Traitor

  I've never been able to figure out if Slizvert is a good or bad person. The parts of his life that I have come into contact with do not give me a definitive answer. Perhaps this question applies not just to Mourneers alone, but to all beings of will. "'Mourneers' tree record by Gloomeye"

  _^_

  Slizvert watched as the white warriors and paladins pouring from the arriving airships. The bursts of snow on the battlefield compacted the snowfall locally. As far as he could see, the newcomers in the battle of the three armies were trying to hold back the old warriors by freezing the most active ones. That was a good thing. Probably.

  And what was definitely good, even great, was that the newcomers had somehow killed the main demon of the Court of Madness. Or rather, they had brought him down and weakened him, and Earth had managed to pierce him.

  Slizvert froze in indecision (though it was fair to say he was himself). Should he do something, go into battle (there, the same three-phalanged Earth had actually won the war with the madmen), or just stand here and be nervous (as usual)? There were no orders, and there were Mourneers standing around watching as well. Although some of them were running around the camp (even the winter cloaks they had added to their uniforms were flapping in the wind) as if they knew what to do. If it weren't for his bad leg, he would have run as well, so there would be less demand on him.

  Near the Centurion, a hole in space appeared in the shape of a woman. It was Oriya Bosch, another three-phalanged Mourneer. She hovered in the air, legs slightly bent, hands away from her hips. Oriya was like someone who lifted herself up by levitation, only she didn't need such archaic things as body movements between transitions in different places - she closed herself and opened herself instantly in the right place (to an external observer this happened without any effect, and the observer often thought: 'Has she always been there? No, I must go on a vacation right away').

  Slizvert couldn't tell whether the boundaries between her and the world were concave or convex. He was distracted himself from his indecent gaze at the body of his companion and noticed that Oriya was rapidly changing inside: a wave of snow coming down from a snow-covered mountain, a pile of water falling from a green-covered rock, a red man with horns and unusual clothes yawning loudly.

  That's right! That's how she talks - with sounds out of herself. Well, everyone talks like that, but her sound-making mechanism was different.

  Slizvert tensed, listening:

  "Sssssshh! Weeee... Ue! Zzzz... Rrrrrrrrr!" Ori seemed to be in a hurry.

  Her last sound was the growl of some metallic alm that had each limb made up of multiple copies of that limb, entering each other, but slightly asynchronously. It lunged at the portal woman, startling the Centurion, but Oriya quickly opened up elsewhere with a view of the starry sky. In her language, that meant pause.

  "S... W..., ah!" Slizvert realised. "You called me by my name. Wait, I don't know these stars..."

  But the hole in space had already revealed a cheering crowd of people with colourful puppets hanging from their bodies. And a moment later she revealed a dark room with candles burning and robed figures standing in it.

  One of the figures pointed at Oriya, and she moved to a white creature cut in half. The Mourneer showed its black face growing straight from its shoulders, bypassing its neck and head. The creature was in the process of spreading out, reminding Slizvert of that defector from Worldedge. But he had no idea what Oriya was trying to say.

  "I'm sorry, I don't understand," the Centurion squeezed out of himself. He squirmed inwardly, understanding how frustrating it was when people tried but couldn't understand what you were saying.

  Bosch appeared above him, and Slizvert no longer saw through her, but began to hear meaningful speech.

  "Should I attack Slizvert or prepare to attack?" Candle's soft whisper sounded like the crackling of a bonfire.

  The phrase immediately caught Slizvert's attention. And when a legate of your army chooses between preparing to attack and attacking you, it's hard not to pay attention.

  "Is Oriya here? What's inside her? You, speak up," Candle continued.

  "I think this is our camp, but at a strange angle," an unfamiliar voice said.

  Oriya was two-sided, in fact there were always two Oriyas in the world. Once they were together, and Slizvert saw himself from two sides. A very strange woman.

  "I thought you, Candle, were good at taking direct orders. That's why I put you in charge of the whole operation. I find your lack of faith disturbing," another voice said.

  "You ordered us to stop resisting the madmen, not to resist the new army, and to prepare to attack one of our three elite fighters. Anyone would have doubts about the correctness of such orders. I'm talking about possible interception and alteration of the message for the purpose of disinformation, Prelate."

