The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19

“How could you do it?! How could you do this to me?!What have I done to you!? What?!” Kors nevertheless tried, as far as possible, to abstract himself from the overwhelming emotions. He will take revenge on them, but later. For sure. And now he needs to understand this tangle of lies to the end.

Still the infirmary, and again all the same actors. But Zagpeace and doctor Cassiel, just in case, shifted Varakh to another ward.

(Look at them! Fucking conspirators! Damn, if I only wanted to, I could find Varakh in a minute!)

Varakh lies on the bed:

“Leave me,” he says to Zagpeace and the doctor standing in front of him, “it will be better for everyone. I won’t stand the road.”

But Zagpeace doubts:

“You will ride in my big carriage, it is comfortable. I will order more mattresses and poofs to be laid.”

“I can’t stand it, leave me, please,” Varakh repeats in monosyllables, and Kors sees and understands now that he is very bad. Varakh gets it, and if he didn’t die when he and Zagpeace staged this vile farce for Kors, then he will die very soon, in one or two days, no more.

“I don’t need any treatment. I’m tired of rotting alive. I want to die,” says Varakh.

“No, you can handle it, you’ll get better!” Zagpeace assures him, but there is only feigned confidence in his voice. He himself sees everything perfectly, throws an inquiring glance at doctor Cassiel, and he, realizing that some kind of verdict is expected from him, carefully answers:

“Any push or shaking on the road can be fatal for sir Kamiel Varah, he needs composure… and… time.”

“Leave me to the will of the gods. If I’m destined to get out, if not, so be it!” Varakh hoots.

“You’ll get better. You will get stronger. I’ll be back for you!” Zagpeace assures him as cheerfully as possible.

“Alright, Peace, friend…”

“I will leave all the necessary medicines, the orderly will take care of everything,” Cassiel says.

“Thanks for all. Cassiel, you keep me among the living for too long and don’t let me go to the Gods…”

Having left Varakh in the hospital, Zagpeace and the doctor go away with the entire black army.

And Kors “sees” how a Portal opens in the basement of the deserted Fort, and a small armed detachment of red warriors breaks into the room. They break open the doors and quickly search room after room, finding neither expensive furniture, nor paintings, nor clocks, none of all the good things that they cleverly hid here thanks to Digmer’s patronage.

“Where are all of ours? Where is Digmer?”

“Where are the golden goblets? Clock?!”

Red warriors rush in fury through the empty rooms of the Crimson Rock:

“There’s nothing here, Commander! They have take neverything! Everything! Even animals from the menagerie! Only in the infirmary they left a few seriously wounded and an orderly to look after them. That’s all they left us!”

“We’re going back to Horn. Digmer, apparently, died. And burn everything here! Burn everything!” Their commander gives the order with undisguised anger, and the Reds begin to set fire to the torches soaked in resin.

“May I report?” One of the warriors suddenly says cautiously. He seems to have doubts, but he still dares to say:

“I was in the infirmary and saw these wounded, one of them… he is tall, and he has a braid to his waist. He is a true black, I'm pretty sure of it. And he might know where Digmer is!”

“Are you saying they abandoned their officer like this?”

“Yes… but these are blacks… cave rats without honor.”

Red warriors, led by their commander, burst into the infirmary. They find Varakh there, and, despite his depressing look, the commander of the detachment doesn’t doubt for a second that he is indeed a noble black. Delighted by such a find, he leans over the dying man, smiling predatorily and showing his animal sharply filed teeth:

“Who are you? What’s your name? Are you a true black? Are you a commander?”

“Yes. My name is Kamiel Varakh,” Varakh answers indifferently and even with some relief. He folds his palms in a prayerful gesture, “Gods, will I die by the sword? Thank you for this grace!”

“True black, where is Digmer? Answer! Is he alive?”

“He is with the unclean ones.”

“What?!”

“He is in slavery for the unclean ones.”

“Take him, he will help us find Digmer!” The commander quickly orders, and his warriors shift Varakh onto a stretcher. He doesn’t resist and seems to be losing consciousness from the pain.

The Reds set fire to the Fort, and, taking Varakh, go to the Horn through the Portal. And the few remaining inhabitants of the fortress, abandoned by them to the mercy of fate, rush about among the burning buildings, choking on smoke.

From the Crimson Rock, only black charred stones remain.

Kors jumped up from his seat in the hall. Drunken Arel followed him with a dull look, and then, putting his folded hands on the table, dropped his noble head on them, passing out.