The Dragon Rock

by Nebojsa Budjanovac

  Chapter 9. The premonition of storm

  The first day on the road since they parted with the Eagle people went by peacefully. They did not have to worry about food, for a time being. The supplies Eagle men gave them will last at least five days. Besides, the countryside was full of wildlife, which promised good hunting. When the sun descended, they made their camp in the woods, prepared the dinner, ate it, and went to sleep, wrapped in blankets. The mountain nights were chill, especially in the spring, but after so much time spent in the open, the two men hardened, became more resistant to petty discomforts.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night, a cry woke them. It was not a sound which animal throat could have made. It was terrible howling, followed by low snarls, sad, twisted, angry, but at the same time somehow lifeless, mechanical.

  “What is that?” Orin woke with a start and reached for his sword.

  Arios was sitting stiffly, seemingly calm. However, the drops of sweat on his face glistened on the weak moonshine, revealing fear.

  The howl abruptly stopped.

  “I don’t know. Be quiet,” whispered the sorcerer in the ominous silence.

  They sat silently for a long time, listening, not daring even to breathe in fear of drawing attention. The forest was silent.

  Finally, Orin spoke: “Whatever it was, it seems it’s gone. But, what sort of animals lives in this land?”

  “This was no ordinary animal,” said Arios. “I’ve never heard a sound like that. I’m afraid your sword will be of little use if we encounter it.”

  “You’re probably right,” the prince said, then added: “Listen now, what if it was a dragon? One of those which fly around the Rock? Maybe we are closer than we thought?”

  “Everything’s possible,” answered Arios. “Still, I didn’t imagine the dragons like that. They should be joyful creatures. What we heard sounded like rage and despair of a thousand people. I don’t think it was a dragon.”

  “Whatever it was, I hope we’ll find out,” stated Orin.

  “Maybe it’s better we never find out. I just realized I’m bigger coward than I thought.” Arios smiled nervously in the darkness.

  The rest of the night they spent awake, sitting, listening for every sound, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

  With the first morning light they gathered their belongings, covered the remains of the camp, and continued the journey. The half-shade of the forest returned the sense of safety for them. When the sun reached its zenith, the fear loosened its grip. In the daylight, the horrors of the night fade away, become unreal.

  They came across a village, then. The forest ended, and suddenly, in front of the two travellers a small valley was spreading, with a river, on whose banks a picturesque settlement found its place. A few dozen houses built of wood and stone stood there, and two bridges connected the banks of the river. What seemed most unusual in these wild lands was the dirt road, obviously often used, which led to the northwest from the village.

  “It seems we’ve found the civilization?” asked Orin, with an expression of relief on his face.

  Arios was silent, but it was obvious he was equally astonished.

  On the surrounding meadows grazed the longhaired mountain cows with big horns. The fields were cultivated, but empty. At the gate of the village a guard was standing, armed with a long wooden spear and a sling. The man was tall, balding, strong-armed and rough-faced, dressed in leather pants, shirt and cloak. The appearance of the strangers from the south surprised him. He made a threatening move and shouted: “Stop! Who are you and why are you here?”

  “We’re just travellers on our way north!” answered the sorcerer, speaking the language he’d heard never before. The spell of understanding was invaluable.

  “No one comes to this country from the south! You are spies!” shouted the man. Then he saw the sword on Orin’s back and took two steps backward.

  Arios noticed the man’s fear.

  “We bear you no ill intentions. We’re travelling toward Dragon Rock, and we thought we’ll find here a sleeping place for the night.”

  The guard hesitated, still fearful and mistrusting. A few similar-looking men joined him, then.

  “What’s this, Daort?” asked one of them, an older man who carried himself proudly, obviously well-respected in his community.

  “Strangers,” answered the guard, “they say they are travelling north, toward something called a Dragon Rock, and they came from the south. They must be lying! Spies! What is a Dragon Rock? No such thing exists here! And the mountains to the south are impassable.”

  “I’m not lying,” Arios said quietly.

