The tears did indeed cease at once. While Oleg had been pronouncing his part of the oath, Vereene had been staring at him in astonishment, recognizing yet another sharp turn in her fortunes. When Oleg pronounced his “declaration of intent” she had burst into uncontrollable, almost hysterical laughter.
‘Such unbelievable luck! The only thing worse than a bastard for a boss is a kind little fool! He wants to let me loose on the border, and will only forbid me to kill! And what should I do, starve to death?! I’m a Vampiress, not a cow! I can’t eat grass! And I bet you won’t agree to feed me on your little powers… He’s off to the light magicians. To look after people! You should have finished me off straight away! Or did you want to torture me a bit first?’ She all but shrieked the last words.
It seemed as though the girl had gone hysterical, which was not at all what Oleg had expected from her. It somehow didn’t fit his image of a hundred and fifty-year-old Supreme She-Vampire which had gone through the horrifying Magical Wars and sent countless people to their graves. Nevertheless, once again life had shown Oleg that the range of its possibilities was way larger than any imagination. Vereene’s hysterics were in the best traditions of Italian cinema. Besides, now that the heat of the battle had passed, Oleg’s wounds were hurting badly and he noticed that the blood which was still gradually seeping out had already soaked his shirt and was dripping onto the floor.
The semblance still covered him so Vereene couldn’t see the wounds she had inflicted and. what’s more, demon’s blood, it seemed was not suitable for Vampires otherwise she would have already sensed the smell. Oleg realized he had to hurry to Castle Bel, to be treated by experienced hands and that he mustn’t take on his human form, otherwise he risked fatal loss of blood before he could get help. Maintaining a semblance capable of hiding the considerable size difference between his demonic and human forms was not such an easy matter. And to cap it all, Oleg heard the bed creaking. Kolin had woken up and was walking towards the door with the intention of finding Vereene.
‘Keep quiet!’ Oleg whispered furiously, underlining his order with a yank on the thread that linked them. ‘Quiet!’ The girl froze half way through a word, not moving and, it seemed, not even breathing. In the ensuing silence the footfalls of the young duke were particularly audible as he approached the bedroom door.
‘Tshaas t?khkh??!’ Oleg all but spat out the verbal component of a potent sleep spell. He had not wanted to resort to this charm as the spell was effective for six hours, and during that time it would be impossible to wake the spell-bound. Oleg didn’t know the counter-spell, so he would have to carry the young duke himself, which, of course, he was not at all keen to do. But it was far less desirable for Oleg that someone should find out that he had left the she-vampire alive. And so that is why Kolin had to be put to sleep.
‘And now, you,’ he turned to Vereene. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I believe I need a slave girl: to look after the horses, wash, sew, tidy up, warm my bed. And when I enter the Academy, I will have someone on whom I can carry out experiments. So no freedom for you. Pick up your lover and follow me. After all, why should I carry him when I have a slave girl to hand,’ he muttered to himself, but loud enough for Vereene to hear every word.
All of a sudden Vereene gave a snort and smiled. Had any other girl smiled that smile, you could have said it was pleasant, obliging, or maybe even a tad cunning or coquettish, but this smile looked quite different on Vereene. Undoubtedly, it was due to the needle-like fang peeping out from the corner of her blood-filled lips and the curious hungry look in her reddish eyes as though she were weighing Oleg up for a possible career development as a cutlet or a rare beef steak.
