by Vitaly Zykov
Suddenly everything became terribly large for Yarik. Some incredible bulks rose on either side, constricting the world to a narrow band. The earth turned to stone. His claws were banging lively on these stones. He ran, ran very fast somewhere further. The road was vaguely familiar. Turns were winding. Every now and again wind brought some small and very nasty dust. He wanted to sneeze constantly, but he could not. It's dangerous! Hunters should not make disclosing sounds… A new turn… and a dead end. Only some gray walls around. Where should he go? A wave of uncertainty, almost panic began to fill him… Not his own panic, but someone else's!
Wait a minute, does not it look like the mountains of the Masters? And the entrance to their tunnel? It seems it does… The same pictures on the stone plane of the cliff, the same style… But what should he do? Yarik felt that he really needed to get somewhere behind the mountains, and so it was necessary to enter the tunnel.
So what does he do?! Yarik considered the problem standing before him as a newspaper reader regards a crossword puzzle at the end of a newspaper – as if it is not too necessary, but it is a pity not to solve it. Just for fun!
So, if he had magic, then maybe… Yarik mechanically slid somewhere inside. Immediately he noticed the full strangeness of his body, an incredible strangeness. But Yarik reacted to that calmly – another problem was before him. Suddenly he felt a weak flare of magic fire. In comparison with what was there before now it was like a shadow of spark. And already, almost distractedly he recalled in his memory the impression of feeling which he had at the moment of the stone door opening. This feeling was blurring and changing and trying to escape, to run away. Yarik began to correct and nourish this feeling with drops of magic, trying to project it somewhere outside himself. It was like a situation where a drunk musician had made a great music, then became sober and tried to remember it before an instrument, thoughtfully fingering keys, humming under his breath, trying to catch the escaping obstinate melody.
His construction was constantly falling apart and sweeping away, but Yarik restored the forgotten feeling again and again. Suddenly, something changed in the surrounding world. Some threads waved, an invisible bell rang like a mosquito… And Yarik once again witnessed an unusual but beautiful process of opening of the stone gate. However, contrary to the first case this time the stone was moving with a noticeable creak and jerks. Apparently, Yarik did something incorrectly, after all. In any case, he pressed himself against the wall. A deep instinct told him to do exactly so.
The gate opened, but not fully. It seemed that the mechanism snapped, and the gates would not open further, and would remain half-open forever… At this moment Yarik heard some puffing and stomping, and the squat beings in black armor from head to toe began to roll out through the opened pass. However, they no longer seemed too squat to Yarik!
«The Masters!» – Came a thought.
Four aggressive dwarves stood before the entrance to the tunnel. Judging by thick tension in the air, they were ready to sell their lives dearly, but there was a trouble – they saw no enemy. Yarik almost physically felt the thoughts of the Mountain Masters rolling like awkward boulders: the gate is opened, and it has not been opened by a dwarf, therefore it was some enemy, so let us die, brothers, but the enemy would not pass into our tunnels!!! Searching for enemies they were paying no attention to Yarik, and he took advantage of this. A quick rush, and, like a snake, he slipped inside the tunnel between the legs of the nearest dwarf. Yarik never witnessed the deepest astonishment that flooded the eyes of the Masters. His consciousness began to darken again, and only one thought struggled its way through this murky haze: «The Big! The Big ahead! Soon! Soon!!»
«What is this Big, by Dark Gods?» – This thought Yarik had no time to think through. The world spun into a colorful carousel and vanished…
CHAPTER 24
– Cassandra Arrant, the commander of the first Wing of Agate Claws arrived on your order! – A young woman in a blue uniform came into the office of Master of Punishers and stretched at attention.
– Arrived, you say? On my order? It's good, it's just wonderful. Orders is a wonderful thing in the army… Aren't they, the Wing commander Arrant?! – A young, twenty years old, man got up from the elegant table made of Ralayat oak and came close to the woman, almost face to face.
