by Alex Sapegin
“Have we still got a long ways to go?” one of the warriors asked.
“You’ll go as long as it takes, got it?” Brig rebuffed him. He, too, was tormented by the same question, but he knew a little something more about the orc than the others (except Berg) did. He preferred to trust “the Wolf’s” instincts and not grumble.
Ilnyrgu took up her spot near the mule with its small rider, on whom they’d also put some chain mail, and the caravan got underway. Keeping their guards up, the warriors cocked their crossbows and tensely examined the surrounding path of the undergrowth. The orc suspected that their enemies were using visual canopies and had prepared a “warm welcome” for them. Her sense of danger had never yet been wrong….
… She arrived in Orten on time. If she’d had an unexpected delay somewhere for a couple of weeks, Tyigu would certainly be dead by now. She had discovered the surveillance following the half-orc on the seventh day after the strange massacres at the School of Magic. No one knew exactly what had happened there. Various rumors went about the town, each more ridiculous than the last, but patrols filled the streets. The School was cordoned off by Royal Informants from Kion and punishing mages. Rector Etran was arrested. Some said an attempt was made on the life of the daughter of his Lordship Ratel of the Light Forest. The Forest elves called for the blood of the guilty parties. War was in the air…. Big politics, with its heavy footstep, had stepped on the anthill called Orten. All of Tantre had been stirred up by what happened there.
Ilnyrgu found the agents and, surprised by this unpleasant discovery, followed the spy and was even more shocked to find out that the spy was an orc. The “tail” lead the Wolf to the outskirts of the city. She ran back faster than a hare. At the sound of her alarm, the military “star”[2] consisting of her loyal she-wolves (who had entered the city illegally and were constantly monitoring the fencing school master’s house) quickly saddled up….
Berg had let his guard down. His distance from Orten to the Steppes—the kingdom of the “white” orcs—had had its effect. The problem was, the agents of the ruling house earned their bread. They’d managed to piece together data from many different confusing stories told by the western merchants and caravanners. As soon as one of them mentioned a new fencing school opening up in Orten, which was headed by a half-orc, these rumors quickly reached the royal palace. Ilnyrgu suspected at first there was only a lone informant in the city. Once he confirmed the rumor, he informed his superiors of it. Then a team of liquidators showed up in Tantre. The queen desired Berg’s and Tyigu’s heads, and four dozen “knives”[3] traversed the entire continent to get to their target. They were so close; they weren’t planning on stopping now…
They were able to slip out of town unnoticed. It was a shame they had not been able to rent a boat. All the vessels were chartered by the Royal agents and all access to Orten’s port was covered by soldiers. The half-orc had also hired five professional guards in “the Plain,” and the small caravan headed west. The refugees’ road led to Ortag, where Berg was planning to make it to Duyal by portal….
“Aunt Il, I’m scared,” Tyigu leaned in to the Wolf. “It’s a bad forest.”
“Don’t be scared.” Ilnyrgu turned to the girl and, looking with true vision, saw a glowing human silhouette twenty yards from the road. Danger! “To battle!” she cried at the top of her lungs, grabbing Berg’s daughter from the saddle. An arrow flew over her head and hit a tree on the other side of the path.
One of their crossbow warriors wheezed and fell to the ground with an arrow in his neck. Berg and Ilnyrgu’s warriors managed to grab their swords and fend off the arrows in time. Then a dozen fireballs attacked the caravan from the direction of the forest, but the magical attack wasn’t successful. The she-wolves and other hired warriors were decked out in defense amulets just like shaman trees covered in handkerchiefs and scraps of material. They were spared.
“Quiet!” the orc whispered, covering the girl’s mouth and looking into her wide, frightened eyes.
“It’s the ‘knives’!” Brig the Brick cried when he caught a glimpse of the killers in the service of the Steppe Crown, right before they threw a curtain of invisibility on themselves.
“Don’t move!” Ilnyrgu shouted, throwing a protective dome up over herself and Tyigu. Just in time, too, because the mages on the “knives’” side were very alert. Battle spells rained down on them like dried peas from a sack with holes in it. The flashes on the surface of the dome were so bright they hurt their eyes. Beyond the invisible border of the magic shield, a battle was seething. Both sides sustained fatalities. The “knives” cut the guards down in the first few minutes, but they lost five of their own, too, who were killed by the swords of Berg and the lady orcs.