  "That is out of the question. I control my messengers directly. Follow the orders, Candle."

  Someone coughed and tried to gulp air at the same time.

  "I have not sacrificed myself for a man I have never seen, but for an idea," a new voice said.

  "Have you lost yourself, Fear? The heavy infantry commanders and the mysteries to me! Let the healers continue to pull out the frozen fighters. Where is Earth? Oriya..."

  Oriya flew to Slizvert. Inside her, someone was beating a huge drum.

  "R-r-r-r... Ew! Whoosh! Ee-yow!"

  Run away? The Centurion looked around and saw the Mourneers gathered around him. They stared at him in silence with painted weeping eyes. One of them put a hand on Slizvert's shoulder:

  "You should listen to Oriya, Slizvert. Run. It smells of ritual incense and sulphur. Maybe the snowmen have mind control skill. We know you well, and you can't betray us."

  Slizvert even got real tears in his real eyes. Here it is, the military brotherhood!

  "You are a fool. And what kind of treachery can a fool plan? It takes cunning and intelligence," the Mourneer continued, and the others nodded in agreement.

  "Ummmm. Okay. Since you have decided without me that I must run away, I will agree, like a fool and a slow-wit," the Centurion said, almost without resentment.

  "That's right," the Mourneer patted him patronisingly on the shoulder. "Your century has taken Capital? That's where you should be."

  A loud roar made Slizvert turn round. He saw a predatory alm, consisting mostly of fangs and horns, climbing out of Oriya. Bosch caught everyone's attention, then changed the view from herself, cutting off the paw that had come out of her.

  Inside Oriya, there appeared to be a snow-covered grove of megashrooms. Aurgelmir was walking through it, with pegriders galloping nearby. So his head was found! What a day today... contrasting.

  "Thank you, friends. I can call you that, can't I?" Slizvert turned to his friends around him, but they began to push him into the hole-Mourneer.

  One of the Mourneers tried to encourage him:

  "Just go already. Don't worry, Centurion - we'll handle the situation. And we will not be manipulated. We're Mourneers, and this is our..."

  "...sacrifice," Slizvert whispered, walking through Oriya (which gave him a kind of adolescent embarrassment).

  The engineer had almost finished his work, and had even named it after the alm. I wonder if he'll believe the accusation against me. And if not, will he be able to reach Capital?

  Oriya immediately disappeared from sight (but that didn't mean she was gone). Aurgelmir stopped in front of him and, well, of course, how could it be without him...

  "Hello, Aurgelmir. Hello, Adventure," Slizvert said.

  The giant waved his hand affably (he would later say that he had forgotten the rules of hierarchy when he lost his head again). Adventure rode his peg closer. With him were the deserter and two strangers: a guy and a girl.

  "Hello, Slizvert. How lucky to meet you in the middle of nowhere," said the false god.

  Only the meaning of the sentence made it clear that he was making fun of the abilities Slizvert had so thoughtlessly given him. "You're a fool," the image of that Mourneer came to his mind. Slizvert shook his head to dispel it.

  Adventurer was calm as ever, only his brow ridge giving the impression of a frown. His grim companion urged her peg towards the Centurion and ejected the blade from her bracelet:

  "Well done, Chosen One! Now no one can stop us from spreading his bloody wings!" then the bloodthirsty girl turned to Slizvert. "It was my favourite palace, you monster!"

  Another guy, also gloomy (does Adventure recruit people according to this principle?) said next:

  "I support his death, but not torture. Evil must be punished. Not for revenge, but so that evil does not repeat itself."

  "Folks, let's not discuss killing people in their presence," Adventure calmed his thugs. "It could damage our diplomatic efforts, we've already discussed it."

  "Squeak," the deserter said his weighty word and pointed at Aurgelmir.

  The latter, realising that this was going to be a long conversation, sat down with his legs tucked under him, knocking snow off the hats of the nearest megashrooms.

  "Exactly! And our guide will protect his commander. And he himself is not so simple. How's your neck, by the way? Will you give me back my belt, Slizvert?" Adventurer fixed his calm gaze insolently on the Centurion.

  "Boiriann has it. Ummmmm. You're probably talking to me for her now, aren't you? Do you want to free her from me, Adventurer?" Slizvert replied.

