by Vitaly Zykov
Yarik with fanatical tenacity pulled all the life energy out of his body, aspiring for freedom. If previously he could not boast of massive physique, now he looked like a prisoner survived a torture with starving. His eyes acquired feverish shine, his cheeks were sunken. All these features plus his numerous scars and the collar were making his appearance rather eerie. Now it would be a problem to sell him on an ordinary slave market, but Yarik had no doubt that the sale was going to take place. Darg's account in dwarves' bank was not unlimited.
In those moments when the kord slouching in a dark corner, was resting after his meditations, he was carefully reviving in his memory his master trainings, dreaming that some day he could take a sword in his hand too. Weapon always has, and ever will be the favorite toy of men. Even a pacifist persistent in his aberrations, admires the deadly simplicity of sword, predatory beauty of saber, it was just impossible not to admire martial arts having the live example of a true mastery…
Now Darg regularly visited el'Jassir's school and even made friends with Shas. Their fierce battles continued for several hours regularly. Sometimes Darg was allowed to cross swords with the schoolmaster. Difficult as it may be, but battles with Shas more often ended with victory of Darg, yet Darg never won el'Jassir. Oddly enough, but Yarik's master just glowed with pleasure after each of these battles. For a true warrior fighting with a strong contestant is the best school, giving invaluable experience. Judging by some replicas of el'Jassir, he was pleased with his new apprentice.
Then, at the end of spring, absolutely unexpectedly came the answer from the Foreign Affairs executive. The letter informed about a likely positive solution on the request of citizenship, noting only the «necessity of master Darg's presence to settle a set of some empty formalities». When Darg showed the letter to landlord Vamis, he thoughtfully puffed with his pipe and said:
– Prepare five full-weight hundred farlongs. This man will be satisfied with one hundred, the rest is for his chief. And do not delay this business, otherwise the price will grow.
So Yarik was on the road again, accompanying his master. Darg was gloomy – clearly, the prospect of spending five hundred farlongs was not pleasing.
They had to get to Pilma in a passenger carriage, quite dissimilar to its cousin from Sarduor. It had four large wheels and one coupe, albeit spacious, but still one, and was pulled by a team of six horses. In general, as Yarik noticed, reptiles were not used here as tame animals. Horses of quite earthly appearance were the main draught power here. As Yarik understood sixpaws and tirrs were uncommon to use not only because of the local tradition, but also because of the food difficulties. Sixpaws, for example, preferred some varieties of plant foods which did not grow here. Whereas pantophagy and excessive aggressiveness of tirrs made them too costly for artificial breeding.
On the way to Pilma they had to change horses at the post stations several times. While in Sarduor passenger carriages with reptiles differed with special convenience and comfort, the local carriages outdid in speed. They arrived in Pilma in about five days.
On arrival in the capital, Darg left his slave in a hotel, and started to visit offices of various local officials. As Yarik realized by his master's swearing the prepared five hundred farlongs were very close to enough. After receiving the documents on name Darg, a free warrior with Swordsman rank, a citizen of Gartash Kingdom, Yarik's master immediately headed to one local fencing school. He had a letter of recommendation from el'Jassir to the owner of this school. The latter served previously with el'Jassir, and agreed now to take the newly-made Gartash citizen as a junior teacher. Now Darg only had to buy a small apartment and to sell the slave, the need of which had disappeared completely. So he went to the Pilma Mages Guild to discuss the terms of the deal.
At first, they, of course, visited the local slave market. Kords though were not a marvel here, but were actually rare. If a normal, healthy slave could cost about two hundred farlongs, kords cost twice as much. But Yarik's sickly leanness was spoiling the matter. Just because of his leanness the local slave traders cut off a hundred farlongs from his price. Darg was not satisfied with this price, and he decided to sell not just a slave, but a valuable sample for studying. It was clear that he held this option in his mind as the most lucrative from the beginning, the visit to the market only helped him to learn the prices…
Darg ordered Yarik to wait him at the entrance to a gloomy building resembling a fort. Yarik had already seen something like this building – the dwarves' bank looked just the same. But this building was not a bank. Powerful magic was felt from behind the ancient stone walls, the magic promising nothing good for those who would try to break inside by force. The windows like loopholes, the doors that could withstand a battering ram, and the magic, and the magic once again – that was how the Pilma branch of Gartash Mages Guild looked.
Judging by the time that Yarik stood outside, the business negotiations were going with difficulties – his master was absent for two hours. During this time, the kord just got exhausted. Hiding his emotions, he paced the square in front of the Mages Guild building, and drew attention of a gaggle of omnipresent boys. The boys were absolutely not afraid of neighborhood with such a powerful force and had fun throwing stones into the slave. Yarik simply had no right to pursue them and kick some ass. A slave must endure attention of any free man! A lone guard on duty at the entrance to the Guild, shouted lazily several times at the representatives of local punks, but they paid no attention to the threats.
Finally Darg came out of the walls of the Guild and ordered the kord to follow him. They were returning to their hotel. Making their way through the hardly packed streets Yarik constantly strove to look in his master's face, hoping to read his impending fate. He did not dare to ask directly, especially on the street. Darg's grim grin was promising nothing good for the kord.
