The Nameless Slave 2

by Vitaly Zykov

  Finally he managed to conquer a small patch for himself and froze in anticipation of the miracle. He had been here the previous year, and it changed all his ideas about the world completely. The Earth cinema and television were a pale imitation of what was happening on this square, standing here, he felt like a participant of the course of the events, he not only saw the picture and heard the sound, but he was the center of universe, where were stretched all strings of the events. In other words, the illusory shows were considered to be the greatest attractions of Toarn for a reason.

  A wave of whisper swept through the crowds. Oleg tensed in anticipation… and in the sky above the square appeared a blue glow. It was growing until it filled everything around, displacing the sky, Tass, the city and the people… a great play began…

  …Tass emitted the streams of gentle light. The wind whipped masses of clouds, disturbing the blue of sky. A ringing silence was filling the air. The lush grass was swaying lazily, bewitching eyes with play of green shades. A dark gloomy mass of forest was seen in the distance. Against the background of this peaceful and soul-softening picture some tension, some incandescence of emotions were increasing drop by drop, threatening to overfill the cup of endurance and to sweep everything around with a wave of anger and rage. To sweep, to burn, to crush, to break, to disembody… There were two great armies on the plain.

  There was no equality in the number of their participants. One army was numerous, but their advantage in strength remained questionable.

  In the center of one army were standing the gloomy stocky bearded warriors – the dwarves. There was no slit between their shields, insanely expensive armor of smoky steel glowed with matte shine. A thousand of choicest piedmont warriors made the center practically invincible. Only very strong magic could destroy the battle formations of dwarves. Above the center of their square stood the Dwarf Standard – a stone fist.

  On the left wing stood the heavy infantry, everyone had a black shield. No banners or standards, a thousand of choicest black shield-bearers from the kingdom of Zelod had no need for introduction. The spirit of the squadron lived in hearts and memory of the soldiers, it was simply impossible not to recognize the black shield-bearers in a battle. Their military glory could compete with the glory of dwarves, and in the old days they had to encounter each other in battles… Thousand of the warriors stretched in a wide arc, resembling a wing indeed. The warriors stood at the distance of three cubits, leaving the space for slim eared soldiers in green armor – the Elves. Three hundred of elven archers were ready to join the battle. The passages in the rows of human soldiers allowed them to retract behind the armored warriors in case of danger. A little behind, on some small platforms, were standing the squads of catapults, on their left fifty stone giants were standing as if frozen.

  There was a similar situation on the right wing – a thousand of heavy infantry and three hundred Elves. Only here were scarlet shield-bearers – the eternal rival and ally of black shield-bearers on battlefields, and instead of stone giants here were five hundred of heavy cavalry.

  The Guard of Pilma was located behind the troops. Five hundred of experienced veterans were ready to join the fight on an order of their commanders – the five Great True magicians. The powerful wizards stood on a broad platform and surveyed the battlefield. Their magical aura was dazzling for eyes of those who could see it, Astral was trembling because of spells held in readiness. The warriors were waiting for a signal…

  Against the first army stood much more humble forces. In the center was heavy cavalry. Rays of light was playing on their white robes. Five hundreds were ready for battle. Behind them were located a thousand of infantrymen they might serve as a shield for retreating cavalry or enhance the breakthrough. On the left wing, against the scarlet shield-bearers was a mixed mass of some people. Here were various weapons, ammunition, uniforms. One might call them scum. Here were no more than three hundred soldiers. It was alarming that amidst the human mass here and there flickered some gray animal shadows.

  On the right wing stood frozen the bulks of four-footed reptiles, clad in armor and with turrets on their backs. There was no more than two hundred animals. Behind them was light cavalry huddled in a mess – six hundred riding two-footed reptiles… This side of the army was waiting for a signal too, a signal from a dozen of riders in the same snow-white uniform as the knights were wearing. The faces of most of the commanders were decorated with almond-shaped elven eyes, the others had quite human facial features. Except for one person, with a strange inhuman figure, hidden in a spacious hoodie, with luminous eyes, and a hood slid deeply over his face. He was intently peering at the position of his enemies. The chief commander! Finally he raised his hand and waved sharply. The battle began…

  They blew the horns, and the mass of living creatures began to move. At first the huge reptiles began their leisurely run. Probably, it would have looked comical, if they were not breathing with such a formidable power. Carefully moving their powerful paws, the huge reptiles were gathering their pace. With every moment their speed increased, raising doubts about the possibility to stop their violent attack.

  The soldiers whom one might thoughtlessly call scum began to move too. But here the speed of attack was equal to a quickstep. The center remained motionless. The goal of such a weird attack was not clear.

