The Nameless Slave 2

by Vitaly Zykov

  – No! Something is clearly wrong – Irung replied quietly and went silent.

  After a while the carriage stopped near a powerful building, which brought up association with a citadel.

  – Welcome to the Gartash Mages Guild – said Valdis grimacing like from toothache.

  Irung was already walking to the entrance to the Guild, when Oleg only left the carriage. His teacher was obviously disturbed by something. Two guards standing at the entrance were viciously looking around, but when they saw who arrived with Valdis and Chismit, they said nothing, just stood at attention.

  Irung stepped inside and stopped. Oleg entered after him, looked over his teacher's shoulder and cursed under his breath. There was a feeling that a massacre took place in this hall. The walls were damaged with debris, five workers were hastily repairing one of them. On the front door was obviously a newly-mounted bar bolt.

  – Was it a war in the city? Or it concerns only magicians? – Asked Irung with a hint of disdain.

  – Master Hopper will explain everything, – said Valdis in a muffled voice.

  – By the way, here he is! – Irung cried and turned to the old mage: – Master, my respects. I hope that undoubtedly an unfortunate incident occurred here has not affected the health of Guild members… and the health of your guest?

  Adding the last sentence to the greeting, Irung icily stared into the Master's face. The latter hesitated uncertainly, glared at his magicians and said:

  – That's what I'd like to talk about with Master of Punishers' envoys…

  Sitting in a small office on the first floor of the Guild building and listening to the Master's story, Oleg could only shake his head in admiration: wow! Yarik has done so much!

  – …Here is all that his previous owner has told us, a former chief of one nomadic tribe in Plaguelands, now a citizen of our King Driy the Second. These papers contain some interesting information, and our researches revealed something interesting too. Only one thing is unclear: how could the damn slave break the spell of Dark collar? It was considered indestructible since ancient times! – Master Hopper said in a tired, irritable voice. – As a simple precaution, we ordered a senior student Kuval to check the kord on magical activity, so he and a guard became the first victims. The whole brain of poor Kuval was just burned by a magical blow. He even could not fight back properly! The guard was killed with bare hands. The slave broke his larynx and neck. On the way out this loony broke the jaw of alchemist Famir and stunned a couple of students. Then he threw a not too powerful spell at the exit door, which, however, contused three soldiers, and damaged the eyes of one of them. Two magicians of fourth rank were killed – one of them has his temple broken, and carotid artery of the second was severed.

  – Severed?! – Irung could not resist the question.

  – Yes, with teeth. According to one survivor, a little beast was helping the slave. Then the enraged slave broke out to the street, and we lost track of him.

  – What about search with astral cast?

  – We have a cast of his consciousness only oppressed by the spell, but now his mind is completely free! So, you understand, it did not work. – Hopper sighed and looked pointedly at Irung, then after a pause he continued: – He is on the run for a day and a half already. For various reasons we did not put him on the wanted list.

  – I'd like to look around the room, where he killed Kuval! – Irung declared confidently.

  – It's close, – the Master said shortly. – I've been expecting you to ask for that.

  Oleg tensed entering the small room. A subtle scent of alien magic was floating in the atmosphere of this place.

  – He works with magic in very interesting way – Irung chuckled. – I've never seen anything like this. Very rough, but effective. As I understand, he only used a drop of Force to kill Kuval.

  Hopper and Oleg were silent. Suddenly Irung waved his hand and drew a complex sign. After that, a trace glowing with some cold light remained in the air. Having growled a few words Irung stood waiting, then waved his hand again. The sign soaring in the air began to pulsate then vanished, but from under a squat cabinet came a melodic sound. The magician stepped to that side, stood up on his knees, and began to fumble with his hand under the cabinet.

  – Well, well, – Oleg's teacher whispered with interest, fingering the torn black stripe. – He is a self-taught. A talented man, but self-taught. Who abandons a thing so closely bound to you?!

  – The collar?! – Hopper cried fiercely and clenched his fists. Apparently, somebody from his staff was going to be in a very big trouble.

  – We need twenty rangers, horses, supplies for two weeks, conductors and traveling papers with the broadest powers – Irung began to list in a commanding, one might even say, captain voice. – We are leaving as soon as possible.

