The Nameless Slave

by Vitaly Zykov

  «Have they never seen magic?!» – This idea just shook his imagination. «Savages!»

  The guests were taking their seats very long. They looked at each other across the table, then began muttering under their breath, casting curious looks at the environment. Finally, this rat race ended. Two girls – the red-haired and the girl with strange, unnatural colored hair sat to Irung's left, the guy and the third girl – to the right. Irung, was watching all that laxity movements disdainfully twitching his lips, then raised his hand for silence. Having made sure that all attention was drawn entirely to him, he drew with his index finger an activation rune on the table and breathed a spell. The table which could work like a translation artifact, informed the captain of its readiness with a light wave of heat. And then Irung began to speak…

  It seemed to Oleg that he had fallen into a historical adventure novel, with sea, pirates, ships and battles, beautiful ladies and brilliant gentlemen. The wind, that blew in the faces of gallant Captain Blood and furious Flint, was playing with his hair now. Even the complete uncertainty of their situation (were they prisoners or visitors?) faded to the background. The ship and the sea were two things that occupied his mind, when he descended down the steep steps of a ladder after a fit man in dark blue uniform richly embroidered with silver. Though a silent holler from Nastya who had stumbled there quickly returned him to reality. Oleg cursed himself in a low voice, jumped to the girl and supported her elbow. She smiled at him gratefully, however, her smile looked pretty tortured, or even miserable. Olesya and Natasha were holding each other, finding solace in mutual support. Oleg winked at them reassuringly, showing that everything would be okay, but that had no effect.

  Finally they came to a wooden door lavishly decorated with carving. Their guide stepped aside, letting them inside. Oleg sighed and went through the door, as if plunged into a maelstrom – without discerning and head forward. And once again he got into a tale. Some soft light, pleasing for eyes, was illuminating the luxurious decoration of the cabin. It was not an ordinary cabin, as it was too big, the chief cabins in the novels of his childhood had to look so. Panels of different wood adorned the walls. Gold and white bone were materials for a wide variety of creatures, often incredibly beautiful, such as a girl of ethereal beauty, whose picture was illuminated with light from an opposite porthole. Their feet sank in the soft plush carpet, decorated with a picture of raging sea and sea monsters fighting in mortal combat. In the middle of the cabin there was a long table for twelve people. It could be guessed from the number of chairs, each of them was also a work of art. The surface of the table was perfectly flat, without any pictures or patterns. Only wooden surface with natural texture of wood, and nothing else. Mild and pleasant light, astonishing them at first, shone from somewhere above, but Oleg could not see any lamps.

  At the head of the table, behind a chair, stood a man already familiar to them, the man who tossed such terrible lightnings, the man very similar to a magician. Now he was dressed in traditional on this ship dark blue uniform, made of very expensive fabric, even at the first glance. However, they did not know yet what was expensive here and what was not. The man was standing, staring at the newcomers with imperious and extremely cold expression on his face. A nasty glance. Man should not look at equal people like that! Or, were they equal?! This look attracted attention, forced to obey to his owner. There stood a leader, commander, father and God in one person. The one, who rules on the ship.

  They huddled at the entrance, not knowing what to do next. Finally, the owner of the cabin made an inviting gesture and set an example by himself, sitting at the table. But he did it in some strange way. Oleg understood what was strange only on his way to the table. The man pulled out the chair without using his hands. He made a motion with his finger, and the chair was gently pulled away. Just a second after Oleg felt the weight of his jaw dropped to his chest.

  «Surely, he is a magician indeed!» – The thought was not comforting.

  Oleg glanced at the girls and found out that they too, had noticed supernatural abilities of the man who had rescued them. The mysterious lightnings on the shore could be explained by some hidden weapon, but he could not believe in existence of a mechanism for moving chairs. Their host, meanwhile, had noticed their confusion. That was obvious from his pursed lips. They had no choice but to sit down at the table.

