Whispers of the Gods

Chapter 58

The bitter breath in the wind swept across the valley, licking his cheek with ice coldness.He buried his face in the thick fur of his bearskin cloak, rubbing it reluctantly before leaving.

Rudomir Corva was on the left and right of impassable peaks, and they were halfway up.

The hillside is steep and treacherous, and the places for people to walk are few and narrow. Hundreds of people and horses are all advancing cautiously.

Rudomir held the hemp rope in his hand, leading the poacher whose hands were bound.

The local residents know much more about the terrain here than they do. No one has drawn a map for this place. The experience of the poachers is the best guidepost.

They came to a fairly wide place where they could camp.

As the night was getting dark, Rudomir raised his left hand and slowed down his steps, and the subordinates behind him also stopped their steps.

"We'll spend the night here," Rudomir ordered.

The soldiers took the stakes from the horses and planted them on the ground, and put the horses' reins on them.The firewood for their fire has been almost consumed. Logically speaking, even on the mountain in the evening, the midsummer air should not be so terribly cold.

Rudomir patted the residual snow on his shoulders and his pale blond hair with his leather-gloved hand, and dragged the poacher with a hemp rope to the newly built firewood pile.

He casually found a cold stone and sat down, and asked the poacher plainly, "How far do we have to go?"

"Quick... soon... my lord." The poacher replied weakly, "It should be here tomorrow."

The hands of the poachers bound by the rope were red and swollen, and the fingertips were a little black.He stood before Rudomir, trembling.

His black hair was disheveled, covered with snow, and beneath his sickly emaciated face, Rudomir could clearly see his bones.His thin linen tunic fell to his knees, and underneath were blue-gray stockings and a pair of very worn leather boots.

"Stefan," said Rudomir, stepping on the hemp rope, to the soldiers beside him who were lighting a fire, "give me the flint and steel, and go and get some clothes for this man."

"My lord." Stefan handed him the ignition tool in his hand.

"What's your name?" Rudomir asked the poacher, moving the flint and iron under the pile of firewood.

When he was found in the forest he was with his companions clearing the traps they had laid, and the five men had caught three hares by then.

"Werther, my lord...the son of Bobic." The poacher replied tremblingly.

"Werther, how did you become a poacher?" Rudomir started the fire, and he protected the flames with his hands, letting them light the wood slowly.

"I have to... have to, my lord. We... we have to." Werther argued.

"Everybody has their excuses, they're forced, they don't want to do it, damn those people, they're just borrowing that thing...

But at the end of the day, these are excuses.You sell the poached animals on the black market, isn't it for more ill-gotten gains? "Looking at the slowly rising flames, Rudomir showed a slight smile on his face.

"My lord, I... I promise the gods in my name, I promise you... If we are not forced to, we will not go poaching..." Wittser said, "My lord...My lord, his tax It's too high, we can't get enough to eat..."

"My lord, this is all we have left." Stefan held a broken woolen vest in his hand.

"That's all." Rudomir drew the dagger from his leggings and motioned for the soldier to hand him the vest.

"Sit down." Rudomir picked up the hemp rope again and brought Vitra over.

The poacher sat coweringly at his right, trembling.

"Put it on." Rudomir cut the hemp rope with a dagger and threw the woolen vest to the poachers.

Werther put on his vest eagerly, and approached the burning firewood with his hands outstretched.

"Don't do that." Rudomir tucked the dagger back into the sheath and warned him, "Fire won't heal your frostbite."

"Yarostus," he called to the lieutenant who was overseeing the erection of the tent, "give me your wine."

Yaroste Sagan raised his hand towards him, and took out a leather water bottle from the cowhide bag on the ground and walked towards him.

"This is the last bottle of wine, my lord." Yalost Sagan said.

Like the others, he was dressed in black: a black wool coat, a black wool cloak, and high black plush boots.

Yaroste has dark curly hair, a pair of brown eyes, and a high nose bridge, which is rare in the north.He had a short beard on his broad chin.

"I know you still have three bottles." Rudomir took the leather water bottle, opened it and handed it to Werther, "Drink it all, it will warm your body and relieve your frostbite."

Werther held the leather water bottle in both hands, raised his head and drank greedily.

"You said you wouldn't go through my package." Yaroste, who was spotted, was a little surprised, and he sat on Rudomir's left.

"I don't need to look it up, I know you too well." Rudomir joked, "You have been in the Black Army for nine years, and you have been my deputy for five years."

"After this summer, it will be the tenth year." Yaroste replied proudly.

Rudomir nodded and asked, "How is the big guy?"

"Everyone's morale is not bad," the deputy replied, "but the horses are a little bit overwhelmed. Our hay has been eaten up, and they haven't eaten well for two or three days due to the rush on the way."

"We're almost there," said Rudomir, "and in a day they'll be eating fresh grass."

Rudomir knew that the horses were not in good condition. They had been carrying their equipment and baggage on the rough terrain for a month, and they hadn't been given a good rest during this period.

His own dark brown stallion, Brown Bear, was crossing his legs and sat down with the leading edge of his hoof on the ground.He lowered his head and rested his ears on one side.

The temperature on the mountain should still be within the tolerance range of the horses, but Rudomir worried that the diet problems these days would make them more vulnerable to the cold.

"When the time comes, let all the warriors wear light armor, and the others will stay behind with horses. We don't need to ride horses." Rudomir ordered.

"When do we start?" Yarrowst asked.

"Tomorrow night, if the poacher is telling the truth," Rudomir replied.

"My lord, can we succeed this time?" Yaroste asked in a low voice worriedly, "You know that I have never doubted your decision, but this time... even your idea this time is too risky gone."

(End of this chapter)