‘Ah, now that’s better, Sovereign!’ she said in all seriousness. ‘Now you are far more worthy to be my master than that snotty lad who was about to free me just a few moments ago, frightened by a maiden’s tears. I had decided I wouldn’t be able to get any deeds worthy of a dark magician out of you. Remember this! A Magician of Darkness acts only in accordance with his own interests! And as for tears… Well, you can call forth tears. By the way, when I was serving the Dark Empire we were all bound by similar oaths. And there was nothing so particularly dreadful about it. For a vampire – and all the more so as they are artificially created by the scientist of the Dark Citadel – there is no higher duty or blessing than subordinate service to the deeds of Darkness under the guidance of a potent magician. And you are potent and perfidious; I have first-hand experience of that. In general, vampires are used to slavery. First of all, they are obliged to obey their creator, then when they grow up and tear themselves away from their parent’s care, they are under the command of the Master of their lair, and it is only a very few who become Masters themselves with a certain amount of freedom. And so, to finish this philosophizing, maybe you are not aware of this, but now I cannot leave you for more than two or three days, unless of course I get a sudden urge to turn up my toes. And so,’ and she smiled again, ‘Your loyal slave is ready to fulfil your every command, my lord and sovereign. Only, I won’t be able to warm your bed: I’m an Undead after all and my body temperature is not high enough.’
‘OK. We’ll talk about the bed later. But now get dressed, take your beloved and follow me to the exit.’
‘To hear is to obey, O my terrible lord. A little while longer and you will become a true slave master.’ The Vampiress’s answer sounded as though she had been friends with Oleg for a good many years.
Having pondered for a bit, Oleg came to the conclusion that this was due to the empathic channel which had appeared between them. It was, of course, a two-way channel as that was the only way to explain such an unusual phenomenon. Admittedly, there was another way to look at the rare impudence of the newly subordinated slave girl, but it was highly improbable: judging from what he had managed to glean about the Dark Empire, individuals with overly high levels of impudence had no chance of surviving on its territory.
Five minutes later when Oleg, limping, had made his way to the magical portal through which he had come, all doubts about the existence of a two-way channel were dispelled once and for all. Vereene had managed to get dressed. In one arm the Vampiress was carefully carrying Kolin, tenderly wrapped in a black ladies’ cloak (no doubt her own), and in the other she held a wide sheet. Laying the young lad down next Oleg, who had stopped to get his breath, she addressed him: ‘We need to bandage you up, Sovereign. I don’t know how you manage to look completely unscathed, though it’s my guess you are probably using some sort of high-energy semblance which I cannot detect. I know that I wounded you, and what’s more, you are leaving blood stains with every step you take. We need to bandage you up urgently otherwise you risk bleeding to death.’
Indeed: because of his active movements, the edges of the wounds had parted and the blood, which had previously almost dried, now dripped out in large, viscous drops through the soaked shirt which stuck to his body. There was evidently some sort of magic contained in Vereene’s weapon which hindered blood clotting--usually when Oleg was in his demon form his blood coagulated almost before it had flowed out. Such a prolonged and profuse loss of blood from wounds which were not so large or deep was an unusual and absolutely abnormal state of affairs for him.
Having pondered all this, Oleg reckoned that the person who had inflicted these wounds on him should have at least some idea as to how they should be healed, and he threw off his semblance. On seeing his demonic form, the Vampiress whistled and gave a respectful nod of the head.
‘Now I understand why I wasn’t able to chop off his head with my first blow,’ she muttered to herself, after which she busied herself carefully examining, feeling and even sniffing the gashes she had inflicted. Finally, having found the object of her search, she bent over a wound and carefully ran her tongue over it. Oleg felt a slight stinging sensation and then an incredible sense of relief. The deep cut in his chest left from Vereene’s first blow suddenly stopped hurting. The blood which had initially been flowing co
piously had now stopped and was beginning to clot.
‘How did you do that?’ he asked the she-vampire who was frowning and assiduously spitting something out. It seemed that it was not merely a few spoonfuls of Oleg’s blood that had found their way into her mouth but at least a half kilo of hot chilli pepper.
‘Ugh! What is it you have in your veins? I almost burnt my throat! You could have at least warned me, Sovereign!’
‘Well how was I supposed to know what you were about to do? And by the way, what did you do? I’ve never heard that Vampires were good healers. But the wound doesn’t hurt anymore and the blood is starting to clot.
