The Nameless Slave 2

by Vitaly Zykov

  Finally Yarik made up his mind and ducked into the stables where a kid was watching the horses. The boy seeing an approaching stranger became nervous and tried to scream, but Yarik with a light touch plunged him into sleep. Now he had to find a saddle and some harness to equip a horse. Yarik untied a horse and began to saddle it, remembering how his former master used to do that.

  It turned out to be not too hard, if not taking into account that saddling a horse usually takes five minutes, whereas Yarik fussed more than half an hour. Finally, he jumped into the saddle, kicked it with his heels, and sent the animal to the street. The run continued…

  CHAPTER 40

  Oleg had never been in such rage before. He was not, of course, sputtering or smashing everything around or taking it out on his comrades with tedious grunting, he did not show his feelings outside, but inside him everything was just gurgling. For the second week already their squad was chasing this Yaroslav – a slink of marhuz! With lupine cunning and persistence he confused traces, circling through cities and villages, as if waiting for something. The most annoying thing was the distance separating pursuers and the fugitive. It was no more than four or five hours of good race, but Yarik still managed to escape.

  Actually, Oleg did not understand him. What was the point in this mindless escape? What did he want to achieve? After all, even for the most stupid Urg it was clear that he would not be able to escape from the magicians forever, so it would be simpler to give up and make life easier for himself and other people! He knows about the chase, and all the same continues to resist…

  Oleg, himself, still snowed under a plenty of work, but now he must race along these broken-down roads, rubbing his backside against the saddle almost to bones. As if he was not a magician apprentice, but some sort of cavalryman or a ranger!

  Oleg was surprised with Irung's behavior too. Why had not he required more people for a larger raid from local authorities, why had not he asked to block the roads and put Yarik into the wanted list, after all? Too many «why's», and the most important of them was: why the teacher checked the search spell every day becoming gloomier each time… Although, there was really something wrong happening to the spell. There was a feeling, that the guiding thread was twisting, becoming wrong, and it did not look like another attempt to throw off the magic leash.

  – What's happening with the spell? – Finally, Oleg decided to ask during one of their short halts. – Why does it bother you? After all, it still works…

  Irung looked at his apprentice and said thoughtfully:

  – I'm afraid that a very unpleasant thing is going to happen… I think that soon we will not be able to find him with the help of magic.

  – But why? – wondered Oleg.

  – You see, this piece of leather is magically tied to its former carrier. – Irung shook the scrap of the collar. – I think that this Yarik had torn the ties, but some traces remained in his mind. Most likely, it is related with inability to use magic. Gwonks shamans fenced him from his magic, but he outsmarted this ban. Using the search spell, we are connecting the collar with the remnants of the shamans spell, but now these remnants became thinner. Apparently, this offshoot of Abyss is cleaning his mind gradually, destroying thereby our anchor. – Irung paused, as if thinking about what he had said. – At least, I think so… As to the second question, if we ask the local authorities for help directly, we will never see our fugitive then.

  – Why?! – Oleg's surprise was boundless. – They're our allies!

  Irung grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

  – Remember, student, Nold has no allies in magic, but only rivals. When our search teams are prowling in countries of the United Protectorate searching Forbidden magic, no one stops us, but remember, no one helps us either. This group of rangers is the most we could expect. These are the rules of the game. If we break the rules, demanding for help directly, thereby admitting our weaknesses, and therefore others can catch and hide the prisoner for their needs.

  – It means that the others are looking for him too now? – This thought just struck Oleg.

  – Of course, – Irung laughed. – But the maximum of what they can use – is the search by description. As you understand if your countryman is not a fool, he was certainly smart enough to change his appearance. Others do not have such a leash as we have!

  A strange guess flashed in Oleg's mind. The deliberate cringing of the Guild Master to the inspectors was alarming, even though they were from powerful Nold, even more so was so stupidly missed the collar which had been such an important clue…

  – Irung, is there any other way, besides searching by a magically fasten object? – He asked his teacher cautiously.

  – There is one way from the area of blood magic… – said Irung, smiling to himself, then stopped and gasped in shock: – Idiot! What an idiot I am! They certainly have samples of his blood!

  Irung stared at Oleg in shock. The thought of a possible failure of their mission was stunning. For magicians of Nold even to imagine a possibility of losing to the «stubs» from the continent was like a knife turning in a wound.

  – For Nold it would be better if Yaroslav disappeared completely, than fell into the hands of the local magicians. Bright Orris, help us in this difficult affair. – These words Irung said already saddling his horse.

  The rangers began to pack their encampment too. It was necessary to do the impossible and reduce the damned gap between them and the fugitive as soon as possible…

  Yarik drove the horse with gloomy obsession to the edge of a forest visible far away, without remorse spurring the exhausted animal with the tip of his dagger. The forest, so native to his spirit should become salvation for him.