  "Do you really hold Splinter by force?"

  The Centurion noticed the girl waving her hands away from him, shaking her head and saying something with only her lips. What was wrong with humans? Slizvert often asked this question, referring to humans in general.

  "She was held by her own head. Ummmm. I saved her life, and that debt is not easily repaid."

  "Well, if she's not here, as my acquaintance once said, it's rude to discuss a mortal behind her back. I'm asking you to leave Worldedge alone. Name your price for this."

  "That's like making a deal with a demon, Gloomeye! Are you sure?" exclaimed the second gloomy guy.

  "Ah, if only. It would be a deal with a human," replied Adventure. "But if you kill him, another will take his place. It's easier to control one Mourneer who controls the rest of the Mourneers (oh, that... that's better left unsaid) than to just kill them one by one (and who just said about discussing killing people in front of them?)."

  "Ummmmm. An army has just arrived, as I understand, from all over the north. Do you have a spare army, Adventure?"

  Adventure started patting his clothes, searching his pockets, all stone-faced. It's understandable why Boiriann likes him so much, they're just two sardonic boots in a pair.

  "Centurion, is it true? So, the homeland is united! Vladiburya did it! That bastard son of Alfar!" Aurgelmir stood up excitedly, causing a small earthquake. "I must go to my king. I'm sorry, Centurion, but I can no longer be with the Mourneers."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The giant strode confidently towards the main camp.

  "How are we? Still not killing him?" the girl perked up as well, grinning bloodily at Slizvert.

  "It's awful. Ummm. It's just awful you're looking for an army for me. Ummm. Now your help is negative," Slizvert took offence at the false god.

  "The united army of the north was able to march here. And where were your underground ghost spies like Yar?" Adventure plunged into thought.

  "They came in airships. Ummm. The northern army, not cursors. No airships in your pockets either, I suppose?”

  "Airships..." Adventure is completely lost in himself. "There are some in the south. I could go down there and ask for them. I know someone in their royal family. There are kingdoms there, right?"

  And I really underestimated Adventure. He's in full force.

  "The Sultanate. Ummm. I was there before the Break. I don't know what's there now."

  Adventure jumped off his peg and approached Slizvert:

  "Airships in exchange for leaving Worldedge and its inhabitants alone."

  "Ummmm. If you don't attack first."

  And what are the boundaries of this little village? It's not likely to grow much, though.

  The false god held out his hand, and the Centurion shook it. Still shaking his hands, Adventure looked into Slizvert's eyes (as if knowing where they were under the veil) and said without changing his expression:

