The Nameless Slave 2

by Vitaly Zykov

  When Oleg's ill-wisher entered inside, the Element responded extremely soon. A nightmarish tornado spun around the man, concealing him completely from the eyes of other people. The action was lasting for a few moments, then everything calmed down just as suddenly. He stepped forward and stood next to the other lucky students. Only his eyes were showing his triumph. The power of Elements' response matched the power of a magician.

  Then all the others passed the rite. Nobody received such a powerful answer. Adepts of Earth were also few. Only one very young guy, almost a boy, barely concealed his disappointment. As a response of Earth, he got a little sickly bush. Then came Oleg's turn.

  With a short sigh he decidedly stepped over the orange line. His skin felt some soft prickle. Finally, standing in the center, he plunged into the depths of his consciousness, clearing his mind of unnecessary thoughts. Upon reaching the required grade of concentration he mentally plunged into the Fire. Oleg felt as if he had dived into a camp fire. The heat, the crackle of flames, lava flows – all that merged into a single stream, the whole sensation being vague, as if from the outside. As if you are looking into a neighbor's garden: everything is in sight, but does not belong to you. There was no feeling of kinship.

  Frantically cutting off the contact with the Fire Element, Oleg turned to its antipode – the Water. But the wayward Element was constantly slipping away, giving no chance. The Air was next. And Oleg fully experienced feeling of a person caught in a hurricane. Realizing the pointlessness of being stubborn, Oleg broke off the contact with this Element too. Only one Element was left. If he fails again, he will not come outside these defensive walls. A student who fails to achieve the favor of an Element, disincarnates under joint pressure of insulted Elements.

  Through the curtain of trance Oleg felt as an icy drop of sweat ran down his cheek. And, having made a decision, he plunged his consciousness into the essence of the Earth Element as if leaping head first into a pool. He felt something unimaginable – the roar of falling rock avalanche and an angry earthquake accumulating tension, the force of sprout making its way through the rocks and lush juice of meadow grass. The Earth replied to him. Oleg sank deeper and deeper into some unimaginable depths, trying to nourish himself with the force that the Earth was ready to give him. His mind could not cope with the rockfall of images, and the young mage was acting purely by instinct now.

  The outside observers saw as Oleg threw up his hands as if leaning on something, and slowly clenched his fists. There was a faint, barely noticeable tremor inside the second protection circuit. Some small cracks ran underfoot the examinee, then came another weak tremor, and the cracks closed. Everything stopped for a few moments, then suddenly the sand under the man's feet stirred. Another moment, and Oleg was already standing on the green carpet of some grass rapidly gaining strength. Having reached the middle of the magician's body the growth stopped. Oleg opened his eyes.

  Coming out of the trance, and being too stunned by the result, Oleg almost fell on the arena sand. Regaining his balance, he looked down at his feet and saw a small patch of a lush meadow. Shaking his head, he finally left the protective dome. When Oleg walked a few steps away from the orange line on the sand the place behind him flashed, and dust rose into the air at the site of the ritual.

  – Congratulations to the future Great Mage of Earth. – The future Great Mage of Air made a mocking bow.

  Students standing behind him laughed. Even the sad guy having selected the Earth too, smiled uncertainly. Everyone thought that the Earth's choice of this upstart and promising student was a pretty good joke. But the laughter died down almost immediately. The students were surprised by Oleg's reaction. Instead of grim determination to ignore the mockery or an attempt to laugh at his own failure they saw a squint of a confident person, who seemed to have got much more than expected.

  – You know, you're right. The Earth may give greatness as well! – Oleg immersed in his thoughts, replied too stilted and pompous, as he would never reply, if he had he not been so stunned by what had happened. The young magician even wanted to give a reassuring slap on the shoulder of his fellow student, but chose not to – in the local entangled system of relationships such a touch of a noble man could cause a duel as a result.

