The Nameless Slave 2

by Vitaly Zykov

  Only for five minutes Yarik was detained in a small room near the exit of the cellar – there a senior student Kuval conducted a little rod, emitting a vile dark blue glow, along the slave's body.

  This time the warder prodded Yarik into that room as usual. Suddenly Yarik stumbled and hesitated, trying to keep his balance. There was a small sill, and Yarik tired from endless torture forgot about it.

  The guard cursed and punched Yarik in his kidneys lightly, then pushed him forward. He was clearly fed up with having to deal with this slave! Suddenly an animal rage engulfed Yarik. As if not noticing the pain, he habitually reached for the veil and lunged forward. The rage gave him the missing energy, and the thin veil was torn opening access to the roaring magic of the Source. A thin trickle of energy ran by the carefully built channel through the cobweb of the alien spell, filling the exhausted body and washing away the pain and fatigue. Yarik stopped, immersed in himself. The guard who noticed nothing wrong stood at the entrance, as always, Kuval brought his wand closer to Yarik, but instead of usual blue glow the wand immediately flashed red.

  – Magic! – Kuval could only breathe out, his face turned white, as Yarik already emerged from the trance.

  He stepped to the senior student and hit him in his face with blowout of a crumb of energy. Kuval's face contorted, his eyes rolled back, and blood gushed from his ears. No sooner had Kuval's body reached the floor, than Yarik jumped to the guard and hit him in his Adam's apple and in solar plexus. The latter croaking clutched his throat and bent double. Completing his attack, Yarik went behind the guard's back, put his left hand on the back of guard's head, when right hand grabbed the jaw and made a rotating movement. The spinal bones cracked nastily, and already dead body fell to the floor.

  Now he had to hurry. Yarik shook the guard out of his jacket and searched the belt. There was no purse or weapon, but in the right pocket of the jacket were two coins half-kelat each. Well! Now came the turn of the collar.

  Having closed his eyes and straining, Yarik clung to the thin dribble of the Force, trying to collect as much energy as possible. After a few heartbeats, having decided that it's enough, Yarik formed a thin energy shield, in which he attempted to wrap his mind, cutting off the threads of the enclosing spell from its material representation – the Dark collar. The hellish pain surged into his body, but Yarik already accustomed to it, continued his work, distancing himself from the pain. Finally the threads of the web trembled and burst, the pain receded, and Yarik, hooking the leather collar and straining his muscles, tore off the damn «decoration» with hatred. The links of the chain burst, the leather broke with crackling, and only a black stripe left in Yarik's fist. He swore and threw the remains of the collar to the corner and rubbed his neck. The skin was aching quite considerably. Suddenly recollecting himself Yarik searched through his consciousness. The spell entangling his magic Source did not disappear, but it became less monolithic, as if half-dilapidated. Some threads of its complex weaving were hanging helplessly. Now, having a thin channel to the Source, and little time, Yarik could easily get rid of the filth settled in his mind, but there was no enough time again.

  Yarik swore, jumped to the door and looked out cautiously. There was nobody near yet, but still some noise in the hallways. Although the splash of magic was very, very weak, the local guard was simply obliged to notice it. Having made up his mind Yarik squared his shoulders and walked steadily toward the exit, he remembered well where it was. At the same time he reached for Rual's consciousness. The latter replied at once, sending a wave of joy and support to his master. Yarik imagined the entrance and ordered Rual to attack the guards. As far as he could understand, the security there should be strengthened now, to prevent any attempt to escape. So he had to break through with fight. Possible death did not frighten Yarik, as he will take it no longer as a slave but as a free man.

  Yarik quickened his pace. Suddenly the door, he was passing by, swung open and Famir entered the hall. The alchemist opened his mouth, but Yarik without hesitation hit his tormentor's jaw. Something snapped, and Famir flew back into the room with a muffled scream. With a sigh of regret, Yarik ran farther. How nice would it be to remain and talk with this beast heart-to-heart!

