by Alex Sapegin
How Thygar’s eyes lit up at that! Oh, he would have some fun! A whisper rustled through the retinue. A call to the Circle meant judgment. Yes, he would appear at the Circle, but he would not allow himself to be judged. It was worth immediately hinting at this; otherwise, the picturesque trial appointed by Ilirra’s double could lead to the grave. No, better not hint at all; better just make some powerful arguments, solve this here and now; tomorrow it may be too late. Andy threw the tair behind his back, straightened up to his full height, and pinned his shoulders back. He put on the expression he wore in front of the Snow Elves on the day of his arrival at the Orten School of Magic. One of the retinue members, looking at him, choked on his saliva.
“Please, Your Grace, I ask you not to forget three facts. First, I am not a subject of the Prince of Ora. Second, I have not been accepted into the virk; I accompany you privately. And third, the rules of the virk, in terms of using visual magic and illusions, do not apply to me. And finally, the Circle can not decide my destiny; it can only throw me out of the detachment. It is not up to you to judge me, and all the less so for Thygar. He has not yet grown.” The insult hit the bull’s eye.
“Pup!” Grinning and snatching his sword from his scabbard, he jumped to his feet. “Fight!”
Andy went into a trance; the bonfire scattered in different directions from his movements. Those present recoiled from the flying logs and hot coals. The strings of the tair crashed plaintively into the dragon’s head, and his sword flashed as it was knocked out of his hand. Andy gasped, having received a painful slash to the thigh. A trickle of blood flowed down his leg. Thygar, having turned the blade in his opponent’s wound, pulled out his weapon. When he’d managed to retrieve it, Andy hadn’t noticed. Fleeing from the second blow, he fell to the ground, punching the enemy under the knee of his left leg. The dragon lost his balance and fell to Andy’s right, who grabbed the tair by the neck and pushed it into Thygar’s face, cutting his left cheek and brow with the sharp end. A short roll-over and the sharp end of the musical instrument crashed into Thygar’s stomach, dropping his cocoon of shields. In two seconds, he would have changed hypostasis, but Andy didn’t give him the time. He ran the strings, gathered in a bundle over his enemy’s head, and held them at his throat, with his knee pushing into the dragon’s broad back. Thygar had lost sight of Andy because of the blood that had filled his eyes. Feeling the iron on his neck and gasping, Thygar with great difficulty stopped the incarnation by his will power.
“Come on, change hypostasis, and you’ll be headless,” Andy hissed, spitting blood.
“Enough! Stop at once! Tomorrow in Rollir you will both leave the detachment!” The “princess” was holding a fighting staff, the cruciform pommel of which glowed with a pale flame. The whole retinue, except for Ania, gathered behind her. “Is there anyone who disagrees with my decision?”
There were no dissenters. Andy threw off the noose, releasing Thygar, who scrambled to his feet.
Quickly and harshly, it’s true, but the problem was solved. He made a rune spell interweave, breaking his connection with the spilt blood. Twins forbid some clever man would try to harm him through it. And what did he have to lose? Everyone now knew he was a mage. From the second incantation, the dark drops on the ground flared with a bright flame. Targ! Fool! He’d acted too rashly. He felt a horrible burning in his mouth and on his thigh; a bad burn formed where the blood had been. But he had one consolation: Thygar’s back was enveloped in a blue flame too. The dragon yelled out some choice words. Apparently, a lot of blood had dripped while Andy was resting his knee on the enemy’s back. I’ve got to do something about Thygar. Better kill him; in Rollir, I’ll to put an end to our feud. I can’t leave an enemy like that alive.
“Leave the camp.” The “princess” waved the sharp end of her staff in front of their eyes.
“With great pleasure. Good night!” Andy bowed at the waist and, turning on his heels, limping, went off into the darkness.