  “We crossed the mountains few days ago. We’re travelling north, toward the Dragon Rock. How it’s possible that you don’t see it? It’s the highest mountain in the world. Even now, I can see it clearly,” He pointed his hand toward the distant shape. “We thought we will reach it a long time ago, but it is still ahead of us. There!”

  Leader of the peasants stroked his beard and seemed to think about it. He looked at the Dragon Rock and smiled.

  “There are weird stories about the southern lands,” said the leader of the villagers, “but no more weird than those which are told about the Witch Mountain, that you call Dragon Rock. You say you are coming from one legend and searching for another?”

  “Exactly,” said Arios. “But, it seems there on the south they think your country is weird and dangerous.”

  The man smiled. “Strangers, if you are saying the truth, you will find hospitality here. If you are spies, you will not find way out of the village again. My name is Venor, and I’m the chief of the village. Come with me.”

  “What have you been talking about?” Orin asked Arios when they were moving among the houses. “I didn’t understand a word!”

  “I’ll cast the spell of understanding on you too, tonight. It seems you’ll need it,” said the sorcerer.

  “It was about time. I’m bored with playing mute fool,” muttered Orin.

  Venor and his two sons led the travellers to the village inn.

  The room was big but dark and the air was heavy, full of smoke, scent of roasted meat and wine. In the middle of the room there was a big fireplace where two kids were roasting. The restless fire was the only source of the light. People in the mountain lands did not care much for windows.

  Dark glances followed them from every corner of the room, but the presence of the chief of the village calmed the atmosphere. They settled around a broad wooden table and ordered lunch from the innkeeper.

  “Don’t your people work in the fields?” asked Arios, wondering at the crowded inn.

  “It’s a long story,” answered Venor. “I’m not sure you want to hear it. Still, I must tell you about the situation in our kingdom. Maybe you will decide to turn back.”

  “We would be thankful to you for useful information, “said Arios, “but I think my friend decided too firmly to get to the Rock for anything to stop him.”

  Venor smiled, looking at Orin, who was silent. “I understand. I’ll tell you what I know, which is not too much, but before, you must tell me something about yourself. Who are you and where are you going?”

  “All right.” Arios told him the story about their journey, not mentioning Orin’s heritage or the Ring of the Kings. It was enough to introduce Orin and himself as two ex mercenaries in search of legendary treasure.

  While he told the story, the innkeeper brought roasted beef and vegetables, with a pitcher of wine. The man was dirty, but two travellers were too hungry to pay notice. Orin, who was rather bored during the conversation, finally found some interest.

  Arios’ story was rather astonishing for Venor and his sons, especially the part with the Eagle people, whom they used to see sometimes, circling in the sky, and considered them to be some kind of demons.

  “And now, Arios,” said the chief, “I’ll tell you what I know, not much, mind you, because I haven’t been leaving the village lately.”

  H
e continued, slightly theatrically.

  “Our village is the southernmost village of the kingdom Ledonia, called the Green Kingdom because of many forests. Our king, Seton the Third, lives in the castle surrounded with high walls, and oaks thousands of years old. Because of it, people called it the Forest Castle. Seton the Third, they say, has elven blood, and he’s often in the company of the wood elves, but not everyone believes in those stories. I mean,” he laughed, “who had ever seen the wood elves and returned to talk about them? But you know how people are. Although, in the history of the royal family there were enough unusual and mysterious events for people to start telling stories.”

  “I know,” said Arios, although people always were mystery for him.

  “Anyway, in this kingdom no one complains too much about the king and the government. People are occupied with land, cattle, selling wood, and they are happy, as long as the taxes are low. At least it was so until recently. First, strange stories appeared, about events on the far north. The travellers who came from there told of armed bands gathering, consisting of worst human scum, but also of other, worse creatures. They told about pillaged, burning villages, and massacres. If only half of those stories are true, an enormous army from the north waits for the right moment to attack Ledonia. At first, we didn’t believe in those stories. But, they were coming every day, from even nearer places. Then the refugees began to appear. Now, no one doubts any more. Someone from the north is planning to invade the south, and it will begin in several days.

