Magic?

"You moron, look around! All the bandits are either dead or have fled. And you? You were supposed to protect the master, not charge the enemy !!" Rymar screamed as he dismounted.

With his sword drawn, he walked towards the fallen knight. A few meters in front of Sorel, he bent down and, with a sweeping cut, finished off a bandit who was pretending to be dead. The blow was decisive, and the sound of broken ribs rose under the force of the impact through the forest.

"Please don't kill me," Sorel thought it was his end and whimpered.

Rymar had already sheathed his sword and headed in another direction.

"Quiet now! You are fortunate. From what I can see, you somehow fell into the Kerming herb with your butt. Even a tiny contact with the skin causes an intense paralysis of the nerve endings. It is a scarce herb often used directly as an anesthetic," Rymar said and looked down at Sorel in contempt. "Arnold, if there's anything else left of them, please bring me a few stalks. Don't take your gloves off, or you won't feel your hand for the next few minutes. "

The Magister comforted Sorel. Earlier, during the conflict, he got off his horse and hid among the knights. Now he was rummaging in the saddlebags.

Arnold went to Sorel on the orders of the master.

The instructors from the knighthood school could not hold back their laughter and burst out laughing so much that one of them had to get off the saddle. When they calmed down, they started to check the nearby bodies.

The bandits, however, did not have too many valuables with them. After all, why would a rich man become a bandit?

Aron was just beginning to recover. He wiped his face with his sleeve.

Looking ahead, he saw Rymar standing in front of him with an outstretched hand. They nodded to each other, and Aron stood with the help of the senior knight.

"Not so bad. After whom I least expected, you were able to defeat two attackers by yourself. Certainly better than the other young man," Rymar said and put a hand on Aron's shoulder. "I suppose this is your first time killing someone. It always is hard, but you have to be strong. Certainly, in the future, you will have to do it again. You need to pick yourself up quickly. It's not very safe here." Rymar said and patted him on the shoulder. Then he looked around and went to help Sorel.

Two bandits he had killed lay next to Aron. He hadn't cooled down yet, but he knew they weren't the last people he'd have to kill.

The bandits had wanted him dead, so he had the right to defend himself. If he was lying here now, all that was his would be theirs. Such was the law of winners. Former soldiers or poor peasants, eager for quick profits, chose the path of robbery; for some, it was their only choice.

Aron also knew he needed coins, so he checked the corpses with a bit of disgust.

However, these two had nothing except two axes, a shield, and an old rag.

The shield was perhaps the best quality item. The simple, not large, triangle shield covered with linen had its best years behind it and probably belonged to some unfortunate guard. Now that shield could benefit him much more than the dead man.

Aron also hid two bronze hatchets in his saddlebag. Any bronze item could later be sold for a few copper coins.

As no one was interested in spears, he directed his steps towards the next corpse. After chopping off the bronze spearheads from the spears, he had five of them in a matter of minutes.

When he reached for another spear, the knights had already picked up Sorel, and everyone was slowly getting on their horses.

Aron returned to his gelding, tied the bag with prizes to the saddle, and jumped on it. He started pulling the reins of the three pack horses.

Only now did Aron see that these horses looked better than his horse. Additionally, they did not get scared and did not run away.

He decided not to complain about his horse. After all, he helped him pacify one of the bandits just a few minutes ago.

The formation in which they rode had changed. Now the Magister had knights on both sides at all times.

Rymar remained in the front, Arnold behind the master, and Aron with the horses next to him. Sorel was still red with shame, now at the very end, closing the procession.

However, the rest of the way through the forest was without any other adventures. In the afternoon, the landscape began to change, the undergrowth was replaced by cracked earth, and the trees became scarcer.

In the evening, the Bald Hills, the conventional border of the wastelands, appeared on the horizon. They found themselves in a valley with a few poors trees when the sun was setting.

"Okay, here is where we will rest, fine gentlemen. We're setting up the last camp, and we will be sleeping inside the Wasteland next time. To work, men!" The Magister said and got off his horse.

The rest did the same, and everyone, in turn, began to tie their horses to two single trees between the rocks. Arnold pulled out the tent from the saddleback of one of the horses and, with the help of the instructors, began to set it up.

"Aron, feed the horses and start collecting twigs for a small fire," Arnold said, and Aron got to work straight away.

After he fed the horses, he decided to reward his horse with an apple. He did it with great regret because he only had one of them left because he ate the rest a little after leaving the skirmish site. Of course, the gelding also got oats like the other horses.

After Aron was done with the horses, he gathered a whole bunch of branches.

On his return, he saw that the two tents were already standing. They were two linen cones that stood proudly between two trees in the middle of an empty valley. In the middle, Arnold was already giving the rest of the convoy the rations.

When the young knight put down the wood, he received his portion without a word.

Moments later, a small pot of boiling water hung over a small fire. Everyone was sitting in silence by the fire, eating biscuits and beef jerks. Only Rymar watched the area with his watchful eye. As soon as the Magister ate, he cleared his throat.

"I suppose most of you don't know why we're here or for what. So now is the moment you find out why you are essential to my plans. While examining old notes, I found an interesting map and related notes. The map leads to the edge of the Dead Wasteland, where we are going. You are probably also wondering why I did not accept the count's offer to lend me more ordinary soldiers. I will explain it to you." He said and took a swig of wine from his wineskin.

"According to the records, there is a specific atmosphere in the place we are going, and people with bronze aura would immediately be useless there. I will examine what I have to check, and you will keep an eye on me. You will help me move what we find there. I know that mission may not be chivalrous, but we do it for the kingdom's glory. Is everything clear?"

"But what about the horses and the master magister then? You're not an iron knight, are you?" Sorel asked shakily, and the Magister replied.

"The records show that the animals will be fine. And me? I have my ways. For now, this should be enough information for you. Now I will go to sleep. We have a big day ahead of us. Get some sleep. I wish you a good night." The Magister laughed and headed towards one of the tents.

At night, the knights took turns to watch; fortunately, nothing terrible happened.

They packed the camp in silence at dawn and continued on their way. After an hour, they were on the Bald Hills, and you could see the ruins of old civilizations covered with sand in the distance.

However, they did not go deep into the Wastelands. Around noon the convoy reached a valley between two large hills. At one end of the valley that faced the Wasteland stood a large boulder blocking the road.

"Yes, that's it, everything is correct!" The Magister screamed and galloped towards the boulders.

As soon as he arrived, he jumped off his horse and got strange objects from his saddlebag. Among them were shiny crystals.

With the sleeve of his robe, he began to clean the rock's surface from dust. The shape of a door with a recess in the center emerged from under the layer of dirt. The old man put the crystal into the cavity in the middle.

As soon as the crystal touched the cavity, it lost its luster, and the stone door brightened and opened by itself.

The open door invited everyone in the vicinity. Something was disturbing and repulsive about it, and at the same time, you wanted to go inside, to know what was waiting for you.

The Magister was the first to shake off his astonishment. He packed all the items in a bag, pulled his horse by the reins, and went inside.

"Master, wait! It can be dangerous!" Arnold shouted, but the master ignored him completely.

Everyone rushed after the Magister, trying to keep up with him.

The cave's interior was illuminated by sunlight streaming through the door, and everyone saw a great chamber of solid rock.

There were no traces of chisel marks anywhere, but this chamber could not have arisen naturally. The only answer after seeing this door and the inside of the rock is...

"Magic!"