– Yes, Lir Bryms! – Cassandra, strained a little, but continued to gaze yearningly at the boss.
– Let me ask you, lirissa Cassandra, who ordered you to burn out this Polot? The capital, let me remind you, of a state, which is under protection of the United Protectorate! Tell me, commander, yet whilst commander, Arrant! – A soft, smooth voice of the young man got steel overtones, and his eyes stared into the eyes of the woman.
Under the Master's gaze Cassandra felt as if she got a strike of lightning without a block. There was a reason for which this youthful dandy ever looked away, probably only Masters could withstand such a gaze!
– Are you sleeping?! – Nodules moved on the Master's cheeks. – Or maybe you don't want to answer the question?
Cassandra shivered and cursed herself: «You fool!! Why are you limp?! Pull yourself together immediately!!!». Then, with a sigh, she turned to Bryms:
– Master, we were ordered to cover our emissary in Polot and perform his orders…
– And what orders did he give?
– All of them concerned the search of individuals who traveled through Plaguelands. This actions were recognized ineffective, and then our demand was sent to dwarves, the demand to detain any individuals who would go through the tunnel, which is the only way to the civilized world. Besides that, the emissary suggested that the wanted man could get into slavery to people of Plaguelands, and it was decided to go to the fair of slaves.
– And so what?
– Then something strange happened. We received the order to destroy Steward's palace, if something happens with the emissary, but it was regarded as an unlikely event… – Cassandra paused and sighed again. Apparently, there was something she did not want to talk about.
– So, what happened? – Bryms went to the window and asked, standing his back to the dragon rider.
– The emissary's communication amulet went out. He was killed. At the same time, a fighting began on the central square. – Cassandra thought for a moment and added: – No, the fighting had begun even earlier. – She briefly shook her head and continued: – I decided to attack the palace. If our agent was killed, it could be connected with his mission. In order to prevent the wanted man to get to enemies and to accomplish the act of justice, provided in the law about Nold magicians life, it was decided to destroy the palace, near which Scar had been killed…
– Who, I beg your pardon? – Bryms turned to the woman and raised his eyebrow.
Cassandra blushed a little and corrected:
– Agent Naskar, our emissary in the land of Steward.
– Ah, well, continue then…
– Agent Naskar was killed near the palace, and therefore it was decided to destroy this nest of vice. And above all, it did not go beyond the order of acts of intimidation. I gave the order to attack.
Bryms grinned:
– Lerissa Cassandra, why does it seem to me, that the purpose of the attack was very specific. Wasn't it?
The woman was silent, her eyes fixed at a point on the wall.
– Well, it's all understandable. But why did you, darkness devour you, burn the whole city?! It is now one big burnt spot. Grass will not grow there for a hundred years. – Voice of Bryms no longer resembled the roar of battle horns, it was soft and enveloping again and expressed only grudging curiosity.
– Master, forgive me, Master! – Bryms with surprise felt confusion in the voice of Cassandra hitherto pent-up. – I could not handle!
– Excuse me, but with what? You already have fifteen combat operations. You are an experienced commander, dragons obey you…
At the last words Cassandra even shuddered, froze, and then as if exploded.
Bryms came to the table, picked up a small cube with shining facets, turned it in his hands, which caused sunbeams to run through the room, turned to Cassandra and asked:
– What did you mean when you said «themselves»? Do they no longer obey their riders?
– I don't know. At first everything was as it should be: a pass, a hit with fire, a getaway. The whole Wing committed a pair of passes, and then Ro Rukh – this is my dragon – made a sharp turn and started looking somewhere down. Everything was already shrouded with smoke from the burning palace, and I could see nothing… But it seems that she saw something, and sent it to the other dragons. They all as if went mad after that. They started to conjure and burn everything!.. – Cassandra already screamed.
Bryms came close and patted her on the shoulder.
– Well, well, my dear. Calm down. Take this, sip the wine. – A glass of ruby wine appeared in his hand. Cassandra nodded gratefully and drained the glass in small sips. – And what did you say about conjuring?
