaning against something at the side of the road.

The Goons immediately stood in a triangle, positioned to control the forest and see what the Amazon was leaning over. I was curious and confident that if there was a surprise attack, the bikers would cover me and that what they couldn't handle, I couldn't do without the Bow.

In the dense grass at the edge of the road, right on the ground, lay five rucksacks of thick sailcloth tied with hemp twisted rope at the neck.

"Catch it." Picking up the first of the backpacks she could find, Illea tossed it to me. "And you, too. "Just then, another duffel bag flew toward Hotey."

What makes her think it's left here for us? I don't know, but she's clearly the most experienced among us in this kind of quest and hopefully knows what she's doing.

I didn't want to be the first one to look inside my backpack, but since I was the first one to have the duffel bag in my hands, delaying would be considered cowardly by others. No, what could be scary there? Besides, there was nothing alive or moving to the touch. Threefaced didn't plant bombs on us, did he?

With that thought in mind, I untied the knot.

Inside were four parcels. When I unfolded the first, I found in it a green, leather-rimmed traveling cloak. The cloak was one of those versatile items for travelers, either to shelter them from the rain or wind or to make a shelter for overnight camping.

In the second, there was a one-handed, broad, flame-shaped blade as long as an elbow, with a wooden scabbard and a belt to hang it from. Even in appearance, it was a fearsome and gruesome weapon, designed to kill and if it did not succeed, to maim, leaving ghastly, non-healing wounds. There were no ornaments on the sword, except for a silver pattern across the blade, or rather not a pattern, but an etched inscription in Achaean that I could not read, but I knew what it meant:

Let you follow the one who gave you birth'...

"Mrazeboi..." Phil commented as he hung his sword on his belt, the Goon holding the weapon in his hands rather than placing it in its sheath.

The Mrazeboi is a legendary weapon for fighting monsters. This sword gained its fame during the last centuries of the Monster Age when large monsters and beasts had been mostly exterminated, but there were still many small ones like wolves, werewolves, goblins, vampires, and much more nimble and cunning scum roaming the earth. And this sword was an ideal weapon for fighting such creatures even a glancing blow inflicted by it turned into a terrible wound because of the shape of its blade.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

After admiring the engraving for a moment, I put the blade back in its sheath and wrapped it in rags again. It was useless in my hands; I'd sooner cut my leg off with it than use it properly. Unlike the bikers, I have not yet practiced cutting and fencing; they train with knives for at least an hour a day. Lance wouldn't even let me do that kind of training. He reasoned that if I didn't have a proper base, it would only be a waste of time to teach me the sword.

Illea, after a few moments of hesitation, placed the blade on her belt and tossed her cudgel into the grass.

"It's lame... But it will pass." She muttered, adjusting her scabbard.

In the third was food, a few tightly packed biscuits and about half a pound of dried meat, thinly sliced. In addition to the food, there was also a bronze flask of about a liter in volume with some liquid inside. I fumbled with the flask, hesitating to open it, but Hottey opened his. He dropped a few drops on the outside of his palm and licked them off with his tongue.

"Water..." he grimaced. "With a few drops of vinegar."

I have heard that vinegar was once used as a disinfectant. I don't think it would be pleasant or tasty to drink this water, but most likely safe.

In the last, smallest bundle was a waist purse containing ten silver coins from the late Roman period, which were still in circulation many centuries after the collapse of the Empire. At the bottom of the wallet, in addition to the coins, was a metal fibula shaped like a stylized shield, with a small amber in the middle.

Badge of the Order of the Slayer...

Illea threw her cloak over her shoulders, fastened it with a fibula, crouched down a couple of times, then snatched up a mrazeboi and made several attacking moves.

"Comfortable." She pronounced.

Her example was followed by the bikers, who also wore cloaks.

I, unlike the others, only girded myself with a belt and packed everything else carefully back into the rucksack and threw it behind my back.

"I can't wield a sword, and I've never liked cloaks," I commented on my decision in response to the Goon's perplexed looks.

"Hmmm..." Phil muttered, adjusting his cloak. "So, what's next?"

"Well... Men... Stupid..." The Amazon laughed back. "You are as useless as ever, like a goat's milk. What are you all hatching like sheep? It's already clear what the mission is. We have the cloaks of the Order of the Beast Slayer and their Badge. Judging by the marbles and the shape of the fibula, we're in the seventh century, maybe early eighth. The amber in the center of the Badge suggests that we are near the coast of the Amber Sea. Only in this area was this ornament added to the Badge. Altogether it clearly screams what is to come..."