  Olesya and Natasha went to the farther side of the table, while Oleg and Nastya chose to sit at its hither side and according to a tacit agreement Oleg sat closer to the magician. Finally, when they were all seated, the host raised his hand for silence, then he drew a strange sign on the table and shouted a guttural phrase. At the same moment they felt as if stabbed with a thousand needles in their napes. It felt like a small animal had settled under your skull and began getting itself comfortable. This feeling was not painful, but was not pleasant either.

  Then the magician spoke in a calm, well-modulated voice. It was strange, not the fact that he was speaking (he was surely a thinking being, after all), but the fact that his speech was clear to the people sitting at the table. This was totally incomprehensible.

  – My name is lir Irung, and I am glad to welcome you on board of the «Kiss of the Great Snake», whose captain and magician is me. In order to immediately prevent all unnecessary questions, I should say that you can understand me because of the special artifact, which is the table standing in front of you. So, having settled these small formalities, I have to ask you to answer my questions. Do you have any objections?

  Discordant chorus of voices was the answer.

  – Then, let's start. First of all, I should note that this artifact allows me to easily distinguish truth from falsehood, so I expect truthful answers.

  After this prelude lir Irung issued a stream of questions. Who they are, what their names are, how they got here… At first Oleg answered for all of them. He was speaking clearly and concisely, describing their story in short phrases. He had to start since the kidnapping from their own world. Lir Irung required all details. How was each of them sitting? Where were they looking and what were they thinking at the time? Step by step, they went through all the stages of their misadventures. Irung was particularly interested in missing Yaroslav. He asked a lot of questions, and it seemed he was very annoyed with disappearance of the man. When Oleg had remarked that Yaroslav had most likely died, Irung irritably yanked his cheek and went on to the next questions. Sometimes he asked the girls for some details. But they were highly agitated and jumped from event to event, what was annoying Irung very much. However, the magician had to endure. Oleg was also pleased with the fact that Nastya answered better than other girls. She held herself up and even remembered some points Oleg had missed himself.

  Twice during this impromptu interview a sailor (or steward?) came in the cabin and brought a jug with some refreshing, tasty liquid, which they drank from beautiful carved cups. Finally, the magician finished with questions, held out his hand and took from the table a round flat thing, resembling a coin, which Oleg had not seen before. He tossed it in his hand and put in his belt.

  «Probably a recording device», – Oleg thought, for some reason.

  – Well, everything is clear – summed up the captain. – Make yourself as guests of honor on my ship. Two cabins will be prepared for you. You'll have dinner in this cabin, when a sailor invites you. You may walk anywhere the ship, but should you not be permitted to do something, you must strictly comply with all requirements. Now you will be escorted to your cabins.

  – Captain! May I ask a question? – Oleg ventured to speak.

  – Yes, of course. What do you want to know?

  – Where are you taking us? And what's going to happen to us?

  The girls supported him with discordant rumble. Irung grimaced:

  – The ship is going to the port of Seven Towers, the capital of blessed Republic of Nold. There, our scientists will discover what has happened to you. And help either return or settle in this life. Nold always rewa
rds cooperation. At this point I ask to forgive me. I have some business! Our ship is in a very dangerous waters, so I'm asking not to visit the top deck without any need.

  The door opened and their recent escort came in.

  – Bernard will escort you to your quarters. – After that Irung said a few words to Bernard in unknown language.

  The latter listened carefully, respectfully bowed and led Oleg and the girls away from the cabin.

  When the guests went out, Irung leaned relaxedly on the back of his chair. The interrogation had drained him out, but now he had the record of their uneasy conversation. He pulled out a small disk and tossed it in his hand. Memory crystal is a very beautiful thing, after all. Just place it into a reader and watch. Now, even if something happens to the rescued, Archimagus will receive the detailed information about them, including parameters of their auras[15] and so on and so forth. Irung tossed this flat crystal once again and put it in a locket on his neck. It will be safer there!

  Finally, the young magician could safely comprehend everything he had heard, habitually talking aloud.

