The Nameless Slave 2

by Vitaly Zykov

  This Yarik's throw was a complete surprise for all. In this world slaves never participated if fights of their masters, and now nobody remembered about the kord. Only Darg was waiting for something like that, he jumped at the moment when bewildered sellswords rebounded back when a heavy shell swept by them. Even the yellow skin warrior who seemed the most experienced and dangerous one, jumped aside dodging and lost Darg from his sight for a moment.

  Darg immediately took advantage of the enemy's blunder. He turned to the enemy on the left and hit him with the sword. The latter managed to fend it with an iron-bound club. Metal clanged against metal. Darg's back turned to another sellsword, but he did not have time to make use of this advantage. Darg made a sudden movement with his left hand and his dagger hissed in the air and struck unprotected throat of the enemy. It was one enemy less now.

  The man whom Darg had attacked first, smartly twisted the club and tried to hit Darg on his head. The nomad just sat down and having made a half-turn hooked his enemy's feet. The warrior just began to sink backwards waving his arms when Darg already straightened up and was stabbing up from the bottom at the second sellsword. The latter with a wild grin fended the hit with one club and struck back with the second. Darg bent and the club whizzed within a hair-breadth from him.

  Darg's left hand grasped the enemy's hand, a step forward and the knee of the nomad crashed into unprotected groin of his foe. A holler of pain and the pale face said that this man was off the battle for some time. Darg rapidly turned to the other two opponents. Behind Darg the third man collapsed on the ground with a soft moan.

  The sellsword knocked on the ground had already got on his feet and remembering all gods at once was going to attack Darg. The yellow-faced warrior was getting ready to strike having spun his chain. Darg just sat down and tried to block the attack of the yellow-faced sellsword, but he did not take into account the specifics of the enemy's weapon. The chain caught his sword, and the plummet struck Darg's wrist. Because of severe pain Darg's fingers opened and the sword drawn by the chain flew to the narrow-eyed warrior. Darg was disarmed now.

  At this moment Yarik came into the fight. He flashed to the fighters like a predator. His goal was the sellsword with the club. That was a veteran of hundreds similar fights, he felt some danger and turned to Yarik. There was a strange picture before him – a man in slave collar rushed to him squatting to the ground. Sudden movements, arms strangely spread apart and the calm, even indifferent face unnerved the bandit. His eyes met the slave's eyes and something in this eyes caused his heart to sink somewhere deep. He saw in eyes of the slave tranquility of sharp cold-shining steel. The bandit himself was roarer of urban jungle, but through the dark eyes of the kord a hungry marhuz looked at him.

  Yelping like an old woman the sellsword stepped to Yarik and struck with his club at full tilt. And the club met a defensively raised forearm. Yarik had no time to do anything, but only to discharge into his arm a clot of vital energy accumulated somewhere in his solar plexus. Something snapped, a wave of pain reached his consciousness and shattered against the barrier of his will. Without delay, Yarik hit with his open right palm into the chest of his enemy. A wave of heat gushed from his palm and drops of blood from the warrior's mouth wide opened in a scream hit into the face of the slave. A second and the sellsword fell on his back like a hemmed tree. Yarik fell on his knees. He had a feeling as if his core was being pulled out of his body. His left arm was hanging along the body, emitting waves of pain throbbing somewhere outside his consciousness.

  – Beasts! – A savage yell struck the eardrums.

  Yarik quickly looked around. Darg retreated before the attacks of the yellow-faced warrior, the chain in his hands was like a deadly predatory snake. Directed by the skillful hand it twisted in the air as if living and struck stinging blows at Darg. Judging by the aura shining with pain, the master was having hard times. The scream was coming from the sellsword who had not recovered yet from a recently received blow into his private parts along with his pride. He was pumping some rage with this cry hoping to muffle the pain and sneaking to unarmed Darg from behind.