  The chase was overtaking the fugitive. The last few days Yarik always felt breathing of the unknown pursuers behind his back, but today it had been intensifying with each passing moment, until the fugitive saw clouds of dust uplifted by a horse squad. The chase was no more than a mile away. Strangely, but the weightless thread holding Yarik on a long leash, was pointing somewhere aside but not at the squad raising the dust clouds. This fact was clearly saying that there were two different groups of pursuers. While feeling the owners of the collar by the spell they had put on him, he learned about the second group only when he saw them firsthand.

  During the past few days Yarik had weakened the remnants of Bosk's witchcraft considerably, but he still could not use magic to full power. The chances to get into the hands of new pursuers increased significantly, and now Yarik could only rely on the speed of his horse…

  Yarik looked closer with his Inner eye at the state of his horse and sighed sadly – the poor animal held on only due to the magic of its rider, but that was not enough. The horse could fall at any moment! The fugitive gritted his teeth and praying to all gods, once again began to stab mercilessly the poor animal. Hurry, hurry! A little bit more!

  Finally there was the last bend of the road, and the forest was just a quarter of a mile away. At this moment Yarik saw five new riders. Excitedly spurring their horses, they raced to intercept the fugitive.

  – Hfurrg in your throat!!! – Yarik yelled in impotent rage, his eyes stuck to the new pursuers. Come on, Come on! It was still possible to try and slip away! The forest was less than a mile away, no more…

  At this point, the legs of a completely exhausted horse buckled, and it flew head over hooves, breaking its bones. Yarik sensed the danger a moment before that, freed his feet from the stirrups and the fallen horse did not bury him under its weight. He curled up like a ball, rolled a few times over his head and using inertia, jumped to his feet and ran.

  «Forward, forward!» – The thought was beating in his brain again, forcing to strain every sinew in the fight for every new yard. The clatter of hooves was becoming louder on the left, he heard excited shouts from there. Yarik glanced left and saw one of the five pursuers getting far ahead and slightly leaning out of the saddle, sending his horse at the fugitive. The most fervent hunter dec
ided to grab him with his bare hands, like some toothless prey. Yarik's blood boiled with fury, with a half-forgotten movement of his wrist he made the whip of Nergal and jumping into the air slashed the side of the rider, from the top to the bottom. Hot drops hit Yarik in his back, and a short anguished cry struck into his ears.

  The fugitive painfully hit the ground with his heels, nearly fell over, but immediately ran on. He had no time to look back! Running Yarik waved his left hand the sleeve on which had become strangely heavier. It turned out that it was all wet with the enemy's blood.

  Rual whistled encouragingly somewhere ahead. Yarik had completely forgotten about him. Yarik survived the fall from the horse without damage to his health only due to the miracles of agility and the favor of the changeable miss Fortune, but he did not understand how Rual could have survived, sitting in a bag strapped to the saddle. Now the animal caught up with his master and was running encouraging him with whistling.

  Something forced Yarik to wag aside, and an arrow whooshed close to his leg, then another one. Yarik ran zigzag to complicate aiming for shooters who did not dare come closer. Feeling a threat to his master's life, Rual turned and ran back. Running Yarik heard a horse neigh, a human cry and the sound of a large body drop behind. Another pursuer had left the game.

  Finally, numerous potholes and wide-branching bushes appeared underfoot. The pursuers, who had failed to cut the fugitive from the forest before, now completely lost this opportunity. Forcing his way through the bushes which became very numerous here, jumping over them here and there, Yarik was overcoming the last yards to the craved forest. At this point the damn pursuers struck the final blow. His sense of danger howled, a gust of heat hit into his back, Yarik tried to dodge the blow and then felt as if a bomb had exploded in his head. A crimson veil clouded his consciousness, and the ground leaped into his face. His stun body flew into the thicket of thorns and rolled head over heels over the ground…

  Yarik recovered surprisingly fast. Apparently, the mage who cast the spell, had no time to aim properly, and it touched Yarik only tangentially. He felt dizzy, his whole body was aching wildly. Someone's rough tongue was running over his cheek. Yarik opened his eyes and looked around covering kaifat's head with his hand. It turned out that he was lying in the middle of a bush where he broke in before he lost his consciousness, and the pursuers had not seized him yet. Standing on all fours and stifling a moan the fugitive tried to see the pursuers through the interlacing branches.

  About thirty yards away among green grass a horse was writhing in the throes and a human body was lying near it. A little ahead, closer to the forest, two riders froze with bows at the ready searching with their eyes in the thick grass around. Obviously, they were looking for Rual! Yarik thankfully scratched his faithful beast under its chin and immediately saw the fifth rider. The latter was slowly approaching on his chestnut horse loosening the reins and flexing his hands. The blinding aura of magic was shining around him.