  – Well, well, an unknown creature whom they called dragon by the name Roshag and which was unlike any other known species of Toarn dragons, but congruent with remained images of In-between-world dragons, had stolen a wagon with people from another world. He moved them to our world at Guurr'o'demy and attempted to perform an unknown ritual, according to the rescued, in order to increase his Force. And all that the dragon had reported to an unknown person, who is not on board and had presumably died in the marhuz's claws. This man has interrupted the ritual which, of course, resulted in Roshag's death. Surely a wrong death! The resulting local distortion of Forces did not cause any disasters, and what is especially suspicious, one of the participants of the ritual survived. And if you imagine the energy levels that were involved, then… Well… – Irung created a sheet of paper and began to masterfully fill it with formulas. Finally after a while he looked over the results and scratched his head anxiously. – So, what have you become now, unknown Yaroslav?!

  Suddenly he stopped and listened. The magician understood that somebody was eavesdropping on him. An unknown spy was so fascinated that Irung could detect the fact of espionage and even localize it. The enemy's (whose else?) spy was behind the porthole, leaving no possibility of belonging to human race. A man could not be hiding here! Casting his trained body to the porthole, with necessary spells at ready Irung leaned out, but the sound of flapping wings was the only answer. The spy had slipped away, taking the secret information with him. Irung could not even hope that the enemy had missed something important.

  – Bryms will not be pleased! – Sighed the frustrated magician.

  CHAPTER 5

  Yaroslav was walking towards the blinding rays of even greener sun. It was very difficult to climb uphill. It seemed that his muscles were tearing off his bones. His heart was beating in his chest like a hunted animal. Restlessly looking back and around, Yarik stubbornly went ahead. His thoughts returned every now and again to the mysterious incident in the stone circle. A deafening screech, mist, momentary dizziness and… change of scenery. He was in the wood, in the primeval jungle and a moment later around him was some rocky desert with scraggy bushes of eerie-looking plants. Prickly, looked like laughing skulls with needles, they were staring at Yaroslav with their blind eye-sockets. Some shimmering blue sparks were hanging on the tips of their needles. The legends about mandrake root with shape similar to the human figure, were stubbornly creeping into his mind… along with the ones about the fate of a wicked man who dared to pull it out from the ground. Yaroslav feared to touch these plants underfoot, and carefully passed around those creepy scrubs. Their damned shimmering was not visible with usual vision, but only in the corner of his eye, and that was extremely annoying.

  The place where Yaroslav had found himself, was very different from the starting point – here was no fences or stone circles, but only two rough stones. They had clear surface, without any signs on them. Nothing! Only a flat rocky desert, not a single hill for miles around, apart from one mountain in the form of a fist threatening to the sky in the distance. So there were two stones, standing in this desert. So they were just standing there until bang! And Yaroslav appeared between them.

  He had no desire to return back to the lunch of the beast, but neither was he eager be in this desert alone. He went around the standing stones for his own peace of mind, but nothing changed. So Yaroslav chose direction towards a dark point near horizon and moved forward. The mountain-fist threatening to the sky remained behind his back.

  After a few hours of exhausting march, the dark point somehow increased. Myopically peering forward, Yaroslav could see that there was a building rising ahead. It was strange, but today he could see much better than usual. Previously, he could hardly recognize a bus number and wanted to change his glasses, but now he was able to discern even some details of the building. Making this mental note, he quickened his pace. It should begin to get dark soon and he wanted to examine the place where he was going to spend the night for presence of predatory animals before it became too dark. The unexpected attack of that giant cat was enough to teach him caution.

  After half an hour he stopped in front of a wide entrance into a nondescript stone building. The print of extreme antiquity lay on its whole appearance. The cracked walls, the broken steps, the fallen dome of the roof – all that showed that the building was not in its best shape. There was not even a trail leading towards the door of the building. Despondency and desolation reigned around. Carefully looking at the ground, trying not to step into anything unpleasant, Yaroslav entered into this destroyed building.