Alas, I don't know history well enough to know whether Illea is right or wrong. But judging by her confident tone, she knows what she's talking about.

"Apparently, there's some scum terrorizing the population somewhere in the area, and the priests of the Temple have called in a fighter squad to destroy it. It's simple. We just need to find the nearest Temple, find out the details, and exterminate the scum, that's all."

"Ah..." From the look on Phil's face, he was about to say something but apparently, he couldn't find the right argument and shut up.

"All right." After thinking for a while, Anton pronounces. "Since that's the only reasonable assumption about what we should do, let's take it as a basis and look for the Temple."

"It remains to be seen which way we should go." Hotey spreads his arms in different directions on the road.

"There's no difference." The Amazon shrugs. "Roads always lead to places where someone lives."

"That way." Pointing confidently in the direction of the sun.

The others didn't notice, but when another gust of wind shook the leaves, I saw something that looked like a cart around the bend in the road.

"There's something there." Explaining my words. "A wagon or cart around the bend."

The whole trio of bikers immediately drew their swords and turned in the direction indicated.

"We follow the road, don't go into the woods," Anton commands. "I remind you that wolves can jump seven meters from an ambush. Me and Phil in front, Hot and Utis behind, and Illea as the main unit in the middle."

"Pfeh..." Illea snorted in her customary manner at An's attempt to boss her around but took the place she'd been offered. The biker's awkward flattery was clearly to her liking.

I picked up the club the Amazon had thrown away, and then I joined Hotey. I was not much use without Bow, but I wasn't going to be a burden on this quest, either.

"Don't worry." He saw the look on my face, and Hot said. "It's a new moon tonight, so it shouldn't be too much trouble, even with your Face."

"Thank you." Not that I was reassured by his words, but I was grateful for his concern. "By the way, can you answer one question?" The forest was quiet and serene, why not talk?

"Yes?" Keeping his eyes on the thicket of the nearest bush, Goon nods.

"What does the phrase "Material Attributes" mean?"

"That's a strange question. Your Bow, my armor, these are all material Attributes."

"Nah... That's not what I mean. I mean, does that mean there are non-material ones?"

"Of course." My question must be in the "why is the water wet" category because Hot looks away from the forest and stares at me in bewilderment. "The same strength of Hercules, the speed of Perseus, Jason's ability to sense his opponent's weaknesses, the invulnerability of Achilles, the charm of Cleopatra, the foresight of Cassandra..."

Hmmm... Are these the Attributes? Apparently so, just different... I took these qualities as a given of the Face, but apparently, they can also be attributed to a special kind of Attribute.

"But..." Trying to articulate more clearly what gnaws at me about this interpretation. "With the restrictions imposed on this assignment, a person with non-material Attributes would have a tremendous advantage over others. That doesn't seem fair..."

Before Hotey can answer, Illea turns sharply around and is appeared next to me in a single movement.

Close up...

Eye to eye...

"The little boy decided that divine fairness is like human fairness." Her grin would be the envy of a panther's grin. "Oh, how much discovery awaits the boy in life. Many discoveries... Sad ones, mostly..."

Having said this, the Amazon spun on her heels and resumed her place in our makeshift formation.

Until the bend in the road, we walked in complete silence. The Goons were watching the road, and I, of course, was also looking around, but I was thinking more about Iphito's words. Iphito, because I could no longer call the woman ahead of me Illea. I could understand that she was not really a legendary Amazon, but it was a much better name for her now.

Behind the bend in the track, there was indeed a van. Or rather what was left of it. The tattered canvas awning, which had previously saved the goods from the weather, was hanging in pathetic shreds. The front axle was broken, apparently from an unfortunate maneuver that had driven the wagon halfway into a ditch. The high sides of the wagon, made of roughly hewn planks, had been broken in several places. On the track, next to the wagon, torn sacks of grass and grain were scattered all over the road.

But my gaze lingers on the wagon only for a second because my attention shifts to other things. The bodies... Three human bodies, in unnatural poses, were ripped apart as if they had been torn apart by a mob of mad zombies and a horse with a huge hole in its belly, its insides spilling out on the ground.

