by Alex Sapegin
“Holy moly!” one of the shocked civilians mumbled and turned to the wrestler, “Mr. Kerimov, I couldn’t imagine anything like it. I somehow could not believe that your son, unarmed, got the better of the special forces in the scientific center. And now I see with my own eyes...”
Morozov didn’t hear what Mr. Kerimov hissed to his talkative colleague, but the colleague immediately shut up and didn’t open his mouth anymore. The contempt in look the girl shot at the luckless talker could have burned him.
Venchik, falling on his left leg, suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs to the whole park, “Heeeeelp! He’ll kill me!! Aaaah!”
The samurai, stepping at calm, slow pace, catching up to the limping man, rapaciously grinned. “This is for my mother!” A quick lunge with his right hand, and the tip of the blade slipped between the bandit’s legs. Blood splashed on the leafy foliage.
“Aah!” Venchik began to cry.
“And this is for Bon!” The thug lost his hands. Morozov heard the sounds of vomiting from the corner of his ear. Some of the civilians got sick, but the daughter of the “wrestler” held steadfastly. The girl had nerves of steel. “Beast! Nai ti sadu vii Hel, aruvite, Targ! Narte!”
At these last words of incomprehensible gibberish, the red head fell away from the body and, bouncing, rolled over the ground. The swords were enveloped in a bright flame for a couple of seconds. The samurai, kicking the decapitated body, unclasped his hands, but the blades did not reach the ground. They disappeared in a faint flash.
“Andy!” cried the girl.
Moving away from the body, the owner of the ancient weapons turned towards the General’s bus.
“Freeze!” shouted one of the special forces members. The object of his command smiled scornfully and lazily waved his hand. The nervous commando flew a mile and a half and fell to the ground with a bang.
“No funny business! Comrade General, tell your people to do their job, not get in the way. Yes, send psychologists and psychiatrists to the hospital. I’ve overdone it a little with the scumbags. I’m afraid some of them won’t be able to fall asleep without the help of specialists, and the corpses need to be removed. The patients and physicians are unharmed. Thank you for waiting for me; I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you took out the redhead. Also, I want to ask your doctors to bring Olga and mom here.”
“Anything else?” asked the General, calmly, as if it were necessary. The insolent fellow came closer. Morozov started to feel sick. He always had a hundred percent vision, but he would have been better off with myopia. A fanged smile and blue, inhuman eyes drove him to shiver.
“I have a lot of things that can be attributed to your question about ‘anything else,’ but you’re not capable of fulfilling all my requests. Although there is one request for you. I want to talk with my family, alone, of course.”
“I have nothing against it,” the General shrugged his shoulders. “Now I have a request for you.”
“I’m listening, General.” The blue-eyed guy was very courteous.
Morozov somehow knew that he was acting from a position of strength, and it was not a joke at all. The guy was not afraid of special forces, as if they were no worse for him than the puff from a dandelion. The Major General understood the situation perfectly and tried to save face. Boris quickly worked out various possibilities of what had happened in his mind, but the most plausible of them was, crazy, of course, the possibility of the existence of magic. Only that could explain the seemingly supernatural devilry.
“I hope you’ll give me ten minutes of your time for a private conversation?”
“Always at your service.”
“What do you want to talk about, son?” Kerimov stepped forward. The General left them in privacy.
Boris finally remembered where he’d seen this man and what he was. The news on Channel One was watched by the whole country. The son of the scientist glanced sideways at the witnesses of the conversation.
“I want to suggest that you and mom come over to be with me. Don’t make that face, you understand what I’m talking about. Even your curator is tense, I must say, Leonid Vladimirovich, I respect you as one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met. I guess you wanted to touch on the topic of cooperation in a private conversation, but I’m afraid to disappoint you.”