  Neatly parting the crowd of the students, Oleg went towards the border of the defense, which already begun to fade. Now he had to get a ring of brown color with green sparks, corresponding to his position of the Earth adept… And then to find Irung as soon as possible.

  The Law Palace housing Council of Masters Hall was a classic example of architecture of the Wars of the Fall Age. The beauty and grandeur blended in this famous architectural monument in a single alloy. The Law Palace could be compared only with the sparkling Pyramid of Talak, but even that comparison was not quite fair.

  An incredible beauty and thinness, almost weightless of appearance of the palace were emphasizing the greatness of spirit prevailed there, raising its owners. Exactly this and only this task stood before the ancient architects. The rulers that used this building as their residence millennia ago, loved and appreciated beauty. Imprinting the breath of life into the stone, they struck imagination of their citizens forcing them to believe in divine origin of the power. Though, when it happened to be necessary all this beauty was swept aside like useless tinsel, exposing the true essence of the godlike rulers, who reigned the entire ecumene with iron hand. The knowing people admired the strength of the ancestors spirit, that had overthrown tyrants in the Wars of the Fall…

  Archimagus Vittor switched from his thoughts and returned to routine. That was why he did not love his office in the Palace of Low. This place was just perfect for reflection, not related with urgent matters.

  «It is good that predecessors came up with an idea to institute consulship. At least, I have no need to deal with administrative fuss», – Archimagus grunted and went back to the document, which he unsuccessfully had been trying to read for half an hour already.

  – The list of promising research areas for alchemists, engineers and magicians of the blessed republic of Nold – Vittor read aloud. – I wonder if Magister Grach can write simpler without this ornateness!

  Suddenly came the calm voice of Master Bryms who had been reading the contents of some folder before:

  – I don't think so, he has been a pen pusher all his life.

  Archimagus looked up from the papers:

  – Well, today clearly is not a right day to deal with these papers. When I imagine getting to the budget of planned expenses, it makes me feel terrible. Come on, what you have got there?

  Bryms levitated his chair closer to the desk and handed several sheets to Archimagus.

  – This is a report from our man in the Gartash Mages Guild. A very interesting document. It came yesterday. And here is an official message from the Guild about a man, who possibly came from the Death Forest.

  – Is he… that… that… Yaroslav! Yes, Yaroslav! Did this Yaroslav really turn up in Gartash?! – Vittor plunged in reading. – What?! A kord?! In the Dark collar?!

  Bryms confirmed it with a nod.

  – Why did they even report it? – It seemed that Archimagus simply refused to believe it.

  – Well, Hopper is, of course, aware of some of his people work for us, so he should inform us… – Master of Punishers was talking with some laziness.

  – Now he sort of reported to us at once, and the fact they are now simply gutting the guy means nothing, they are just doing their job… Oh yeah? – Archimagus shook his head and swore.

  Bryms winced hearing the curse.

  – What should I answer them and should I? – He asked with the same laziness.

  – And what do you think?

  – I think it's better for us to bring the object here and see for ourselves. These «hairsplitters» could just spoil a valuable item – the Master chuckled curtly. – Unfortunately, the rest of his comrades were not very interesting in terms of our secrets. While this one is just a storehous
e of ancient secrets. After everything he went through… And the Dark Collar is interesting too… We can use it in a game against our rivals then.

  – In short, it's all usual. When will you have a plan of possible actions?

  Bryms twitched the corner of his mouth and put the folder on the table.

  – The plan is ready. Now I'm just solving a purely speculative problem in a case of resurrection of some figures… We only have to get the object.

  – Whom will you send?

  – Maybe Irung? Providing he had started this matter, he should continue, it will be good for gaining experience. And he will take this Oleg with him. – Bryms stood up and straightened his snow-white coat. – For him it will be useful too. He should decide on the object of his loyalty, and Irung will look after him.

  – Have you prepared the text of the order?

  – Yes, the third sheet.