  “And the Witch Mountain? My people believe it is an evil place. Demons fly around it, guarding the passes. Some people tried to reach the mountain a long time ago, tried to find its secret, but no one succeeded. Few returned to tell about it, most did not. Those who returned told how they never succeeded to reach the Witch Mountain. It was always ahead of them, even when they came to the edge of Iceland on the other side of White Wall, the mountain ridge at the utmost north. Iceland is the end of the world. Only cold and silence exist there, and no life at all. Smarter travellers came to the edge of this barren land and returned. Others went there and disappeared. But, even at the edge of the Iceland, the Witch Mountain was only a shape on the horizon.”

  “We have already heard that the Dragon Rock may not belong to our world, and that it’s very hard to reach it,” said Arios. “Your words only confirmed other stories. But, my companion won’t give up. He believes he will succeed.”

  “Some people say that the Witch Mountain is the source of the evil that befell us,” said Venor. “Be as it may, it is not very smart to go in that direction.”

  The chief followed his words with a long swallow of wine, then wiped his mouth.

  “In this village there is a man who came back from the north few days ago. He doesn’t talk much, and stays in his house, not wishing to see anyone. He’s frightened to death, if you ask me. Maybe it would be good if you visit him. Maybe he’ll tell more to you than he did to us.”

  Arios noticed that most of the people sitting at the surrounding tables were listening to their chief. Fear was visible on their faces. The place became uncommonly silent for a village’s gathering.

  “So, we don’t know exactly what is going on,” continued Venor, “but we know that king started recruiting people for his own army, and the defence of the Forest Castle is preparing. In these times, you will hardly reach north. There is bigger chance you will end up like mercenaries in Seton’s army.”

  The man finished his story and took another long swallow.

  “These are bad news,” agreed Arios. If the story was true, their journey could be seriously endangered.

  “You see,” continued Venor, “my people are scared. No one knows what to do. Some young men went to join the king’s army. No one forces us to do this, you know. Ledonia was never a warlike country. The king has his own army which he feeds and pays enough to ensure their loyalty. It is small, because we never had larger wars. Sometimes, raiders from the east attack the country, but they usually avoid open conflict and run away when in danger. But now, a war is awaiting us. The king will need bigger army. I fear our peasant heads will also fall this time.” He took another swallow.

  Arios opened his mouth to ask the chief about the strange howling they heard last night, but changed his mind at the last moment.

  “Can you show us the way to the man that you mentioned? The one who returned from the north?” asked he instead.

  “Of course,” said Venor. “In our village everything’s near.”

  They finished their lunch in silence. The chief gave the innkeeper a few copper pennies.

  “If you don’t have anything else, you can sleep here,” said the man. “We have several rooms for travellers and merchants. Now all are empty, of course. Bad times, bad times,” he murmured for himself, putting the money in the bag at his belt.

  The house in front of them was small, wooden. The roof of the dried moss and straw mixed with mud seemed to be a good protection from the bad weather. It stood near the river, in the western part of the village. The door was closed.

  “Here we are,” said Venor. “Ordan!” shouted he toward the house. “Come out! You have visitors!”

  After a few moments of silence, the door opened slowly. The face of a middle-aged woman appeared. “Venor!” said she in greeting. “Ordan is ill. He doesn’t want to see anybody.”

  “Since when did your house become inhospitable for visitors, Rhia?” the chief did not give up. “We just want to greet Ordan and to chat a little.”

  Woman opened the door slowly. The power and the reputation of the chief obviously were great.

  “All right, if it is not long...” she said reluctantly. “Come inside.”

  The room they entered was low and dark and smelled of the dried grass. It was the only room in the house. The fireplace was in the middle, and on the bed in the corner a man was laying, his back turned to them.

  “What do you want?” he asked in uncertain, hoarse voice when they entered.

