‘So?’ she went on, when Oleg had recovered from his shock. ‘Ready to go? The sorcerer who’s doing the invocation is obviously inexperienced: he’s demanding a high demon with magical inclinations and high fighting capacity, but his own powers are pitiful. Just squash the fool against the wall and be done with it!’
‘Why should I kill him?’ The thought of polishing off some poor magician the very instant he set foot in a new world didn’t appeal to Oleg, even if the wizard was, as Heliona put it, a complete idiot. Till now, the largest of creatures to fall at Oleg’s hands were overfed cockroaches, and, in fact, Oleg wouldn’t mind if it stayed that way.
‘So he doesn’t get too big for his boots,’ Heliona’s answer was quite strange. But she gave the necessary clarification at once. ‘He’ll probably suggest some dodgy business, and will call you into the circle of obedience. See how the line of the invocation is wavering.’
‘But if I accept the invocation, then I’ll already be in the circle of obedience. I don’t really want to do the bidding of just any old fool...’
‘Well what do you think your fire magic is for? Put out the candles of the outer pentagram and you’ll be free. Squash the loser good and proper. After all, you’re not a real demon – maybe a little over a third but less than half. So the circle and the pentagram will have a much weaker effect over you.’ The salamander listened to something which was inaudible to Oleg, and hurried on. ‘He’s already more than half way through the rite. You need to hurry!’
‘OK, but how?’
‘Take on your demon form. Can you hear the call?’
She was right. All Oleg needed to do was change form and a quiet voice immediately began to rustle and throb in his head.
‘A kind of noise in my head, very faint?’
‘Yeah, I said he was a weak magician! So just relax, obey it, listen to it like music, and allow it to carry you away.’
Oleg followed her advice. The call grew louder, filled with sound and he could clearly hear the throbbing. Suddenly the world spun around him and a dark funnel swallowed him up.
When he was able to see again, he understood that he was in a large room with a stone floor, right in the middle of a circle which was in turn drawn in a pentagram with coloured candles burning at the corners. A short, puny fellow in a grey tunic with a hood was leaping around squealing gleefully: ‘It worked! It worked!’
Chapter Four
Did you call a demon?
Still prancing around the pentagram, the minor wizard turned to a seventeen-year-old girl standing against the wall in a white dress-cum-tunic, who was watching the proceedings with an expression of intense concentration on her face.
‘Ata, I’ve done it! I’ve called forth a demon! Kreghist won’t be able to harm you now!’
And with these words the wizard flung himself at the girl. Now Oleg understood why he seemed so puny. The lad was not more than fifteen years old. The girl didn’t protest, but didn’t show any enthusiasm, either. She couldn’t take her eyes off Oleg.
And he was truly fed up of standing around like a pillar so he headed towards the exit, but suddenly he felt some sort of opposition. The flames of the candles standing at the corners of the pentagram flickered in alarm.
The wizard tore himself away from the girl whom he was undoubtedly trying to impress, and turned back to Oleg. Striking a pose he clearly thought to be grandiose, but for Oleg seemed extremely ungainly, he pronounced in a sing-song voice: ‘Halt, wily demon. Your urges are hampered by my art. Chasing another’s soul, you have fallen into the seal of my might and are henceforth obliged to obey me. Bow now before my will and the power of my might, and hearken, as a slave hearkens to its master, humbly and meekly!’
After pouring all this out in one breath, the lad stood stock-still, expecting some reaction, obviously believing this nonsense to be a spell.
Oleg burst out laughing. He suddenly wanted to mock this hapless student of wizardry and his girlfriend, venturing to summon a demon. So he tried to make his laughter sound as evil as possible. And he succeeded. Heliona was right when she spoke of the broad spectrum of a demon’s vocal chords. Even Oleg himself gave an imperceptible shudder when he heard the echo of his chortle bouncing off the walls of the hall, and a cold wave ran down his spine. Not to mention the teenagers! Judging from the state of things, it looked as though he had unwittingly managed to add a fairly large dose of infrasound into his laughter.
