Anchorites. chapter 1. way to evangard

CHAPTER ONE. WAY TO EVANGARD

The dead forest was called dead for a reason, because it not only represented a lifeless nature, the remains of dead animals and plants long ago, but also coexisted directly with the rotten wasteland, creating such a terrible and frightening union, the anchorite or some powerful magicians themselves felt like newborn puppies torn from its mother’s tit. Trees, like black demonic creatures, were woven with branches, sharp blades of needles growing straight from black trunks warned a rare traveler, whose recklessness would obviously be a fatal mistake here. It is fortunate that in these places for many years no one has lived and all living beings had been trying to avoid these cursed places.
Nevertheless, from time to time, hunters appeared more often, not of their own free will and not out of great desire, looking for suspicious artifacts, and less often - living creatures. Within the area of the dead forest, any magic came to naught, and the hunters became the only sufficiently strong and agile people who, in the name of serving their master, were not afraid of such adventures. The hunters, to put it mildly, could not boast of intelligence and a sharp mind, but they were full of boldness and stubbornness. So today, these big guys were instructed to canvass the forest area. Something important, according to this master, lurked there right those times. Apparently, it was pure truth.
The young man who found himself in this wilderness opened his eyes and immediately felt a cutting pain with every attempt to breathe in the musty air of the forest. A monstrous lump of nausea rolled up through his throat. Voices sounding somewhere nearby, ghostly waves pierced into the eardrums, causing a throbbing pain. Generally, among these sensations it was difficult and even impossible to guess where the person came from here and why he did. The memory was clear, like an empty abyss.
The young man turned his head and looked around. Gigantic in size in width and height, with black strong trunks, with crowns spread out to the sides, tangled with each other, the trees resembled humpbacked giants. There was no end in sight to this forest. At first, the atmosphere in general could seem like a nightmare, from which it was worth just waking up, but here was the problem: the person had already woken up and prayed only that the pain and nausea would subside faster. There were still vague voices echoing all around. There were people here to help young man. No doubts about it.
“What is this boy?”
“Did we really find someone? Hah, well, for once! Yes, where is it?”
“Wow, look. It lies by the stream. Does not move…”
“Any dead person in these woods quickly becomes a pile of bones, moron! And this one, if it's dead, it's quite recent! What a dumbass, was it really good idea for this brat to poke his head alone into this forest!”
“He's moving, look, you stupid head! And breathing! Hey you, are you alive kid?”
The voices of strangers were hoarse and low. Three tall, sturdy, but tired-looking men were standing next to each other, staring down at the young man.
It was difficult to call these men handsome: one of them had a big scar, stretching all over his face, skin the color of the ground. The second had no right eye, and a black bandage carelessly covered the spot where it should have been. An unnaturally crooked nose and narrow eyes, one of which showed a bruise, distinguished the third stranger. The young man, who had not yet come to his senses, lifted up with his elbows and asked in a hoarse voice:
"I’m alive. Who are you?"
A smile slipped across the lips of a one-eyed man, revealing his brown teeth, and he answered with a satisfied tone.
"We’re hunters. Roch, Dan, and Auce. Who are you, you brat, and what in the name of hell are you doing here?"
«Brat» did not know what to answer. In fact, there was no answer. One could say everything honestly, but these strangers did not inspire confidence at all. Hunters. What does it mean at all? Hunters for what or who? After a little hesitation, the young man decided not to lie.
"I don’t remember anything. Nothing at all. Neither who am I nor how I got here..."
"Don’t remember?" said the scarred man with a glance over his friends exchanging sure nods. "You look like a puppy, hey! A brat like you, alone in the Dead Forest... It seems to me that you are lying. I don't like being lied to..."
"What’s the point of me lying to you?" in desperation, the "puppy" justified himself, gradually beginning to understand what an unenviable situation he was in. It was impossible to expect anything good from new acquaintances: they continued to exchange unkind glances, certainly deciding what to do next with such a successful, in their opinion, find.
"What do you want from me?" the young man asked, stepping back, sliding his lower back over the rough ground.
"We've been ordered to patrol the entire area from Embry lands to the Wall in the east!" the one-eyed man said rudely. "And the appearance of a child, and even so far from the Wall, is a suspicious event. Either you're telling the truth, or we're taking you."
"Dumb, we'll take him anyway!" the crooked-nosed hunter pushed his friend in the side.
"Don't you dare correct me or I'll break your nose again, you bastard!" he snapped.
Embry? Wall? The young man's mind is still more mixed up. He looked at the three strangers like a rabbit at a group of wolves, desperately trying to figure out what to do next. Realizing that this conversation would not lead to anything good, the young man got to his feet, and then simply turned around and ran as fast as he could. He had no idea where so much strength came from, but his legs gained some incredible lightness and seemed to rush forward on their own.
"Grab him, Dan!' came a voice from behind. “He mustn't leave!”
'Why didn't you tie him up right away, smart face? Just stood and chatted like a dumb girl!"
