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Only a moment later did he regain control of his reflexes enough to take a closer look at the now motionless shape. Brag had never seen a creature even remotely resembling it. From the appearance of its head, however, he deduced that he was looking at a representative of a fearsome tribe of desert people, more commonly known as varvars, and in the Zagórze region simply called sand vultures. Brag had never heard of desert people ever leaving the Great Wilderness of the East. And even though Zagórze was directly adjacent to their habitats, no sandeel had ever crossed the Impassable Mountains that separated the two lands. Just as no human had ever mustered the courage to explore the Great Wilderness. True, there were tales of a magun named Sagu who supposedly ventured into these inhospitable regions, but since he was never heard from again, it was believed he simply turned back and fled out of shame, perhaps even to the hundred-gate Megana itself.

Brag didn't delay any longer! He had to leave this death-smelling cave. And follow the Witch's directions to the West.

When a gust of cold air finally enveloped him, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was the middle of the night. He hadn't expected so much time had passed since he entered the Cave. A dull rumble reached him from the distance. And the rustle of the wind rustled in the tall pines, but it wasn't this that alarmed the hunchback. From the east, where the Impenetrable Mountains towered, a rumbling sound could be heard. Brag already knew what it was. The wild Varvars had crossed the border. And they were heading straight for Dal! Although he hadn't yet seen the approaching packs of monsters with triangular heads, he was certain they were heading straight for the castle. His castle!

He broke into a run, not waiting for the morning sun this time.

He didn't really know why he was doing so! After all, nothing good had ever happened to him in Dal. He had practically no friendly soul there. But only one thought throbbed in his mind: Warn Jolanda! Warn Flo! Warn Count Stogniew!

Before the first rays of sunlight reached him, his bare feet clattered on the wooden bridge, as always, spanning the steep moat. Dal had no fear of attack!

Brag screamed like a man possessed, pounding the oak towers with his hands. The sleepy guard appeared only after a long while, but seeing the hunchback, he spat on the ground in disgust and was about to hit the intruder on the head with a heavy goad when the intruder, cleverly dodging under his hand, burst into the castle courtyard, filling it with screams.

"Terror! Terror!" Brag screamed at the top of his lungs, luring more people onto the dew-soaked stones that lined the square behind the gate. "Sand-eaters! The sand-eaters are coming!

" "You've lost your mind, you freak!" growled a grim guard who had just stumbled out of the tower. "Sand-eaters in Zagórze! Something! You must have eaten yourself a mad meal, you rascal! Come on, catch the freak!" he ordered a manhunt and stretched out his enormous paws.

Brag, however, was not easily captured. Using his almost childish size, he easily eluded the still-sleepy guards, screaming ever louder:

"Terrible warwars! SAND-Eaters!!! Save yourself, who can!"

His roars drew more and more people into the courtyard.

"What are those screams?!" – The powerful voice of Count Stogniew, who leaned out of the window of the castle common room, finally brought the growing din under control.

Even the hunchback, hearing him, stopped and allowed himself to be led to the window without resistance.

“This freak has gone mad, sir!” the guard growled, trying to force the hunchback to his knees. To his surprise, Brag, despite the man using all the strength of his knotted muscles, refused to be pinned to the ground.

“Is that the crooked one?” Stogniew asked, unconsciously straightening his disheveled shirt and narrowing his nearsighted eyes. “What does this freak want?

” “Honored Count!” the hunchback bowed proudly, ignoring the guard’s hand that tried to cover his mouth. “A dozen or so miles from the castle, near Kozia Grota, I was attacked by three sand vultures, and in the distance I could hear their entire army approaching!” Brag bowed his head again and said, "Order, eminent lord, to close the castle gates! They'll be here before the sun rises high! Order the walls to be tended, venerable count! Before it's too late!" The hunchback fell silent and stared intently at the count, who was nervously pulling at his long mustache.

"Sir!" said Kleba, the commander of the castle guard, who had meanwhile appeared in the courtyard and was eyeing the hunchback warily. "That rascal escaped from the castle yesterday and wandered around Stary Bór all day and night! And what was he doing there?" Kleba shrugged and tapped his forehead expressively, making it clear what he thought of all this!

"Certainly, sir," added the second guard. "His mind was agitated, and he's gone completely mad." "Maybe he's even hooked up with the yahoos! It's easy for such a freak!" Hang the dog! It had never been heard of a sand-eater appearing on this side of the Impenetrable Mountains! Hang the freak! That was it!

The crowd that had gathered in the courtyard murmured in agreement! Shouts rose, and some of the clasped hands turned black with stones.

"Sir!" This time Brag fell to his knees. "Order messengers be sent towards the Goat Cave!" he howled hollowly. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't believe him.

"Look at the freak!" voices rang out. "He's dreaming of Goat Cave! He's in cahoots with the Witch! He wants to sell us to a witch! By the gate, the scab! Hang the freak!"

And the scream grew louder and louder. Already a few of the braver men began to reach for the hunchback, tugging for now only at the tattered jerkin he was wearing. Only fear of the wrath of the powerful count, who was pensively observing the entire scene and continuing to tug at his long mustache, kept everyone from carrying out their threats against the hunchback.

Finally, Stogniew gave an angrily snort and, turning on his heel, disappeared through the window.

The crowd immediately interpreted this as a gesture of acquiescence, and dozens of merciless hands seized Brag and dragged him toward the castle walls, where the impatient farmhand had already thrown a rope through one of the gargoyles, dangling all the way to the ground. The second one quickly twisted the noose!