I'm sure if I'd seen a picture like that in the material world, I would have been bent over and vomited for so long before I even ran out of bile in my system. But here, there was only a lump in my throat and nothing else. The scene was unpleasant to watch but bearable.

Quickly assessing the situation, Phil and Hot, almost without looking at the bodies, quickly jogged ten paces further along the track and ducked into the bushes at the edge of the road. Amazon, on the other hand, darted a glance at the wagon, drew her sword, and rushed into the woods, jumping over the wagon and disappearing into the dense bushes almost silently. Anton, on the contrary, stowed his weapon in its sheath and approached the nearest corpse, and bent over it. As much as I didn't want to be as far away from the dead as possible, I sat down beside him.

"The beast has done its work here." Turning over the corpse of a not-young man, An points to the lacerations to his arms and legs, as well as his throat being bitten open. "Or rather, the beasts did. More than one." The biker drops to his knees and looks around more closely. "Many beasts, a pack. At least a dozen, most likely wolves. Big wolves... But not wargs, too small marks for these creatures, and they kill differently." He shifts to the next body, a young lad of about fifteen, apparently a carriage driver, who also had his throat gnawed out, but both his arms were stripped to the elbows.

"Strange... Hungry wolves don't leave this much meat, and it's summer, it shouldn't be so hungry for them that a pack would dare to attack humans. - He continues to look around. - Strange indeed... beasts don't attack like that. The wagon was attacked intelligently from several directions at once. Three wolves came out of the bushes and jumped on the horse. Two attacked the driver while the rest of the pack pounced on the grown men. I do not understand... I do not see any trace of animal blood. No matter how clever the wolves were, two adult caravan drivers would have killed several animals, the more so that one of the men managed to draw his cleaver and the other grabbed forks. But not a trace of blood on the cleaver or the pitchfork... No blood from the creatures or at least one of their corpses. Not devoured by the victims, but simply torn, mutilated men and horses and thrown away. Dead? Nah... That's a bit much... All we need is a necromancer on a new moon!"

Just as Anton finished, an Amazon came out of the woods.

"Ugh... Dead ... You're as much of a tracker as I am a locksmith." She glared dismissively at the biker. "Dead don't shit, and these bushes are full of it. You're right about one thing. It was an unusual attack. The pack had been waiting in the same place for hours for its victims. That's not natural wolf behavior. And their pawprints are weird, like wolf tracks, like not. I am not an expert on the breeds that live in the northern forests; perhaps their pawprints are very different from those of their steppe brethren."

"So the pack was run by someone, in your opinion?" Ignoring Iphito's insult, Anton asks.

"Yes. A descendant of some local, small forest god who has miraculously survived these years... Or an experienced werewolf who has completely subjugated all the wolves in the forest and can realize himself even in animal form. But what was the point of this attack... The traders had carried nothing of value, most likely medicinal herbs and a dozen sacks of grain... No gold, no jewels."

"The merchants' purses were intact." An cut one purse from the belt of the nearest dead man and poured a handful of fine silver into the palm of his hand.

"It is clear, and there is no one around." Phil and Hotey came up to us and heard perfectly well what was being said. "The attack had been at dawn, and no one had passed along the tract since then." Phil leans over the charioteer's body and sinks his fingers into the boy's torn throat. "Well, yes, definitely at dawn." How he determined that I don't know. "The road used to be used a lot, but lately, for a couple of weeks or so. Hardly anyone has walked or driven on it. There's something wrong with the area..."

"Oh, Kronos! What am I in a crowd of dumbasses for? Surely there's something wrong if they've sent a squad of Slayers here!" Unable to resist, the Amazon slams her palm on her forehead. "Idiots..."

The Goons exchange quick glances. Hot shrugs, the others also apparently decide now and henceforth to simply let her insults pass their ears.

"Let's look around a bit more in case we missed something," Anton commands. "And you..." He turns to me. "Look over the bodies and gather anything you can find, we don't know how long our Quest will last, but every little thing will come in handy."

Don't feel like it?

Nasty?

I have to if I don't want to make a snowflake out of myself and antagonize the rest of the team. They're all busy, even the Stormbearer, hiding in the bushes again, and I'm no use to anyone else. I'm sure Ulysses was an excellent hunter and tracker, but our Fusion is not the best, and I don't sense any such talents in me at all.

One good thing was that the murder had happened hours ago, and the corpses had not yet begun to stink. But that was little consolation; ripping off the dead was probably the most disgusting thing I had ever done in my life. Besides, the bodies smelled anyway: blood, shit, death...