  One of the wizards on the platform sent to the regimental magician of the cavalry an order to attack the left flank of the enemy. With whooping and whistling the heavy cavalry start their run. The fate of the miserable three hundreds opposing them was predetermined. A much heavier situation was on the left flank. Elven archers were shooting a shower of arrows, but the armored creatures continued their inexorable movement completely unharmed. These living fortressed forced the warriors to clench stronger the shields and shafts of their spears. The warriors were preparing to die…

  At the distance of three hundred cubits the regimental mages made a coherent strike. A stream of fire conjured by them hit into the first three creatures and covered them with a veil of living fire, destroying protecting spells and looking for any flaws in the armor. After a few moments there was an agonal wail of the dying animals, and only three motionless blazing fires remained on the battlefield. But it did not stop others. There was a roar and a turret on the back of one reptile shot a giant clot of fire that rushed to the human formation along a flatter trajectory. Hoo-o-o-o-o! – it was a burst of the charge, which bumped into a magical canopy. But after the first charge flew the next ones, and there was no such defense, that would be able to withstand such a fire infinitely long.

  At this point the cavalry reached the enemy and the battlefield was shrouded with clouds of fog. Some cries, horse neighing, ringing of steel and monstrous snarling of nightmare creatures mixed with flashes of magic charges were heard there.

  – Bastard! – Growled one of the wizards on the platform. – What kind of creatures did he hide there?! Grant, can you dispel the fog?

  The wizard nodded and shouted some phrase, accompanying every sound with intricate passes. A gust of wind hit and the canopy of the yellow fog was easily dispersed to shreds and swept aside. But there was nothing to look at. The same crowd of soldiers was running over the grass, leaving behind them the bloody splashes of human and horse bodies. In a few seconds the five hundreds of choicest cavalry existed no more. Some small groups of retreating knights could not be considered an army already.

  – What a… – began one of the magicians, and exclaimed immediately: – Marhuzes, he managed to hide them from us!!

  The panic which rang in his voice, did him no credit.

  – It is necessary to strike ahead of time – said the bearded magician in the center, keeping stone calm.

  – Progius, Savaj, let's do it at once, the Cloak of Cali! Grant, you hold the Shield!

  Without an answer, the mages all together threw up their hands and the air howled indignantly right over the running enemy. A cobweb of Darkness appeared from nowhere, hove
red for a moment, and greedily rushed down like a thousand tongues of dark fire. A polyphonic howl rose above the battle place.

  – Something is wrong!!! – Shouted Savaj. Beads of sweat were running down his face, the tension paralyzed his muscles. – We will not hold the spell for long! Do you hear, Ptolemy?!

  The mage named Ptolemy, nodded. He waved his hand, ordering to disperse the attacking spell. No sooner had the spell melted in the boiling air having gathered its bloody harvest, then a stream of yellow light hit into the battlefield. Ptolemy, who had created a spell of supreme magic almost without straining, suddenly jerked. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek. The magicians standing next to him concentrated and threw all their forces on deflection of the hostile magical strike. The product of Ptolemy's magic left unattended began to move, the Force was trying to break the ties of the spell. After some moments a flash of hellfire burst on the field with a soul-tearing thunder. The blast wave swept through the battlefield, knocking several soldiers down, but without other significant damage. Just on the place where recently were three hundred living creatures, was only a melted dark crater now…

  People noticed too late a dozen of animal shadows, that managed, in a way inaccessible for mere mortals, to avoid the monstrous cacophony of enraged Forces. Then it was too late to think – the shadow reached the row of shield-bearers. The only people who reacted at least somehow, were the Elven archers, but their volley did not bring considerable results, and the animals broke into the crowd of soldiers, easily breaking their rows. In a few minutes it was no longer a military formation, but a crowd of people mad from fear, every man fighting for himself. The cries of dying people, the roar of marhuzes and fountains of blood spurting up in the air, located the animals for an outside observer.

  – Girkam, dispel this Print of fear! Don't you see it?! They are enchanted! – Ptolemy yelled to a skinny magician of ascetic appearance.

  The latter braced himself and waving his magic wand began to shout the words of a complicated spell.

  On the left flank, situation was still under control, but it was close to critical as well. A little less than two hundred reptiles reached the row of infantry, and now there worked the heavy flamethrowers. The shouts of people burning alive in streams of dwarven heat mixed with the roar of reptiles literally torn to pieces – here worked the golems who came to life. The fire did not hurt them and now their stone figures crumbled alien armor, tore the flesh, broke the limbs and overthrow the huge bulk of the reptiles. But there were too few golems and they also were taking losses. The turrets on backs of the reptiles were literally stuffed with all sorts of artifacts, some of them were effective even against golems. What was happening right now on the flanks could simply be called bloodbath.

  Lir Ptolemy exaggeratedly measured and correct in other times, swore and ordered to Diras, who was the head of the Guards, to destroy the last of creatures and to take command of the right wing of the army. Though the panic inspired by the creatures was scattered with the spell of Girkam, the monsters were who they were – the ruthless mowers of death. It was quite possible that the soldiers stationed in reserve before, now were running to meet their death.

  – The rest protect the center! – snapped Ptolemy and shut his eyes. His mind was already floating in the sea of Astral, moving its layers apart and weaving pattern of a spell of enormous power.