The cold water of the mountain river cooled his head and calmed his aching leg. Washing off the remnants of someone else’s blood, Andy took out of his pouch a healing “pill” donated by Evael. A funny thing about it, there was a live Mellorny seed built into it. It collected mana, allowing you to use the device at least once a day. The elves guarded the secret of making healing interweaves, of linking the seed and the artifact, better than they guarded their own eyeballs. A significant plus was that minor wounds healed instantly, leaving no traces behind. After uttering the activation key, Andy put the round piece of wood to his burned leg. A cold wave passed over his body; the burn fell from his thigh; it was instantly covered with tight young pink skin. His mouth tingled; dark spots clouded his eyes for a moment.
Andy, thinking about something, stood in the water, spit, and took a sponge and the swamp root from the pouch.
Well, how nice! After putting on a replacement set of clothes (the old one was reduced to rags), he strapped his sword on and returned to his tent. The old clothes flew into the fire. Andy picked up the silver bloom from the ground, left lying near the fire. That’s it, the powers that be had laughed at him again. Happiness flashed on the horizon and disappeared.
Warning of an unplanned visitor, the border guard spell beeped. A loose module broke away from its spot; a couple of moments later, the magical watchdog was already pouring information to its owner. Ania was walking along the path, carefully bending around the obstacles. The sida emerged from the darkness of the night and went up to Andy. The elf’s eyes looked him up and down and stopped on the damp flower. The flame’s reflection drew copper sparks in her hair.
“Why did you come?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “They’ll punish you!”
“I do not care at all! I thought for a long time…. You can make an impression on women,” she said, taking the flower from his hand and hiding it in the folds of her clothes.
“What are you doing!” he tried to stop the sida, but a thin finger touching his lips interrupted the tirade.
“Am I a fool?”
“A big one,” Andy smiled, embracing the girl and burying his face in her curls.
“I have always been told that men are more eager for fools than smart women. Now I am sure of it. What were you doing, freak?” Her small sharp fist hit his chest. “Thygar could have killed you! He’s a dragon!”
“He’s no threat,” Andy answered, kissing Ania in her pointy ear. The clasp clicked; her cloak slid smoothly to her feet.
“Andy,” a narrow hand pressed against Andy’s chest. “Have you had any women before me?”
“Yes,” he said honestly.
“All right,” she whispered, loosening the lacing of her blouse. “Andy…,”
“Yes?” picking up his beloved in his arms and heading to the tent, said Andy.
“I have not had any men yet….”
Twins almighty! A two-hundred-year-old virgin!
“How silly….”
“Silly? No—a fool!”
“Why?” Andy carefully set Ania down on an improvised cot and removed her blouse.
“Only a fool could fall in love with a shkas….”
* * *
Ania left an hour before dawn. She did not give the silver bloom back, saying that if Manyfaces brought them together again, she would accept a living flower from him, and while she was bound by duty, she could not become his wife. The virk was not finished, her mission continued. Yes, she would be punished, but their night was worth all the punishments, and the silvery blossom would remind her.
Andy sat at the dying fire until the dawn and moved the cooled coals. Ania was wrong: not if, when! He would find her, whatever it cost him. Today they would part ways. The road to the small free town of Rollir on the border of the Miurs’ lands and the Celestial Empire would take less than half of the day’s journey. How long their separation would be, he couldn’t say, but he would do his best to make it as short as possible.
The road was nearby,
and they were soon underway. Coal caught the mood of the owner and behaved as quietly as can be. The hass positioned himself at the end of the short caravan, obeying the easy movement of his rider’s knees. It kept about a hundred yards from the last trox.
The looks on the “princess’” face and those of the retinue told the rider that today he had better stay away. Well, it was a small request. No problem, happy to oblige.
The sun gradually picked up higher and higher, approaching the zenith. It was no more than two hours to Rollir. Andy, no longer hiding his gift from the others, periodically set up a guard contour and checked the road. He was about to remove the last “watchdog,” when on its very border flashed a threesome of large objects, each the size of a bull. A few seconds later, from the direction of the caravan, came a frightful female squeal and the sound of Thygar screaming in a hoarse voice:
“Voooogrs!”
