The Lord took the reins again and led the stallion to the stables.
We crumpled, glanced over and feared, approached the man.
- Forgive me, Lord Darrell... Forgive me for taking your horse, I said, and... thank you for saving us. We're very... grateful to you.
The Lord nodded briefly and turned his back. We sighed and wept to the frowning Riverstein who looked at us.
* * *
The day was in agonizing anticipation of the coming punishment.
At night we, like thieves, sneaked past the sleeping gatekeeper (for goodness sake, Xenia had the foresight to pour the sleeping grass taken from Danina into his tincture) and, freezing from the rustles, disappeared into my room.
Xenia glanced frowningly at the broken knees and the bruise spilling on the side, I looked at the palms and bruises all over my body. I didn't want to talk, the events of the night, the fear and guilt that I experienced pressed on my shoulders. There was also fatigue. It made my legs tingle and sway, so my friend even looked a little surprised.
We decided not to go to the ablution room and soon wiped our wet canvas and fell asleep on the same bed, with our feet in different directions. Ksenka rolled up her washed cape under her head and immediately fell asleep. It was a long time before I closed my eyes, looking at the corners of the shade, and only when the sky began to lighten did I fall asleep.
It is clear that for the morning run we went out evil and not sleeping, and ran, barely dragging our legs. But, surprisingly, Harpy was only grinding her teeth angrily, looking at us. There was no whip in her hands. And it was so amazing, as if Mrs. Karislava appeared undressed, before that we got used to seeing a thin leather whip in her hands.
All day Ksenia and I shuddered at every sound, trying to guess what the capital lord was preparing for us as punishment and how terrible his revenge would be. Waiting and terrifying conjectures were so tormented by the unknown that in the evening we were ready to personally lock ourselves in a basement full of rats or switch to breadcrumbs and water, just not to languish in speculation.
But lord, it's as if he's gone into the water. Neither in the refectory, nor in the class, he appeared, causing anxious and excited whispers of novices. It was rumoured that the curator had left the Riverstein building at dawn and left for the capital. Rogneda could hardly hide her tears, and the other girls were upset, sniffing their noses.
During the break, I sneaked out into the yard and went to the stables. I quickly slipped an apple of joyful Marysa and looked into a distant enclosure. Kairos looked frowning, but stroked himself and thought, gently rubbing his warm lips into my palm with a treat.
- Thank you," I thanked him very seriously, "thank you for not leaving us yesterday.
The stallion was spinning his ears, crunching an apple, but his wily gaze convinced me that he understood everything perfectly.
I stood astonishedly looking at his legs. None of them had a wolf's teeth mark on them, though the horse was visibly limping at night, and I could see the ruby beads of blood left behind in the snow. I gently overdid the short, hard wool with my fingers. No wound, the only thing I could find was a semicircular scar that had recently been tightened with pink edges.
I stomped on the spot, wondering how it was possible and not finding an answer. I leaned on the door with hope, waiting for the Lord to appear, but the Lord did not. Well, at least there's no doubt the curator didn't leave. Judging from the night's events, there's no way a man would abandon his horse.
Feeding all the apples and bread leftovers, I left the stable.
Chapter 8.
The day is over, no punishment and no lord.
After spreading the scowl of Xenei, I went to my room to try to reflect on what had happened. In spite of fatigue, I was not sleepy. I gently rewound the rag on my finger, hiding Argard, and sat down on the window sill, watching the sunset rays slip away. Questions clustered in my head, pushed, but I couldn't find the answer...
He entered without knocking, opened the door silently, staring frowningly at his green eyes.
- Lord Darrell! - as I jumped from the window sill and instantly felt the fullness of my guilt. The man was looking at me in silence, I was nervous. And with each passing moment more and more. Finally, when he made a decision, the Lord darkened even more and extended his hand to me.
- Come," he said.
There was nothing left for me to do but obey. I put my fingers in his palm.
- Close your eyes," he commanded, and I closed them obediently, not knowing what he was going to do.
And I failed. It felt as if the floor had disappeared under my feet, and I slipped into the abyss from a height. My chest squeezed with a stream of air, let's not breathe, my body helplessly hung in the emptiness and only the hand of the Lord, still clutching my fingers as the only landmark in the vanished world.
What was happening was so unexpected and incomprehensible that I did not even have time to be afraid, only trying to understand and digest the feelings that had come up.
And then it was over. There was hardness under my feet again, the air wasn't whistling in my ears or pressing, I exhaled and opened my eyes.
And I got a cold sweat. I don't know how we got here, I don't know how the Lord did it, but we were right in the middle of the old village cemetery! The black gravestones and ritual winged sculptures over the graves caused horror, the dry trees pulled twisted branches to the seamy ground, and in the pale light of the moon seemed to be hidden in death!
The Lord himself, with his black cloak waving around his tall figure and his green eyes shining in the moonlight, also looked like the birth of the other world. And his strange silent immobility frightened me with its unnaturalness and alienity.
I remembered Kairos' incredibly fast healed leg, his murmuring lips, and his inhumanly fast movement, and everything fell into place. The sorcerer. The blueberry who dragged me to the cemetery at night for a bloody mass...