  Some doors were flickering on both sides. A couple of times he met slowly walking people. Yarik throw them right and left, inflicting severe blows. The dungeons of Gamzar had taught him a lot! The last turn. Yarik peered around the corner and saw five guards. Three soldiers and two magicians. The four guards were watching the hall, the last one was looking at the exit to the street. Yarik felt the growing noise of the chase behind. He was running along one of the corridors of the Guild, but in fact there were a lot of them! He saw an open door of the guardhouse. Apparently, the guards had run out from there, but the reinforcements should come at any moment.

  He could not lose a second, and Yarik made the weaving of a green ball, already half-forgotten. This time it turned to be very small, but that was everything he had! Yarik threw the crackling ball towards the guards, aiming not at people, but at the door bolt. The animal could not pass through the closed door, that's why Yarik did not witness any boiling battle here. First of all, it was necessary to provide the way for his ally.

  The mages managed to feel the weaving of the spell, they cried out and raised their hands in a protective gesture, but the ball crackling and emitting sparks flew past. Skirting the people in a wide arc, it flew straight into the huge bolt. There was a burst of thunder. Yarik hiding behind the corner saw a green flash on the opposite wall of the corridor and felt a push of light blast wave.

  Wasting no time, Yarik ran out of the corner again. Only the two magicians stayed on their feet. The glow of their auras said Yarik that they still had managed to build some shield, but the ordinary guards were injured. The one that watched the door to the street, was now lying on his back and moaning, pressing his hand to his eyes, the others were trying to get up from the floor, where they had been thrown by the blast. They had no serious injuries – Yarik only now noticed some magic glow around soldiers' armor. So in a few moments Yarik would have to deal with the four guards.

  Glancing at the door, Yarik almost cried with joy – the bolt was blown off, and now it was lying on the floor, the door though remained unharmed, but it was no longer blocking the exit to the street. Just at this moment a gray shadow slipped through the open passage. Rual! Yarik mentally aimed his four-legged friend at the magicians. The latter at this moment created a spell, and the fugitive instinctively fell to the floor, missing something very unpleasant over his head. The wall exploded behind, stone fragments flew in all directions. Yarik felt as if having become deaf for a while.

  Leaping to his feet, he threw himself upon the enemies, thanks god they were already busy. The animal was sitting on one of the magicians neck tearing his flesh, trying to get to the carotid artery. The beast met a hinder in form of a tight-fitting neck collar, but it could not delay him long. The magician cried aloud. The attack completely stunned him. His defense was not so easy to break through, but Rual passed it playfully. The second magician turned to help his colleague, but at this point Yarik jumped to the mage and having saturated his arm with Force, struck the enemy as if with a spear. His skin whined as from a burn, but under the influence of his magic the alien defense weakened, and Yarik's fist crashed into the temple of the guard. Something snapped there, and the mage collapsed. The second mage fell near, flooding the floor with his blood.

  Rual already rushed to the soldiers. The second explosion threw them back on the floor and contused them hard. At least, one them was now on his knees and shook his head, the second one, baring his teeth, went towards Yarik. Rual like a lightning flew up on the soldier's shoulder, aiming at his throat. The soldier yelled, unsuccessfully trying to banish the animal enraged from the sight of blood. At this point as if somebody turned on a switch, and completeness of perception of the world returned to Yarik. Before this he judged about sounds by the wide-open mouths of his enemi
es, but now the hoarse half-cry half-howl of the guard literally hurt his ears.

  From the right corridor (not the one through which Yarik got here) several people literally flew out. As soon as he briefly glimpsed at the armed crossbows, did he realize he was already flying in a giant leap towards the exit to the street. A thought-order made Rual follow him. The sound of bolts striking to the stone came from behind. But Yarik was already running down the street, retrieving from his memory the familiar route. Now he had to escape from the city until all the exits were blocked…

  The turns flashed before his eyes as Yarik was running at the limit of his strength, trying to break away from the chase. Five minutes later, he slowed down and raising the collar of his jacket to hide the untanned strip of skin on his neck, walked slowly to the familiar gate. As it is known, in the city they catch a man who runs, but if a man walks, just walks touching nobody, no one will think of trying to catch him. Therefore Yarik walked briskly, but did not try to run. Meeting patrols of the city guard, he did not try to hide, but he behaved as a common citizen – calm and confident.