Nevertheless, I managed to overpower myself.

"Found something?" About ten minutes later, as I was finishing examining the charioteer's body, Anton came up to me.

In response, I silently, for I feared my voice would tremble treacherously, laid out my findings on a cloak spread on the ground. A pair of wallets containing nearly half a hundred silver coins, three crosses, two good quality hatchet knives, a short sword, and many little things like coarse skeins of thread, a few needles, and a couple of wineskins of young wine found under the wagon.

"Not much, but it will come in handy."

The rest of the Goons came and stuffed my findings into their purses and backpacks. Only no one took the sword. But the wineskins, Hot had not forgotten about them, shoving them both into his duffle bag with an eager smile. The Amazon, on the other hand, poured all the coins into her purse and ignored the rest.

"You... Men... Can't be trusted with money." Noticing my perplexed look, Stormbearer commented on her decision. "And let's go already. There is nothing else to do here."

"And bodies?" I manage to get my vocal cords under control, and my voice doesn't shake at all.

"Are you suggesting we bury them? Bury them or burn them?" The sneer in Amazon's voice is unconcealed. "You're supposed to be clever if your Face is not a lie... Every minute we stand here could cost more than one life. It's not the Slayers' business to be distracted by funerals... The Order's business is preventing new corpses, not overseeing postmortem rituals."

"She's right." Phil adjusts his rucksack to make it more comfortable. "It's still a long way to dusk; if we move now, we might find some settlement and not have to sleep in the woods."

An overnight stay in the woods? With a pack of killer wolves roaming around, led by an intelligent creature who clearly doesn't like humans much... That prospect doesn't appeal to me at all.

"Which way do we go? Forward or backward?" Anton asks, looking around the road.

"Go forward." It makes more sense to me. "The wagon was carrying mostly herbs, most likely medicinal ones, and none of the traders looked like healers, so it was a custom job. Ambush had been prepared, and from what Phil had said, the trail had not been used for a long time... It would be foolish to set up an ambush where no one was walking, which meant this particular wagon had been expected. That is, they knew it would pass this way. The attack must have been a tip-off. That means something bad happened in the area where the carriage was heading. Maybe an epidemic... And this attack, it seems to me, wasn't about killing. It was about delaying the delivery of what the wagon was carrying. So there's some kind of crisis going on up ahead, which means that's where we are."

"It's far-fetched." The Amazon wrinkled at my words. "But there was something in the boy's argument."

"I agree with Utis. Going forward is more promising." Phil yawns defiantly, hinting that just standing there and speaking is not to his liking at all.

Hotey nods the same way, and Anton gives the command to move out. Iphito immediately disappeared into the forest thickets. The amazon clearly indicates that she will act alone, if possible, but will not let us out of her sight. We decide not to turn off the path. An and Phil lead the way while Hot and I are at the back.

The first hour passes in complete silence as we move cautiously, keeping a keen eye on the woods. But then the tension subsides, and even I realize there is little chance of a surprise attack. In addition, the Goons are a little more relaxed after inspecting the wagon. I can see that the bikers are not very intimidated by a wolf pack, even if it is controlled. Stormbearer one, on the other hand, was trotting around like a hunter stalking his prey rather than a fighter waiting to fight.

"Should I remind her that she is now without Attributes?" When the Amazon shows herself to us once more, I ask. "The wolves are certainly no match for the chosen daughter of Ares, but still..."

"You're the one who's not a fighter without the Attributes." Hotey grinned. "I don't care if it's my gladius in my hand or the mrazeboi. Lance had us up and down for a reason. As a swordsman, I'm stronger than my Face. Ana and Phil have the same story. And as for our mate, I once saw a practice match, between Illea and Lance on bamboo bokens..." He rolls his eyes. "Such a show that was! Like watching an oriental martial arts movie. Lance won, but just barely, on points. Your chief can take all four of us without the Attributes, and she won't sweat. So don't worry about her. If there's a creature in the forest that can take her, and she'd call on her Attributes if there was any danger, we'd be all pancaked... Though... Then there's your Bow, so even if things go badly, we still have a chance."

"You make it sound as if we're not in for a Feat but an easy walk."