I didn't say anything. It's no use screaming, who's coming to my rescue? There's no one alive around, and I didn't want to draw too much attention to the dead. Quickly looked over my shoulder, trying to navigate, where to run and push fear into myself. The first panic attack was gone, leaving behind a wave of nasty weakness in her legs.
To my left was the climbing wall of the crypt, to my right was a burial place, slightly covered with snow. Between them was a narrow, curved path leading into the forest, behind which Riverstein glowed dimly.
I turned around abruptly, wrapped my skirt, not thinking, and went along that crooked stitch, praying that my foot wouldn't slip on the frozen clay. I passed by the crypt like a wounded roe deer, feeling with all my gut the breath of a hunter catching up with me. There was no doubt that the Lord was the hunter chasing his prey, and the only thought that was beating in my head was the desire to run away, hide, survive...
I was rushing through the cemetery without taking apart the roads and winding like a hare. On the fifth bend, my leg still drove, I waved desperately, trying to hold on, but collapsed, painfully pressed sideways against a granite pedestal. A quick look over my shoulder: empty, the curve of the stitch glowing in the moonlight, the pogost froze, lurking.
You can't see the crazy lord. Has he fallen behind? Or did he hide, putting me to sleep, my vigilance?
I jumped up, pulled off a dirty clay dress. The handkerchief came off somewhere, and my hair was white in the dark like a beacon. Because of a granite saint, a dark figure slowly came forward...
I desperately turned around, rushed aside, under the cover of the tombstone. I leaned on my back, trying to breathe. My heart seemed to rattle all over the graveyard as if it were an attack. The grating of the fence dimly shone in five fathoms, followed by ink, spreading rambling branches of centuries-old spruce.
Just to run! Take shelter in the forest, lurk on one of the trees, wait for the morning...
I slipped out from behind a rock trying to see the figure of a mad lord. Where did it go? The trail is empty again
. I listened. No steps, no rustle... no sound. The silence was pressing like a tombstone.
I got scared, then I stuck out of my dark hiding place. As she gazed carefully at the cemetery, she slipped back to the fence. The wretch saw me off with a dozen dead eyes of the grave sculptures. One more step. Look over my shoulder. The fences are so close, eating their paws as if offering to climb them. Promising to protect...
When I exhaled, I turned around and... the road was blocked by a giant ghoul roaring in a dead grin...
I froze, turning into a monument myself, unable to take my eyes away from the tender eyes and even forget to breathe. The dead man also immobilized himself, but he rottenly rocked his mouth with the failure of rotten teeth and sparkled with white, film-tight eyes.
His rotting body was covered with scabs, the remnants of the adjoining clothes hanging in pieces, opening the eyes disgusting picture of decomposition.
I held my breath as if enchanted by looking at a nightmare that had risen from the grave and was afraid to move. In complete silence, the undead bowed her head and stretched out her catching up arms to me with whitening bones through the flesh. Behind my back, a crow shouted deafly, and I could not stand it. With a heartbreaking cry I chose between a mad lord and a gentle lord the worst of two evils, and spinning at the heels I went back to the center of the stinger. I slipped by the familiar graves again, but I did not fall, and standing on the ice edge, and from summer I stumbled into the chest of the curator.
- Dead man! - I shouted, "Dead man in rebellion!
Surprisingly, the man didn't run anywhere, but like a little one pinned me down. I calmed down, inhaling the smell of his cloak, and trying to contain the panic that was coming up. The lord over my head muttered something, I shuddered, woke up and broke out of his arms. The man looked at me completely calmly.
And even appreciated.
And then he just walked up to me, slipped his hand down my waist, pressed me against him and kissed me. His lips slid into mine, pulling them apart, and I could feel his tongue running down my lips and brazenly invading my mouth.
And the same minute, it was gone. The short sound of a blow, the sharp wheezing, and Lord Darrell flew over my head, and fell a couple of fathoms from me. But he didn't crash on a granite pedestal as he should have, but turned around and landed on all four limbs like a beast.
I blinked and turned my gaze to the Arch'arrion, who had actually sent the curator on a flight. A cursory glance over his shoulder convinced the demon that I was all right and he turned back to Lord Darrell, who was already on his feet.
A few tense moments the men looked at each other, then the curator smiled and threw his hands away.
- Rion," he stretched out, "did not expect...
- Shaider," said the Arch'arrion, "what a surprise.
It was clear that it was unpleasant. The demon looked around in astonishment, looked at the quiet sorry man and asked angrily:
- What's going on here?
Lord Darrell looked at his dirty palms and sighed.
- I'm trying to provoke one intransigent person to reveal the essence," he said.
I thought about what I heard for a while.
- Wait, I didn't believe it," did you... deliberately scare me?? I almost died out of fear," he said. And I almost got eaten up by death!
The curator almost smiled embarrassedly.
- It wasn't exactly death... or rather, I'd say, not real. It was an illusion, a phantom...
I didn't understand, but I decided to think about it later.
- But why?
The Lord answered to the Arch'arrion, who was silently looking at him.
