Fortress of Hope

1

Chapter 1

Chapter first.

Between life and death.

Oh. How it bothers me. My head hurts like a sore tooth. It's so bad that you don't even want to open your eyes. I'll go a little more. No strength is bad. Something runs down my face. Rain? Salty drops fall into the mouth. Familiar taste. Blood. My? Spit. I don't care at all now. 

- Mister. Sir, wake up. 

- Be quiet! Why are you shaking him? Can't you see that the blood is gushing from the head - a second voice barked in the hearts. Husky and rough...with a clear, overbearing note... 

- Well, I wanted it better. Maybe dip it in a stream? The water is icy, it will come to itself at once.

- I'll dunk you there now! And I won't take it out again! Let's run after the druid. Let's live! Get moving, you sklirs brat! yelled the second.

“Yes, I’m already running, running,” the receding voice of the first responded conciliatory. 

- And tell him to hurry up, - the second one shouted after him, - And grab a blanket!

Every sound echoed in my head with a ringing hum. Like the sound of a bell. I grimaced and tried to ask for a quieter voice, but only a hiss came out of my parched mouth. 

- Be patient, sir, now the druid will come. He will quickly put you on your feet, - a voice murmured in your ear, - Just don’t move, the boar has torn you very much. Trofis so generally lifted to death. 

Boar? Broke? Now I understand why I feel so bad. I need to open my eyes to see what's wrong with me. Is everything so scary? ... And who is Trofis? I don’t remember… but apparently it should… 

Having made an incredible effort on myself, I forced one eye to open slightly. It turned out that I was lying on my side, with my face buried in the ground. Grass. Green grass, thickly covered with bright red blood. So much blood and all of me? Now slowly turn your head... 

A dark veil covered me with a heavy veil, and I lost consciousness. 

****

Woke up. Painfully. Very painful. What are you doing to me? How badly my head hurts. I groaned, a cool hand immediately descended on my wet forehead.

- Keep it straight! Can't you see the wound is opening. Smoother!

- Yes, I'm holding, I'm holding. He kicks. Look at the way he wiggles his legs.

- Teris, get on his feet, what are you looking at? Didn't see the blood? 

- Looks like he's leaving. Dies. 

- What are you carrying? 

So the blood doesn't even come out. Not a drop left.

- Shut up! Velena, give me some bandages... here... tighter, tighter. Where did the druid go?

- Everything will be fine, sir. Now go to sleep. Go to sleep. 

Oblivion. Darkness.

****

Tree branches sway overhead. Lots of branches. Real green roof. In the rare gaps between the branches you can see the bright blue sky. So now is the day. Everything swings from side to side. They carry me somewhere and most likely on a stretcher. I can't move - I have no strength. The stretcher twitched, and the blinding pain immediately returned. Oh ... the whole body hurts. I screamed from a particularly sharp push. A shadow bent over his face, the cold and wet neck of a flask poked into his parched lips.

- Drink, sir. Right now, it will get easier. Wine it always helps - there was a caring voice above the ear.

The neck tilted and wine flowed into the mouth. He swallowed hard. Only now I realized how much I want to drink. More. The wine drenched his parched throat and rushed into his empty stomach. How nice... Another sip.

- Good. And now you need to sleep, sir. Everything will be fine. 

I closed my eyes and tried to follow the good advice. The boar patted me seriously. But I just can’t remember either the boar or what happened. Everything is in a fog. 

- Carry more carefully boobies - said the voice, angrily - do not carry firewood! 

The choir of voices assured that they were trying their best and understood all the burden of responsibility for the young master placed on them. 

What lord? I? I do not remember… 

Why are they calling me sir? 

Thoughts again dispersed and slowly I fell into oblivion. 

****

This time he woke up on his own. It was especially pleasing that it woke up, and did not wake up. The eyes opened easily. The pain is still there, but not as severe. Also pleases. Turning his head, he tried to look around. A small clearing surrounded by tall trees is filled to overflowing with people. Offhand, about eighty adults, many children of different ages. Men collected brushwood for a fire, and skillfully pulled up camping awnings. In the middle of the clearing a fire blazed, above which hung a huge cauldron. Several women were busy around the fire. Ready. A delicious smell of porridge and smoke floated in the air.

Listening to myself, I realized that I was hungry. Quite good. So I'm on the mend. Throwing the blanket aside, I tried to get up, but nothing came of this idea - I managed only to sit down, and my head immediately mercilessly began to spin. Nauseated. Looks like a concussion. He carefully felt his head, his fingers stumbled upon a tight bandage covering the entire head and part of the face. Just a concussion. The left leg is tightly wrapped in bloody rags from the knee to the groin. There are no pants. There is nothing at all. From clothes only a blanket. What a shame. Covering the shameful place with a blanket, I carefully moving my head looked around for clothes. 

It turned out that I did it in vain. He only drew everyone's attention to his modest person. 

- Glory to the Creator! The gentleman woke up - a joyful voice came from the clearing. 

After the cry, the glade froze, and then, with joyful cries, everyone rushed to me. They wouldn't trample. I was immediately surrounded by excitedly chattering people. Everyone wanted to touch me, to touch at least the edge of the blanket. The hubbub and flickering buzzed in my head, I involuntarily grimaced.

