Magic, Sorcery and Witchcraft

by Stas Borodin

  “On my command,” he said, “the first rank climbs the wagons and repels the attackers with spears. The second rank immediately kneels down and stabs from under the wheels. Everybody got that?”

  A discordant chorus of voices expressed approval.

  “Don’t drop your spears! Keep them tight, men, and don’t forget that your very lives are at stake! We have nowhere to run, so it’s either victory or death!”

  The wagoneers weren’t particularly inspired by Mash’s speech. Their faces remained fearful and sour.

  Ash and I climbed to the highest cart and began to observe the surroundings.

  “Damn! I can’t see anyone,” Ash muttered. “Maybe there’s no one there? Maybe it’s just our old friend’s tricks?”

  “Who knows?” I shrugged, holding the crossbow at the ready.

  “No, this time he has accomplices.” Mash climbed on the wheel next to us and peered out. “Look, how long and thin these javelins are. Our friends had much heavier and shorter ones, made of solid iron. But these sticks, damn them, they were hurled by spear throwers.”

  We looked at the bodies of the wagoneers bristling with javelins.

  “I wonder if they planned this hold-up by themselves or on the priest’s orders,” Ash mused. “Maybe they’re all of the same faith. Damned idol worshippers!”

  “Quite possibly,” Mash agreed. “However, if you ask me, it would be wiser to spring a trap on the march. They could take advantage of surprise, finish off the guards and the tillers, and not to keep us pinned down here.”

  “I agree,” said Ash. “It seems they want to take us alive, and we will be kept under siege until reinforcements arrive.”

  “Only the woodsmen can storm a fortified camp,” I said.

  “Meanwhile, we are locked up like ferrets in a cage,” Ash said. “Look!”

  The scout stood up to his full height and pulled his bowstring. Darts soared like a flock of birds. Ash released his arrow and jumped from the cart.

  “Twenty men, at least,” said Mash, counting the dart tips sticking out of the boards. Many of them had pierced the board through and come out on our side.

  “Nineteen!” Ash grinned. A heart-rending cry came from the forest. “Well, maybe nineteen and a half, if he is still alive!”

  Mash called a council of war. The caravan master and his assistants looked sullen.

  “We have forty caravaneers, including me, my assistants and cooks. We also have twenty carpenters, merchants and appraisers. Sixty people in total, a whole squad.”

  One of the aides chuckled. “And only three of them know how to fight—”

  The caravan master snorted angrily. “We have a lot of weapons!”

  “So what? We are not soldiers!” snapped the assistant. “But we are pretty handy with the abacus and the ruler. Some fearsome weapons!”

  There was a tense silence.

  “We cannot linger.” Mash pointed to the improvised corral filled with cattle. “We have plenty of food, but without water, we are dead.”

  “It’s not our fault.” One of the assistants cleared his throat. “Who would have thought to stock up on water, travelling along the river?”

  Mash grinned. “Don’t worry, lads, I have an idea. Listen closely …”

  The merchants listened to our plan carefully. By the end of the council they had cheered up a bit, and nodded enthusiastically.

  “It might actually work!” The caravan master squeezed Mash’s hand. “What would I do without you?”

  A few minutes later we heard the screech of saws and clatter of hammers.

  “Without us, fatso, you’d be safe and sound,” Ash grinned. “However, I think it will be an interesting experience for us all!”

  Mash frowned.

  We spent the whole day watching the surroundings, but everything was quiet. To make sure that the siege had not yet been lifted, we repeatedly provoked our invisible enemy.

  “Nineteen.” Ash counted the javelins from the last volley. “I knew I got one!”

  Preparations were in full swing and by the evening everything was ready. Our carpenters had erected wooden walls over the wagons’ canvas sides. The new walls were arm-thick, equipped with loopholes, and covered with sloping roofs.

  Soon it was the buffaloes’ turn. The mighty hairy creatures were much more patient than their steppe kin. They watched the carpenters impassively as they adjusted the wooden armour on their backs.