- She has a black aura with the seal of the ruling house of chaos. And yet all the habits, reactions and emotions of a purebred man. Not the slightest change in substance! Not once! Only outbursts of spontaneous magic, which is not characteristic of the dark at all! It acts, thinks and lives like a human being!
- I am a human being," I said gloomyly. I've been ignored.
- Didn't you think of anything better than to scare the girl out of her mind by bringing her to the cemetery and letting the phantom in?
- She wasn't very scared," said the Lord.
I choked outrageously. You weren't very scared? I almost went to my forefathers in terror!
- I catch her emotions, her mood... she was really scared only once when... uh... listen, Rion - the Lord was late, - what are you doing here?
Now the Arch'arrion has ignored the question.
- Yes... she was only really scared at the end... I wonder what?
Men were gloomy in their eyes. I trembled. The cold, the fear and the coming anger.
- And how," Lord Darrell the Arch'arrion mockingly asked, "did you find the answer?
- Not the slightest bit of understanding! I broke my head trying to understand! - Now they both looked at me as if I were a strange beast," the spells of conversion don't work on her. Neither fear nor other strong emotions show the slightest sign of change! And only archdeemons are capable of such total control! My horse, which is purebred zryad, does not react to it, even very actively obeys, but its aura is blacker than yours, only with strange inclusions of light! I can still assume that she is the strongest magician and created such a dense protection that I do not break through to the essence, but not a single sign of initiation to the Source! Not a single sign! And without consecration it is impossible to have so much power to keep illusion for so long!
Lord Darrell looked at me with almost despair. The demon grinned.
- Somebody will explain to me what's going on here - suddenly, even for myself, I barked. The men were surprised as if one of the tombstones was talking.
- Yes..." The Arch'arrion said slowly, "I think it's time we explained.
But again he answered not to me, but to the Lord!
- That's not where you were looking, Shaider. She is a man.
- But you can't fake the aura!
- But you can change... and there's only one way to make a man's aura black," said the demon calmly. Spider threw his eyebrow, thought and froze, amazed at the guess.
- The blood fusion... the eryma became... impossible... you did it? With her? But why???
- She's got Argard on her.
The curator was staring at me in terror. Then the restless Arch'Arrion.
- But how??
The demon shook his head, looked at me. And he turned his back.
- I don't think this is the best place to talk. And not the time. She threw out her power again when she called me, Argard's eating... The girl needs a rest.
I jumped in. When did I call him? I don't remember that! And anyway, until I figure out what's going on, I'm not moving. I'm sick and tired of all the weird stuff. Let them explain everything immediately, or...
I blacked out. The last thing I felt was how my strong hands picked me up, but I couldn't make out...
* * *
...it was the only way to increase her strength to save Argard. If I hadn't done that, she'd be dead already! No man can resist Argard long enough, you know that very well!
- So take him away, take you away!
- I can't. You can't take Argard away! I don't know why she has him, it's never happened in thousands of years! And I have the unpleasant feeling that it's no accident... the artifact takes its strength, feeds on its host... if I hadn't intervened then, now the girl would have only a cold corpse left, and Argard would be lost in the world of shadows. He always follows the soul of his owner.
- I don't think you cared about some girl's life... of course, it's just Argard.
- The Aargard is too valuable to lose. - The demon responded deafly.
- Of course, because he's preempting your power in Chaos," said Shaider.
- Power in Chaos preempts power, influence, and loyal companionship, just as it does everywhere else. But it's unacceptable to let Aargard disappear into the shadow world. You don't realize his power. And what can happen, fall into the wrong hands... my b
lood will support the girl until I find a way... to change things...
- Do you think someone interfered with the course of events?
- I don't know... I don't feel magic, there's no sign of the Force. But Argard's got a connection to the girl and the place she lives in. I can't break that connection yet.
- Does anybody else know?
- Just me. And now you... Weaving the threads of Destiny is a great mocker...
The silence that presses on forever. Breath intercepted...
- ...she woke up," said Lord Darrell quietly.
- Yes, he did.
I realized there was no point in pretending any more, and I opened my eyes and looked around and awoke.
- Where are we?
This wasn't the Northern Kingdom. It wasn't my world at all. Although I wasn't anywhere but Riverstein, I read descriptions of the capital and other cities. But what I saw just couldn't have been there...
I lay on a low couch covered with the soft skin of an unknown animal. The round room, in spite of the deep night, was flooded with light, but it was not oil lamps or thudding candles, the light came from round shining balloons, bunches hanging in the air under a conical ceiling. The ceiling itself is light, diverging rays from the center and these rays also flicker slightly, creating a beautiful pattern.
Half of the room is surrounded by a wall, and the other half is without a wall, which opens onto a terrace. And downstairs is the city.
And what a town it was!
Crystal spires of buildings rushing into the sky, so thin and fragile that one can't believe they were man-made. The walls of houses made of luminous pink materials, illuminate the streets, spiraling like the shell of a huge snail. Every house has amazing, big flower-sprayed trees and... fountains! Illuminated by colorful balloons soaring in the air, the jets shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow and the air is filled with a delicate melody of water. The city was located on five descending tiers and the dome of the temple shone with rainbow light on the top.
The Wind of the North Page 14