Pleased with the impression he had made, Oleg spoke, trying to maintain that same bombastically evil tone: ‘Pitiful fool. You are playing with forces whose might you cannot comprehend. Fall to your knees and pray for a swift death. If you are convincing enough, then, perchance, you may obtain that honour.’
And with those words Oleg walked over to the edge of the circle and froze, as though he were unable to step over it. He did indeed feel some sort of opposition, but he was sure he could easily go through the barrier if he really wanted to get out.
The wizard grew pale. Then, looking at the girl, he began to rummage purposefully through a book he had taken from the small table near him.
Oleg waited, lazily leaning against the invisible wall which had formed around the circle drawn on the floor. It groaned and bent under him, and the flames of the candles fluttered and flickered in alarm, threatening to go out. This drew an admiring, terrified whisper from the wizard: ‘Such power! If only I could tame him, he would rip Kreghist to shreds!’
Continuing to play the role of an evil demon, Oleg whispered: ‘I’ll rip someone to shreds alright! But not Kreghist!’ And he stared evilly at the wizard, so that no-one was in any doubt as to just who he would tear up.
The lad gasped, looked up from his book and asked in amazement: ‘What, you heard me?’
Instead of replying, Oleg showed his fangs, trying to extend them as far as possible. That caused a stir. The girl against the wall turned white and recoiled towards the door, the lad rustled his book all the faster.
Suddenly, with a victorious yelp, the wee wizardlet halted his search and solemnly babbled some phrase in an unfamiliar language. The effect was immediate. The wizard swelled up, turned red, then sneezed. Smallish rainbow balls flew out of the wizard’s mouth and nostrils, immediately grew in size and began exploding prettily, filling the room with rainbow droplets.
Oleg glanced over to the girl, puzzled. She replied with an uncomprehending look and a shrug of the shoulders. Then they both turned to the wizard. Under their quizzical gazes he reddened once again, then mumbled: ‘I got a bit muddled up … no big deal... It’s an old book, the pages got stuck together…’ And as he said this he looked at Oleg with the sad eyes of a student who hadn’t studied for the exam and could now only hope for a miracle and the good will of his professor. Oleg was on the verge of saying something reassuring to him, something comforting along the lines of: ‘Never mind, it happens to all of us’ when he remembered, just in time, that evil demons rarely say anything comforting to flunked wizards who’d conjured them up. So in keeping with the strict rules, he had to dole out another portion of evil laughter.
The wizard pulled himself together at once. Throwing a glance at the girl giggling behind her hand he set about rummaging through his book even more desperately, mumbling to himself.
The wizard stopped. Peering into the book he walked round the pentagram three times with Oleg inside and solemnly read out a spell. When he’d finished, the wizard pronounced loudly: ‘Fall to your knees and acknowledge my power!’
And immediately pain swept over Oleg. Although nothing much at first, it became stronger and stronger by the second. Oleg somehow knew that all he had to do was fall to his knees and acknowledge the power of the wizard in front of him and the pain would pass. He also knew that he wouldn’t do that as long as he still had a shred of consciousness left; Oleg had no intention of becoming a slave.
Then he heard the wizard say to his companion: ‘Just a few more minutes and he’ll give in. Your Highness, you shall have y
our own demon!’
And now he understood full well all the wisdom of the salamander’s advice – squash the wizard against the wall as soon as you arrive. He understood and regretted that he had not followed such wise advice immediately. Livid with rage, Oleg threw himself at the wizard. He staggered, but the circle held. Either it was stronger than it had seemed to Oleg, or he himself was too weak from pain. Nevertheless, the candles at the corners of the pentagram kept flickering and almost went out, while the pain lessened for a few seconds. And those few seconds were enough for him to remember Heliona’s second piece of advice: “Put out the candles at the corners of the pentagram, and you’re free.” With genuine gratitude Oleg remembered the gay ex-goddess. Then, overcoming the new wave of pain, he turned to the nearest candle and straining what was left of his will, mentally ordered: ‘Go out!’
The flame flickered and wavered, then, unable to oppose his will, went out, giving off a thin stream of smoke. The pain decreased at once. Turning to the second candle, Oleg noticed that the wizard cried and staggered, clutching at his head.