  “These two are travellers from the south,” said Venor. “They want you to tell them what you know about the army from the north.”

  The man twisted, still facing the wall.

  “There’s nothing to say. An army’s rising, everyone knows that. Big army, which will roll over everything,” the last words were said in a shaky voice.

  This man is really frightened to death, thought Arios. “What kind of army?” he asked. “Who leads it?”

  “Who leads it, you ask? A demon is its leader, the evil god of war incarnated, leading his servants to raze the world. No one will stop him.” The man chuckled hysterically, then turned and looked at them.

  Seeing his look, the two friends stiffed for a moment. The eyes were empty, cold like madman’s, the face was sneering, at the same time looking like man’s in endless pain and despair for which there’s no cure in the whole world.

  The woman jumped to calm her husband.

  “You see,” said she, “he’s like this since he returned from the north. Lying on the bed, crying and laughing. It gets no better, no way.”

  “It’s all right, Rhia,” said Venor, “your husband will get better. The war has put him under stress. He’ll get better.”

  Arios was silent. The expression on the man’s face reminded him of something else, equally desperate and hopeless.

  That evening, in the guest room, the sorcerer cast the spell of understanding at Orin. “You’ll never put me to sleep, I’m resistant to such tricks,” were the last words of the prince before Arios’ complex hand movements made his head slowly go down. When he woke several minutes later, he didn’t feel any difference, but the next morning he was amazed by the fact he could understand the language of the peasants.

  For some time, they talked about the story they’ve heard. Orin was explicit.

  “We must find a way to break through. If there is a war, it will not last forever. In this country a man could hide, disappear for some time. If we are careful, maybe
no one would notice us.”

  “Honestly, I don’t see what is it which attracts you so to this ring which maybe doesn’t exist?” said Arios. “Why is it so hard to give up?”

  “It’s simple,” answered the prince. “The further we go, the stronger I feel it’s the only thing in the world I really have. I mean, only the Ring of the Kings appears to be real. My former life isn’t more than an old dream I’ve dreamed long time ago. A dream I don’t even remember. It seems my whole life has been spent in the search of the Dragon Rock. How can I give up?”

  “You are right. I have that feeling too. But, we’ll have to be very careful. And now, it’s time to go to sleep. Good night.”

  Their sleep didn’t last long, however. In the middle of the night they both jumped from their beds, frightening, staring in the complete darkness. The inhuman howl was echoing in the night, coming from the woods, horrible, painful and desperate.

  “The torch! Lit the torch!” hissed Orin, jumping from the bed.

  “Wait! I can’t see a thing!”

  The prince touched the hilt of his sword, and unsheathed it.

  “Now we’ll see who is howling!”

  Arios finally managed to lit the candle with his flint stone, and the room filled with weak light.

  Outside, in the night, the ghostly howling was reaching its peak.

  “Let’s go!” shouted Orin. “That direction!”

  The sorcerer didn’t like running out blindly in the darkness, but he didn’t have much choice. Holding the torch in his hand, he ran out from the inn, following the prince who was running across the meadow, swinging with his sword.

  Fear makes heroes of men, thought he ironically, and after that, there was no time for thinking.

  The howling was still coming from the woods across the river, but it was not so loud anymore. The village was empty, however. People were too frightened to go out discovering what was happening.

  When they crossed the bridge, the howling stopped. The quiet murmur of the river was the only sound in the dark.

  Frightened and out of breath, two men paid no attention to the chill of the night. Twenty paces from the place they were standing was the edge of the forest; ghostly and threatening, still, frozen with the horror it was hiding. Through the thin layer of the clouds, moonshine was visible, bathing the world in icy light, which made the shadows look deeper.

  “Now where?” whispered Arios, breathing hardly.

  Orin was standing, trying to see something in the darkness. “I don’t know. It came from there,” he pointed in one direction. “Now I don’t know anymore.” He lowered the sword and wiped his forehead with his hand.