  "And I'll make sure I have the ability to destroy the ships at any time. Say, as an example, just in case of your treacherous betrayal.”

  ~~~

  Rememberer dug in the ground. He did not feel tired, nor did his body. But he liked digging much better than walking, for the purpose and benefit to the new children was clear. Perhaps Elvinon was a dream. As was the meat and other nonsense on his body. Next to him were the youngest children - probably grandchildren or great-grandchildren of the older children.

  "We already have one adult with us, Crushy. I'm telling you," Giggler said, sitting on a log.

  "The authorities don't like it when people obey the letter of the law instead of the spirit. It makes them realise their incompetence in lawmaking," Rasca answered instead of Crushy. She was sitting on a rock, brushing her hair with a twig comb.

  "Merchant clearly doesn't consider Getgood an adult," Crushy translated, sitting next to her friend, her head resting on her fist, watching the children.

  Even though she had known her friend all her life, Crushy usually made bold assumptions about what Rasca meant, having inherited her speech from her father, Master. When he was young, he preferred to rob people with the power of words rather than weapons, leaving them slightly confused and a little rebellious.

  Hearing her name, Getgood stopped moulding little snow pillars and looked at the girl. She waved her hand, inviting her to return to her work.

  "But we've been out on the wasteland before," Girl entered the conversation, standing and gazing at the outer wall under construction.

  "Semi-legally, without the explicit authorisation of the authorities. To them, anything that is not allowed is forbidden. We are social animals and are forced to obey the laws of society, even if it restricts our personal freedom," Rasca clearly enjoyed the confusion produced by her mouth. When people are confused, they pay less attention to her antics.

  "Do you think we want to sit with you? But Rexana killed a warrior of a strong clan, and the other one escaped. The enemy could attack at any moment," Crushy said.

  "Can you protect us?" Giggle asked curiously.

  "I-I can call for help and run away from them with you." Crushy said embarrassed.

  "We can do that, too. Isn't that all you've learned in all the winters that separate us?" the boy persisted.

  "Discussion of this issue will still not solve anything, since we are objects in it, not subjects." Rasca finished with one side of her hair and began with the other.

  "Oh, then you think Gloomeye will marry Princess?" Girl asked dreamily.

  Crushy somehow managed to lose her balance while sitting on the rock and fell into the snow.

  "Then he'll be Prince, I telling you," Giggler remarked cheerfully.

  "And Grandma and Grandpa will then be Queen and King?" Girl asked.

  "I'm getting stupid just listening to this nonsense," Crushy stood up and tried to shake the snow off her back. "Come on, Rasca. I think if this skeleton can't be called an adult, then who can? Rememberer," she said to the unstoppable digger, "keep an eye socket on the children, will you?"

  "Okay..." Rememberer rasped.

  When the girls were gone, Girl turned impatiently to her friend:

  "Well, have you got it? Can we go now?"

  Giggle smiled conspiratorially and pulled back his cloak to reveal a bundle of raw meat.

  "Maybe we should tell the adults. They accepted Rememberer."

  "No, Rememberer is human, he just lost more than Stump and Rexana. And they are obviously monsters, I'm telling you."

  "But you said they were Kikimoras, abandoned children."

  "And they wouldn't do well in the company of adults," Giggle took Getgood's hand and headed for the wall.

  "Children..." the skeleton muttered.

  "Rememberer, you've been asked to keep an eye socket on us, so keep an eye socket on us when we go and when we come," Giggle told him.

  The skeleton, finding no flaws in this logic, kept digging. And at the wall, the children showed Getgood where to push. She pressed her hands against the stone, tensed her muscles, and the stone gave way, opening the passage. She was in good physical shape, having been a guard. The company returned the stone after making their way through the hole.

  ***

  A huge portal in the shape of a woman lying on her side appeared not far from the gates of Worldedge. A group of Gloomeye passed through, leading the pegs under the bridle, and the portal immediately disappeared.

  "Squeak!" Drat squeaked in relief.

  "And you were afraid, Drat. Portals are like land swindles, but the swindle is not directed at people, but at the land itself." Gloomeye led Grassy home.

  "It was not worth handing over complete control over yourself to potential enemies," muttered Firster. "He could have closed the portal or opened it to another place while we were passing through. What would have happened then?”

  "He could have done it at any time, without waiting for our consent," Princess replied. "Just open a portal across our bodies. And why, by the way, is this portal in the form of a woman? Am I the only one who noticed?”

  No one had an answer to that (nor did they want to look for one. After all, it probably had something to do with the contents of Slizvert's head). As they approached, Gloomeye noticed noticeably reinforced fortifications, with his familiar arch among them.