Soon all the candles had been extinguished. There was no more pain, nor did Oleg feel the barrier any longer. He didn’t hesitate. With a great roar he bounded out of the pentagram and, extending his claws to the maximum, rushed at the wizard. Oleg had firmly made up his mind to follow the wonderful, wise advice of the salamander and smear the hapless fellow against the wall, preferably in as thin a layer as possible.
The lad didn’t protest. He stood, clutching his head, moaning weakly. A thin stream of blood flowed from his nose. Evidently the extinguishing of the candles or the broken spell was having a bad effect on his health. But as it happened, the wizard’s health didn’t concern Oleg in the least. Gleefully baring his fangs, he grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up above his head.
And then Oleg fell to thinking. Two thoughts were broiling in his brains drunk on rage, and neither of them befitted a human. Firstly, the demon Oleg was seriously considering the possibility of squashing the wizard against the wall. It was only the thought of how labour-intensive this would be that held him back, and that in the smearing process the wizard would die swiftly without feeling the full depth of his wrath. The second thought was to pluck out his arms and legs and leave him like that, to die from the shock of pain and loss of blood. It was this second thought which Oleg found more attractive.
At that point he became aware that someone was carefully trying to loosen his claws, which were holding the wizard’s neck in a deadly grip. All the while that “someone” was calling out in a thin, girlish voice: ‘No, please, don’t do it! It’s not his fault, it’s all because of me! Have mercy on him!’
These cries, full of terror and pleading, brought Oleg to his senses. He slowly turned his gaze on the hysterical girl, drenched with impotent tears, aware of the futility of all her attempts, then he took another look at the wizard, now beginning to turn blue, and stopped in his tracks.
The two parts of his being were at loggerheads within him. On the one hand, Oleg-the-student, a jolly, civilized chap, lover of pretty girls and beer who tried not to harm anyone, was loudly crying out: ‘What are you doing? Do you really intend to kill him? What are you turning into? He’s still a just a kid after all! OK, so he made a mistake, but there’s no need to punish him so cruelly…’
And on the other hand, the new-born demon was roaring in him thunderously: ‘A kid? Then he should be playing quietly in his sand pit not trying to enslave demons. What would have happened if you hadn’t remembered Heliona’s advice? How long before the pain knocked you unconscious and you’d become this “kid’s” slave for evermore? And where’s the guarantee that if you let him go, he won’t start it all over again once he’s had a good rest, but with better success this time, and make someone else his slave? Like Younger One—she’s going to start to roam around various worlds any time now, not caring a jot for anyone.’
At that thought, the demon Oleg’s fingers began closing by themselves, blocking the wizard’s last molecules of oxygen. But the former Oleg came up with one last desperate attempt to save the life of the half-pint wizard: ‘OK, I agree, he’s a bastard, worthy of annihilation, but before you kill him, you should give him the chance to try and justify himself. Maybe he can explain his actions.’
This reasoning seemed convincing enough and Oleg slackened his claws slightly allowing his captive to swallow some air.
The lad breathed in noisily. His face gradually took on its normal hue. The girl, seeing the result but not knowing the reason, increased both her cries and her efforts on Oleg’s fingers threefold.
The wizard panted and began coming round.
‘Be quiet!’ Oleg barked and scraped the claws of his free hand against the wall menacingly. There was a terrible screech, dust fell and the wall was “decorated” with four deep scratches. The girl’s cries were silenced at once, and even the wizard did his best to pant more quietly.
Oleg went on: ‘First of all we introduce ourselves. My name is…’ But here he remembered that in many myths when a wizard learns a demon’s or another wizard’s real name, he has power over him, so he thought for a split second and then went on, taking for himself the name of a demon in an English fantasy story which he had sometimes used as a nickname: ‘…Arioch.’
Seeing the gleeful glint in the wizard’s eyes, Oleg was convinced he had acted quite rightly by not giving his real name. Just in case, he squeezed his fingers slightly. The wizard began to gasp again and Oleg turned politely to the girl with an oddly chivalrous expression: ‘Allow me to inquire as to your name, O splendid young lady?’