The young man continued to run, quickly and easily, feeling neither tired nor out of breath, but there was no time to consider how strange that must have been at that moment. The forest, which until recently seemed endless, was becoming rare. The smell of damp rot and decaying flesh filled the nose. Echoes of foggy voices began to soar in the air, echoes of strange singing, so elusive and ghostly that it was hardly real. In the time when the running man caught himself thinking of he could hide from the hunters, who would definitely not be able to catch up with him, as he was lowered from heaven to earth at the same moment.
Viscous mud appeared underfoot, as if a heavy downpour had recently passed here and thoroughly had washed away the soil. The feet began to sink deeper and deeper, and it became difficult to move the legs.
Heart was beating wildly. The enemies were approaching. One of them had already appeared from behind a nearby tree, but for some reason suddenly stopped, like the two others, who appeared after a couple of moments. It became clear what stopped the pursuers. It was nothing but a quagmire. The poor youth's feet were already knee-deep in viscous mud. He was slowly sinking and could no longer move forward.
"We need to get him out!" the scarred man blurted out in a hoarse voice. "We need him alive!"
"I'm not going there. Found the fool!" the man with the bandage called back. "And why save him? Taurentius will kill him anyway, friend or foe he is!"
"And if we miss the child, Taurentius will kill us all. If he finds out. And he will find out, you stupid faces!"
"We won't save him anyway for now! It's a swamp! Either we perish in it, or from the magic of Taurentius!"
Just a couple of minutes ago, confident in their superiority, the men now panicked: their voices broke, their eyes ran from side to side, while time was counting down the seconds, giving them the last chance to do something and save their skins from the wrath of the master.
“While you’re thinking, you stupid thing, the boy will die in the quagmire!” yelled the hunter with a crooked nose. "Damn cowards! Why should I do it by myself again! All by myself! Screw you bastards!"
The quagmire was swallowing a young man treacherously quickly. These three hunters remained the only chance for salvation now, but how could a poor drowning man ask for help from those he had fled a couple of minutes ago? Just like a sheep would ask a help for a wolf.
There was a loud crack suddenly sounds. The man with the crooked nose turned out to be the most determined, breaking a large black branch of a tree that was long enough. Carelessly, he threw a branch on the ground and pushed its edge closer to the drowning man.
"Get it, boy! We will save your life! Then you will come with us. Otherwise, you will choke! Do you want to live or die?! Choose!"
The drowning man did not immediately make a decision, despite the fact that, indeed, it was a matter of life and death. The edge of the branch was very close, one had only to lend a hand - and salvation was right there.
"We're saving you, you stupid head!" added the one-eyed man with a rather smirk.
The viscous mud had already reached the young man's chest. He finally discarded all thoughts, except for one that was spinning in his head and expressed the only desire - to survive. Hands already smeared with mud firmly grasped the edge of the branch.
“Pull him!” the man with the bandage said in an orderly tone. “Smart boy. You chose the right one! Well done!"
The bog stubbornly did not want to let go of the prisoner, and for a moment, it seemed to the young man that his body would be completely torn in half, and the predators on both sides would simply divide their prey. Nevertheless, the three hunters, possessing impressive physical strength, apparently really did not want to miss a valuable find and continued to pull the fugitive out of the swamp. Feeling, finally, solid ground under him, the young man breathed a sigh of relief. However, before the thought of fleeing again came to visit his head, one of the swift foes drew his fist and struck the back of the saved captive in full swing. Saved man collapsed and lost consciousness.
The blow struck the back of the head, so the first thing the prisoner felt was a sharp pain. The boy was obviously out cold for a long time because he was already far beyond that dreadful forest. The cart, on which the cage was located, now and then ran into potholes and pits, which is why the young man lying on its cold surface often jumped up and knocked his thin, exhausted body. The boy survived, but he became a prisoner, and now he was being taken to some far-off place on a lonely narrow road, and nothing was visible in the area around: no houses, no people, no forests, no mountains. Just a desert, lifeless and quiet.
Next to the prisoner lay another creature, very strange and outlandish. At first, the young man was even a little scared: at first sight, thing that laid literally a couple of meters away from him looked like an ugly woman, crippled and beaten. Then watching a little closer, anyone could realize that the creature did not belong to the human race. The woman's skin darkened, as if covered with dirt and scabs, her arms and legs were unnaturally long and thin, and two terrible stumps stuck out behind her back, from which black blood weakly oozed, similar to clots of glaring paint. Next to the woman, who did not move and did not give a single sign of life, laid something that the young man did not even notice at first. Something huge, but almost merged with the bottom of the cage. They were wings. Cut off.