“Why?” snapped the General. Morozov cautiously stepped back into the shadows and went behind the civilians. The special forces adroitly encircled the bus and asked the unnecessary witnesses to leave. And the chief of the Internal Affairs Directorate was so curious that he spat on the possible consequences and decided to listen until he was personally asked to leave. Boris felt that serious business was going on near the hospital.
“It’s not because I don’t want to, but because you don’t have the authority, General Sanin, to conduct negotiations with me on the topic of possible collaboration.”
“Indeed? Mr. Kerimov, you’ve intrigued me. Who would you prefer to meet with since you don’t consider me a worthy candidate?”
“The president, the prime minister, or the minister of external affairs, at the very least.”
“So the appetite comes with eating? Earlier you were satisfied with the scientific center and the deputy curator or the head of the scientific sector,” the General smiled.
“You think so? Perhaps, I was wrong in my assessment. Leonid Vladimirovich, don’t lower my opinion of you. I’m afraid to be disappointed.”
“Very well,” the General said, raising his right hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Your circus seemed amusing to me; you turned the situation too easily in your favor.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Kerimov’s son bowed curiously and straightened his back.
The conversation paused for a moment. The special forces took down the roadblocks. A disheveled woman approached Andy, accompanied by a strong attendant, who was pushing a wheelchair with a blond little girl. The guy hugged the woman and kissed the girl on the top of her head. “Bring Bon, please. I’ll take my dog, who was in Olga’s ward, with me,” he said to the orderly. The man nodded and left the site. Ten minutes later, the conversation resumed. The General and the others involved gave the Kerimov family time to hug each other and exchange a couple of words. Now the whole family was standing in an embrace and whispered among themselves. The General’s people and the General himself weren’t idle either. They were joined by a civilian, most likely a scientist whose face betrayed Indian origin. Leonid Vladimirovich called the Indian woman over.
Morozov pretended to be a fly on the wall. Some of the civilians were still milling around, blocking him with their bodies. The lieutenant-Colonel was praying to all the gods not to be thrown out. The higher powers heeded his pleading, but somehow with a funny twist. Colonel Lantsov came to the lieutenant Colonel and slipped several papers into his hands.
“What are these?” Boris asked.
“They’re documents for your transfer to my department. My people have been watching you for a long time, and we decided you’re a good fit for us. You were so actively hiding behind the scientists that I felt ashamed for you. From now on, you don’t have to hide in the shadows. If you notice, you’re the only one left in the area sectioned off from outsiders. Did you really think we wouldn’t see you? Don’t worry, there will be no problems with the commanders. Where and what work you are going to do, you will find out later. I’m not asking for consent. I don’t accept a refusal, as you’re aware.”
“What the…?” Morozov whispered, looking at his signatures on unfamiliar papers.
“Get used to it.”
While he was examining the papers, the General finished his consultation.
“Mr. Kerimov, excuse the interruption. I’d like to check something with you.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Two things. Why are you sure that you need only the highest state officials for negotiations, and an immodest question—you so easily spoke up about your family’s transfer to another world, as if for you t
hat’s not a problem…?”
* * *
Andy looked at the General and thought. Realizing that the pause was dragging on, his father, mother, and elder sister looked at him with a mute reproach in their eyes. A few minutes ago, he was boasting; now he was standing there depicting a frozen salt pillar. A carefully restrained celebration broke through in the General’s eyes from his successful question, which enabled him to catch the self-assured boy in a trap.
“Rosugar.”
The mental appeal reached the addressee. “Kerr, I see all the transmitted projections. Don’t worry. I gave you my word, and I will fulfill my promise.”
Andy rubbed his tattoo, cast a frown at the General, and for a few moments, and fell into memories.