  Trying to keep to crowded streets, Yarik reached the gate leading out of the Inner city. Rumors about the escape from the Mages Guild had not come here yet, and people quietly passed through the gate. Yarik walked through the gate calmly as well. Four guards was standing leaning against door and yawning lazily. They did not pay any attention to people. On the faces of these «warriors» was printed boredom and waiting for change of the guard.

  Passing through the gate, Yarik got into the Lower city. In Pilma everything was exactly the same as in Gonul, except that the size of the capital was four times bigger. Yarik calmed down a bit and headed towards the last obstacle on the way to his freedom – to the outer gate. He heard behind the screams, curses and creaking of the portcullis going down. The fugitive had passed just in time, it seemed that the order not to let anyone out of the Inner city came just now. Obviously, he would have some difficulties with the passage through the outer gates…

  It turned out that Yarik was right, and he did not like to be right in such things. The guards at the gate were doubled and strengthened with an officer. As he noticed, they stopped all the slaves, looked under collar of every passing man stopping all bald or just having short hair people. They also checked carefully all carts and carriages. He had no chance to go peacefully through the gates. Yarik looked at Tass. It should be dark in six hours, so he had to wait somewhere during this time…

  The fugitive spotted a great place for himself where he could wait for the night. This place was the sloping roof of a squat house, situated near the city wall. A wide chimney concealed any man who would have wished to hide behind it from prying eyes from the streets and from other houses. An ideal place for a fugitive who did not know the city.

  Darting from shadow to shadow, hiding behind some carts, trees and barrels, Yarik reached the squat building, then jumped and pulled himself up and climbed onto the roof. Then he rolled rapidly and crouched behind the noticed chimney. He clung to the bricks, merging with shadows, and listened intensely. It seemed that no one noticed him! Now he only had to wait. Diving into a light, restorative trance Yarik froze for a while.

  Minutes flowed as an endless stream turning into hours. It was getting dark. The hustle and bustle of the big city was subsiding gradually on the streets. The night queen – Yardiga lit up on the darkened sky. Yarik emerged out of his trance as if from a jerk. He felt easiness and strength in his body, as if he had not sat many hours on the roof. Moreover, some wounds were healed, and his head was light. Yarik prepared thoroughly to his plan.

  Gently like a cat, Yarik jumped down to the pavement and rushed to the place of the fortress wall a hundred yards to the left from the gate. Rough stone blocks of the wall did not fit tightly to each other, leaving relatively wide gaps. Yarik planned to use them for climbing. The outer wall was not too high – just about ten yards, especially in comparison with twenty yards of the Inner city wall. Yarik overcome them in some five minutes. He only took off at first his boots and hung them on his neck.

  Yarik was climbing up absolutely silently and a guard briskly pacing on the wall did not notice anything. Having skipped the guard once again Yarik pulled up and like a deadly shadow appeared behind him. Another moment, and strong arms wrapped around the watchman's head, a lightning-fast movement, crackle of the spine bones and the guard was dead. Yarik sat the body carefully against a pinion, and began to undress quickly. Only now he remembered about the moat. He rolled his clothes in a small package, slung it behind his back, and began to descend cautiously.

  The descent was much more difficult then ascending. It was very difficult to seek out support for his feet, and his muscles soon got tired. Even the stones here seemed less rough and with slits of the joints more narrow. It was much easier for Rual, he perched conveniently on his owner shoulder and now was sniffing quietly in Yarik's ear.