“Coal, go on!” The hass released its claws and jerked toward the screams.
The huge beast reminiscent of an overgrown bear jumping onto the trail did not come as a surprise to Andy. He’d already prepared a fireball that hit the monster in the chest... and dissolved into small sparks without causing it any harm. The creature was immune to magic. Now that was a surprise! The monster jumped to attack the hass. A blow by its powerful paw knocked Andy out of the saddle and knocked Coal on its side. Andy flew through the air at least ten yards and crashed into a tree. The hass, who fell to the ground, fought with its front and back legs with its claws released. Coal covered the predator’s side with several deep wounds, but the fight did not end well for the lizard. The vogr sunk its teeth into Coal’s neck; a loud crunch sounded; the hass roared plaintively; its paws jerked for the last time; a veil of death came over its eyes. The vogr threw the dead body away and turned to Andy. It moved quickly, which seemed quite incredible for such a carcass. Going into a battle trance, Andy drew his sword from the scabbard and rushed at the enemy. His expectations did not deceive him—the predator jumped to meet him, not perceiving the man as a worthy adversary. Accelerating and falling to his knees, Andy slipped under the huge body flying over him, praying to all the gods that there was no root or cobblestone in the grass that could stop his sliding. The elven blade stretched upward split the vogr’s belly, spilling its foul-smelling intestines. The vogr plaintively howled and spun like a top. At the howling, the companions of the gutted “bear” turned their attention away from the retinue and rushed towards Andy.
The first “helper,” leaping towards him in long jumps, was met by the “airless bubble” interweave. Andy decided that if the animal didn’t succumb to a direct magical effect, he could use indirect magic. All the air was pumped out from the bubble of its lungs. The vogr gasped and died, falling short of the human by literally ten yards. Seven-foot-tall warriors with dark-gray skins on their shoulders greeted the third predator. The rescuers appeared out of nowhere. In an instant, the vogr was pierced with a dozen spears. The animal, now resembling a porcupine, thrashed for a few seconds until the tallest warrior shattered its head with a hammer blow.
Leaving the rescuers to finish off the gutted animal, Andy ran to the side of the retinue. His heart was beating in his throat, his palms sweating from the experience. Is Ania okay?
Ania was alright. Thygar not so; apparently, his fate was to perish by an inglorious death. With a clawed paw, the vogr simply severed his head, thereby giving the others a chance to save themselves: the headless body changed hypostasis and blocked the path of the rest of the oncoming monsters. The first predator managed to kill Tarista, the lady’s second maid, having bitten the poor girl in half, and drove Renat into the ground, breaking his spine. For magical medicine, that wound would be non-lethal. A great healing interweave and the patient would be back on his feet in a day. Then the artifacts came into play. Dragons turned out to be tough nuts; even in a deadly situation, they did not violate the sacred prohibitions, relying on themselves and on mana-loaded amulets. A fence of thorny trees grew up before the monsters; the method of indirect influence was one hundred percent justified. While Andy was inspecting Ania to make sure she was okay, the entourage was surrounded by a troop of three dozen giants encased in shiny armor. The tallest, more than eight feet tall, with a heavy hammer suspended from the waist, stepped forward and took off his helmet.
It was a Miur. The face resembled a huge, humanized cat’s. The feline face had a slightly protruding nose and snout decorated with whiskers, short fur, large yellow eyes with black vertical pupils, and triangular ears with tassels on their ends protruding from the mane of reddish hair. A gold earring with a precious stone gleamed in the left ear. The warrior wiggled her mustache:
“I regret that the vogrs we chased over the border attacked your detachment. The imperial villains are constantly letting monsters created by their mages go free on our lands.”
“I accept your apology,” the “princess” stepped forward.
“I do not have the right to apologize, and I do not need your gratitude. I simply regret the fact of what happened,” the Miur quipped. “The Great Mother will apologize if she sees fit. Bury the fallen and follow us.”