* * *
Kicking down the door to the dining room where the ambulatory patients had been taken, he came nose to nose with two big bad brutes. Shock spells broke from the were-dragon’s hands, followed by lightning; from the powerful clap, all the windows in the room were shattered into small pieces. The people in the dining room let out blood-curdling cries. Feeling a movement, Andy turned. Right on time! One of those whom he wanted to see jumped out of the staff lounge. The bald scar-face didn’t have time to shoot. A ram of air and the fiery blood spell struck him in the chest. The rather large body was lifted from the floor and slammed it into the window aperture. The wooden frame couldn’t stand the blow; the body, which was on fire from the second interweave, fell through. No sooner had the body touched the ground than one of the free modules told Andy that the bald man in the staff lounge wasn’t alone. Three of his associates were resting there from “the labors of the righteous.” To stave off boredom, they “invited” the girls from the medical staff and puffed joints. Hearing booms and shouts, the brave fortune-seekers seized their weapons and jumped out into the corridor. Andy thanked providence and the magical shields he’d prepared beforehand. Seeing the demonic eyes, the smoked-up “gentlemen of fortune” started shooting randomly, using up all the cartridges they had. With a retaliatory blow, the trio was imprinted into the wall. Andy was especially pleased that among them was the red-headed “dessert.”
He approached one of the guys. The douchebag was high; he was one of the ones who beat the hospital’s chief of medicine and demanded access to drugs. Grabbing the messed-up robber by the throat, the were-dragon looked into the wide oily pupils and slipped into the man’s consciousness. In the mind of the addict, chaos reigned; all feelings were overwhelmed by euphoria and bliss, but behind the soap bubbles of simple sluggish thoughts, a thin control structure was hidden. The interweave in the bandit’s head had a magical origin and almost lost its strength, but he who had once existed on pathetic crumbs of mana was able to identify the tracks of interference in the human intellect. It was clearly a magical spell, but on Earth, there were no real mages except Andy and perhaps Olga. Or had he missed something? There must be someone. The guess came to him like a meteor: Rosugar!
“ROSUGAR!” The mental roar broke the astral barrier. A bomb of pure pain exploded in the stoner’s head, but the were-dragon holding the robber was so immersed in himself that he didn’t hear the heartbreaking yelp. “ROSUGAR! I will destroy you! Why did you do this, Targ’s spawn?”
Andy returned to the real world. His nose was immediately struck by the smell of stool. The weak-willed addict was floundering as he held him by the throat. The former robber and astral dragon’s puppet gave up the ghost.
“Not everyone in this world has blocks and shields on their minds. I had plenty of time to climb into their heads.” Andy recalled with a shiver the words this evil bloke had spoken a few hours ago. There was no doubt the attack on the hospital was provoked by his recent conversation partner. But why? Why, Targ take him?! The next bandit in line, still pinned up against the wall by the magical spell, realized that he was next and started jerking his legs.
“No!” The filthy little toad came out of his drug-induced stupor.
Doctors and patients watched as their liberator, who was worse than the previous torturers, snatched a sword from thin air, cut the gun, and grabbed the assailant by the chin with his left hand. The robber squealed. He too was on a magical leash. Andy squeamishly grimaced and interrupted the cries in the most effective way...
“Run,” he said to the redhead, freeing him from the magical fetters. A second “twin” sword appeared in his left hand. “Let’s play...”
The last of the bandits, limping on his left leg, quickly rolled down the stairs and jumped through the window. His pursuer looked at him and thought that Lieutenant-Colonel Helmitsky was right. The city was “cleansed” for six months from various criminal elements. N-ville, which became the strategic center of the future technical breakthrough, got rid of the legacy of the nineties. The armed attack on the postal machine and the seizure of the hospital were out of the ordinary events, all the more so since the criminogenic background hadn’t foretold anything like this. No one could have imagined that the organizer of the riots would be the other-worldly personality.
“Rosugar…” growled Andy, feeling the familiar mental background. “Why??”
“I had to burn the bridges...”
“WHAT?!”
“Your bridges. You needed a shaking up to remember who you are, and Olga has to leave her attachments here. She shouldn’t wish to return to Earth. You showed yourself in all your glory, you know what I mean? What prospects do you have now? There is no way back. This is the first lesson for Olga and not the last one for you—you’re still trusting.”