‘Very simple. My vetangur isn’t just a weapon. Each time it strikes a blow, it leaves a tiny particle, a shard of the blade, in the wound, and that prevents the blood from coagulating and the wound from knitting together. I removed it just now, and the rest is thanks to your own constitution. The lack of pain is due to my saliva. It contains a substance which acts as a pain killer so that my victims don’t suffer. When its effect wears off, the wound will start to hurt again.’ Vereene sniffed at the next wound. Having found the shards, she tried to get them out with her fingers, not wanting to risk her lips. She didn’t have much success. Oleg gritted his teeth, cursed the devil’s granny, Vereene’s mother, all the intimate parts of the local gods (especially Orchis the Light Bearer, which roused a sneaky giggle from Vereene), but bore it. It was the Vampiress who gave up first. With a doomed sigh and muttering, she bent over the wound. There followed once again the licking, stinging, the frowning face and the long ritual spitting out.
When Vereene bent over the third wound, Oleg noticed bitter regret in her eyes. “Why did I go and agree to such a life?” a fragment of her thought flew to him. “It would have been better if you’d killed me.” The thought gave off a distinct smell of irony. But aloud, Vereene asked: ‘Can’t you do something? My jaws have cramps.’ Her tone, full of hopelessness, clearly showed that she was not counting on a positive answer. After all, who could change the characteristics of their own blood at will?
And that is why Oleg’s answer knocked her off guard.
‘Well, I suppose I could try. Only then you wouldn’t have to carry just Kolin to the exit, but me, too. I don’t have much strength in my human form.’
‘I’d carry you through the whole Empire!’ the Vampiress cried out in joy and amazement. ‘Just relieve me from the obligation of tasting this shit which you call your blood.’
The transformation into Oleg’s human form was carried out, but not without difficulty. Having completed it, Oleg sat down, leaning against the wall, feeling nauseous and dizzy.
Meanwhile, Vereene completed her cure. This time she didn’t spit, quite the opposite; she carefully licked each wound, trying not to waste a single drop of blood. Oleg didn’t protest. The pain abated and by the time the Vampiress had finished bandaging him, he had almost managed to get his dizziness under control. Nevertheless, he didn’t protest when she easily picked him up in her arms and carried him to the exit.
‘I can go by myself,’ Oleg uttered lamely. ‘There’s no need to carry me.’
‘Keep quiet. Thinks he’s strong enough! Don’t forget about our connection! I can feel that it’s an achievement for you to even move your tongue.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll change my form and calmly make my way to the exit. ..’
‘Aha. So he’ll change his form, will he? You’d better lay still, Shapeshifter. You still have enough strength left in you, maybe, to change your form. But how are you going to cast the semblance? And keep it on along the way? Even if you lose consciousness? Are you planning to show yourself to your companions like that - green, covered in scales and with claws? Are you always so prudent?’
Oleg didn’t reply. He felt comfortable, he even dozed off for a while… or lost consciousness.
It was Vereene’s insistent voice that brought him round as she cautiously patted his cheeks.
‘Master! Sovereign! Wake up, you miserable idiot! Oh, I’ve gone and got mixed up with some loony!’
The short rest had done Oleg good. Looking round, he realized they were almost at the entrance. Next to him lay Kolin, slumbering serenely, and Vereene was standing there, obviously nervous.
‘OK then, it’s like this,’ he said, slowly taking the bull by the horns. ‘I’ll take this sleeper on my back and slowly crawl to the way out of the tower. Don’t contradict me; I’ll manage to crawl ten meters somehow. People are waiting for me there, they’ll help me. You stay here. Don’t worry, I’ll come for you in one day, two at most, I’ll just recover a bit, and even if I can’t come myself, then you come to me, I’ll be in his mother’s castle.’ He nodded in the direction of Kolin. ‘Meanwhile, search the tower. The warden-spirit will help you – do you hear, Outpost? Gather up all the artefacts and charge him up well. He’ll tell you how. If you get hungry, then don’t use anyone from the Bel lands as food. Fly further away; the best would be to go to some town where it’s not so easily noticed. And try not to kill. It’s possible, I believe, for Supremes to feed without killing.’
