All the heroes turned 18, although no, they are much older, these are fucking turnskins, they have been terrorizing the inhabitants of the Iron Mountains for decades.
And the whole text is divided into small paragraphs, so that my dear readers, God forbid, your eyes do not get tired. Without eyes, my story will be difficult to read. Take care of yourself and enjoy your reading.
****
Raxen suddenly stopped, drew in a breath, and growled barely audibly. However, Lyonza had long seen a flock of crows that circled over the hill. She gently touched Raxen's heel, encouraging him to move on. But he did not even think to budge.
"It's dangerous there," he said quietly.
Lyonza scratched his ear.
"There is nobody there. Except for the dead."
And she pointed to the beast at the circling scavengers. The leopard growled in displeasure.
"I understand you perfectly," Lyonza said, "I don't like this country either. But we have an order and it must be carried out. Let's make it quick and return to our castle to your favorite fireplace."
But Raxen was unstoppable. One of the costs of traveling with him is his constant whining and complaints. Not a predator, but a pitiful cat.
"Why all this?", he asked, "What prevents you from returning to the castle, breaking up with the Brotherhood and living like normal people?"
"Because I'm not a normal person. And not a human."
The leopard snorted skeptically. But in any case it was necessary to go forward. They, observing caution, climbed the mountain path that led to the village. The closer they got, the stronger the burning smell became. As Lyonza had predicted, everyone was dead here, only burnt houses with collapsed roofs remained of the village itself. Lyonza more than anything in the world did not like death. Life, even the most unenviable and painful, seemed to her the greatest blessing, the best gift that the Creators gave to beings. Life is always a chance to change something, and when you are dead, you no longer have the power to even move a speck of dust.
Maybe that's why she is still in the Brotherhood, despite the hatred for her? As long as she serves the Light, there is always a chance to help someone escape death. But there was more death in these damned Iron Mountains than was necessary. Most of the iron in the world is mined here. Maybe that's why there is a constant war between everyone and everyone?
They walked through the village, and Lyonsa tried not to look at the mutilated corpses. Raxen stopped again and silently bared his fangs. Lyonza jumped up from his back, put her hand on his belt. Her belt was not simple. It was a flexible urum sword that wrapped around the waist, fastened with a lock. As soon as it was unfastened, a formidable weapon was found in the hands of the succubus, combining the advantages of a sword and a whip. The sounds that attracted the attention of the leopard came from the only stone building in the village, therefore, a common barn.
He also suffered from fire, the stones turned black, in some places there were cracks and holes in the walls. Through one of these holes, Lyonsa saw several warriors in high helmets. Mongs, the most warlike and frostbitten of the local people. There was a woman with them, with a bag on her head. One warrior held her hands, the second, lifting her bare thighs, with force drove her penis between her legs. The third, apparently, was preparing to be next. He had already taken out his scion and was crushing it with his hand. The woman didn't make a sound, only shuddered with her whole body at every friction. The Mong who raped her grunt harshly, as if chopping wood with an ax.
Of course, Lyonza was a succubus, but this sight did not cause her the pleasant excitement that she experienced at the sight of such. The kind of sex brought her pleasure only if all the participants in the process liked it. Lyonza unfastened the urum and jumped into the hole. The fight was short-lived. The Mongs did not expect an attack, one did not even have time to pull on his pants. The blows of the flexible blade disarmed them, and the sight of the red demoness and the predatory cat, which appeared out of nowhere, frightened them. With shouts, the mongs rushed away. Lyonza leaned towards the woman. She took the bag off her head and cried soundlessly, covering her face with her hands. The succubus itself came up with a lump in the throat. She stroked the unfortunate shoulder.
"Do not cry...", she said softly, "You are alive, and this is the main thing. Don't cry... It's over."
The woman fell silent, dropped her hands, and Lyonza herself almost screamed. The woman had no nose. In its place was a bloody hole. She silently opened her mouth and there was only a small stump instead of a tongue. Why, why disfigure so? Where does this desire for thoughtless destruction, for pain and death come from? Lyonza did not understand this. The woman looked at Lyonza, as if she was reproaching her for what had happened, then she sighed and fell silent. Small thorny snowflakes fell from the gray sky.
****
It was already getting dark when the walls of the monastery appeared. The snow was already falling in large flakes, surrounding the travelers with a cold white shroud. Lyonza and Raxen, ascending the steep mountain path to the monastery, were sullenly silent. She wanted to bury the dead in that wretched village, but even for that there was no time. Mongs raids are a problem for the local duke-hou. And Lyonza, the Dragonier, is tasked with dealing with another, no less cruel enemy.
She wanted to bury her face in Raxsen's skin and cry bitterly. But he had to go, get to the goal at least to the darkness. And who knows, maybe at least here she will be in time, save the living from evil spirits. What a disgusting place. During the day, the Mongs rule here, and at night the turnskins are cannibals. They laid siege to a mountain monastery. Every night these creatures circled around the holy monastery, and only prayer helped to contain them. It is good that the news of this reached the hou, and he contacted the closest commander of the Brotherhood. And the commander, in turn, dispatched to deal with the problem of his closest brother-dragonier. More precisely, a sister. Sister Lyonza Luane, since she was in these places, on her way back from the West.
Lyonza lifted the massive bronze ring on the gate and knocked. She wisely turned Raxen into a hide and threw it over her shoulders. The ring, when struck against a tree, made a booming sound. The answer was silence. The monastery generally looked dead; not a single light shone in the dark stone bulk. Really late? Lyonza knocked again. Quiet. But Lyonza felt someone looking at her. Someone was watching her from behind the walls.
"Hey!", Lyonza shouted, "I'm looking for an overnight stay! I don't need much, just a roof over my head is enough. Holy Fathers, let the tired traveler go to bed!"
There was a quiet rustling. The gate creaked and opened. Behind him stood a monk with a hood down over his face.
"Hello!", said Lyonza, "won't you let me in..."
The monk looked at her from under the hood, then nodded slowly. Lyonza went inside, the monk closed the gate, dropping a heavy lock from the inside. It was dark, even in the sanctuary tower. Strange, the lights should never go out there. They walked through the courtyard, entered a long building intended for the monks to live in. Lyonza put her hand on the hilt of her sword belt. Everything is too filthy here. But she is an experienced fighter and magician. A bunch of turnskins will definitely cope. They walked down a long corridor into a large prayer hall. Twilight reigned here. Everything was tied up with some kind of ornaments and garlands, big bags hung from the ceiling. What's going on here? Lyonza touched her hand to the silver amulet in the shape of a two-headed dragon. She was about to say a prayer of sacred light. If this is a trap prepared by evil spirits, an unpleasant blinding surprise awaits them.