  The answer came unbidden. From the left, they heard snapping of the branches, the sound of something enormous rolling through the bushes. Both men crouched in the same moment, ready for everything that could appear. Only a thin line of reason separated them from panic and mindless escape from the thing that rolled through the forest.

  One endless moment more, and there it was, breaking out on the clearing, a black creature, low and broad, oval in shape, carrying itself on many ill-formed limbs with great speed. Arios and Orin couldn’t see the details, it was too dark, but it seemed its body constantly changed shape, like a blob filled with water which could burst in any moment.

  Orin was standing, frozen, too confused to remember the sword in his hand. The creature was rolling toward them, panting repulsively. When it neared less than several paces from them, the prince finally took action and attacked with the sword. His stroke missed, but the creature stopped. Black body, shaking on the unsure limbs, tried to avoid the man with the sword. Arios was not armed. His mind was too shocked to reach for some spell. He could only stand and watch.

  “It wants to get across the river!” shouted Orin, “I’ll stop you” added he through his teeth, swinging the sword again several times, until he succeeded in hitting the monster. Scream of rage ripped the darkness again. The swollen body shivered in spasm, and then it began to retreat toward the forest. Orin started after it, but Arios’ hand stopped him.

  “Wait!”

  “Why? It’s wounded! I could finish it now!”

  “No! Let him go! We go back!” the sorcerer didn’t give up.

  “Why? What’s wrong with you now?” Orin’s rage was almost visible.

  “I think I have realized something.” Arios was calm. “We’ll try to solve this in other way.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Orin.

  “Maybe I’m wrong, but we still go back.”

  “It probably won’t return.” Orin leaned on his sword, breathing deeply. “It got a lesson. But, what it was? I didn’t see such a creature in my whole life!”

  Arios kept quiet, staring in the darkness. If his assumption was correct, this country was bound for hard times.

  The following morning, Venor was not too much surprised. “I knew you’re no ordinary mercenary,” he said to Arios. “I guessed you must be some kind of wizard. It was obvious you knew much more than you show. But it is hard to believe what you said.”

  “You’ll have to believe. You believed the stories about the war on the north. Why would this be so hard to believe?” Arios was telling quietly. They were sitting in the inn, surrounded with the most respected people of the village. The atmosphere was tense.

  “A few nights ago, a monster attacked my cow,” said a short, rough-looking man. “In the morning, we found the remains, half melted! Melted! How could a human being do such a thing?”

  “It isn’t a human being. At least, not after the metamorphosis.” said Arios. “We saw it tonight, me and my friend, face to face.”

  “You are claiming that someone of the villagers turns into a monster by night and wanders through the woods?” asked Venor incredulously. Arios confirmed. “I think it was the man who returned from the north. Ordan was his name?”

  For a few long moments, the gathering was silent. Finally, someone said “What’s happening?”

  “I know something about every school of magic that exists in the world,” began the sorcerer. “What happened to Ordan was doing of the darkest forces. A spell was cast on him, very powerful, which enables something or someone, a creature we usually call a demon, to take his body and shape it at will. It was a doing of a very powerful sorcerer.”

  After these words, the room burst with frightened talk.

  “If it is so, could you do anything?” asked Venor.

  “I could try. I don’t know if it would work. The price could be big. But, if we do nothing, things may get worse.”

  Men chattered again.

  “What if the stranger is lying?” shouted a man. “How could we know he’s telling the truth?”

  “Maybe he’s a spy!” came a cry from the other side. “Maybe he had been sent to spread stories like this one! To frighten people!” A few people rose from their chairs. Orin’s hand went to the hilt of his sword.

  Arios kept his calm. “Wait. You can check if I’m lying. Bring Ordan here and I’ll question him. Anyway, I can’t escape.”

  A short pause followed. In silence, the chief of the village slowly rose from his chair. His head was bowed when he said: “We’ll go get Ordan.”

  No one stood against the decision.

  Orin didn’t talk, keeping his hand on the hilt of the sword. Beside the monster from the woods, the villagers frightened enough to do something stupid were also a source of danger.