  Not knowing how to help to his master Yarik habitually fumbled on the ground, hoping to find at least anything for throw. His eye caught the club in the hand of bandit who already had stopped to stir. Clenching his teeth, Yarik seized the weapons and pulled it to himself, releasing it from the grip of the dead man, then he got on his feet. Yarik was a bit reeling. Once again hoping only for a miracle, he threw the club at the wounded sellsword who was going to attack Darg. But this time it worked wrong. At first, the club flew slightly aside, without any threat for life or health of the thug. Secondly, the throw was very weak, and the club did not even reach the thug. Yarik groaned in despair, but Darg behaved unexpectedly. He made a powerful somersault back and slightly aside, picked up the club from the ground and immediately tried to hit the yellow-faced warrior who followed him. But as if expecting it every second the warrior literally leapt up and right in midair lashed his chain at… But Darg was no longer there. He rolled over the ground, jumped on his knee and struck another bandit from bottom to top. He met the attack with crossed clubs. Dry crackling swept across the yard. With a fluid motion as if grown from the previous strike Darg jumped to his feet, his club made a circle around his wrist and hit the enemy into his ribs. A cry of pain was still ringing when Yarik's master turned around and a new sharp strike reached the hand of his foe. His fingers unclenched and the thug was left with only one club now. The second club did not even reach the ground as Darg picked it up with his foot and tossed it into the air, then made a long jump and grabbed the club in his left hand in midair. The same jump moved him away from a swift strike of the yellow-faced warrior.

  Participants of the fight froze for a moment, assessing the situation. The re-wounded thug was slightly bent and pressed his hand to his unarmed side. The yellow-faced warrior was standing near playing with his chain and scornfully glancing at his companion.

  – I'm satisfied. A good fight – is a rare spectacle. You and your slave pleased me very much. – The magician's voice dripped with sarcasm. – But don't you think it's time to finish, though?

  Without giving time to comprehend his words, he made a strange, inhuman motion with his right hand, pointing at Darg. His fingers formed an incomprehensible figure, and his lips uttered a word in hoarse voice… A dirty gray liquid jet struck from his hand rushing to Darg in a muddy stream. He did not even manage to dodge, as the evil magic hit into his chest… hit and scattered just as an ordinary splashes. Only the new shirt turned into ragged tatters, revealing the body. Darg looked down at himself and laughed.

  – You made a little mistake, magician!!!

  With laugher Darg rushed to the wounded sellsword and hit him briefly at his neck. The bones cracked and the body toppled into dust like a bag. The narrow-eyed fighter stepped back, watching every movement of the laughing warrior.

  – Oh, demons of the Abyss! – said the magician shaken with his hindsight. Only now he saw a rope with a talisman around Darg's neck. Damned Gwonk shamans possessed many secrets…

  At this point, his sense of danger wailed and the magician glanced to another side. Snuggling to the ground a wild kaifat was crouching to the only survived sellsword. Avras shouted without thinking:

  – Behind you!!!

  The sellsword jumped aside and whipped with his chain at hazard. The weapon met attacking beast in midair. He swept across the ground, jumped on his feet as if nothing had happened, hissed and made the new jump. The sellsword had already no time to strike and could only jump aside. But his movement was not fast enough, and the jump of the beast ended at the warrior's ankle. A sharp turn of the wedge-shaped head and the leg was ripped open. The experienced sellsword fell on his back and knocked the animal to the ground with the other leg. A somersault back and the yellow-faced man got on his feet… or rather, he tried to get up. The bitten leg suddenly stumbled, and the sellsword fell into dust. The beast had torn
the man's tendon.

  Kaifat jerked forward in hope to finish the defeated enemy, but a dark lightning struck before his face. The beast jumped aside with indignant squeal. Avras bit his lip evilly – he had hoped that his lightning would break the creature into small pieces…

  Yarik stood and just watched the fight with his mouth open. When he felt that Rual was already near, he sent a thought to attack the yellow-faced warrior only in despair. Ghol's words about horrible kaifats seemed an exaggeration… until now!