‘I won’t be able to. Not if I fly far away, I won’t. The nearest big town is Volgrad, but it’s more than forty versts away. If I fly, having changed into a bat it’ll take three hours. After such expenditure of energy I won’t be able to contain myself. I’ll drink my victim dry. As a matter of fact, that is why I’ve been using the nearest village – to save energy, and also I was able to leave many of my victims alive.’
‘OK. Then do it this way. When you set off to hunt, dress in a revealing way and fasten a nice fat purse on your belt. As soon as you land in town, walk around in an alleyway till someone attacks you. Then – bon appétit! Only, don’t leave any witnesses. And once you’ve finished your meal, slit your victim’s throat so that the body will be recorded as death by “natural causes”. Got it?’
Vereene nodded, looking at Oleg in astonishment.
‘Brilliant,’ she whispered. ‘No-one will bother to look for a murderer of criminals. A marvellous idea! Did you think it up yourself? Is that how you hunt?’
‘I read it in a book,’ Oleg replied. ‘And as for hunting, I don’t need human blood. Now, let’s get on with it.’
The Vampiress melted into the depths of the passage. Oleg, groaning, picked up the body of the young duke and, holding onto the wall, staggered out of the tower. Right by the very exit itself Outpost’s quiet whisper reached him: ‘Thank you,’ the warden-spirit rustled.
‘You’re welcome,’ Oleg mumbled in reply, took two more steps and then collapsed exhausted onto the ground. He heard the alarmed cries of the guards who’d accompanied him, the lieutenant’s ominous shout: ‘To the healer, quick!’ and then he lost consciousness once more.
***
Oleg came round to an unbearable stench. He was lying on a soft, comfortable bed, and the confident and indomitable Mead-Beard was leaning over him. The magician-healer took the phial – the source of an extremely strong smell of ammonium chloride - from under his patient’s nose and, looking somewhere above Oleg’s head, said: ‘He has come round, your Grace.’
There was a rustling of skirts and the Duchess came into Oleg’s field of vision.
‘How are you feeling, Hunter?’ Genuine concern could be heard in her voice.
Oleg did a quick inventory of his body parts and determined with amazement that he had a full count. Not only was that “count” all present, but it was in full working order, too! Admittedly, Oleg still felt a slight weakness, but it was even pleasant, somehow.
‘Not as good as I’d like to be but not as bad as I could be,’ he answered. However, they didn’t understand his humour. The Duchess looked askance at the magician, who slowly ran a light hand over his patient’s body, after which he flopped wearily into an armchair. Oleg sensed a sharp influx of energy. He at once had the urge to run somewhere, to do something… ‘All the symptoms of an energy overflow,’ he coldly ascertained in himself.
‘I could have managed fine without an energy spike, he said hurriedly. I feel great!’
‘Splendid. In that case, if Mead-Beard is also of the opinion that you have a clean bill of health, you can get dressed and have some lunch. I will wait for you in my study. We have business to complete.’ The Duchess gave a polite smile and left the room.
Oleg jumped up at once and threw on his clothes. He was absolutely starving! Just then servants came into the room carrying trays of food. The sheer quantity of victuals they were bringing would have been enough to feed Gargantua himself!
At a loss, Oleg looked over at Mead-Beard. The old magician answered him with a jaunty wink.
‘Is all this for me?’ Oleg drawled longingly, examining the endless number of dishes, plates, bowls, saucers and jugs.
‘For you, for you,’ “kind, old father” Mead-Beard nodded amiably. ‘You need to gather your strength now, eat more…’ There was a note of irony in his voice, so subtle that Oleg couldn’t for the life of him make out whether the old wizard was teasing him or was indeed genuinely concerned for his health.
Having sat down at the table, he ran his eyes over the “gourmet’s paradise” once more, and then he tumbled to it!
‘Would you perchance do me the honour of sharing this food with me?’
‘Ah, yes, that I shall, young man, that I shall. Only, don’t you worry too much about me. After all, it was you who lost a lot of blood, not me. So you go ahead and tuck in, it’ll do you good!’
The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) Page 30