  “It will be damned hard work to drive such a monstrosity,” one of wagoneers complained. “But at least we don’t have worry about the arrows.”

  An hour later, everything was ready for the march. The animals were harnessed, and each man took his place with a spear at the ready.

  “Protect the animals at all costs.” Mash gave the final instructions. “Without them we are as good as dead!”

  We formed two parallel lines of heavy wagons, which were protecting our smaller cart and all the horses.

  For twenty minutes our procession moved in complete silence. I heard only the animals’ wheezing and the creak of the wooden armour on their backs. Soon the drivers got used to their unwieldy carriages and the caravan gained a decent speed.

  Suddenly javelins rained from all sides. Hundreds of them. They banged against the walls of wagons like hail; they bounced off the animals’ armour, got stuck in the walls and tangled underfoot.

  “Look at their numbers!” Ash wondered. “It seems that our priest has rallied quite a bunch against us!”

  “Yeah,” Mash grunted. “He’s been a busy boy!”

  However, we broke through the deadly storm without any losses. The well-rested animals marched forward briskly, but we had the whole night ahead of us, and it was still too early to relax.

  Small gas spheres lit up on the wagons’ roofs to help the drivers keep their distance in the dark. The road ahead was illuminated by a powerful directed beam, so we did not risk crashing into a new obstacle or fall off a cliff.

  Well into the night, the door in the side of our wagon banged open, and the pale face of the caravan master’s assistant showed up.

  “Mr Treba invites you to dinner!” The merchant smiled and made an inviting gesture. “To celebrate our victory!”

  A javelin flew out of the darkness and pinned the man’s head to the door. He waved his hands helplessly and went limp. A big servant leaned out of a dark doorway and pulled the dead body inside. The door slammed shut.

  “Poor bastard,” Ash chuckled. “No celebration for him!”

  Mash snorted. “I have to admit, they’ve got pretty handy with these damned javelins! I’m glad it wasn’t my head.”

  I could not help but smile. The constant tension of the last few days had exhausted me completely, but the scouts’ drugs worked wonders. The pain and bitterness still lurked somewhere deep inside, but this time there was a high solid wall separating us from each other. A wall which dulled my senses and protected my sanity. Watching myself, I was surprised to find that my skin had become as thick as a tournament shield, and it protected me well from the impacts the outside world.

  Without pausing for a moment, we rode until dawn. The forest gradually began to thin out, first into glades and then to fields. Our pursuers never showed up, but we chose not to take unnecessary risks and stayed under the protection of the wagons’ walls till the last moment.

  “We’ll see Ismarga in a couple of hours,” said Mash.

  Ash gave him a thumbs-up.

  ✽✽✽

  The detachment of cavalry spotted us from a distance. The horsemen looked puzzled, admiring our strange procession.

  “Ismarga riders,” Mash said. “Excellent battle-hardened warriors. They’ve fought the brigands in these parts for the last fifty years.”

  The horsemen did look impressive. They were armoured from head to toe and held long spears and shining battle-axes. Their horses were fine too. Powerful and strong beasts, dressed like their masters in chain mail and steel.

  The commander
of the cavalry raised his hand, a horn sounded, and our procession halted immediately. The door on the head wagon banged open, and the caravan master descended to the ground.

  “Let’s stay close,” said Mash.

  We spurred our horses, trying not to miss a thing.

  Chapter 9

  Ismarga proved to be rather a big city. It was built on a steep hill and surrounded by high stone walls. Judging by the rough masonry, these walls were many hundreds of years old, but they had been kept in excellent condition, showing signs of fresh cement and newly painted wooden turrets. Long-tailed pennants adorned with a crowned brown bear hovered high above the peaked tile roofs.

  “House of Ardavad’s coat of arms,” Mash commented. “Very famous and well respected in these parts.”

  “Iron Pillar,” the officer of the riders nodded. “In the Final Battle our house stood firm on the left flank, protecting the wizard from the ferocious bronze horde.”

