I The frozen wind blowed, and black leafless branches moved. This tree looked like a hand of a giant buried into the rocky soil of the mountains. Willem didn't want to get any closer, yet the corpse lied under the naked black as if burned trunk. In this frosted wasteland only black trees survived, if they indeed were alive. Nervous scout took the horse away from the tree when officer got off it. Entire company was like this. It's always dark, the skies are heavy with clouds, they had to conserve provisions and even water, and most importantly there are those trees poking from under the ground. And all of them clawing with their «fingers» south. As if wanting to grasp something in this desert that would allow them to escape this place. …show more content…
Soldiers were there for a month but already felt with their guts some kind of a rule. Natives venerated those trees and cleared the areas around the giant hands of any other growth, either out of fear of contamination or out of religious beliefs. One shouldn't disturb those idols whatever they are. He shifted his sight upon the corpse lying over dark roots. Sent forward patrol butchered a man. As it turns out, a messenger. Enemy for sure, enemy who tried to run away, but an enemy more useful alive than dead. Kirin, who usually hit a bull's eye, here spent half of a quirrel hitting only twice – piercing leg and chest. Poor man was finished off with a knife. - What makes you think he's a messenger? – Asked Willem. Dog looked back at his men and protruded a scroll from his pocket. Officer immediately noticed a broken seal. A hunter and a scout had rather unkempt appearance, his nose broken in fight with a wildlife, cared not for company's hierarchy and ignored it, yet now looked depressed. A country was truly frightening. Even Kirin, the lone wolf, gave in under such pressure. With a sigh Willem opened the scroll. «Kill her, you have my blessing. Your …show more content…
For others he was just another one of those mercenary captains. No more than a leader of bandits, whatever his past as a real general of the first big war may say. Noone cared for the losing side, and in case of Budevik it was even worse as he was betrayed by his own side. Twice the curse. Thirty years of such a life wrote themselves into the general. He was old and thin, his weary face accentuating sharp features of nose and jaws. Noble lineage got mixed by the age, bags under his eyes growing ever bigger. Dark grey hair tied into a tail and burns – as imperial fashion dictated a long time ago. - What's happened? What takes so long? General stopped at the tree and get off his horse. He first noticed the scroll in Willem's hand and only after a messenger's body. Kirin felt noticeably uneasy as general looked at him stern. - Not good. – Budevik summarized his impressions. Kirin started his story after a while. The same story he told Willem, not surprisingly. Found a runner that tried to hide from them, rushed towards him, hurried a bit too much, hands shaking. Finally catched up to him under this tree. Willem handed over the scroll, careful for general's reaction. Weren't they hired to kill the princess themselves? Why would king simplify their mission this