The girl evidently took his joke absolutely seriously. She drew herself up, flashed her eyes and announced proudly: ‘I am Ataletta, crown princess of Fenrian, Grand Duchess Browdvar. I command you to release Albert at once!’
Oleg smirked.
‘So his name is Albert?’ He shook the lad slightly. ‘Well, well. But no more commands.’ Oleg gave the wizard another shake. ‘And if you can’t find a good reason within five minutes why I should leave his head on his shoulders and not add it to my collection of the most stupid heads in the Universe, then this part of his body, which is of absolutely no use to him, will be forever separated from the rest of his organs.’ Of course Oleg had no such thing as a collection of heads, but they couldn’t know that.
Having uttered this tirade, Oleg looked triumphantly at the dispirited teenagers. His rage had already abated somewhat and he quietly made up his mind that so long as the couple didn’t do anything stupid, like attacking him, he wouldn’t kill Albert. It seemed a far better idea to take a handsome ransom for him instead (Oleg strongly suspected there would be money in this world, or something no less important than money was on his own world), and recite some spell over him which would remove any possibility of him using magic in the future – he’d quite often come across such spells in “his” Book.
‘Well, I’m waiting for an explanation.’ Oleg looked threateningly at the girl.
‘He’s not stupid, well, at least, not so stupid,’ she stuttered, her little voice trembling with fear.
‘What?’ Oleg had been prepared for tears, pleas, excuses, attempts at bribery – and he was planning to go for the latter – but not at all for this démarche to defend the wizard’s mental capacities. But the young princess’s next phrase gave all the clarification he needed.
‘Don’t put him in your collection. He may have made a mistake, but he’s not really that stupid. That is, in your collection you probably have the really, really stupid …. And he’s not like that…’
Oleg held back his laughter with difficulty. His face contorted from the exertion. Ataletta noticed, and evidently taking his spasm of stifled laughter for an evil grimace, a precursor to ripping the wizard to shreds, she quickly played her last trump: ‘He can read! His head would spoil your whole collection!’
Oleg could bear it no longer. His roaring laugh shook the stone walls of the cellar (Oleg co
uld tell he was in a cellar by the smell. And anyhow, where else would you practise black magic?).
‘Spoil it, you say?’ he asked when he’d got his breath back.
‘Yes, spoil it.’ The girl nodded more boldly, apparently deciding that if the demon had had a good laugh he was getting kinder. And in fact, in a way, she was right.
‘Would you be so kind as to let Albert go?’ Catching Oleg’s amazed look, she quickly corrected herself: ‘Well, at least, let him go for now. Temporarily… so he can breathe properly. After all, you’re not about to kill him right here and now, are you? It really isn’t his fault. I talked him into invoking a demon.’
Oleg smirked and looked her over carefully. The crown princess of Fenrian, Grand Duchess Browdvar and so on and so forth, was a seventeen-year-old maiden who still hadn’t shed her teenage angularity and didn’t have the necessary quantity of curves required for a woman. Nevertheless, you could see that in the near future this slip of a girl would become an extremely beautiful young woman. Ataletta was endowed with all the necessities for that. A natural blond, not too tall, her figure was pretty even though not yet fully formed, a slim waist and pleasant facial features, which nevertheless showed slight imperfections, would not stop her from taking her place among the three finalists of any of the beauty contests so popular on Earth.
The same imperfection could be seen on Albert’s face, too, and if Oleg hadn’t witnessed how he had made up to the girl, he would have said they were close relatives.
Once he’d finished his thorough and even somewhat blatant examination, Oleg looked into the eyes of the princess, who was blushing at such attention, and said: ‘Well, I suppose I can let him go. I was about to let him explain himself anyway.’
Before either of the unsuccessful demonologists could give a sigh of relief, one of the snake-hairs detached itself from Oleg’s head, slithered along his arm and gently wrapped itself around the hapless Albert’s neck. Oleg released his hand and the boy tumbled to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) Page 5