  "Hiya. I recognize familiar thoughtwhirls," the alien thoughts appeared in his mind as he stood beneath the structure.

  "What are you doing here, arch?" Gloomy thought.

  "What can I do here or there? Where I was brought, there I am, and I can only do one thing - my being."

  "I'm glad you have joined Worldedge."

  "And I'm so glad to be browsing the organic tops again. But it would be even more pleasant if I wasn't being dragged over snowy bumps on a dirty, tattered rag. Have you seen how my crack at the base has grown?"

  Gloomeye had no time to mentally reply before Undercut bumped into him, knocked him out from under the arch, hugged him and lifted him up.

  "Gloomeye, ha-ha! You're here! So much has happened while you were away," the man was clearly pleased with Gloomy's arrival.

  "Ugh, Undercut. I'm glad to see you too. But here are my ribs... I'm going to need them..." the guy said in a choked voice.

  The former slave set Gloomeye down and began to shake off the non-existent dust with a satisfied look.

  "I see you reinforced the..." Firster began as he passed under the archway, but then stopped in surprise and looked up at the arch in confusion. "I hear more than one voice in my head."

  "If the new voice is telling you to kill us all, then don't pay any attention," Gloomy heard Splinter's voice in his head saying that sentence. "But if it's talking about brain soup and organics, then you're sane, and that's my familiar arch. Remember I told you about it?"

  Princess was also standing under the archway:

  "Can you just be quiet for a second? What's the point of checking thoughts of people coming in if you're thunder-thoughtedly announcing your check, wicket?"

  "I don't like her," declared the arch in Gloomeye's head.

  "Hey, so I don't have to stick my head under you to exchange thoughts?" Gloomy was surprised and slightly concerned.

  "I can't hear you, but I can guess that your organic soup was surprised and slightly concerned. I am now the Worldedge Passage! I remembered that I can transfer meanings within my own faction. How do you think I should raise the alarm when I spot the dolls?"

  Dolls? Is that something to do with the Unthinkable Ones? Gloomeye was about to go under the archway to clarify what dolls it was talking about, but he was stopped by Undercut.

  "Why are we standing here in the passage and not saying anything? This thing is fun, but you want to see your parents, don't you? Come on."

  The company handed the pegs to Wil, who for some reason was sitting with a stack of parchments, furiously crossing something out.

  Walking through his home, Gloomeye felt like he was in a new place. There were different people all over, nephils were entwining their farm, slugs and boarlers were grazing. In the distance, a group of people practised with weapons, fires burned, melting snow on piles of stones, the future houses. Some of the houses had the rudiments of walls, and one large one was completely finished (even had a roof). Already one could see, though not the streets themselves, but the ideas of streets. A muscular woman was beating red-hot metal with a hammer in an open smithy. And here a skeleton digging a hole..... What!? Okay, a skeleton joins us, so what's the big deal? We're all a little bit skeletons inside.

  There was no snowfall. Dayorb lit up the clear blue sky, jutting arcs out and turning the snow golden. Titus looked towards Hreb. In his mind, Gloomy realised that his home was getting better, but the sadness of seeing his familiar childhood dugouts and puddles were gone forever stayed with him.

  Undercut led the party to an unfinished house with a cloth roof. The stone-lined hearth on the floor burned brightly, and Wolves, Merchant, Stump, Rexana and Northman stood at a single table. After showing the way, Undercut left quickly (hopefully not because he remembered that he was the only guard at the gate).

  "I speak my mind as a resident of this village..." Wolves interrupted his argument when he saw his son.

  He jumped up and hugged him. Then he passed him to his wife for a hug and slapped Firster on the shoulder, who responded in kind. There was only a nod to Princess. Rexana honoured her daughter with the same.

  "You didn't lose an eye like last time, son. I'll take that as a success," the father joked. And after a sigh from Merchant, he added: "Too soon?"

  "I'm just in time, because Worldedge hasn't been razed like last time," Gloomeye replied, breaking into a grin.

  "Oh, if that happens, the responsibility will be on that stubborn woman," Wolves pointed at Rexana, lest Gloomeye wouldn't mistake that stubborn woman for his foster mother. "But we'll discuss that later. For now, go to the common house, which is finished, eat and sleep."

  "Father, I won't stay long. The Mourneers are willing to leave us alone if I get them airships," Gloomeye looked directly at Northman: "They need to resist the united army of the north under the command of Vladiburya, which has flown here."

  "Little Vladi? The unifier of all those snowbacks?" Northman's face became unusual. He smiled. "But I'm afraid I won't be of much use. I haven't been to my homeland for twenty winters. I have had another clan for a long time - Worldedge."

  "How far?" Wolves asked.