  Inside, there were no interior walls. The walls of the building formed a rectangular hall. Its almost completely fallen dome was the roof, pieces of the dome in form of small stones were crunching underfoot. There were no windows. The breaks in the roof and the wide door were the only sources of light here. At the far end of the room, opposite to the entrance, there was a dark statue. Yaroslav hurried to the creation of an unknown sculptor. After a few first steps, he heard a low moan. His legs stuck to the floor. Yaroslav was all ears now. But only silence was pressing on his eardrums. Trying to overcome his fears, he muttered:

  – Hungry hallucinations eager for fight!.. God, what a delirium. I'm getting cranky here sooner than one could think.

  The sound of his own voice forced the fears to hide in dark corners and Yaroslav briskly covered the remaining distance to the statue.

  It was a statue of a man with a lizard's head. Its two muscular arms, with impressive claws were crossed on the broad chest, with great muscles. Its flat core with squares of abs had a perfect shape. Two quite human (except the claws) feet were proudly trampling the pedestal. All skin of the creature was covered with tiny, perfectly fitting scales. The only clothes of the statue were pants. All that was perfectly embodied in greenish stone looking even like some dark glass.

  The head worth especial consideration. It was covered with the same scales, the greenish neck smoothly went over into a long reptile muzzle. The mouth with small needle-like teeth was slightly ajar, the contemptuously flared nostrils, and the eyes, the piercing eyes of a great warrior. The unknown sculptor had rendered a whole range of emotions in these snake-ish eyes. The furious battles, steaming blood and lights of fires were looking through the dust of centuries from these vertical pupils. Yaroslav felt as helpless as a rabbit under the gaze of a boa constrictor. The creature was lower than Yaroslav by the whole head, but the stone pedestal equated them. The man's and the statue's eyes were on the same level. Suddenly, Yaroslav felt a sneer in the eyes of the stone being. Startled, he looked away, and went cold – a few minutes ago, it had been quite light, but now the darkness was surrounding him. He lifted his head and looked at the sky – there were billowing dark clouds. It was as if they had been waiting only for that look of the man. A lightning flashed there and a thunderclap shook the neighborhood.

 
– Like I needed this rain! – Yaroslav yelled angrily, spitting on the floor and turning his back to the statue.

  A quiet, hissing laugh made him turn quickly around and look into the eyes of the stone raptor-man. The hair on Yaroslav's head began to stir. The statue was staring at him with its filthy little eyes and grinning ugly with toothy jaws.

  Yaroslav had not been living in that damn world for a long time yet – only for two days, but he had already developed some reflexes. So, not fully realizing what had happened, his brain sent his numb body the only correct order. Having got an extreme portion of adrenaline, his body darted toward the exit… Or rather, tried to dart. The statue of the raptor-man which, for unknown reason, came to life promptly threw out its right hand, and the stone fingers closed around the neck of the desperately convulsing man. A triumphant howl echoed through the building.

  Easily as if Yaroslav weighed nothing, the revived statue brought the victim's head closer to its own. With the same rigorous grip around the neck, the creature lifted Yaroslav slightly up, so he was touching the floor only with his toes now. He grabbed the stone arm with his both hands, but his resistance was futile. His convulsively straining neck muscles could not save Yaroslav from strangulation. His lungs were bursting from lack of oxygen and it felt like his neck could be broken at any moment. Death itself was looking from behind the shoulder of the grinning raptor-man. The rapidly darkening consciousness of the man felt some alien will invading through the all barriers of the human mind. At the same time the little finger on the stone hand began to slowly grope for the carotid artery. Then the throbbing vein was clamped by the stone finger. Slowly, as if enjoying the process itself, the claw began to pierce the skin. Trickles of blood from the artery gushed from under the claw. Pulsating streams of energies similar to those that Yaroslav had seen during the Roshag's ceremony, sipped from all sides to the triumphant statue and along its arm to Yaroslav from there. That was the last thing he saw before his mind sank into the muddy swirl of impending death…