The hunchback didn't defend himself! Suddenly, everything became completely indifferent to him. These stinking manure men, and then the people who looked no better than the sand scavengers he'd encountered in the cave, were they worth saving?

He felt a wave of heat spreading just below his neck. He knew what was about to happen! On his head, he felt the rough surface of the noose the hated Marg was throwing around his neck. The hunchback's muscles tensed involuntarily.

But suddenly, just above his head, a terrifying scream rang out, chilling everyone. One of the guards, eyes wide with fear, pointed to the east and screamed an indescribable shriek. Those on the battlements seemed petrified with fear.

"Loooooo!" one of the guards finally found his voice. "Stary Bór is marching to Dali!"

Indeed, the darkening forest line in the distance seemed to be slowly approaching the castle walls. Shouts of terror rang out. The first terrified guards began to run down the walls. Seeing this, Kleba rushed toward the gate and, forcing several of his men to leave, lowered the heavy portcullis with them.

Count Stogniew himself also appeared, roaring like a wounded beast, thrashing about the courtyard in his silver helmet, calling the warriors to the walls. His example had an impact on the rest, and the confused guards began to return to the walls. However, the first to appear was Brag, and in his hand gleamed an abandoned oak bow.

When panic broke out on the walls, the hunchback freed his neck from the noose and, without waiting for anyone, nimbly climbed a protruding beam, grabbed his bow, and surveyed the surroundings carefully, leaning out from the castle bay window. At first, it seemed to him that it was indeed Stary Bor (Old Forest) that had set out to conquer Dale. Only after further observation did he realize his mistake. Indeed, the great crowns of the old trees were swaying, moved by some overwhelming force, which indeed gave the impression of movement, but a different wave was rolling toward the walls.

"Sand-eaters!" Brag roared with all his might, and immediately fired his first arrow at the invaders, which sank into the shimmering ribbon of greenish bodies that were gliding towards the fortifications of Dali.

The hunchback's shout clearly sobered several of the castle's garrison. Count Stogniew himself had already managed to climb his enormous bulk onto the castle battlements and, seeing the approaching attackers, shouted,

"Arrows at them! Arrows!" And following the hunchback's example, he grabbed his bow and began shooting at the approaching sand-eaters.

Soon, a whole group of guards joined them. For now, however, their missiles were causing little damage among the enemy. The arrows were clearly ricocheting off the strange, brownish bucklers the warvars were wearing.

Brag, panting from the constant drawing of his bow and the unleashing of his copper tips, paused for a moment, wiping away the greasy sweat that had fallen from his eyes. Now he could better observe the army of sandeaters, which, like a rising wind, was approaching the castle walls. They moved without much order, as if unguided. Stumbling over each other, they crowded beneath the castle gate, and the hunchback once again saw the glowing greenish round eyes set on a triangular head. The monsters' long, curved paws gleamed menacingly with blades he had already become familiar with, but they now seemed far more dangerous than before. Some were also equipped with strange-looking weapons, the purpose of which Brag initially couldn't guess until one of the sandeaters released it with a whistling sound. A shimmering shape with curved horns soared into the air with a howl, striking one of the guards in the forehead before returning to the great guard's hands. Brag glanced at the fallen defender and immediately averted his eyes in disgust. Half the guard's face turned to pulp.

But the defenders' arrows also began to wreak increasing havoc among the sandeaters. Realizing that the brownish bucklers were a barrier to the projectiles, they tried to hit the hideous triangular heads directly, and more and more quivering bodies tumbled into the moat.

In the meantime, Kleba, who was one of the few who had experience in fighting on the walls, ordered the women and the peasants staying in the castle to bring stones to the walls, which were piled up in one of the courtyards for this purpose, and ordered old Flo, who was moaning with fear hidden near the well, to take a few cooks and boil as much water as possible, which they were then to deliver to the defenders.

The Count's booming voice also emboldened the defenders. Brag, realizing he could do more damage to the attackers with stones, began hurling them at the larger groups of enemies. Every now and then, a sandeel he hit would whistling down to the greenish-slimy ground at the foot of the castle. Suddenly, the changeling caught a glimpse of golden hair not far from him. With her brow raised proudly, Jolanda shot toward the guards with a bow and a spinning wheel, the kind the hunchback had once seen Kleba wield. One of the guards shielded her with a large wooden peak, trying to protect the chatelaine from the curved spears hurled by the sandeels. Unconsciously, Brag took a few steps toward her, and then, with horror, he saw the guard guarding Jolanda fall backward, while a whirling shape flew toward the chatelaine.

What happened next was beyond Brag's description. With inhuman speed, the hunchback leaped into the air and, in one movement, caught the flying blade right in front of the count's daughter's face. He himself couldn't understand how he had accomplished this.

Now he was the one protecting the chatelaine.

Meanwhile, the defenders' situation was growing increasingly dire. However, there was a will guiding the actions of the triangular-headed sandeels. After the initial, chaotic attacks on the walls, which the attackers had undertaken, clearly hoping for complete surprise, they had regrouped, and now methodically, successive waves of the greenish army were pounding the walls of Dali. Apparently, following their orders, when they failed to seize the castle's main gates, they tried to scale the walls. Some made use of their long paws, tipped with sharp claws, which they used to cling to the smallest cracks in the walls, climbing upwards with catlike agility. Others used slender pine trees cut down in the nearby forest.

But the worst was yet to come!