  The events continued to unfold rapidly. The help of the beast came in time and shifted balance of strength towards the nomad and his slave. Darg came closer to the lying narrow-eyed man, countered the hit of the chain with one club, and struck back at full tilt with the second. The hand raised in a protective gesture cracked with dry sound. Giving no time to recover Darg kicked the foe stunned from pain with his foot, aiming at the throat. There was a humid crunch and a shudder passed through the body of the narrow-eyed warrior…

  – Now I like balance of strength more – said Darg with cold smiling turning to the mage. – Do you?

  Darg took a step to the enemy, but he swore and jumped to the wicket. The door slammed and boots of the mage rattled on the pavement. Darg rushed after him, but then heard clatter of tirr's claws that destroyed all hopes for chase.

  – Let's go! The innkeeper was probably calling the guards, we have no need to conflict with authorities! – Said Darg briskly, attaching his sword on his belt and going to rummage the dead bodies.

  Yarik got up moaning and slung the bag which seemed to be very heavy now over his shoulder. Kaifat ran up to his leg purring sympathetically.

  – Climb on my shoulder. On the right! – Yarik whispered softly, realizing that it does not make sense to lurk from his host now.

  – Your animal? – Asked Darg squinting one eye.

  Yarik hesitated then said:

  – Yes.

  – You'll be punished then. – Going to the next body, Darg asked: – Why aren't you asking for the reason?

  – For lies, – sighed Yarik, heading to the master. Rual was chirping proudly sitting on man's shoulder and looking triumphantly at the body of the narrow-eyed warrior.

  – I'm glad that you understand. Does the beast obey only you?

  – Yes.

  – And where was it the whole year?

  – I don't know. He found me recently. If my lord remembers the night at the fire…

  Darg nodded and stood up. He shook his right hand briefly trying to drive off the pain. Judging by the red mark on his palm, he had been really hurt.

  Darg went to the dead thug, whom Yarik had killed, unbuttoned the shirt on the body and grunted. The red spot of vertical palmprint was distinguished on the hairy chest. Darg looked at Yarik with some amusement, then shook his head, but said something quite different:

  – You may keep the beast. You deserved it. Moreover, as I understand it's loyal only to you and we can't sell it?

  Inside, Yarik tensed and stroked Rual's back. Then nodded vigorously, confirming all that his master said.

  – Then let him sit in the bag. It should not attract attention!

  Yarik turned his head to the little animal, caught the beady eyes of the beast with his eyes, and sent the appropriate thought. Rual snorted, shook his head as if to express disapproval, but jumped to the ground. Yarik opened the bag, and the beast slipped inside. His new dwelling did not impress Rual much. He snorted, snuffled, even tried to growl. Then he with the help of his teeth and paws arranged everything in his own way, snorted again and lay on the top. Yarik tied the bag carefully and hung it on his shoulder.

  – Come on. We have nothing to do here! – Darg was simply overflowed with energy, his purse was much fatter now, Yarik could even think that he his master was happy that this attack had happened.

  Part 4

  THE NEW WAYS

  …The main requirement to a modern man, a requirement from the very time, is the need for speed. It is impossible to travel for weeks from one city to another like it was in the era of legendary Ptolemy, now our requirement are much more stringent. Days or even hours – this is an acceptable measure of time among our contemporaries. Use the service of a transport company «The Long Way», if you want to travel over all Toarn quickly, safely and with the highest level of comfort. «The Long Way» is the best company of land transport…

  An advertisement in one Saurma newspaper

  CHAPTER 31

  Probably for the first time in all this extended period that Yarik had spent in this world (Yarik defined it as about two or two and a half years), he felt some pleasure. All problems and troubles had receded to the background, he did not want to think about anything, the hardships of slavery and constant balancing on the edge of life and death were forgotten. He was just lying on the berth next to the window and watching as one rural landscape replaced another. The young slave stretched his body, as far as the berth size allowed. The journey in the passenger carriage was something very unusual even remarkable, all the same…