What Berg was doing was indescribable. Ilnyrgu saw for the first time ever that he was truly a master of the sword, who had earned the title A-rei—white wolf. The half-orc rushed between trees just like a whirlwind. His enemies didn’t have time to react to his lightning-speed attacks and were quickly diced into ground round. In a few minutes, Berg had drawn half the attackers to himself. The other half went after the “star” of the she-wolves and Brig. A couple of mages methodically worked to destroy the protective dome over Il and Tyigu.
“What’s wrong with you?” Il turned her attention away from recharging the dome for a second and glanced at her ward. Tyigu’s eyes were glazed over.
“He’s here,” she pointed upward.
Even through the protective dome, they could feel the unbearable heat coming from the spot where the mages had been standing moments ago. Next, several powerful fireballs tore five of the “knives” to shreds. The enormous dragon that landed then, cutting off the tops of the trees with its tail, killed another two. A long tongue of flame from his open mouth turned four more into living torches. In another few moments, all was over for the attackers. Of forty “knife” orcs, not one had survived….
***
Berg covered his sleeping daughter with a blanket and walked out of the cave. A happy little fire lit the small clearing. The surviving she-wolves were cleaning their weapons a ways away from the fire. Three of five were left…. Ilnyrgu stirred their dinner, cooking in a pot, and conversed about something with the dragon that had rescued them. If the Lord of the Sky hadn’t shown up just at that moment, they would all have been left lying there on the forest path, and Berg’s and Tyigu’s heads would occupy their intended places in the saddlebags. Ah, if the dragon had only shown up a bit sooner…. Berg was used to taking a philosophical view of other people’s deaths, but Brig’s death cut him to the core. The Brick didn’t have to go with them, but he didn’t want to leave his friend in a time of need. He gave his life so that Berg and Tyigu could remain alive….
“Why did you help us?” Ilnyrgu asked the dragon, blowing some foam off the spoon and testing the soup to see if it was ready.
She had already told him all the latest news. He listened carefully and started asking questions about the School of Magic. But Ilnyrgu couldn’t help him at all. The ancient monster knew things, and it scared her to hear about it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the dragon himself used to live in the city of Orten. What nonsense! He asked about recent events in great detail, and was surprised to hear about the arrest of the School rector…. Then she got undercurrents of the sense that she knew him personally. He dropped a few sentences about the Rauu and then asked outright whether she knew anything about the fate of the Snow Elf students? He shook his head suspiciously at the news that every last Rauu student left Orten through a portal two days after the strange events at the School. Shivers ran down the orc’s back—being in the ancient creature’s presence caused an irrational fear. Berg was looking on, and he was willing to bet the dragon just smirked. The gigantic head turned towards the half-orc. The phosphorescent eyes sparkled with a deep blue.
“Okay, I’ve got a question for Berg.” The dragon licked his chops and drew in a deep breath of the tantalizing smell of meat with sp
ices. “Has anything unusual happened to your daughter in the past six months?”
“No,” Berg shrugged.
“I get angry when I’m lied to!” The Lord of the Sky clamped his jaws shut. Berg could see the women’s backs tighten with tension; he too felt a chill run down his spine. The dragon could kill them at any moment, but instead, he had taken them to his dwelling place and given them temporary shelter. “Remember that.”
“A carriage… My student gave Tyigu dragon’s blood to drink!” the half-orc exhaled, recalling the circumstances of his meeting Kerr for the first time. Il’s eyes got as big as an elf’s. She wasn’t aware of this story. The dragon nodded and turned away. “As it happened….”
“That’s right. I sensed my blood, Tyigu’s fear, and I sensed her being threatened by mortal danger. Could I let them kill her after I saved her with my own blood…. I kind of blessed her, and it’s customary to protect the ones you’ve blessed, not only among humans.”
“Orcs,” one of the she-wolves corrected him.
“Orcs then,” the dragon answered in an easygoing tone. “I want to know why they were hunting you. These weren’t simple orcs. They handled their weapons with the skill of many years of practice. And they don’t teach peasants to fight like that,” the Lord of the Sky revealed his knowledge of fencing. “Tell me the truth.”