She lifted her eyes, put the glass aside, and said:
– They conjured. And burned houses with fire. I've never seen such power. They even opened the Small Lower Gate and called out the Scarlet Fog… Sometimes it seemed that the air itself was burning from their fire. The whole city looked like an ocean of fire from above. Flows of heat were so powerful that even dragons were forced to rise higher… The Scarlet Fog took the whole city into a ring. People ran along the streets, and got into its sticky hugs. – Her eyes became wet. – But dragons continued conjuring and the fire poured like an endless stream, burning everything in its way… Very few were so lucky to break out. And dragons hunted these singles… few people succeeded to reach the forest… I saw two people fleeing into the wood, followed by one of the dragons. Then he burned trees for a long while…
– And what happened then?
– Then? – Cassandra sobbed and wiped her eyes. – Then we flew off to some distance and sat down on a meadow. Dragons needed to rest. They obeyed orders again. But just refused to answer questions. Only my Ro Rukh said one word at all.
Hearing that, Bryms tensed like a hound, his entire body leaned towards the woman.
– A word? What word was it?
Cassandra shrugged in bewilderment and said indifferently:
– I didn't understand. She said that a khorr[4] was in the city…
The movement through the forest was very hard for Yarik. Although, it was too bold to call it «movement». He dragged his body forward, it required effort and willpower to just move his feet. Pulses of pain were making him crazy. His burned skin burst and the cracks were bleeding. His body went hot and then cold. As Yarik could understand, any other man with such burns would have died a few days before. And above all was Darg!
Yarik constantly had to hold up and bring to life his master who could collapse in a dead faint at any moment. Darg was in none too brilliant form too. Let he had less burns, but they were much deeper. Actually, Yarik was very surprised by his owner. Well, Yarik himself, recently revealed simply anomalous ability to regenerate, but Darg was a usual man! Or not usual? There under rags of his burned skin already appeared new thin pink skin. Although only a week had passed since their escape from the city!
Yarik remembered well the moment when the wildest tremor returned him to his senses in a heap of rotting leaves. According to his internal feeling it turned out that he had just over-extreme temperature, so he was in fever. A quick examination revealed such severe burns that only their look could cause desire to howl mournfully. At this point Yarik heard a moan, and that finally got him through. Master! Yarik rushed toward the sound, where Darg had fallen from the edge of the ravine. His legs, however, did not hold him, and Yarik had to creep wriggling like a snake.
Darg was lying on his back. His chapped lips incessantly whispered something, his eyes wandered in places known only to Dark gods. Yarik collapsed hopelessly beside him and fell asleep. Nothing depended on him: he could not treat his master who's life depended only on ability of his body to cure itself.
Awaking for the second time, Yarik examined Darg at once. His own burns were already covered with a thin film. It was even dry in some places. But the high fever remained. Then Yarik listened and savagely staggering, walked towards a bubbling sound. As one could expect, a small stream was flowing at the bottom of this ravine. It was trifling matter to wash and cool the burning skin. Yarik lay down on his stomach, held up his breath and dipped his face into the water. A slow flow carried away the heat and brought clarity into his suffering mind. But it was impossible to lie here for long – his master needed water too. The problem was to bring water to Darg who was lying in delirium.
The only clothes Yarik had was his burnt loincloth which barely held on him. To wet it and then pressing, drip on the wounded man – Yarik just could not imagine nothing more wild. To bring the water in bare hands was impossible too, so he had to drag Darg closer to the water.
To drag – it was easier said than done! When you self reeling from weakness and pain, when you are in fever and all your limbs are aching it is not easy to do such an exercise. But Yarik coped. Although he had lost consciousness once during this procedure, Darg was delivered to the stream intact. It remained only to remove carefully his rags, and try to wash away all dirt from his wounds, praying to gods to bring no contagion. They spent a couple of days near this brook. At some point, Darg's temperature rose so much that Yarik lowered him into the cold water to bring the heat down.