When they arrived at the hotel and came to their room, Darg turned to Yarik and said with a smile:
– These damn mages asked a week to think, Cali curse them!
– And what price appointed my lord? – Yarik decided to ask.
– Three thousand farlongs! – Laughed Darg. – Damn three thousand. My guys in Gamzar brought me just about four thousand in half of the season, but for you I'll get three thousand at once! Not a bad investment of capital!
– But why so much? – Yarik continued to exploit good mood of his master, internally he was already prepared for the answer. And he was not mistaken in his expectations.
– Firstly, you are a kord! Everyone knows that magicians have not revealed the secret of our shamans. Secondly, you are the kord in Dark collar. For an opportunity to study such rare suppressing collar, which deprives magician of his abilities, many people could give their right arm. Finally, in the third, I told them that you came out of the Death Forest! – Having said all that, Darg began to laugh again. – Can you imagine, I was actually considering to sell you to that magician in Uzz. His excessive impudence betrayed him then! – It was obvious that Darg was very pleased with himself. – These idiots did not believe me about the Death Forest at first, but then an old man came and asked to wait a week! Well, I'll wait!..
Weary days of waiting followed for Yarik. Just a thin veil separated him from the Source now, but he still had not enough strength to break it. Everything depended on time.
Now Darg went to the school every day early in the morning and came back late at night. He strictly forbade Yarik to leave the room, thereby making him a prisoner. Waiting became a torment for Yarik. He looked like a bird, flopping helplessly in a cage, his mind struggled to break the magic shackles, but he still could not break free…
On the fourth day the answer from the mages was received. A boy of about fifteen years brought it after lunch. Darg was not at home, and Yarik opened the door. A junior student stared curiously at the kord's collar, then after a while asked if the master was at home. Having heard that Darg would come in the evening, the boy gave an envelope to Yarik and risking to get neck disl
ocation, walked away. Apparently, Darg's proposal interested the magicians.
At the time of Darg's arrival Yarik's knees were trembling from psychic overstrain. Again and again he tried to penetrate the veil, trying to get such desirable and necessary freedom, but failed again. It was still too early, he had not enough strength.
Darg paid no attention to the state of his slave. After reading the letter, he laughed and ordered the kord to get ready. It was getting dark, but even an evening walk through the capital could not stop him from completing this deal as soon as possible. He literally dragged Yarik by the collar to the Pilma branch of Gartash Mages Guild. Yarik stumbled every now and then, but his master put him on his feet by force and pushed him forward. The smell of money was too tempting for the warrior.
The Guild mages were waiting for them already. An elderly bearded magician, uttering some spell under his breath, ran his hands along the slave's body, nodded thoughtfully and ordered his younger colleague to pass the required amount of money to the now former Yarik's owner. They offered Darg a check of dwarves' bank for three thousand farlongs, which he took with his habitual gloomy smile. The deal literally struck with its lightning speed.
Hiding the money Darg clearly and distinctly informed Yarik that from now he belongs to the magician of the first rank Hopper (the name of the old man), then bowed to the magicians and left the Guild. Yarik found himself alone with his new owners, and this fact did not please him.
Late spring always was perceived in Seven Towers as something special, even extraordinary. The first day of the last week of spring, was the Day of Select. Behind these simple words was veiled something epochal, defining the fate of many people, not just people, but magicians! On this day, junior students of magicians performed a selection, a selection that was at the beginning of sequence of the most important selections of their lives. On this day, young magicians performed the initiation with their Elements.
The work with Elements was the fundamental part of most spells. Personal forces of magicians are very limited, and they have to build spells, relying on the natural power of different Elements. Elements of Fire and Water, Air and Earth – are the four pillars on which their magic rests. Every magician in their work can use any of these forces, but there is something called kinship. This is when a magician works with some Element especially easily, and this determines their further specialization.
Mages of Air always work well with weather and everything else subordinated to the Air Element. Only magicians of Air are serving on bubbles. In old times wizards with white rings terrified their enemies, causing tornadoes and hurricanes, tearing sizzling lightnings down from heaven. Only the magicians of Fire could be compared in their power to the magicians of Air.
Traditional antipode of Air is Earth. The magicians of Earth know plants and could command them better than any other. Only owing to the magicians of Earth, Nold gathers four harvests from fields in one year. But besides that Earth means earthquakes and cracks that could devour a whole army. However, the latter are just fairy tales. Earth Magic is for family men rather than for wandering warrior mages.
Elements of Fire and Water – the two forces that are in everlasting state of confrontation with each other, and their confrontation is much harder then antagonism between Air and Earth. The magicians of Fire are always battle mages. It is difficult to find an application for abilities of Fire mage in civilian life. Violent and aggressive as their Element, these mages settle in army or intelligence. Water is the most demanded Element in the world. Lords of Water are always welcome in any fleet…
Oleg was pondering all that shaving in front of the mirror. The Day of Select came for him today, like for many others before and after him. Irung, by the way, a powerful magician of Water himself, and an ace in Air, had said to Oleg long ago to focus on training the practical component, that constitutes the essence of combat mage. Therefore, Oleg was really hoping for the Elements of Fire or Air or at least Water. He considered Earth as something strange for his nature. Having very few contacts with other students, Oleg was still aware of the attitude to adepts of Earth prevailing among magicians.
