“I'll take you with me next time,” Nikto said.
“Yes please! I'm not afraid of anything anymore! Even there I will find a way to organize an acceptable space around me.”
“Arel, do you hear? Vitor will teach everyone there how to live properly!”
“He will be in charge there,” Arel answered.
“Why are you like that?!” Kors shouted, unable to bear it.
“What?!”
“Spoiled! I love you with all my heart! You are like my son! You are my son too! I want the best! It hurts me to see you destroy yourself. I know that you are capable of more! And you trample and trample my feelings!”
“Vitor, you liked my Limit, you were there for the first time, and you liked it immediately.”
“I liked it. And I don't mind relaxing, resting and playing. I am not saying that I am perfect. But business before pleasure.”
“Exactly,” Nikto said. “We have sailed up.”
He fell off his back from the side, and, so inhumanly resting his palm on the wooden flooring under his feet, pushed off with force, rising. He walked over to his Unclean Power, inserting his foot into the stirrup, jumped into the saddle. The horse danced under him, and the raft under his hooves too.
“Hey!” Kors shouted, grabbing the railing to stay on his feet.
Unclean Power, having made an incredible jump, almost without a running start, jumped the distance to the coast in one fell swoop, shaking the ferry even more.
“You motherfucker! You will knock us over! Insane!”
Turning to the hail, Nikto, for a moment, turned Power around, putting it on the hind legs, and then, without answering, hitting his steep sides with his feet, he directed the horse at a gallop along the hillside up to the abandoned village. After him, Arel also immediately jumped into the saddle, and, without waiting for the ferry to finally land on the shore, he forced the horse to jump, whipping up his lash and loudly shouting a command. And only Kors, swearing and wiping the drops of spray from his clothes, waited until the raft moored to a small pier, and neatly brought his horse back, holding onto the reins. He secured the ferry, tied it up, and, getting into the saddle, headed for Riverside, having long lost sight of both Nikto and Arel.
4
The house
Kors drove slowly along the main street of an abandoned, dead village. There was deathly silence here and there was not a single living soul. Tol’s soldiers transported people to Crimson Rock. Some peasants of Prince Arel, who had recovered from typhus, refused to cross the river and left Riverside, returning to the Estate. In the evening twilight, ruined houses looked longingly at Kors with empty eye sockets of broken windows, and Kors felt the heavy atmosphere of hunger and suffering that had reigned here quite recently. He seemed to hear the drawn-out groans of people dying in agony from everywhere, and he was haunted by an unconscious feeling of despair and hopelessness. Or were they the sounds of the wind rushing in hysterical gusts through empty lanes? This place was cursed, Kors thought. He approached one of the houses he recognized. Here he used to play “the fool” with his son and prince Arel. Then he had fun. It seemed that it was in another life, and Kors was different, also from another life. He was free, cheerful and confident. He was himself and was not defiled or touched. How dignified, proud and calm he was then! Absolutely confident that he was in complete control of the situation and nothing bad could happen to him. He was the commander of the true blacks, an unquestionable authority. He was their faithful companion and friend. He looked good and looked boldly into the future. He fearlessly approached the Demon, studying him with curiosity and not even knowing how it would all turn out. He was amused by the way the Demon scared over Arel, then Kors couldn’t even imagine, did not even admit the thought that something similar could happen to him. Not a single doubt or premonition of danger crept into his soul. He was so presumptuous! Just a fool, confident in his righteousness and infallibility.