  Vittor found the document, ran his eyes through the text, and pressed his ring against it. The smell of ozone filled the room, and on the stamped paper appeared the personal seal of Archimagus in the form of a winged ship…

  CHAPTER 38

  Oleg received the signet of an Earth adept, being in some fog. Standing in the line with other students, he was perceiving everything that was going through a veil of extraneous thoughts. Solemn speeches and words of thanks somehow fell out of his mind, only when a young magician of the third rank approached him, the newly made adept of Earth shook his head and focused.

  – …be that merely the first step on the way to the true power, you still have made it. You should follow the selected way and go forward. Wear this sign of your dignity with honor, – said the magician solemnly and put the ring on Oleg's finger.

  The ring was subtly pulsating as if nipping the finger. The sign was adjusting to its owner.

  Oleg put his open palm to his chest and bowed – he had mastered a book about etiquette not in vain! Judging by the gleaming magician's eyes, he liked the courtesy of the new adept.

  At this point the official part was over, and the students went to their relatives, who had arrived to the ceremony. The arrogant adept of Air went to a man in the robe of the Council of Masters. Oleg even wondered how he had not noticed this purple robe and long raven black hair in the crowd before. Around this man was a small free space as no one dared come closer. A Master of Magic – that was a very, very significant figure. Now the reason for the student's behavior was clear – a family with a Master in it has always been a very powerful family.

  The Master put his arm around the young man and quickly whispered something in his ear. Near them was standing a pretty girl in a blue coat with a hood. Oleg seemed to be stuck to her splendid figure, but he quickly come to his senses and turned away – by local standards such a gaze could offend any girl. It was clear that such beauty was not for a poor student. The bitterness of undeserved umbrage filled his soul…

  – She is a daughter of Lir Ditrim, the member of the Council of Masters, the head of the clan Chimir, the third in Nold in terms of influence. – Irung's voice forced Oleg to flinch. – So I advise you to forget about such looks for a while. Master Ditrim is very arrogant and quick to take offense, and those who cause his displeasure, do not live long…

  – Well, I understand it! I'm not a fool – said Oleg a little rough, but then he felt ashamed. – I'm sorry!

  – I understand – waved the magician. – By the way, my congratulations to the young adept. Although this is not what you or me wished for you, but anyway… You will manage…

  Oleg shook his head:

  – I'm quite satisfied. All right. I have some ideas…

  Irung interrupted him:

  – Ideas are good, but not now. I have an order from Master of Punishers.

  – What?! For me? – Oleg's eyebrows went up, and he even raised his voice.

  – No, for us! – The magician muttered irritably and making an intricate gesture, he breathed the words of a spell, and silence immediately fell upon them. – So, it would be better.

  – Your Silence Canopy is visible from a hundred yards. Now, everyone according to his abilities could try to penetrate it – Oleg decided to show off his knowledge.

  – You already know about the Silence Canopy? – Irung in astonishment scratched the tip of his nose. – Good! But this is not Silence Canopy. Actually, not quite. I have modified the standard formula, and now people around continue to hear our conversation, but rather differently, for example, about your plans for the future. Besides, this spell is much more complicated to break through. After the last year's experience, I decided to take care of my safety more thoroughly!

  Irung did not specify what experience that was exactly. The student and his mentor slowly moved toward the exit.

  – So, Lir Bryms desires that we go to Pilma in the local Mages Guild.

  – It is in Gartash? – The younger student was trying to remember, with his brow furrowed.

  – Yes, the capital of Gartash kingdom. Our ally in the United Protectorate and our rival in terms of world influence, – said the magician.

  – And what do I have to do with this?

  – In the local Guild appeared a stranger from the Death Forest – drawled Irung. – Do you realize what it could mean?

  – Yaroslav? – To say that Oleg was surprised is to say nothing. – Did Yaroslav survive?