  At this point light cavalry of the enemy rushed towards the left flank of magician's army intending to complete the rout where formation of the troops had been broken. At the same moment Astral shuddered, the rivers of power began to boil, the verge of reality fluttered. Within a few moments the monstrous winds brought some clouds, a purple thundercloud full of nightmarish power hung over the battlefield, and green lightnings, huge like columns hit into the mass of troops. The spell worked with surgical precision – the lightnings struck only into the bulks of the reptiles without affecting others. Their blood boiled, their shells and armor burst, the many-voiced howl drowned all other sounds. Instead of the beasts that broke through the defense, now there were only deep ruts filled with smoldering melt – that was all that remained from nightmarish creatures of military genius of mages and engineers.

  The troops had not recovered yet from shock of impending defeat when the horse warriors broke into their rows. A bloody carnage boiled again, but now the enemies were ordinary soldiers, not the living fortress invulnerable for mortals. They could fight with riders, now the soldierly spirit and skill were the major thing, and black shield-bearers possessed both of them in excess. They gave to the Elven archers the much-needed respite, and now the Elves gathered around burning catapults began to shoot the enemy horsemen. The density of the battle did not prevent the arrows of the best archers of four continents from finding their targets… The balance swung again. On the right flank they finished off the last marhuzes, but it would be good if at least one in five soldiers who stood there before survived. Diras was restoring order there, and soon the depleted right wing should be ready for a new battle. The center did not join the battle yet.

  At this point, the enemy struck the main blow. The disturbed Astral shuddered again, and a deadly spell hidden with masking charms broke free from some of the lower layers of Astral. The spell like a giant wedge flew over the field, leaving behind faded grass and cracked soil. This wedge stuck into the rows of Dwarves, sweeping away the magical defense, as if there was no defense at all. The rows collapsed under the blow. Dozens of piedmont warriors fell dead, even more were wounded, some of them were simply thrown aside on dozens of cubits away. And the White Guard of the enemy was gaining speed already. Their war horses were hitting the ground with their hooves, eliminating the remnants of grass, their spears were ready for ramming. After the cavalry the infantry reserve of the enemy started moving. The threat of defeat was impending over the army of mages…

  The dwarves saved the whole army that time. The surviving warriors managed to build up the line and took the blow, they caved in, but suspended the enemy, they did not allow the enemy's cavalry to cut the army like a knife into two parts and begin the destruction. The dwarves were dying, but they did not give up. They died screaming praises to their tribe, not for a moment did they bow their heads before the enemy of their Standard.

  Only after, the magicians managed to break through the enemy's defense and enchain the enemy's general, killing six of his comrades and giving him no opportunity to inflict a second blow. Then arrived the shield-bearers and enclosed surviving soldiers of the enemy into the ring and began to destroy them – they had refused to surrender. Nonetheless the dwarves outweighed the scales, and perished all. Only their Standard remained unbowed: the dead bearer hands continued to hold it vertically.

  The enemy did not flee and did not give up. With some transcendent fury the enemy soldiers were striving for death. Their commanders did not survive too. Without any magic already, armed only with a giant ax their general broke to the surviving Great mages… Broke to be killed with swords of Girkam and Ptolemy. At the moment of his death the warrior flushed with deathly light and decayed. Only fragments of his broken ax remained for his winners…

  Oleg blinked and shook his head, shaking off the stupor. The show was over, but he still felt being there on the battlefield, among the flowing blood and the spells that met in the battle. It was cool. Though it was interesting what an event it was and how much fiction was in the show.

  In a state of silent dreaminess Oleg moved to the street where Irung lived. Oleg was used to ask his mentor the questions, which he could not answer himself. There was hubbub around, people were shouting, discussing what they had seen. The celebration continued, but now many people were going to please their bored stomachs. But Oleg was already tired of the holiday. He came to a street vendor, bought a hot bun and quickened his pace. Oleg wanted to meet Irung quickly, while he was at home.

  Passing through a street, Oleg saw the familiar figure of the dwarf, the one he had faced leaving his house. The dwarf was a
rguing loudly about something with a man of aristocratic appearance. Oleg shrugged and turned to the next lane.

  He lived due to his excellent reflexes and trainings with teachers of fencing and his young mentor. The soft twilight reigned on this street, and only the shine of metal warned Oleg about the attack. He swayed aside, then immediately drew a simple Sign with his hand and pushed it forward. The attackers were thrown back. Without pausing the mage's apprentice uttered the spell of Fast sleep, and a silvery mist created by him covered the attackers. There was a thump of several falling bodies, and Oleg with a return movement of his wrist dispelled the fog. He snapped his fingers, trying to light a fire, and then another and another…

  – By Darkness! – Oleg swore under his breath, then focused and making complicated gestures with his hands pronounced the spell clearly and distinctly. The street around was lit with light when a small pulsar took his place behind the young mage's left shoulder.