“Tyigu is the illegitimate daughter of Queen Lagira and… and mine. I should clarify that she was just a princess then…,” Berg answered, letting his savior in on the family secret.
“That still doesn’t explain why they were trying to kill you.”
“Illegitimate children are a dishonor, and, what’s more, according to orc law, the royal’s firstborn has the right to inherit the throne, whether it’s a boy or a girl,” Il explained. “Tyigu is the queen’s firstborn.”
Wow, that’s messed up. It’s like a Spanish soap opera in the kingdom of the “white” orcs. He didn’t want to ask anymore. It was clear Queen Lagira had an official, legitimate heir and the passions of her youth weren’t letting her have peace. Considering the immutable laws on the succession of the throne, it became clear why the mother gave the order to exterminate her own daughter. And rights of inheritance weren’t the only thing. The child could be used as a banner of freedom by various conspirators against her reign.
“Lagira hid her pregnancy. It’s fortunate that I managed to suffocate the midwife before she managed to suffocate my daughter. Please allow me not to disclose how I knew she was giving birth or how I got into the palace. I did. And before they strangled us both, I escaped.” Anticipating the next question, Berg went on: “Neither I nor Tyigu needs a throne. We want to live a quiet, peaceful life. I want to raise my grandchildren and pass my experience and knowledge on to them.”
The dragon laid his head on the ground and stared at the fire. The tongues of fire were reflected in his blue eyes and the red sparks flew onto his scales.
“What is your connection to the she-wolves?” His sharp claw pointed to the women warriors. “Elite warriors like themselves don’t help anyone out by the kindness of their hearts!” The dragon once again dumbfounded his company with his awareness. He recognized the orcs as the skillful killers they were. Everyone secretly began to wonder how the winged beast knew such things.
“Berg got the right to call himself A-rei—a master of the sword,” Ilnyrgu said. The dragon coughed. “And, not long before he entered the palace, he married my sister. They killed her and all my family when he escaped. The queen wiped out all traces. Before she died, my sister made me swear not to let anything happen to Tyigu. So, there’s no mystery here. I made a promise, and the other she-wolves are from my clan, and they will help me avenge the queen for killing our relatives.”
“One last question. How did you hide in the big city? There’s a mage on every corner in Orten. Spotting a mask’s as easy as 1-2-3 for them.”
Ilnyrgu laughed. She tried hard to hide her fear behind that laugh. She explained that orcs used a different masking technique called shapeshifting. They used masks too, but, if they needed to blend in, they would choose the shapeshifting technique. The mages can’t spot the she-wolves’ secret technique because a person who’s masked for a while turns into a different person—everything coincides up to the minutest traits and tactile sensations during verification. So, in fact, it was just some hired men who left Orten….
The dragon shuttered. The orc’s words on the magical technique hit a raw nerve with him.
“Can this be learned?” he asked, beating his tail against the ground in excitement.
“Of course. I can teach it in one day. But why, allow me to ask, does a dragon need masking magic designed for humans and other bipeds?” Il smiled.
“Are you really so curious about that?” the dragon now laughed too. “I’m prepared to let you in on my secrets, but I need you to take a blood oath first. Can you agree to swear to me with your blood?” His blue eyes shone brighter than the light of the fire.
Berg looked at the ancient creature and couldn’t shake the feeling they’d met before. There was something very familiar about the humongous beast.
“What have we got to lose?” the half-orc extended his hand and stuck his finger with the tip of his knife. The young she-wolves followed in kind, and Ilnyrgu was the last to take the oath, looking into the monster’s yellow pupils.
The dragon cast a spell.
“Berg, please don’t be too surprised and forgive me, but I had to. And all the more so since I want to take a few more lessons from you on the way to Ortag,” the dragon said in his deep bass, then turned into a human.
“Targ!” Ilnyrgu whispered. “I knew he wasn’t just a simple human boy….”
***
Andy squinted at the she-wolves. Something was amiss, again! How else could he explain their long faces? Master Berg cleared his throat behind Ilnyrgu.
“Can someone give me a mirror?” Andy asked.
No one said a word or bat an eye. The women kept on staring at him silently. Ilnyrgu walked all the way around the were-dragon, inspecting him. Hmmm…, this is getting old fast.