Of course, talented magicians of Earth are always prosperous people closely associated with peasant labor. But the most founders of noble families for some reason were mages of other Elements, and the highest positions in the state were occupied by magicians of Air, Fire and Water. Selecting the Earth very often puts an end to a career of an aspiring magician, and always evokes sneers from fellow students. Oleg, clearly, wanted nothing like that for himself.
After washing and having dressed in a camisole purchased just for this day, Oleg meticulously examined himself in the mirror and satisfied went outside. The streets of the city were especially crowded today. People arrived in the capital from all over Nold to show their children a beautiful ceremony. The Council of Masters spared no money for lush entertainments and variety of refreshments, supposed to emphasize the importance of the event.
The streets closer to the Academy were literally crowded with people. Only the badge of student allowed Oleg to get to the entrance to the sandy arena already familiar to him. A guard attentively inspected the badge and allowed to go inside. By tradition, the entrants came into the arena first, and only then the audience took their seats.
Forty junior fourth year students stood in the arena center. They looked pretty hostile at Oleg, people never like those who stand out from the crowd, just as excellent pupils are hated in school or best worker are in factories. «The bastard just panders to the seniors!» – This thought has always accompanied man, weather a mere mortal or a magician.
Oleg by force of habit already acquired in such meetings made a poker face and stood a little aside. All the same, he had to undergo the rite in the last turn! It happened so that upstarts like him always make the acquaintance with higher powers, after all the other students. It was done to ensure that the possible death of an inexperienced, but too self-confident student at the very beginning should not cloud the joy for all the rest. It was the thing he did not want to think about. Oleg shivered like from cold wind. The rite had not just four possible results, but five ones, and death was the fifth!
Something forced Oleg to look back, and he met a disdainful look of a tall skinny guy with delicate features. His demeanor, his look, and haughtily bending lips spoke about aristocracy, that is called blue blood. This unknown to Oleg younger student, glanced with disparaging grin at Oleg's best camisole, bought for two farlongs saved by miracle, and said something to a red-haired student standing next to him. The latter laughed offensively. Oddly enough, but this abusive behavior of an unknown aristocrat forced Oleg to gather up courage and to bristle.
«Well, we'll see who will be the last to laugh!» – This resolute thought superseded all the others.
The spectators began to fill the grandstands. The rite was coming. Oleg's heart was pounding, and he started to perform breathing exercises that he had been taught a year ago. It helped to feel better.
The representatives of the most influential noble and merchant families already settled on the main stand. The guy who had disliked Oleg, nodded to somebody sitting there, to whom exactly, Oleg did not notice. The seats for ordinary people were filling with astonishing rapidity. The magicians teachers came on the field. The five mages of third rank stood in the middle of the field and began to chant some spell. The noise in the stands stopped immediately. The action began.
The mages figures were forming a square with the fifth magician at its center, and some yellow fog swirled around them. With each passing second the fog was thickening, turning into a real jelly. Suddenly the yellow mist generated by magic was absorbed or even sucked directly into the ground, revealing the five magicians once again. Stretching in a single file they left the field, giving place for the three new magicians. These magicians were accompanying a huge rock crystal, of three cubits in diameter, made in the form of a ball, filled with orange light. Obeying their magic the ball was freely l
evitating above the ground. The mages began to pace around perimeter of the site, where previously curled the magical mist. At some point an orange line started to arise on the ground under the crystal. After a few moments, the line was closed, fencing a small area having a square shape in the center of the arena. The magicians stopped and began to read in recitative one spell after another.
Suddenly Astral shuddered, and a small tornado whirled over the first corner of the square. Another moment, and over the second corner grew an ugly bush. Then, almost simultaneously, a small spring appeared over the third corner, and a small fire flared over the fourth one. The Elements answered to the call of the magicians. The voices of the three mages ceased immediately, and they began to move again, but now the trio tried to enclose all the students in the square. They lined up the second defense. Whereas the first security perimeter should save the lives of the students, the second was to protect the audience.
Finally, this procedure was completed too. One of the magicians put his hand on the pretty tarnished crystal and shouted a few words. A series of flashes from the protective perimeters was the answer. Everything was ready for the start of the ceremony. The rector of the Academy rose on the podium and made a short speech. However, Oleg understood nothing from the speech because of the defense which muffled sounds considerably. The speech was over and then the rector waved his hand and sat down. The ritual began.
Everything was going quite casually, and in Oleg's opinion, unspectacular. The students came one by one under the canopy of inner defense and stood meditating there for a few minutes. The Elements replied to them. It looked like wind fluttering hair of a student, or a spring bubbling under their feet, a sort of flash of fire or a flower bloomed underfoot. When an Element admitted a student, he came out from under the canopy on the other side of the square. It was strictly forbidden to return the same way. Then, the visible sings of the Elements flashed with bright light, and the center of the square became clear, waiting for the next student.