Another bump. The woman also jumped up on her place, her head dangling lifelessly around her neck. Is this prisoner dead? What is the creature that apparently had its wings cut off? The young man looked around the cage, trying to understand at least something. There were crusts of dried bread in the corner. Driven by hunger, the prisoner jerked to the side, trying to reach for a meager treat, and then something else became clear: the leg was chained to the bars with shackles. Lacked literally the length of one index finger to reach the crust. Only now hunger has turned from a quiet feeling in the stomach into a raging monster. And as if by the will of thoughts and desires, the stale bread slightly rose in the air, as if an invisible hand threw it up, and fell into the open palm of the stunned captive.
"Eat", a beautiful thin voice sounded, gentle, like a breath of breeze. "This is all we have now..."
The young man held his breath, shifting his gaze to the woman, who, as it turned out, was alive. In fact, the life in her only warmed weakly, which is why the woman looked like a living corpse. Therefore, her lips were moving, and her gaze was directed directly at her cellmate.
"Eat," the woman repeated. "You have come a hard way. And the times are not going to be easier. Let this bread be a little treat before the inevitably dark times..."
"Who you are?" the young man asked anxiously, forgetting about bread and obsessive hunger.
"Who I am doesn't matter anymore. My time is running out", the woman said resignedly, remaining motionless and hardly showing any emotions with facial expressions. Only her voice was still alive, only tragedy and a little hope were felt in it. There was also a certain beauty in her voice.
“You have come from distant lands,” the woman continued. "You don't know the past, the present, or the future. Like you don't know your strength. The power given to you by one of the Fives. Those who lead you to this land of despair and death. However, the power given to you by anchorite is our last and decisive chance. Eat this bread. It is the elven one. It will give you strength."
"Do you know who I am?" the man asked quietly, afraid that the hunters would overhear this conversation. "If you know who I am and where I’m from, I beg you, tell me. Why don’t I remember anything? Why am I here?"
“No one knows who you are yet,” the woman said. “But you’re a foreigner. A man like you could only have gotten into Abaddon at the behest of an anchorite. Find one of the Five, and he will tell you the truth. Look through Enchanted Forest, Endless Wall, Zirunderel Gorge, Maroon Sea or look for Wandering Anchorite. It will show you the essence, give you meaning and untie the knot of being..."
"Wandering... what?" the young man did not understand, being unsure that he had even got the words of the woman right. Half of what had just been said seemed to the boy to be a meaningless set of unknown words.
"Hey! Stop talking there, you chatty freaks!" Prisoners heard the shout of one of the hunters. "My head hurts even without you! Shut your mouths for good!"
The exhausted captive raised the trembling hand in front of her face and brought the withered long index finger to her mouth. Her eyes narrowed as if her eyelids were filled with lead. The boy crawled closer to the captive as much as the fetters allowed at that moment.
"Who and how should I find? Please explain..." he hissed.
"The soul, exiled for years, will find the answer in its own face, and in this long-awaited acquisition it will find salvation from the withering and death of the universal ..." calmly, but with a certain hot hope in his voice, which was like a weak stream breaking through a powerful dam.
The boy looked around in confusion. The prisoner talked a lot, but there really was no meaning in her words. The boy even decided not to ask again, since each subsequent phrase from the lips of this strange, exhausted woman brought only ambiguity.
"My house," the voice of a woman, already weak and trembling and a big sparkling tear rolled down her cheek. "I had to lie down next to my ancestors, under a beautiful bloodflowers. What a blatant injustice. Find anchorite, boy. Find and know your strength. Then you will be have the chance to give Abaddon hope for a bright future. Bless you the Five. You are our savior that we had been waiting for so long..."
That was the last words. Now the woman was silent. She even seemed to stop breathing. Her eyes closed, her head drooped, and her lips sealed as if forever. Is she alive? Or already dead? With trembling hands, the young man raised the bread to his mouth and took a bite. Something strange happened at that moment: in an incomprehensible way, the dried crust of bread turned into a slice of fresh baking, wonderfully smelling and warm, as if it had just been taken out of the oven. A sharp sucking feeling in the stomach pierced the boy at the same time as this alluring smell of a desired meal.
The young man quickly finished eating, without realizing what had just happened. Surprisingly, the feeling of hunger receded, despite such a meager snack. A kind of magic, certainly.
Several times the boy tried to start talking to the woman, but she did not react in any way. The man knew neither the meaning of the words spoken, nor the direction where the hunters were taking him, nor himself, nor the reason for his existence. The soul hung in the unknown, cold and empty. The man leaned back against the bars and lowered his head, embracing his knees. Thoughts constantly attacked the head, and all that remained was to wander in this chaos.
It’s been a long time. Maybe too many minutes or hours that were so easy to lose track of. The wheels kept pounding, the cart continued to shake on the rough road, and when the boy finally decided to lift his head from his knees and look around, the sun was no longer burning, and a cold black-and-blue blanket had descended into the surroundings. It was deep night, and as soon as boy's head was lifted up, a terrifying surprise came over him: the cart had stopped at a huge ravine, a great bridge leading to the gate behind which stood a majestic, incredible tower, rising above all around and seemingly piercing the night sky through, going somewhere far up. The cart didn’t move anymore. That was obviously the final destination.