“And those who do not belong to the princess’ entourage?” Andy spoke up.
“As for you, I was given special instructions. You will come with a separate escort.” The Miur bowed slightly, which absolutely shocked the princess and her retinue, as well as the one being bowed to.
* * *
Andy looked for Ania, but behind the tall Miur, nothing of interest was visible. The cat people immediately separated him from the retinue and led him to the side. The main warrior pointed in the direction of a small clearing:
“Wait, your things will be brought here.” She gave a short command in their own language.
Three warriors separated from the main group. The commander gave them some instructions and waved her hand to the other subordinates. The retinue, surrounded by guards, disappeared into the forest.
The three cat people left with Andy went out at equal distances from each other and set about their business. He watched with interest as the huge warriors skillfully installed masking artifacts and activated them. Above the meadow there was an illusion of a tree crown. Anyone flying above would see nothing but a solid green carpet of crowns. Andy sank to the ground and crossed his legs, sitting in a “lotus” pose. The idea of making a break for it occurred to him several times, but something prompted him not to. The security guards appointed by the hefty commander were too serene. It was the serenity of the warriors that stopped him from taking rash steps. Their behavior wasn’t as simple as it seemed. They were testing him, and their hidden observers were following his every move.
As if from a gust of wind, the bushes swayed. Andy flinched; he didn’t observe any movement of air. Strange, but his either bodyguards or just guards didn’t seem to pay any attention to the inconsistency in the laws of nature. They stood like silent statues. Then came something else. Where movement was indicated, there was an unusual haze, repeating the contours of grass, leaves, and trees. It was nearly ideal camouflage. If it hadn’t been for the trampled grass, he would never have found the creature standing on the edge of the clearing. That is, creatures. Blurred half-shadows gave away three more invisible visitors.
Several shivers ran along Andy’s spine. His forehead was covered with cold beads of sweat. In an instant, he was on his feet. His sword seemed to jump out of its scabbard. At the rustle of the blade, as it was being pulled from the sheath, the masking haze disappeared, revealing yet another detachment of cats. Observers have come! His intuition saved him from trying to escape. He would have been buried there, had there been anything left to bury. Andy grunted. He noticed four of them, but a dozen warriors, clad in the same armor covering them from head to toe remained invisible to him until the very last moment. Ripples ran over them, imitating leaves and twigs. Andy remembered the Hollywood film “Predator,” the effect was so similar.
Two
cats were carrying his saddlebags. They carried heavy loads as if they were light. The relatively small figure of the “predator” emerged, apparently the leader of the new detachment. Andy didn’t hear any spoken words; the closed helmets of the inhabitants of Mount Lidar concealed the sound. They used built-in communicator amulets to communicate with one another.
“They changed the guard,” Andy thought, looking at the bodyguards hiding in the dense forest. The Miur who handed him over to the new detachment ran to catch up with the others.
“Follow us,” came a voice from under the helmet. The Miur warrior, short against the background of the other heroes, indicated to him a place in the ranks.
He would follow; he had no choice. The tailed ladies knew their business, boxing him in from all sides and blocking any independent action on his part. There’s a bow of respect for you! I feel like I’m in a reinforced convoy! The “cats’” shoulder holsters with fire-starters peeping out of them, or whatever their version of fire-starters was, neutralized any desire to behave any way but accordingly. And the bluish gunners in the hands of those jogging behind him fueled thoughts about the futility of resistance. He had no desire to turn into a pile of gray ash. They had respected him by leaving him his sword. In a situation like this, touching the sword could only lead to his slaughter. No guarantee they’d let him commit hara-kiri.
The guards were arranged deliberately. Andy observed the difference in uniforms, weapons, and probably in the class of soldiers of the first and second ranks. The Miur occupying the third rank looked like ordinary heavily equipped knights: armor, swords, spears, oval full-length shields, powerful crossbows. Given their height and physique, an ordinary Miur sword looked like a two-handed overgrown sword.