"Too late?"
"Master Alric, three years have passed since the day of the battle", - said the old hag. - "The gravestones at the cemetery are covered with moss. And on the troll hill there are red flowers grown from the spilled blood of our men".
"Three years?"
I could not make myself believe her words.
"Three years... If you are lying to me, woman, I will make you eat your own tongue, witch or not!"
"Go to the cemetery and see for yourself - unless you faint on your way there. Go to the village and ask the people in the tavern", - she smiled at me bleakly. - "If I were you, I wouldn't threaten a poor old lady. It is not a kind of thing a knight does, you know?"
Her words made me feel twangs of conscience. She didn't have a reason to lie to me, even if she was a witch, - there was no benefit for her in it. Still, how could I believe her. If she was telling me the truth... I just didn't know what to do with it.
So I got up, passed the witch's room, the wings of dried bats stroke my hair, and then I left the house from the front door. I remembered the way to the village from the witch's cabin.
On my way I had only to watch carefully to make sure that the witch hadn't lied to me. The trees were higher. The path that led to the witch's house was surrounded by thick bushes - a couple of decades, and there will be a dark forest. When I came here at first - three years ago - the road was running through the field: the witch came here not long before me and several months after the trolls; the field was abandoned somewhere around her arrival.
Understanding and acceptance were painful.
The village sounded cheerful and lively. Women wore bright ribbons in their hair, children were playing merrily in the street; travellers in the tavern - silver coins chinking, people talking, beer and boasting and punchfest.
I didn't stop here for long, and went to the cemetery. I felt devastated. Three years thrown away. But something just didn't tie together. It could happen that the spell of the troll's shaman reached us after his death, it could happen that everyone but me was killed by it. For some sick reason the witch could decide to treat me without much hope for my getting better all these three years, but.
"Master Alric, three years have passed since the day of the battle", - said the old hag. - "The gravestones at the cemetery are covered with moss. And on the troll hill there are red flowers grown from the spilled blood of our men".
"Three years?"
I could not make myself believe her words.
"Three years... If you are lying to me, woman, I will make you eat your own tongue, witch or not!"
"Go to the cemetery and see for yourself - unless you faint on your way there. Go to the village and ask the people in the tavern", - she smiled at me bleakly. - "If I were you, I wouldn't threaten a poor old lady. It is not a kind of thing a knight does, you know?"
Her words made me feel twangs of conscience. She didn't have a reason to lie to me, even if she was a witch, - there was no benefit for her in it. Still, how could I believe her. If she was telling me the truth... I just didn't know what to do with it.
So I got up, passed the witch's room, the wings of dried bats stroke my hair, and then I left the house from the front door. I remembered the way to the village from the witch's cabin.
On my way I had only to watch carefully to make sure that the witch hadn't lied to me. The trees were higher. The path that led to the witch's house was surrounded by thick bushes - a couple of decades, and there will be a dark forest. When I came here at first - three years ago - the road was running through the field: the witch came here not long before me and several months after the trolls; the field was abandoned somewhere around her arrival.
Understanding and acceptance were painful.
The village sounded cheerful and lively. Women wore bright ribbons in their hair, children were playing merrily in the street; travellers in the tavern - silver coins chinking, people talking, beer and boasting and punchfest.
I didn't stop here for long, and went to the cemetery. I felt devastated. Three years thrown away. But something just didn't tie together. It could happen that the spell of the troll's shaman reached us after his death, it could happen that everyone but me was killed by it. For some sick reason the witch could decide to treat me without much hope for my getting better all these three years, but.