  Ten minutes later Yarik realized that he was on the verge of falling down. He did not gain full strength for such exercises after slavery yet! When Yarik was mentally ready for a short fall into the night, he felt that his feet touched the cold water. He came down! He pushed with his hands from the stone wall, and without splashing went under the water. Judging by the weak flow, the water was running here, which explained absence of stench or thickets of duckweed, maybe there was even regular cleaning!

  Holding the bundle of clothes over his head, Yarik by short strokes swam to the opposite shore. Rual, who did not wish to swim himself, cunningly climbed onto his owner's head and was now crossing the moat comfortably. Just an indescribable feeling of freedom crept into Yarik's soul…

  CHAPTER 39

  Oleg did not like travel on the bubble, although Irung said that only small courier bubbles were inconvenient. They were designed for a crew of two men and one passenger in a small hold, and now there were two of them. Oleg took the words of his young teacher with understanding, but promised himself to stay away from any bubbles in the future. More than two days in such a cramped position was a very unpleasant thing.

  Going down the stairs of the bubble station tower Oleg hardly moved his feet and twirled his neck with a crackle. Performing these simple exercises, the young adept looked at his teacher with barely disguised anger – Irung was going as if he spent the entire flight luxuriating in a bed.

  An official at the exit of the tower bowed in front of them almost to the ground, but Irung did not pay any attention to him. Of course, nobody inspected their luggage. Oleg who had no time to change clothes, slung a bag on his shoulder, wistfully dreaming of a warm bath and a bed with fresh linen.

  – We are pleased to welcome representatives of the blessed republic of Nold. – Two men in dark green cloaks and with auras of magicians approached them. – We are magicians of the third rank Valdis and Chismit.

  Oleg, accustomed to auras of strong or even True magicians, surprised by the feebleness of these magicians' auras. The student looked at their rings, and shook his head in amazement – they both really had the runic three. Now, some Irung's remarks became more understandable.

  – May we ask your names? – Asked the first skinny mage with sunken cheeks who introduced himself as Valdis.

  – Magician of the fourth rank Lir Irung and junior student of the Academy of General Magic Oleg, adept of Earth – by the right of the senior, Irung introduced himself and his student.

  Oleg bowed curtly, noting that magicians' eyebrows twitched at the mention of his name.

  – The Guild Master entrusted us to accompany you in your movements around the city – continued politely Chismit, the second, a little plump magician. – At first we would like to show you the hotel…

  – Thank you, but there is no need. We have an order from lir Bryms, Master of Punishers, to see your guest immediately. – In Irung's voice played a carefully concealed sneer.

  Oleg noticed the two magicians wincing at the mention of Bryms. It was obvious, that Bryms was not a popular
person on the local political scene.

  – But… – began Valdis, and was abruptly canceled by Oleg's teacher:

  – No «but» we are going to the Guild, either with, or without you. You decide! – After a pause, Irung continued softly: – Or, perhaps, you are going to stop us?

  Even Oleg felt the cold shiver of fear running over his back from this predatory voice, and pale faces of the two local magicians spoke for themselves.

  «Why are they so afraid of us? There was nothing in books on this subject!» – Oleg thought, dumbfounded.

  – Well, let's come into the carriage, – Chismit re-joined the conversation and Valdis sighed, as though they had signed their own death warrant.

  Irung calmly followed in the said direction.

  The carriage was not like any one Oleg had seen before, be it on the Earth or in local life. This one differed with too pretentious decoration, even some sort of fussiness. Such a large number of carving and using of precious wood gave effect opposite to what its owners wanted. Instead of presenting wealth and power, this wheeled construction presented only bad taste.

  Its interior decoration was also dominated by bright colors and all kinds of jewelry. Examining the internal decoration of the carriage Oleg missed the moment when they began to move. He noticed only as the landscape outside the window began to flee back.

  Four horses provided pretty good speed and the coachman's whip cleared the road from gapers. Local manners did not suit Oleg's taste. Then his eyes caught some figures in the crowd of people, then more and more.

  – Are there always so many patrols on the streets? – Oleg whispered bending to Irung's ear.

  The magicians sitting on the opposite seats tensed.