  Oleg groaned inwardly, realizing that he was not going to see a warm bed for indefinite time, and taking into account his inadaptability to horse marches, he was going to dream about bed with renewed force now…

  The order of the Nold emissary was performed extremely quickly. The horses were low, shaggy, with evil eyes – for some reason, Oleg imaged them exactly that way. Remembering his childhood, he quite skillfully mounted on his animal, and even was able to endure the chase speed. Irung, a senior ranger Keroon and Oleg rode at the head of a squad of twenty rangers. Irung was constantly clutching the remains of the slave collar. A spell created by the mage stretched an invisible thread from the collar to his former owner, and now Irung clearly felt the location of the fugitive.

  Their squad was trotting along a road paved with slabs, raising a column of dust. Other travelers shifted to the curbs, clearing the way.

  – We're moving not quite the way of our fugitive – Irung said to Keroon politely.

  – Of course, I suppose he moved straight through Marlonsky wood. People are fewer there, and, as I understand it, this slave is a forest man himself. – The senior ranger readily responded to the invitation to talk. – On horseback, we'll go around the forest in a day.

  – Horses will not fall, will they? – asked Oleg.

  Keroon looked at him with regret, as if asking himself: where this idiot came from.

  – Why would we get the spare horses then? We'll change them in five hours!

  Oleg mentally cursed himself and listened wistfully to his already numb leg muscles.

  «Yarik, you'll pay for all this!» – He swore silently.

  Everything happened as the ranger had predicted. They changed horses, and rode until late at night, then set up camp. Oleg did not participate in the camp bustle. He fell from his horse like a sack and moving his legs wide apart found a flat place, carpeted the ground with a blanket from his bag and stretched out on his back blissfully. To his delight, rangers took care of the animals.

  Irung came to Oleg and threw armful of fresh branches to the ground. Covering them with a cloak, the magician fell with relief on the makeshift bed.

  – Today I'm tired like never before! – A note of incomprehension sounded in Irung's voice. – Usually, maintaining a conductor in active state is not worth any effort. But here Abyss knows what…

  Intrigued, Oleg found strength to turn to his teacher and ask:

  – But why?

  – This spell is like an invisible leash, put on the victim. Have you read about it in that book? – Having got a nod in response, Irung continued: – But now the leash is constantly trembling all the time and striving to break off. It seems that the fugitive somehow feels it and tries to throw it off. I have no idea how he found out about it…

  With these words, Irung lay on his side and dozed off, at this point Oleg got an idea which he was going to check out tomorrow. But now listening to nagging pain in his muscles, he fell asleep…

  His awakening was very unpleasant and difficult. Firstly, his legs muscles were stiffened, and secondly, rising at five in the morning has never been his strong suit. Rangers, mature men though they were, woke up easily, ate some
slop from a pot and began to saddle the horses, when he, a young man and almost a magician, gritting his teeth, was trying to get to his feet, and a thought about a new march just terrified him.

  – Sorry, but otherwise you could not move! – Said Irung, with no drop of sympathy in his voice, and whispering a spell put his hand to the low back of his student.

  Waves of wildest heat poured from Oleg's waist to his feet. His muscles were like a twisted knot, emitting arrows of pain throughout his whole body. Gritting his teeth, Oleg fell to the grass once again and groaned. A few weary seconds had gone before the young adept was able to stand up. Rising to his feet, Oleg realized with surprise, that his muscles became resilient and filled with energy again. Shaking his head, he jogged toward his horse, Irung was in the saddle already. His face looked too serious.

  – Let me take the collar instead of you. – The student surprised Irung with this proposal.

  – Could you create the spell, first of all? The leash is tied to the Air, while you have not even mastered the Earth yet – noticed the teacher with doubt.

  – Do not worry, I'll manage. – With confidence incomprehensible even to himself, Oleg held out his hand demandingly.

  Irung shrugged and handed him the collar.

