The Mist and the Lightning. Part 16

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“For a horse to be fast and tireless, you need to smear his legs and stomach with deer fat,” said one.

“Reindeer fat is garbage,” the second objected to him, “you need to hang the tooth of a wolf, killed on the run, on a horse’s neck.”

“They say,” the third intervened in the conversation, “that the surest way to make a horse fast is to take a mole and with a knife, bought without bargaining, pierce its neck. And then put a few drops of blood on the horse’s head. And then you need to carefully remove the skin from the mole, leaving the paws, and stuff the skin with hay. And drag it three times along the face of the horse, from nose to ears!”

Kors just grinned, he had long been accustomed to the proximity of unclean beings. He had already put the saddle on the horse’s back when he saw Arel heading towards him. The prince walked slowly over and, looking at Kors with a slightly arrogant smile, stretched out his hand to the reins:

“Give me back my horse, Kors,” he said not harshly, but still in an orderly tone, and Kors, without saying a word, silently removed his saddle from the back of the most expensive horse in this world. From the horse of Prince Arel.

Together with the unclean, they crossed the river. Nikto, Prince Arel and Kors rode in front of the troops, heading for the Fort.

“Have you changed horses?” Nikto asked, looking at Kors with his black eyes, his face was open.

“Well, what was left for me,” Kors complained a little indignantly, “if he took it away from me!”

This horse of Arel, which he was riding now, was also very good, but Kors was still annoyed:

“And now I have to fuck with the next uncontrollable prince's horse!”

“So, your Beauty is with you again?” Nikto turned to Arel.

“Beauty?” Kors was surprised. “Was that not the name of the previous horse? Beauty, as far as I know, was slaughtered by Black Bey in revenge on Arel when you were ambushed in Lower during the Winter Festival. And he cut off his ears.”

“And you know everything,” Nikto shook his head, “all Arel’s horses have the same name,” he smiled.

“I took the horse away from you?!” Arel was indignant. “You were the first to take it away from me! And you tore his mouth with the bar bit!”

“Your horse was badly brought up!”

“He just didn't want to obey you! Damn, how could it be ?! Nik, he crippled my horse!”

“I don’t know, Arel, how you dealt with him, but your horse was simply uncontrollable, and only harsh training measures brought him to his senses,” Kors replied sharply.

“You just didn't have to steal my horse! There was no need to take what didn’t belong to you! You are not his master, and therefore he didn’t obey you and rebelled.”

“Wow, rebelled! Eh, he didn’t understand a single command! You didn't seem to work with him at all! Arel, I wonder how you didn’t break your neck and die in battle, your horse was wild! You should be grateful to me and say “thank you” that I kept him and raised him as it should be, and now he perfectly fulfills the commands.”

“Nik, he ruined my horse,” repeated Arel very upset, again throwing an angry glance at Kors:

“Did you put on double-bit mouthpiece for him? What have you done?!”

“I just controlled him,” Kors was also already upset by this conversation and the prince’s claims.

“Okay, Arel, what do you want from me? Should I pay you compensation? Or if he doesn't suit you anymore, bring him back. Should I pay for him? I'll buy him from you, okay?”

“Aha, here I am! No really!”

“Here, take it,” Kors took out several large gold coins from his wallet, handed them to Arel, “this is for my help in training!”

But Arel didn’t take the coins, turning away:

“Just don’t even dare to approach him anymore!”

“Your Beauty, beauty prince?”

“Yes!”

“And what is the name of this horse, which is now mine? Beauty too?” Kors could hardly hold back his laughter, and Nikto, looking at them, smiled with his now black mouth.

“You can call him what you want!” Arel was still annoyed.

“Okay, Beauty can only belong to, as far as I understand. Is this horse a mestizo?”

“Yes, he’s half unclean,” Nikto confirmed.

“And he's quite obedient,” Arel said calmly. “It will be easy for you with him, Kors.”

“Thank you, Prince Arel.”

The army of the unclean was already on the approaches to Crimson Rock when the wind blew from the Fort, pouring them into an unbearable fetid stench of rotting flesh. Lis, as usual, didn’t care about the burial of those killed in battle, saving wood and coal for forges and not burning corpses. He ordered to remove everything of value from the dead, take away armor and weapons and simply throw the bodies into the moat behind the walls, sprinkling them with earth a little.

Unclean Marbas sniffed and smiled, as it seemed to Kors, with a double row of sharp teeth:

“Nice places,” he said.

Having met their fellow tribesmen in the Fort, the unclean ones were very happy and arranged a holiday. A full-fledged feast didn’t work out, since food supplies were already scarce, but the unclean Desmod and Marbas brought enough booze and all kinds of substances to get stoned with, and that was the main thing. Throughout the night, to loud music, the unclean bawled songs, arranged friendly competitions and danced with the bear. They kept the entire Fort awake with their noise, endless drunken shouts and howls. But Lis didn’t interfere in this action, because the day before from a man sent to the east, Marmer, a carrier pigeon flew in with a report that everything was calm in Ore town. No preparations for war were visible, no walls were being fortified, and there was no movement of any allied forces. The city continued to live an idle peaceful life, and Kudmer took no action to defend himself. This news greatly encouraged Lis and calmed his nervous condition.

6

Worries

Igmer was reading the report of the agent from Crimson Rock.

The red counted how many soldiers were in Sigmer’s army, how many horses and weapons, noted the presence of a bear. He indicated that the black officers in command were Zagpeace Gezaria and Ram Murh, the unclean ones were commanded by a commander named White Lord, and the red ones by Marmer. On his own behalf, he added that iron discipline reigned and everyone carried out the direct commands of Sigmer, which he gives out personally, always in the morning and then often also during the day. He very rarely transmits orders through his adjutants. In the evening, Sigmer also personally checks the fulfillment of tasks and requires a detailed report, often in writing, even if it is some trifle. Everyone is accountable to him, both black and red and unclean. He often checks everything himself. He cares about everything. He is very strict. The slightest hitch or poorly done work is punished. The pillars for the guilty are always busy, despite the fact that everyone is already afraid of punishment and is trying their best. Warriors are whipped mercilessly, left in a punishment cell without food and water for the slightest offense. Often Sigmer personally takes part in the execution, and if he doesn't like something, he immediately hits it in the face, maybe right in the conversation. In addition, during the day he conducts training for the soldiers and teaches them how to handle the weapons of the reds. He himself and his Wild Cat, who doesn’t leave him even for a single step, perfectly shoot from muskets. The gunpowder is made to them by a black named Marcus, and he did quite well using the records of the reds. The fort was destroyed and rebuilt by them in a rough manner, only the main tower is intact. But they are clearly not going to stay in it. Sigmer collects the carts, there are few supplies, and feeding is becoming scarcer every day.