  "South," Gloomy looked at Drat. He thought for a moment, then waved his hand and began to manoeuvre his cupped hands through the air. "On a ship."

  "Yes, it would probably be better if you left here. For a while," Wolves said thoughtfully.

  "I was hoping you'd stay. Help me and Crushy keep an eye on the children. And our alms are almost unattended," Merchant sighed and began to smooth her skirt. "Well, I knew what I signed up for when I married Wolves. What did I expect from his son?"

  "Thank you, Father, Merchant," Gloomy said to his parents. Then he turned to his friends: "I can't ask you to..."

  "Squeak!" Drat squeaked.

  "I'm right behind you, Gloomeye," Firster said.

  "Of course I'm with you, Chosen One," Princess said.

  "You're not going anywhere, Dara," said Rexana, who had been silent until then.

  "Going," Princess said in surprise, as if she didn't believe she had to refute such a ridiculous thing.

  "You left with two men and one rat, also male, without telling me. If you're so keen to go for a walk, I could have allocated you some vetted women..."

  "Two conditions are fulfilled," Princess showed her mother's index and middle fingers and made her face deadly serious.

  "Do you still remember...?" Rexana rubbed her forehead wearily.

  "I can only love a man if he fulfils two of your conditions," Dara might seem like an outsider from a world without joy and mirth. "Gloomeye has fulfilled these two conditions. I will go with him. Even to the end of the w-," the seriousness of the scene suffered when Princess faltered when she realised where she was. "Even to anywhere."

  Wolves coughed awkwardly into his fist and opened his eyes wide, looking somewhere behind his son.

  A woman's arms wrapped around Gloomeye from behind. He realised they were woman's, but he was so focused on his friend's words that he jumped in surprise. Or rather, he tried to jump up, but the arms were like iron - holding his body in place. Then one hand disappeared, and the other remained lying on his shoulders.

  "Valkali?" Wolves began to tug at the collar of his shirt, forcing the winter air beneath to cool his suddenly hot body. "I don't think now is the time..."

  Gloomy was embarrassed too. He glanced at the girl who was half-hugging him. Yes, it was Valkali. Had she become younger? Was this her wish to Regent? Behind her, her henchman with a bulky backpack shuffled from foot to foot. It was a new guy. Had she replaced the old one?

  The heroine, meanwhile, pointed to her stomach and poked Gloomeye's navel area.

  "Oh, why are you so embarrassed?" said Merchant, not at all upset. "I know you weren't born of me, Gloomy. I'd remember that, from what I know. You must have your own mother. Imagine, I'm capable of logic, too." But then she added vindictively: "I'm sure she'll explain to you why she left. As best she can."

  "Wow, boy, you lost an eye somewhere. Do you need such a tattered son like that, Valkali?" said the pommel of her sword in a sharp, nasty voice.

  The heroine pulled out her multi-plate talking sword and slammed the pommel against her breastplate. Bam!

  "Ouch! What? Are you trying to tell me that he has all his eyes in the right place? Just one! All can see it! The rest of us have a full set of eyes," the sword grumbled.

  Valkali unhuged herself from Gloomeye and gingerly touched the patch on his face with her fingers, thinking for a moment. Then she held out the sword to her son.

  "Hey, hey! I'm an ancient artifact! You can't just give me away! Armies must fight and die for me! Great heroes must pluck me from the clutches of dragons like you did," the sword protested.

  "Are you sure? Although I don't want to agree with that squealer," Gloomy protested.

  "Squealer!?" the sword squealed shrilly.

  Valkali confidently placed the sword in Gloomy's hand, and the sword immediately bent down languidly. Gloomeye felt very embarrassed for some reason.

  "Oh, his ego at rock bottom! He won't be able to use even a thousandth of my power! Valkali, do you want me to apologise? You want me on my knees begging you to take me back? Boy, get on your knees, I'll beg your mother."

  "What about you?" Gloomy asked, ignoring the sword's words. It seemed like he should start practising doing that.

  Valkali waved her hand and took out from various places in her clothing two curved knives wrapped around her knuckles, two glowing blue but different daggers, a thing that doesn't decide for itself which way to point the blades, a stick with an arc and a rope, as well as a spike with a large handle and a sling.

  When she waved a hand at her henchman, beckoning him over, Gloomy realised he had to stop her if he wanted to eat and sleep today:

  "Thank you."

  The heroine nodded, tucked the weapons back into her clothing and walked away. Her companion hurried after her.

  "All right," Wolves said with obvious relief. "Get some rest, Gloomy. I'll try to distract Storyteller from you today, but I can't promise anything. And give me your dagger. I'll have Smithy make a proper sheath for it."

  Gloomy watched Valkali, his own mother, walk away, then looked down at the ever-'hey'ing sword in his hand.

  "Hey. Hey. Hey. Boy, know you're holding a priceless artefact in your hands. I'm-"

  "You're Squealer," Gloomeye gave the sword a characterizing name and handed it to Princess.