  Clenching the tough leather, Oleg closed his eyes and tried to set his mind on the Earth Element. He did not share Irung's opinion, that it was obligatory to use the Air in the search spell. He had met one formula that he had not understood fully then… Here it is! The familiar oppressive gravity of the Earth Power was throbbing in his mind, and trying not to lose his concentration, Oleg whispered words of the search formula, filling every syllable of the spell with energy. There was a sensible jerk in his hand, and Oleg felt the end of a thin thread leading far to the North.

  – Looks like it works! – He said with his lips dry from excitement.

  – It's curious, very curious, – Irung rubbed his chin and shouted: – Saddle up!

  The race continued. Oddly enough but Oleg did not feel any attempt to break the leash. On the contrary, the thin thread of the Earth magic was felt as something extremely durable and reliable. About midday he tried to slip his consciousness along this thread and reach the other end of it. And he succeeded! He saw some marketplace, noisy crowd, and a tower in the shape of a trident. He had not time even to wonder as suddenly some force full of rage, twisted his mind…

  Oleg opened his eyes and swore aloud – as if a gang of dwarves had been working with blacksmith hammers in his head – he felt metallic taste on his tongue and something wet under his nose. Swiping his finger over his upper lip, Oleg saw a red drop – it was blood.

  – Bastard!!! – he shouted in a fit of temper.

  – As I understand it, you've decided to experiment – Irung said affirmatively.

  – I slipped along the thread to the current location of the fugitive. He felt that and kicked me off – Oleg said resentfully and wiped the blood from his finger.

  – I realized it, although I don't quite understand how you did that. Such a trick would never work with the Air… Well, tell me what you saw? – The teacher behaved absolutely calmly.

  Keroon caught up with Oleg's horse too and now was listening with interest.

  – He was at some market. There was noise, screaming. – His interlocutors frowned in annoyance, but Oleg continued: – I also noticed a strange tower in the shape of a trident…

  – Navras! It's two-day march. I wonder how this bastard is moving so quickly, – drawled the senior ranger and Irung added:

  – I think, I have to work with our horses, otherwise we will not reach him…

  Yarik was attentively examining three horses tied to a hitching post at the tavern «Long-eared Elf». To continue his run from the pursuers he needed a horse, as he had no money, there was only one way to get a horse – to steal it.

  When he left the walls of Pilma, his soul was just singing, he wanted to scream and jump higher than his head, but some deep instinct made him run and run without stopping through the night forest. Yarik crossed it in about a day. Having reached the eastern border, the fugitive curled up in the roots of a huge oak and fell asleep for a few hours. He was awakened by Rual, who had dragged the carcass of some beast. Yarik ate raw meat, as in the days of his wanderings in the Forbidden Land. Then he overcame some internal resistance and went on the road.

  Oddly enough, but having got such desirable freedom, he did not know what to do. Paving the way to the source of his magic drop by drop, he never thought what he would do once getting free. He should have though! He had neither knowledge about the world nor a definite goal in his life, he had nothing… It seemed silly to go aimlessly! So, thinking that way Yarik was slowly walking along the road, reasonably assuming that the wall of the forest securely fenced him from possible pursuit…

  But life loves to break our plans and ideas about the world. Having made a couple of miles away from the forest, he felt some vague anxiety. As if some enemies got some important part of him in their hands. With each passing moment the feeling intensified until Yarik felt a tentacle of hostile magic, stretching from the side of Pilma. It struck him – it was all about the Collar! The spell had not been fully destroyed, which meant there still remained some contact with him. Idiot!!!

  Yarik wanted to howl at Yardiga, cursing himself for carelessness. Rual feeling his master's rage, hissed angrily. The pressure fell on his shoulders again, moving unnecessary thoughts and feelings aside. The threat of slavery was impending over Yarik again…

  He quickened his pace, thinking that once there was a road, it should lead somewhere. And in any city he could learn everything he needed. He heard the clatter of hooves behind. Yarik smiled a predatory smile and turned slowly to the approaching rider. The latter was whipping his horse furiously, hurrying somewhere, but it did not concern the fugitive. Concentrating, Yarik summoned from the depths of his memory an image of the nightmare ball from the Death Forest and, using scraps of magic, sent it with a short push into the horse's mind. Yarik was not completely sure about the result, and prepared to jump aside in case of failure.