  Three strong men dragged Ordan to the village square, in front of the inn. All villagers, including the children, stood in the half-circle, in complete silence. Their faces were dark and revealed fear. No one knew what will happen next.

  Ordan was trying to free himself, struggling, crying and screaming, uselessly. Arios stood in front of the crowd, and went to the half-crazed man. He extended his hand toward Ordan, and uttered a word of power. Ordan relaxed in a moment and fell to the ground.

  “Set him free, but be ready,” the sorcerer said firmly to the men
who brought Ordan, then addressed him.

  “Talk to me: what happened in the north? Who put the spell on you? Maybe I can help you.”

  The man covered his head with hands. “The sun!” he wailed. “It burns! Let me go home!”

  “What happened?” Arios was persistent.

  “Aah... don’t know... don’t remember...” Ordan’s voice became whisper.

  “Remember!” shouted Arios and moved his hand again.

  The man fell flat on the ground, seemingly unconscious, his eyes fixed on nothing. Then his lips moved, and he began to talk, slightly unintelligible and incoherent at first.

  “I was there... hiding in the hole, when they came... Lord of Doom, yes, they call him so... laughed... laughed at me... he said you will live and go back home...another came...in black cloak...did something to me...ah, I ran away...” The man’s talking suddenly turned into a long howl. Spasms shook Ordan’s body on the ground, and then he was still.

  Arios turned to Venor, who was standing behind him.

  “I thought so,” said he. Big drops of sweat covered his face. “Now I’ll try to send the demon back from where it came.”

  Orin remembered the sorcerer’s duel with Haar-ol-garot. He succeeded in destroying the demon, then. Will he be able to do the same again? Arios used his magic very rarely, so the prince sometimes forgot he was travelling with a sorcerer. How strong his powers really are? Does he know it?

  Arios sat down in front of the unmoving body, joined his palms above his face, and closed his eyes. His lips were soundlessly forming words. The tension in the crowd was rising. The half-circle was getting wider; men were backing away, awaiting the outcome.

  For several minutes, the silence was complete. And then the horror began. Ordan’s body on the ground twisted once more, stretched and started to lose its shape, like a blob filling with water. His skin became dark grey in colour, and numerous tentacles broke out on all parts. But, what was most horrible, the whole upper part of the blob became an enormous disfigured face; a mockery of human’s face, with round black eyes, flat nose and big, drooling mouth. The whole metamorphosis was followed by obnoxious panting.

  In a split second, the creature attacked the nearest villager, frozen by the sight in front of him. Arios jumped on his feet, shouting a word, but it was too late. The man’s head and torso disappeared in the demon’s mouth, which splashed green ooze. In the moment the victim’s legs were still shaking, the body began to melt. It was this last thing that set the frozen crowd into panicked, screaming run from the scene.

  Orin unsheathed his sword and stood his ground.

  Arios, in crouched position, watched the monster finishing his unfortunate victim. And then, the enormous face turned to the sorcerer. His mouth went into rictus. The creature spoke few unintelligible words in a deep, growling voice, and stretched on the ground, madly laughing.

  Then, there was only silence. Arios approached the carcass carefully, his view blurred with streams of sweat which ran down his face. He turned away then, disgusted, and went into the inn, sat at the table, and buried his face in his hands.

  Orin, Venor and few villagers followed him slowly.

  Ominous silence settled in the room. The villagers stood silently, watching the man at the table with mixture of fear and hate.

  “You shouldn’t have done this,” said the chief. “People are scared. I cannot protect you, even if you are innocent.”

  Arios looked up. “I know. I am scared, too.” His voice was shaking.

  Orin interrupted: “But, you killed the demon - you were stronger...”

  “I was not!” Arios interrupted him. “You don’t understand! The monster laughed in my face!” The shadow of fear made the black depth of his eyes even deeper.