“You’re crazy! What right did you have to decide for us?” Andy splashed out on the dragon everything that he had boiled in his soul: images, feelings, a furious cocktail of emotions.
“I’m sorry that it happened that way with your mother. Believe me, I didn’t wish evil for her, but if I could play the story back, I’d leave everything as it is. You’d have been sitting in that bunker for half a year, pretending to be a clown before deciding to take decisive action.”
“They killed Bon!”
“Olga’s come to know the pain of loss, but you saved her.”
“Are you glad?” Andy spat poison.
“Glad it will be easier for her to go through the pain of the Ritual. I try to think ahead.”
“Lessons, you say, training... you’re a vile piece of scum. You set me up. How can you calmly talk about the Ritual, when that would mean going to Ilanta. Targ, I don’t know how to build interworld portals, and the secret service won’t let us out of their grasp.”
“I’ll show you the portal interweave, and I’ll act as a guide through the astral. All you need to provide is mana and the corresponding exit point.”
“Everything’s been thought out. What reward did the higher powers promise you?”
“Death,” said the dragon calmly. “I will die and move to another level of existence, and Ilanta will receive Hope. An acceptable price for a worthy deed. You don’t understand what it’s like to be alone and what it takes not to go crazy for thousands of years. Roaming around other people’s minds gets old quickly. Not dead, not alive... I knew oblivion, but I want to find peace.”
“I understand you. Dragon, take what you want, but pay the real price. It’s been said about you.” His anger at the manipulator evaporated. Andy really understood the motives and goals of the old dragon. He understood, but didn’t accept and did not forgive him. Bon’s death affected him very strongly. Right in front of his eyes stood a battered mother and an enraged Olga, lying in a puddle of blood. His heart was hurt by the fact that he and his sister had been used, and with sophistication. The pain he would outlive, as he already had, more than once. Life doesn’t stand still. We must live. He had a goal which no higher forces could prevent. He would take Olga to his cave. Ania would become her friend and mentor. Ania...
“You forgot to take into account one thing. Earthlings have been watching Ilanta for a long time and are unlikely to abandon this venture, especially after I’ve demon
strated the use of magic here. The higher-ups won’t want to release a cake like that without having a big piece, no matter what kind of dirty tricks I begin to play,” he turned to the dragon.
“Any coin has two sides. Earthlings can be pressured, controlled. You didn’t listen well when I told you about the portal interweave. It can be built in both directions. Strong dragon mages cannot be found now; the miur will share their megaliths, and as for people roaming freely, I can give you a little advice. Remember who you are.”
Andy thought about it; the old dragon was right. One should never, no matter what hypostasis you took on, forget about who you are. “If...”
“If you can’t control the process—run it!” he voiced the new thought that had come into his head.
“Good for you. Behave as the master of the situation, and they will take your primacy. Go, you still have one matter of unfinished business. I will be near.”
“You didn’t have to remind me,” Andy muttered, returning to reality. The mental dialogue took no more than five seconds. Redhead, lucky you, you will die faster than your accomplices...
* * *
“Mr. Kerimov?” The voice of Major General Sanin brought Andy back, or rather Kerrovitarr Gurd, heir to the throne, crown prince of the Celestial Empire of Dragons, into the world of the living.
His parents, Irina, the special forces, some scientists, and representatives of the law enforcement agencies who observed the young man, couldn’t realize the moment when he changed, though not in a visible way. Only Olga smiled slyly, but she always knew more than anyone else. The young man seemed to just move from foot to foot, slightly raise his chin, and straighten his shoulders. The cleverer among them saw a noble aristocrat. Compared to him, the venerable British and West European counts, viscounts, and Chevalier would look like old nags next to a thoroughbred Arabian horse. The aura of power that surrounded Kerimov’s son was felt almost physically.