  We rode along a wide brick road among green cultivated fields and vineyards. The peasants seemed very friendly, smiling and waving their straw hats. The officer smiled back.

  “You are quite popular among the locals,” Ash smirked. “And why is that?”

  “I think he is a part-time tax collector,” Mash yawned.

  “That explains everything.” Ash nodded and blew a kiss to a pretty peasant girl. “Lucky bastard!”

  “Really? Do I look like one?” The officer laughed. “No, my friend, I’m just a humble servant of the city. Our job is to protect all of this.” The man spread his arms wide, as if to embrace the green fields and lush vineyards. “These farmers are my real employers,” he explained. “They pay for our upkeep from their own pockets.”

  “How interesting.” Mash scratched his back casually. “And how strong is your city watch?”

  “I cannot tell you.” The officer laughed again. “But if you are some kind of spy, you can always try to bribe me.”

  “Ha! I’m no fool,” Mash snorted. “If I were a spy, I would ask the peasants. It would be much cheaper.”

  “You think so?” The officer smiled, but didn’t remove his hand from the hilt of his sword. “They would report you to the authorities right away. They are very suspicious folk.”

  “Well,” Mash shrugged, “then you’d better do something about those bandits if you want to keep your current job.”

  The officer looked troubled. “I must admit, it is highly unusual,” he said. “It cost us dearly to make peace with all these tribes. I cannot fathom why they chose to break the truce.”

  The scouts looked at each other silently.

  “It is very strange indeed,” Ash said, rubbing his ear. “Very strange!”

  The officer decided to change the subject and pointed at the shining golden domes rising high above the city walls. “Nevertheless, it is a pity that you can’t spend more time in our great city, for it is full of wonders.”

  “I know.” Mash decided to console the man. “We have visited here twice in the past. We already had a chance to admire Davad’s summer palace, Eloi’s rock gardens and the waterfalls in the great square of Atonement.”

  “The Nine Sights of Ismarga!” The officer looked pleased. “One of the Wonders of the World!”

  ✽✽✽

  As promised, the caravan master gave us a good price for our goods.

  “You know,” he said, looking at the wagons, “I think I’ll leave these as they are, with roofs and all, only for animals, we should order the proper armour. That way we will be well protected.”

  “Planning to save on the guards once again?” grunted Ash.

  “Of course not,” the merchant laughed. “My partners would kill me themselves! As you rightly noted, it is better to be rich and alive than rich and dead!”

  As far as I knew, the saying went a little differently, but I decided not to correct the man.

  “Well”—the merchant shook our hands warmly—“I wish you great success in your endeavours! And remember, you are always welcome in my house!”

  I blushed and looked away. I was wondering what he would say when the rumours of our terrible crimes reached the city.

  We stocked up with the cheapest provisions at the nearest market and left the city without delay.

  “It’s a long ride ahead.” Mash clapped his hands. “Come on, laddies, step on it!”

  By the time the sun reached its zenith, the city walls had disappeared from our sight.

  The road to Insana was made of packed earth trampled to the hardness of stone. Even the heavy rain could not soften it in the high season.

  We rode fast, passing light sedan chairs, heavy rumbling wagons and small groups of travellers going in both directions. The scouts grew happier with each passing mile.

  “The further we get from the damn city, the better!” Ash shouted. “Their riders, I must admit, are pretty scary!”

  “Ha!” Mash gave me a wink. “Try to catch the wind in a net!”

  Our horses were happy like puppies. I heard only the clatter of hooves, the whistling of the wind, and the faint bits of curses when smeared travellers’ faces flashed by.

  After two hours of this wild race, Mash commanded us to make a halt. We dismounted near a small stream bordered by lush greenery.

  “The road to Insana is straight as an arrow.” Mash carefully spread the map over his knee. “We won’t be able to take a shortcut, so we’ll have to ride fast. A few more hours and we’ll see the western border of the principality.”

  “I hate night rides,” Ash sighed, stretching his legs. “And I hate that damned priest!”