  When Darg rapidly entered the territory of the carriage station Yarik was subconsciously preparing for the worst. He expected that all the money would be stolen on the way to the station or all the money would turn to be fake, or that eerie mage with new sellswords or assassins sent by Teorn would be waiting them, or something else… But nothing happened. Darg paid for travel money that were literally covered in his and his enemies blood. They were given two tickets drawn by an artist on large (of a size about two male palms) sheets of paper. The tickets contained a summary about the passengers and their destination. Only then the stress that was holding Yarik's heart receded. According to the local law the person who purchased the ticket, became sort of untouchable for authorities of that country. The only downside of this document was the fact that the untouchability would end when the carriage arrived at the final station.

  Their train was to start off in an hour, but Darg decided not to risk and immediately went to the carriage. The carriage should be described separately. Huge, twelve-wheels, eight-yards long, the carriage was made of hardwood, ornate with carvings and all kinds of ornaments it was simply attracting one's eye. It had three entrances, two on each side for passengers, and the service entrance from the end, where the driver sat. This bulky construction was drawn by four reptiles strongly resembling the Earth horses, but differed in size, strength and endurance. At that moment the team of the carriage was missing.

  Darg presented the tickets to a moustached representative of the company in a strict bright-red uniform and went inside the cabin. Here everything was up to the mark too. At the entrance passengers got into a narrow lavishly decorated vestibule. Further ahead the vestibule was crossing with the corridor where six doors lead to compartments. One of them was for Darg and Yarik. Inside, the compartment was semidark hardly dispersed with sun rays penetrating through the heavy curtains of the window. Darg pushed the curtains aside as they came in and they saw a cozy coupe with a table against one wall and a soft sofa near the other. Under the ceiling was a hard sleeping berth. Yarik glanced sadly in that direction – he immediately identified for whom that place was.

  The travelers or rather fugitives piled the bag and their meager belongings into a small locker adjoining the table. Darg immediately fell onto the sofa and pointed with a glance at the shelf for Yarik. With a short sigh he jumped up and almost fell hissing from pain, but hung on his one hand then pulled up and climbed on the shelf. Yarik stared at the ceiling rubbing his arm that just begun to acquire sensitivity after the injury. The ceiling was in about an elbow in front of him. He did not understand why they had given away five gold coins per a person.

  – Did not you see the ladder? – Darg asked from the bottom couch. Judging by his tone, he was not waiting for an answer.

  Yarik slightly leaned over and looked at the wall: indeed, a pretty compact ladder was hanging on iron hinges there. He cursed himself under his breath, put a hard roller under h
is head and fell fast asleep…

  He was spending most of the time in such position. He slept, looked out the window and slept again. The body exhausted with heavy overload of the past weeks was gradually regaining strength. His appetite woke up too. So Yarik was very happy about some hot meal. They were fed twice a day, the carriage kept moving during that time. The cost of breakfast and lunch was included into the ticket price.

  Sometimes it seemed to Yarik that the harnessed reptiles could pull the carriage endlessly lulling their passengers with smooth, quiet movement. Nonetheless it was a mistake, certainly. On the third day, when they crossed the Saurma border, the train stopped for the better part of the day. Two drivers and a guard constantly replacing each other unharnessed the animals and were feeding them. The food was a strange gray-green powder with a disgusting smell. But the reptiles devoured this poison with extreme pleasure.

  This day the passengers were wandering around, talking, playing cards and dice, enjoying the opportunity to stretch their legs. Travel fellows of Darg and his slave were a merchant and his assistant, a clerk and a quite arrogant nobleman from Jugha with a young servant, and a company of four students returning from their vacation to school, what kind of school Yarik did not know. He had no particular interest to learn anything about his occasional travel fellows. Both Yarik's body and soul as if somehow softened now. He wanted to lie down, to look around and think about nothing, enjoying the rest. Sometimes Yarik played with Rual, who flatly refused to sit inside the bag.