“What were you just thinking about?” Ilnyrgu asked, squatting for lack of a chair.
“About one of the Rauu. When you get angry, you look a lot like her. That’s what reminded me of her,” Andy answered and scratched his ear. He shouldn’t have done that. His fingers felt the difference between an ordinary human’s form and the size of the ears he had now. They were stupidly long and… um,… pointed. “Slaisa, dear, give me a mirror, will you?” With a sense of foreboding, Andy turned to the youngest of the three she-wolves who followed Ilnyrgu and held out his hand.
Slaisa smiled a blindingly gorgeous smile and handed him a little silver mirror with her long arm.
“As you wish, marvelous man.”
“What if I get mad and cut your head off? Then I won’t be so marvelous, will I?” Andy got going.
“I don’t deserve that,” Slaisa instantly turned serious and bowed. Joking was all good and all, but what if he really did take her head all of a sudden? Who knew what dragons were like? Killing an orc for them was probably the same as squashing a bug….
“Sorry,” Andy said and took the mirror. “What are you all so shocked at?”
A Snow Elf was staring back at him from the mirror. That’s probably an appropriate appearance for the son of Jagirra. His resemblance to her was striking. Only his eyes didn’t want to change. Their bluish hue lent truth to the saying that eyes are the windows to the soul. His soul had long since become that of a dragon. He handed the mirror back to Slaisa, waved his hand to gesture that Berg should remain with Ilnyrgu, and went over to the other side of the forest lake where they’d set up camp. Lessons with Berg were over.
The spells based on a combination of three types of magic—visual, artifactual, and life magic—simple to use and effective as a Kalashnikov, had produced stunning results on Master Berg, who was standing in as Il’s voluntary assistant
in the lesson and who had been transformed (to the hilarious delight of the she-wolves and Tyigu) by the mischievous Il into a tall, pretty girl. But they simply didn’t work on Andy. The orcish magical technique called shapeshifting turned out ineffective (just as masking spells were) on the dragon’s nature and his strong natural resistance to magic on his external appearance.
Casting the shapeshifting spell was done in two stages: first, the person using the disguise put on himself or another person a special spell that integrated into their musculoskeletal system, by which the bones became “free artifacts,” that is, artifacts with incomplete interweave structures. The second stage consisted of creating an image of the desired appearance. The image was then superimposed on the person under the influence of the artifact spell, and then the activation key (magic words) was pronounced. The spell’s free magical connections would close in on the image cast on the person and bring about the physical changes. Everything would change, right down to the bones. The process was quick and, surprisingly, required very little mana. For a short time, the changes would strongly boost all life processes, and the person with the altered appearance would feel an incredible increase in strength, if just for a very short while. After a little time, the person would undergo an equal and opposite effect, a draining of energy. The downside consisted of an increased appetite (besides the mana required, the spell consumed a significant portion of a body’s energy), and the temporary nature of the spell’s action. It was completely impossible to detect the shapeshifting spell by ordinary means. The masking spell was cast over the skin and was intended for visual masking only, but the orcs’ invention allowed you to actually change your form. The spell’s action could not be detected by true vision, because the magic hidden inside the body masked the aura as well, splendidly.
During the long day of transition, Il talked about the interwoven structure in great detail, explaining the order of the runic power supply and creating a luminous three-dimensional circuit several times. She flashed the main nodes which connected the energy channels of the body and the visual image. Theoretically, it was all perfectly clear, but in practice, when the group stopped for the night, it turned out to be very far from what they’d imagined. The images didn’t want to stick to the were-dragon and instead led to such changes that made everyone grab their stomachs and roll around on the floor with uproarious laughter. In order to understand what happened with Andy and what exactly the results were of the spells cast on him, it would be sufficient just to go to a fun house and look at one’s reflection in the wavy, curvy mirrors. An hour later, his lower left eyelid started twitching, and the orcs were already tired of cracking up. Only Ilnyrgu didn’t laugh. She took her student’s failures personally. She had given her word to teach their rescuer the magic of changing one’s appearance in one day, and now she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to come through. The Wolf cursed her former words, got angry with herself and with the dragon she was indebted to. She reminded Andy of Jagirra very much in those moments….