- Woke up! woke up!

Get well sir. 

- Glory to the Creator, he went on the mend.

- We pray for you.

- Oh, how much the face was torn, - a female voice wailed.

- Shit, stupid. It's not about beauty. 

- The arms and legs are intact and okay.

- Scars make a man!

- Well, they parted, - there was a voice behind them, - They parted, to whom they said! What mouths hurt?! Do nothing? 

To my surprise, the crowd obeyed and everyone began to disperse, not forgetting to wish me a speedy recovery. On the faces of sincere joy and relief. Weird. I don't know these people. Completely unfamiliar faces. Why are they so worried about me? 

“We are all glad that you are recovering, sir,” a huge man bowed in front of me. A leather sleeveless armor over the clothes, a massive battle ax is plugged behind the belt, - Do not be angry with these dull-witted ones. From the joy that you woke up, you completely lost your head.

- Thank you, - I replied, - How can I be angry at the people who took care of me. Just thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope I can repay your kindness. 

Oddly, the big man's face showed genuine surprise. He did not expect such words from me.

It is our duty to serve you, sir.  

"And why do you all call me master?" - I asked in surprise, - By the way, what is your name? You took care of me and I don't even know your name. 

The big man was struck like a thunderbolt. Looking inquisitively into my eyes, he hesitated a little and said carefully:

The sir is joking. I am Ricard. I serve you all my life.

Serve me? All life? How can I not know him? My head hurt even more. Stop! 

What's my name?... What's my name?! 

There is an absolute void in my head. Name. My name is... my name... my name?!

I started to have a slight panic. I couldn't remember anything from the past. Nothing! Not a single detail. Black. Worse, when you tried to strain your memory, your head began to ache mercilessly. My earliest memory is the first time I woke up on the bloodied grass.

- What is my name?! Ricard do you know my name? I muttered.

- Oh, trouble, trouble, - Ricard muttered in a stunned voice, - What a trouble. Sir, I will call the druid. You are not well. 

With a quick step, Ricard approached one of the men by the fire, said something in his ear. Nodding understandingly, he ran to the trees surrounding the clearing, and Ricard, having filled a deep cup with brew from the cauldron, went back to me. 

- Sir, the druid will come. Collects herbs for medicinal decoction. I brought you porridge. Delicious. Let me help you, sir. It won't hurt to eat. 

With the help of Ricard, I ate a few spoonfuls of really tasty rich porridge and leaned back exhaustedly. Ricard helped me get down on my back and carefully covered me with a blanket. Drowsiness appeared again, thoughts slowed down and I began to fall into a slumber ... the body is weak. 

- And here is our druid in a hurry, - said the big man, nodding towards the trees. 

Turning my head in the indicated direction, I saw a skinny old man hurrying towards us. Ricard met him a dozen paces away, and they spoke briefly, casting glances at me. In turn, I shamelessly regarded the druid. Long, shoulder-length gray hair, a thin, stubby beard, and amazingly bright blue eyes shining in a deeply wrinkled face. Outwardly, he is sixty years old, no less. A white cloak, a toe-length hoodie of the same color, and a simple traveling staff completed his appearance. Eyes… in addition to the bright blue color, the eyes of the old man have some strange, almost hypnotic power. It's like they draw attention to themselves. 

Meanwhile, the druid handed over the herbs brought to Rikar, gave some instructions and headed towards me. And the grandfather is not easy - look how Ricard obeys him, he just didn’t run.

Approaching, grandfather bent down and silently laid his hand on my forehead. Didn't even say hello. After holding his palm for a few moments, he grunted with satisfaction, after which he removed his hand and looked inquisitively into my eyes.

- How do you feel? - said the grandfather, piercing me with a gaze.

- Thanks. Much better, - I answered and made a note - grandfather addresses me directly, as an equal in position. No "masters" and no lamentations and worries about my condition. As if I am a stranger to him, or indifferent ... or an enemy ... 

- Do you remember what happened to you? the druid asked casually, pushing the blanket that covered me to the side. He noticed my panicky look towards the clearing and asked - Is something wrong? I need to examine the wound on my leg. 

- Nothing, nothing. It's all right, I assured the strange grandfather, covering my groin with both hands.

"You didn't answer," the druid remarked, carefully unwinding the bandage around the wound.

- I was crippled by a wild boar - I answered honestly - And Trofis was bullied to death. 

- You remember, then, - the grandfather was delighted. 

- Not. Heard voices in the clearing, saw bloody grass - I drawled, looking anxiously at the long and deep wound on my thigh. Significantly streaked. Deep. 

What kind of boar is this that so easily killed one and seriously maimed another? Or am I not a particularly skilled hunter? 

Hearing my brief reply, the druid's face darkened. Silently finished examining the wound, carefully bandaged my leg and carefully covered me with a blanket. 

- Wounds are healing well. Now you still need to sleep, - said the grandfather, again putting his hand on my forehead.

"But I don't want to sleep," I protested, not wanting to waste time forgetting sleep.

Darkness. Oblivion.