Глава 16

Let's not talk about that! Sounds like you have people running your mining district. Some places don't care about their miners at all, giving them nothing to eat, and they don't give them any other way out either.

I heard some miners got so desperate they ran away. They'd rather risk the Patrol Units.

Can you help us?

My wife went out to discuss things with the others before you came in.

So those footprints were...

You have the parts, Lidiya?

Right here.

Rankin takes the cloth package and gives it to the old man.

Here, you should be able to replace the aging parts on your harvester with it.

In exchange for the food you shared with us.

Sure, sure... honestly, I don't know anything about harvesters other than that it's been broken for a while. Do you mind helping me fit the part on if you want to help?

I'll take a look. I used to work in a machine factory.

That's great.

You really managed to get food. A fair bit of it, too.

Gennady says it was a good year for crops, but his harvester was broken. They managed to harvest the mossoat by hand, only to have surplus grain sitting around in granaries because the caravans didn't come this year.

Life is hard for everyone without cash. Still, they were willing to barter with us, rather than waiting until spring to sell.

Lidiya said those parts are worth more than mossoat.

As far as we're concerned, food is priceless.

Must you go so soon?

Yes. We've accomplished our mission. It's time to go back.

I had hoped that you would fill your bellies before you go.

If you want, there are a few houses on the west end of the village that have been empty since the previous inhabitants left. Your group can take shelter there, make a fire, get warm and make some food.

Spasibo...

I can't tell you how grateful I am.

There's no need. The girl helped us repair the harvester for next year. We're the ones who should thank you.

Besides, it's not like we did much.

Normally, we don't touch the collective food stores for winter. Patrol Units are less frequent these days, but it's a chore when the tax collectors come around.

All we old folks did was to take a little grain out of our own reserves, so that you can go back and say you've done your job.

Not like there's anything else we can help with—

Maybe you can tell us your daughter's name. We can try to ask when we—uh, return to the mining district.

Oh, she's not here in the Far North! She's in the Northern Tundra, far to the east...

Just tell me.

Well, I suppose it can do no harm.

Her name is Milana...

A pair of blank, soulless eyes gaze out from the darkness.

The cracking of the bonfire hides his indistinct mutter.

Achieve...

Salvation.

No... no...

Argh!

The young woman falls on the ground before your eyes, a black spear 'growing' out of her body.

Next to her body, a man is flailing with his legs, trying to push himself away from this dangerous place.

M-Monster...!

Black is closing in. Black, black, black, everything is black, except for bright-red blood. You cannot even tell if you are facing something that is living or not.

Do not fear—not one step back!

Stand up, if you still have strength—

Ahh!!

The black steps through the bodies, some of whom were miners, some of whom were guards, and some of whom were just ordinary Ursines.

The constant screams make it very clear that, whether you turn to run or not, the spears appearing out of thin air will catch you.

You can only watch as the spears continue to rise from the ground, impaling body after body, threatening to blanket the entire ground.

Suddenly, the spears remove themselves from the mountain of corpses, forming a longsword in the hand of the black shadow.

The entity raises its sword and points it toward you, speaking in an indistinguishable voice.

You would die standing.

No... I'm not going to die...

I'm not going to die here.

Hope. It's a good thing.

But futile.

Is that...?

Rankin! We're here to help!

Rankin—

You—Renat?

We're here to help!

You're here! You're here to help me! My comrades, you're here—

We'll fight side-by-side, just like old times!

Just like old times!

Surround him! Just like old times! One falls, another takes his place!

Follow me!

Fool...

You feel the heat coming from behind you, like a burning fire that spreads all over you. It makes your blood run hot, and your eyes wide and clear. They shout your name and push you forward.

In the embrace of solidarity, you leap and take aim at what seems to be the thorax of the black entity—

And impale it.

—Death—

Ha...

There is no sound of blood dripping, no convulsion.

Only the resistance of the blade growing lesser and lesser, until it disappears altogether.

I see... I see...

...Gabrielus—

As the last syllable leaves its mouth, the uniform propped up by the shadow goes limp and stops resisting.

You have put an end to the monster, with courage, with determination, with heart.

With the support of 'friends' who never existed.

*pant*... *pant*...

Your hands are heavy. Where are you?

'—He's down. He's down!'

...Who?

'Rankin, you—we, we killed—'

'We killed him!'

Killed who? Black... snow...

Not enough. One obstacle dead and gone, but the snow is everywhere, abominable snow...

The snow will not stop.

'Rankin? Rankin! What do we do now?'

'Rankin—'

Rankin!

I am...

Rankin! Rankin!

The crowd rushes toward you like the tide. They raise you up, and they pull you back down. You have felt this sense of weightlessness before.

The crowd shouts, the crowd yells. Someone who should not have been here shouts your name in the deafening echoes.

—Rankin—

You close your eyes and go back into the forest with his words. A border garrison unit, a one-way mission.

You are not there.

Won...