  “He said to me something I don’t even dare to repeat, and then he simply left, leaving the shell of his former body! He went away! I couldn’t control him, he was playing with me - he could have jumped on anyone - even me, if he wanted. But no, he was playing with me!” he sighed deeply and went silent. Orin had never before seen him so scared.

  “People are afraid of you,” said one of the peasants. “I don’t think you are a spy, but it would be best if you leave the village as soon as you can.”

  “Yes,” agreed Venor. “You must understand - these people are peaceful - they don’t like to fight - but too many terrible things happened lately, and everybody is tense. They could take their vengeance on you.”

  “Let them try,” said Orin firmly. “We didn’t bring the evil in this country. Arios tried to help.”

  “They are right, Orin. It’s better for us to leave the village...” The sorcerer’s voice was tired.

  “I’m not afraid...” began the prince.

  “I don’t want a conflict with you,” said Venor, trying to ease the atmosphere. “But, I could not be responsible for all people in this village – you’d better leave.”

  From the outside, sounds of the approaching crowd came.

  “People are gathering, Venor,” said one of the peasants.

  “It’s time for us to go,” said Arios.

  Taking their packs, they went out from the half-darkness of the inn.

  People were standing in the half-circle if front of the entrance. The look of enmity on their faces was unmistakable. They have chosen whom they would blame for the death of their neighbours.

  “Warlock!” a shout came when Arios showed at the door. People began to close around them.

  “Murderer!”

  “Demon!”

  “Wait!” yelled the chief. “Leave these men be. They are leaving the village. They are not guilty!”

  “Yes, they are!” cried someone.

  “If not for their spells, two men would be alive now!”

  “They should be stoned!”

  “Wait!” Venor raised his hands. A stone flew from somewhere and hit Orin in the collarbone. The prince shouted in rage and drew the sword from the scabbard. Next moment, several spears and pitchforks were pointed at them. Orin hacked at the nearest pole. The crowd backed few steps, but a shower of stones fell on two friends. Arios, enraged because of sharp pain and stupidity of the crowd, raised his hand and began a spell which would confuse minds of the people in the crowd, but then something else crossed his mind. Shielding his head with the right hand, he reached in the pocket of his cloak and took out the wooden flute, the gift of the elven girl, which was for most of the time out of his conscious mind. Turning towards the crowd, he blew the flute in anger. This time, the sound was not pleasant. Sharp, piercing whistle froze the crowd. The scene suddenly went silent. And then, all eyes turned to a spot above the sorcerer’s head, a spot which was out of this world. Orin also fell under the spell, staring with blank expression. They stood for a few moments, listening to the sound which was coming from the depths of their minds. Someone started to dance. Their faces blissful, they began to follow mechanical movements of some grotesque minuet, making strange figures, jumping and bowing to others, spinning in circles. Everything was happening in a complete silence.

  The elves have a weird sense of humour, thought Arios, watching the madman’s dance, creeps flowing through him.

  The spell did not work on him, but his thoughts were slow and incoherent. He needed some time to realize what he should do. With an effort of will, he grabbed the dancing prince’s shoulder and shook him.

  “Quickly! We must run away while this lasts!” Orin did not resist, his attention focused only to the music which was coming from his head. So they staggered out from the enchanted village, the prince dancing and hopping all the way, smiling blissfully, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

  I hope they will come to their senses sooner or later, thought the sorcerer smiling maliciously. Or is it possible they actually came to their senses now, while the rest of their lives they spend in trance? One would think so, seeing this mad prince chasing his dream straight into disaster.

  “And you are following him, fool!”
said he aloud, and laughed. “You’re no better than him.” He was walking rapidly, dragging the helpless Orin behind.

  “Two madmen are going to confront all the demons of the darkness tomorrow! Hah! Our only chance will be if our stupidity confuses them, and it is a very small chance. I really shouldn’t have left my home!”

  The next day, the prince was conscious again, although little confused, and he didn’t remember anything. Arios’ memory strangely faded, too. He knew what happened, but he could swear it was only a dream.