But nothing evil happened. Master's wounds gradually cicatrized and on the third day he woke up. Yarik was not a medic, but he understood that that was clearly a record time for a man. Yarik himself had also recovered, although any other man with such wounds certainly could not even rise.
Their only problem was the lack of food. Yarik walked around the vicinity and collected everything that could be consumed: roots, peanuts, some tasteless mushrooms. He also fed Darg who was coming to life with this food. Finally he came to himself so that he could think and talk quite clearly.
– What's the day? – Was his first question. – What's the day, how far have we gone from the city?
– Marhuz knows. I've been unconscious for a long time as well. At least four days have already passed…
– City… – Darg swallowed. – How far is the city?
Yarik thought for a while.
– We were not running for long, I think, but we were in such a state that we could have made a decent distance without noticing it. But let's assume that's not far. If they look for us, they'll find us!.. If there is someone who would… – The last phrase Yarik muttered under his breath. The fire was awesome!
– We have to go… to the east… – Darg rose and helplessly leaned back again.
– But why? The city has been burned down and the camp of the tribe is left behind. So if we have go anywhere then it is be back… to our people. – To call nomads «our people» was pretty hard for Yarik.
Darg swallowed again and explained:
– Teorn's alive. I saw him and Bosk jump out through the window, overlooking on some alley… And he saw that I was alive too… – Darg licked his dry lips and continued: – This beast is the chief now. As soon as the bustle calms down after the fire and from change of the leader, he'll immediately send Bosk with killers after my trail… The old man will find me… In the tribe I have no chance for life or… or for revenge.
At this point Darg fell asleep again. Yarik, cursed heartily and lay nearby, knowing too well that their campaign will need forces. Darg was absolutely right. The fifth son of the chief, albeit popular, had no chance. He was wounded and could come to the tribe when the power seized, so his only way was to escape. And to run as far as possible from here. As Yarik could under
stand, these nomads were very scrupulous in such matters. Sohog in his time searched the brothers of his father throughout all Sarduor, and calmed down only when their heads were brought to him. Let it be Teorn not Sohog, but he loved power no less.
That's why Yarik, reeling and swearing, had now to carry or just support Darg, leading him to the east. Yarik did not know the local geography, so the only thing that he could to do was to keep to the given direction… even having no idea where they could get. Darg was absolutely useless: he could only force himself to move legs.
According to Yarik's calculations, it would be good if they could pass this way a mile or a mile and a half per day, which was even optimistic. In about a week of this campaign Darg gained strength and was already quite able to walk without help. The speed increased a little.
But forage task was still lying on Yarik. He had recovered from his wounds, and only a faint itching of the young skin disturbed him now. Their meager diet consisted mostly of plant food. They had no weapon all of it had been lost during the night run through the forest, and it was useless to expect to kill an animal with bare hands. Especially if you remember that they had no enough strength yet. Darg was very annoyed with such diet. As he said, he was a warrior, and warrior ought not to eat grass like a sixpaw. Yarik justified himself with lack of appropriate equipment and animals. But as they say, going into the steppe for shushas, be ready to meet a roarer.
This day, Yarik's belly muttered wildly since early morning. His stomach mad from hunger struggled inside his belly like a wounded bird, but Yarik bravely suppressed all its attempts to rebel. He walked with light-footed gait of a forest dweller (though about him it was more correct to say Forest!), irritated Darg heavily strode behind. For steppe inhabitants it was not easy to move in forest jungle, especially for those accustomed to move only like a soldier, i.e. on horseback. So it was senseless to talk about his mood.
«Oh, it would be good to find the same bush with nuts as yesterday… We filled our bellies so great then. Or it would be even better, if a piece of meat runs right at me now, roasted with spices and garlic… Wow!!!» – Yarik's thoughts were far away from the forest and the pathway winding under his feet.