"You've got it wrong." Objection from the biker. "The enemy might be easy in terms of combat capabilities. Even a tough wolfhound, if there is one, is more than I can handle alone. But we don't know why we're here, and defeating the beasts doesn't mean the Quest is over. Maybe, we need to save someone, and if we don't, we'll all fall to Gaia. Can we find what we need and, like Rick, destroy it or save it? The tricky part is we don't know what really needs to be done. All those cloaks, brooches, swords, just a hint. But the Slayers weren't just scum hunters. They were something of a major case investigator, overseen by the Temple, not the local authorities."

The Goon's words, once again, made me think that it would not be out of place to study history If we return from this Quest.

Gradually the initial tension seemed to release its grip. An and Phil went ahead and chatted about tales. Hotey enlightened me about the Order at my request, telling me what he knew. Of course, no one forgot to look around, but everyone had swords in their sheaths.

After about an hour and a half, if I could keep track of the sun, we emerged on a wide, stone-paved trail. It was a real Roman road compared to the one we'd been walking on, which was no more than a poor path. But they had one thing in common. They were both deserted.

"I don't like this silence..." Anton said rather loudly, putting his palm on the hilt of his sword.

At these words, I wanted to take my sword out of my backpack, and only the realization of the utter futility of this action stopped me from doing it. The more so, before I could tense up, an Amazon appeared on the road and approached us with a leisurely, relaxed step.

We're going north." She said. "Beyond the hills, about five kilometers away, there's a town or other large walled settlement. There is no people around, and I didn't see any by the road. No wolves, either, and I'd lost track of them."

The reason for the lack of people became clear after about twenty minutes. After rounding another hill, the track straightened like an arrow, leaving the forest behind. About three hundred yards from the edge of the forest, the road was blocked by a barricade of stacked logs. The blockage was symbolic rather than resembling a protective structure. And over these logs, attached to a high pole, was a dirty, black rag with a skull painted in whitewash on it.

"Here we are..." said Phil as we stopped about thirty paces from the barricade.

"A Plague..." Anton said and looked at me unkindly as if it were my fault. "I don't feel like walking forward."

"Idiots!...!" For the umpteenth time today, the Amazon exclaimed. "The rag is black! Which means a Black Pox epidemic, not the Plague. And we've all been inoculated since we were kids. Recall the faces of the slain traders. The distinctive markings show they'd all been sick before, so they weren't afraid to come here."

"That's why there are no people, and the tract is empty," Hotey muttered. "It is clear that all the peasants have scattered into the woods, away from strangers, and the town has probably closed its gates."

"Until two days ago, there was a guard post here." As he approached the barricade, Anton examined it carefully. "But judging by those..." His palm pointed to the nearest hill, "tombstones, no one else could be driven into this guardhouse."

"Could it be that the epidemic and the attacks are connected?" I speculate aloud. "Or are they separate events with no common root?"

If they're connected, we're not getting away with one werewolf." Phil speaks up. "But on the plus side, if that's true, then our Quest is becoming more and more clear. Worse, if these events are not connected, and one is not the consequence of the other, the Quest is still very unclear."

"You men are all talk." Stormbearer brushed him off. "Let's go to town. There's no point in talking for nothing..." She said this and started walking confidently down the road.

"As much as it pisses me off..." Anton says in a whisper so the Amazon can't hear. "But she's right... We should go into town."

Just as Iphito had said, soon, there was a town beyond the hills, surrounded by an earthen rampart and palisades. It was small, barely a village by modern standards. Locals take the defense of their settlement with utmost seriousness. All trees and large bushes were cut down within three arrow flights of the city walls. The fact that the town was not extinct was evident almost immediately, as there were guards on the gate towers. Over the massive oak gates flew the familiar black banners with a white skulls.

"Stop!" they called out when we were almost a hundred paces from the walls. "The town is closed. Go away!"

"We need to go to the Temple," Anton shouted back.

"Are you blind?" The guard shouted. "Can't you see the flags?"

"Is it you who's blind?!" An didn't take no for an answer. "Wipe your eyes and take a closer look at our cloaks."

The guards in the tower took a closer look and started whispering to each other.

"We sent for the priest." It came to us after a while. "In the meantime, stay where you are if you value your life!"

"No respect..." The Amazon muttered back, but she took the backpack off her shoulders, threw it on the ground, and sat down on it.

"Let's not be nervous," Anton said, seeing the crossbows cocked in the loopholes, and followed her example. "Let's wait. It's not going to kill us."

* * *