The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19

Nik knew everything. He knew that Varakh hadn’t died, he knew that Kors had been deceived. But he didn’t explain anything to him, didn’t console him, didn’t reveal the truth, in fact, he treated Kors no less cruelly than Zagpeace. Why didn’t Nik say anything? Did he want Kors to end up figuring things out on his own? Kors couldn’t find an answer to his question, and now it was pointless to get into Nik’s head, into his thoughts and memories. The demon wouldn’t let Kors read them, wouldn’t let him know what he really thought at that moment. He couldn’t even try, Nik would hear and block him. But Kors can now “listen”to Varakh. Listen and find out what happened more than twenty years ago on that forest road. Kors was scared. Is this truth worth knowing? He has learned a lot lately, but has it made him happier? Maybe it’sbetter not to know? “No, no, you need to cast aside cowardice and find out the truth to the end, whatever it may be!” Gathering his courage, Kors clearly set a specific goal for himself, as Nik taught him. Mentally, he indicated his intention: “I want to see Varakh. I want to see what happened to him on that forest road. I’m ready to see it!” He focused…

Chapter 20

Oh! For a moment Kors even felt dizzy from the tension, he had never “watched” the events of the past unfolding at such a speed.

Twilight.

The horse is running at full speed.

Crazy ride. Crouching in the saddle and constantly urging his horse on, young Kamiel Varakh is chasing the red thief. The forest road winds under the shadow of huge fir trees. The rider is skidded on sharp turns, and mangy fir tree paws are trying to hit him in the face. The horse rushes at full speed, ears flattened, but Varakh, bending strongly to his neck, only urges him on more intensively. Kors feels as if he himself is now experiencing all the feelings of Varakh, he himself is chasing the enemy, his heart is pounding furiously in his chest. He catches up with the red one, knocks him out of the saddle.

“Oh, Gods, be careful, Varakh!”

The red warrior falls to the ground, but, quickly crouching, immediately jumps back to his feet. With one movement, he throws the wicker knapsack that was hanging on his chest over his head and tosses it aside. It seems to Kors that he will now stop breathing from what he sees, because he understands that his newborn boy is in this knapsack. Fortunately, there are thick bushes growing along the side of the road, and the bag falls on the branches, which soften the blow. In the dim light of the rising moon, the red one and Varakh meet in a fierce duel. Kors sees the gleam of their swords. Varakh fights like it is his own baby. He is a true friend, and Kors’ misfortune is his misfortune. Kors’ goal is his goal. The red warrior falls to the ground, and furious Varakh is chopping up the already lifeless body for some more time. Finally, leaving the dead enemy, he runs up to the place where the knapsack was thrown. He grabs it, but before mounting his horse, he stops on a more lighted stretch of road, lowers himself to the ground and carefully takes the baby out from the bag. Kors sees the child in the pale moonlight, wrapped in a rag.

Varakh gently unfolds the baby, realizes that it is a boy, and sees that Inness’ chain glittering around his neck, on which she strung her wedding ring. The chain is wrapped around the baby’s neck twice. Kors recognizes both the decoration and the ring. Without a doubt, these are his wife’s belongings. Not only that, he also recognizes Nik, despite the fact that his little childish head has rather dark hair, not at all as white as it is now, rather dark blond. Nik has neat, slightly pointed ears, like the ones of the whites, and such a pretty face! He is no more than a day old, but Kors sees his plump lips folded like a bow. These are the lips of his boy, he recognizes them from a million. Nik is his son! But he is not breathing, his eyes with long eyelashes are closed, his face is deathly pale. Maybe it’s the light of the moon? Unfortunately no. Varakh lets out some kind of inhuman howl of despair, turning into a sob, puts the child on a rag, bends over him, begins to put pressure on his chest, blows into his mouth. All in vain, the child is dead. But Varakh tries for a long time to revive the lifeless body.