  – You're inattentive! This might be Yaroslav. This man is a slave, and the Guild bought him from a nomad. His magic abilities disabled by a rare extant artifact form ancient times – the Dark collar – Irung began to quickly introduce Oleg into the matter. – We are flying in an hour on a high speed express bubble.

  – But… – Oleg began, but his mentor abruptly interrupted:

  – Remember, we do not discuss Masters orders, we are simply trying to fulfill them as soon as possible. – The mage paused and then stopped and looked into the eyes of his apprentice. – And besides that, be careful and make the right choice. You do not understand yet, but your fate will depend on your behavior. Remember, as you had said it yourself, how this Yarik was changing during a few days that you knew him. Flashes of fever and cold chills, strange behavior. We suppose that he is no longer a human. Think about this before you want to do something stupid. I would not want you to ruin your life because of stupidity.

  Irung turned and walked down the street. Oleg followed him deep in thoughts. The possibility of having to make a choice feared him. Even though Yarik was a stranger to him, an absolutely unknown person, whom he had seen a couple of days, but he still was a fellow-countryman… Oleg hoped that he would not have to make a choice.

  Drip-drop, drip-drop… This sound can bring up anyone to violent insanity. If you remember at least how unbearable could be the sound of dripping water from a loosely closed tap. Monotonous, annoying, never-ending, it could poison your soul, until you get up from your warm bed, to stop this sophisticated torture by closing the tap properly.

  But Yarik could close nothing. For the third night in a row he spent in a dark, damp cell, where even no ray of light could penetrate. In the day time his jailers were performing on him a variety of experiments more like tortures, and nights he spent in the cell. Yarik could not even imagine that there could be such deep and damp cellars here. Only one thing was unclear – was this monotone dripping sound organized on purpose, or was it just a freak of nature.

  Such night imprisonment in the cell should be regarded simply as a reasonable precaution. These mages did not trust the alien magic and considered it necessary to store their valuable asset in a safe place. Everyday from early morning they began sophisticated magical tortures, constantly trying to break into Yarik's consciousness, and the collar emitted oceans of pain and heated so that there were burns on the skin. It felt like the local experimenters were in a hurry and now tried to use all possible ways of study, not too caring about the health of the Object. Though he got quite satisfactory meals, and the doctor came every evening. He anointed the traces of nee
dles, wounds and burns with some smelly ointment, after which Yarik was sent to the cell.

  It was good only that the experimenters still withheld from more radical intrusion into the body of the kord. They also did not try to remove the collar, but it was not too encouraging.

  Yarik grunted hollowly, remembering rough experiences of old Bosk. The old savage was very far from the refined methods of the local magicians. Needles saturated with magic under the skin, stones glowing with unkind light into the bleeding cuts, various infusions, decoctions and elixirs inside and outside – that was an incomplete list of experiments conducted on Yarik. Yarik did not even try to understand what they wanted to achieve, he just had a goal and he was living through all this for the sake of it. That goal was freedom. For long night hours he froze in trance, making his way through the remnants of the weaving of alien magic, then he was lying awake, looking blindly into the darkness, listening to the sound of dripping water and remembering the faces of his tormentors. Here is his current owner – the magician Hopper with sly squint, here are the eyes of Ravis sparkling with young enthusiasm, and mutilated by a burn, gloomy face of the alchemist Famir. There was a lot of these faces, and it was important to forget nothing. After all, someday his time will come, it should come… At such moments, Yarik dived into the depths of his consciousness and probed the thin veil. Soon, very soon everything will change.

  As always, his only vent was Rual. The irrepressible beast, bubbling with fury was circling around the building, looking for a way to get inside the walls and to liberate his master. Only Yarik's mental ban, stopped Rual from performing some sort of stupidity…

  The rustle of someone's steps muffled the sound of drops. They came for him, it meant that it was morning already. They always came for Yarik at the same time with enviable punctuality. A strong, sinewy guy escorted him to the second floor, where the labs were located. There the local butcher-scientists received him.