  “Stop your whining!” the old scout said. “We can’t relax yet, there is still danger.”

  I liked to sit with the scouts by the fire and discuss our future plans. I remembered the times when my father and Master Dante were still alive and Nikos was just the High Sorcerer’s assistant. It seemed like it was only yesterday. Every moment of that sad day was forever imprinted in my memory.

  Now, a new life lay in front of me. New adventures, new friends and new discoveries. Despite everything, I was scared of the future. I’d become so attached to my new friends that I even dreamed in secret that our journey would never end.

  “And how far is the sea?” I asked, studying the map. There looked to be a fair distance between the city and the coast.

  “Four days at least, if you don’t hurry.” Mash scratched the map with his fingernail. “A really pleasant journey down the Insara tract, straight through the Insara forest and across the Paara wasteland.”

  “There are many inns, taverns and all kinds of entertainment along the way,” said Ash. “This is the kingdom’s busiest thoroughfare and the main artery of local trade.”

  At night, the whole road was at our disposal. Travellers and caravaneers made their camps at the roadside, and we drove past huge tents illuminated by bonfires and rows of tall wagons festooned with yellow gas spheres. People waved their hands, inviting us to join them for dinner, but we raced forward without even looking back.

  ✽✽✽

  Insana was far grander than Ismarga. We saw it first from the top of a hill. The enormous city stretched beneath us like a bizarre patchwork. We could see the sugar-white stone of the city walls, and the straight lines of the avenues that carved the city into equal pieces. It reminded me of a huge iced cake lying on a plate. A cobweb of aqueducts stretched over the multicoloured tiled rooftops, and vast green parks and round pools of fresh water glittered in the sun like scattered silver coins.

  “Wow!” I exhaled, shading my eyes from the sun. “Insana is even bigger than Lieh!”

  “Ha!” Ash chuckled. “These walls could easily swallow five or six cities of Lieh’s size. Don’t you forget, my brother, this is no longer the provinces.”

  My head reeled from such a sight. Having spent a lifetime in Lieh, I had not thought that my kingdom was in fact nothing but a tiny spot on the very border of the map. And I’d had no idea that for the inhabitants of Insana w
e would appear to be the same savages as Alims were to us. For some reason I felt sad.

  “Cheer up, brother,” Ash encouraged me. “There are cities far grander. Compared to them, even great Insana would look like an insignificant anthill.”

  “Right!” Mash sneered. “We’re still on the very edge of the world, laddie. One wrong step and you risk falling into Annuvir.”

  I was surprised by the scouts’ carefree attitude. They were just guests here, bystanders, while I was going to become part of this new world. I shivered; it scared me the most.

  Half an hour later, we came to the city gates, through which an endless living river flowed. Wagons, animals, people. Tall armoured guards directed the traffic with imperious shouts and long heavy poles.

  Trying not to draw too much attention to ourselves, we slowly pushed our way through the bustling crowd. After a few steps, I noticed a group of dark-skinned skens. These men were different from the slaves I’d met on the streets of Lieh. Wrapped in expensive multicoloured silks, they paced with dignity, surrounded by flocks of servants and armed bodyguards.

  Tall yellow-skinned men in elegant garments made of shimmering velvet examined the goods spread out on the shelves. Colourful singing birds flashed like tiny rainbows, furry little animals peeped out of cages, extending their little human hands toward us.

  I was enchanted by the sight.

  The gates leading into the city were huge; they were bound in dark metal and decorated with exquisite carvings.

  “The Gates of the Prophet,” explained Mash. “According to the legend, Saint Martek preached for seven days and nights from this very stone.”

  I craned my neck to see the holy place. There was not much to see, just a dirty fragment of an ancient column.

  We entered the city freely and found ourselves in a completely different world. The houses here were five or six storeys high, complete with large curtained balconies lined with exotic potted plants. Cascades of flowers descended from the window sills, clinging to the walls by barely visible translucent aerial roots.