  It turned out to be unnecessary. The maddened animal reared, flailing with hooves in front of it. The rider who had not expected that, flew out of the saddle and froze, stunned by a blow. Yarik worried realizing that he had gone too far with effect on the animal's mind. According to his feelings, the horse scared to death, was going to run away without looking back, until its legs got paralyzed from fatigue or heart burst from overstrain. Yarik was not going to admit that. Wasting no second, when the front hooves of the horse hit the ground, Yarik hung on the animal's neck, holding its nostrils and trying to bend its neck down with the weight of his body. Performing all that, he was sending waves of calmness to the terrified horse.

  Bewildered and frightened, the horse fell on its side. Lying next to it on the ground, Yarik felt the tremble of this large and strong animal, and the beating of its heart.

  – Calm down, calm down, – he said, patting the horse's withers. – So big and such a coward. Come on, get up.

  The horse was breathing noisy, looking askew at the man with its frightened eyes, but Yarik felt that now the animal was seeking protection and support in him. Talking with the animal in a low voice, Yarik led the horse to a bush and tied the bridle to a bough – let it stand here and calm down, while he settle other matters!

  Yarik walked calmly toward the rider who had already recollected himself and was groping his body. Kaifat climbed on his owner shoulder and was squealing excitedly. Yarik scratched the chin of his animal, then asked the man roughly:

  – Who are you?!

  The rider frowned, straightened up with a grimace of pain, and looked into Yarik's eyes.

  – Of course, I understand that tamer of this raging beast has certain privileges, but there's a limit to everything. I'll not tolerate rudeness or disrespect to me.

  The rider, who turned out to be even younger than Yarik, threw his hair back and p
ut his hand on the hilt of his sword, to prove his words. Only a new grimace of pain distorting his face spoiled the impression. Yarik stared at the man in amazement. It turned out, that he was regarded as a savior. Suddenly, the former slave broke into a barking laugh. The young rider became paler and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, but Yarik gave him no time to open his mouth:

  – I don't care about your name! Pass me the money and all valuables. Hurry up, I have no time.

  – What?! – The guy choked with indignation, but recollecting himself, drew his sword.

  – You should have done it before! – Said Yarik contemptuously and struck the guy a couple of blows to his chin and solar plexus. The guy fell to the ground with no sound.

  Yarik looked around his opponent's body with his Inner eye and snorted contentedly – the guy was alive and even barely injured. Discarding his emotions, the fugitive began to rummage through the clothes of the victim. Unfortunately, there was no more than fifteen kelats in the purse and no jewelry or other valuables except an unpresentable ring on one finger. Cursing through his teeth those penniless fools, immensely proud of their ancestral honor, Yarik poured the money into his pocket and after some thought attached the victim's knife on his belt. He decided to not take the sword, as he did not know how to use it, anyway. Having dragged the unconscious body in the roadside bushes, Yarik approached the horse and began a close checkup. Yarik required an animal capable to gallop tirelessly for many miles, so he was thinking how to give some extra strength to this horse. Finally, deciding something for himself, Yarik shook his hands and pressed them to the horse chest. Concentrating, he sent a thin trickle of energy, which started to nourish the animal's heart and muscles, giving it tireless power. The horse began to shift restlessly from one hoof to another.

  – Perhaps, that's enough for you, – he decided finally, untied the horse from the bush and carefully climbed into the saddle…

  That simply mad race allowed the fugitive to break away strongly from his pursuers, but he knew it was not for long. Yarik with arrow speed passed few small and large villages, and left the horse to pasture along the road almost on the outskirts of a small city Navras. He knew the name of the city from boys in one of the villages, and now Yarik was going to eat and sleep normally, and get another horse. While he had more than enough resources for the first and second points, the horse cost quite a lot of money. That was why Yarik was sneaking around near the hitching post of the tavern in this evening hour. Although, at the beginning, the fugitive was going to wait until morning, but that afternoon event forced him to hurry. Right in the middle of the marketplace, he felt a fleeting touch of someone's consciousness, leaving an impression of something vaguely familiar. At that moment, Yarik became furious and with a habitual act of will threw the stranger outside his mind. Nevertheless this case confirmed determination of the pursuers to continue the chase.