  With his keen hearing Yarik caught as the magician riding closer to the two archers said quietly:

  – He's in that bush and he has regained his consciousness already. Don't shoot, I need him alive. – Then the magician shouted to Yarik: – How do you like my gift, slave?! An ordinary man lies unconscious for an hour after an impact with the Crown of Fire, magicians recover in five-ten minutes, but you have coped with it in a couple of minutes. Be proud, slave!

  Yarik, trying not to disturb dry branches, began to retreat under the cover of a broad tree.

  – Give up, slave! You can't hide in this forest for long. The others will be here in ten minutes, and we'll comb every bush through. And you know, there are a lot of rangers. Green archers, have you heard about them? They practice the blood vengeance, and you killed two of them today. – At these words, predatory smile flashed on the faces of the two archers. – If you surrender, then they will not shoot you down, but if you don't… Do you hear me, slave?

  The magician squinted evilly, performed an intricate wave with his right hand creating a sparkling wedge and threw it into the tree hiding Yarik. A golden stroke cut the air and an explosion split the massive trunk. Yarik felt the danger and leaned back avoiding the threat, but he did not run into the forest. To continue the flight seemed like the most obvious action in this situation, but Yarik did not run. The familiar battle fever filled his body and Yarik created a ball of magical fire, without noticing that the spell was much more powerful now than during his flight from the Guild. In a moment, the emerald sphere seared its way to the goal through the leaves.

  As if knowing what to expect from the fugitive, the magician shouted some protective spell and a defensive dome appeared over the three men. A green burst flashed, burning foliage around the dome within a few yards, but the defense withstood. Unabashed, Yarik immediately hit using his magic rolled into a cord like a spear. At the same moment the magician threw at Yarik his own spell looking like a tuft of yellowish mist and he had straining every nerve, to create a protective shield fencing him off his enemies.

  Something exploded with vile ringing, and the fugitive felt a couple soft jolts in his shield. High fever seized his whole body, but passed quickly. Yarik closed his eyes and began to seek through vicinity and immediately felt a cloud of magical fog, sprawling over his shield. Some instinct told him that in a couple of seconds, this incomprehensible substance would come round the defense and devour him. Without hesitation, acting instinctively, Yarik reformed structure of the shield spell and pushed the new weaving forward. The air howled around, and the mist cloud breathing with danger was swept into tiny pieces…

  Yarik sighed and looked at his enemies. It turned out that, while he was fighting with the attacks of the hostile spell his own blow inflicted irretrievable damage to the pursuers. The motionless bodies of the rangers and their horses lay at the edge of a huge scorched spot, at a distance of ten yards a man in charred clothing was writhing unsuccessfully trying to get up. Oddly enough, but the magician who had got the main blow survived when his comrades died.

  Yarik moved his gaze further, and saw the approaching cavalcade of riders, from who he unsuccessfully tried to escape this whole day. He turned around, whistled to Rual and ran into the forest. Already running, he tried to feel the second group of pursuers and stood rooted to the spot – the invisible thread from the magical collar was no more! Even more important, there were no remains of Bosk's magic in his mind now. Yarik's mind became completely free from the alien influence and his Source of magic filled his body with Force once again. This fact explained the power of Yarik's magical attacks and effective use of combat spells. In the heat of battle the fugitive did not notice it, but now the joy of total freedom was simply gushing out.

  As Yarik understood it, the Crown of Fire finally swept aside the remnants of the tangle of magic once very strong, after which the use of his own Force burned the spell completely. Laughing aloud, Yarik resumed his run. He was in the forest, and here it was impossible to catch him…

  The detachment led by Irung was racing in hot pursuit of Yarik. Oleg was pointing the direction, and it was bothering Keroon very much. Constantly spitting, the senior ranger reported that there was the Guarding Forest ahead and it's very bad. Oleg inquired why and was awarded with such a contemptuous glance, not the first one during this journey. Irung came to help:

  – The Guarding Forest is a very unpleasant place. It is a narrow border strip of the forest before Elves' land. It is very easy to get lost and cross this thin line beyond which ends the land of people and begins the land of Elves… and the Elves are quite principled as of sovereignty and inviolability of their border, and these favorite children of the Creator can be quite convincing about their point…

  – If they decide that you have advanced at least one step upon their land, you will be killed immediately, in the best case, – Keroon joined the conversation. – In the worst case the death of disturber will not be too pleasant, and not too quick. Something even worse will happen if the i
ntruder kills someone from the long-eared folk… They say, that Elves have a thing called the Forest Breath, in comparison with which, the tortures of Sunset Empire executioners don't seem so serious…

  Not very impressed, Oleg looked at his teacher and saw his confirming nod.

  – It means, that the forest… – began the young adept of Earth.

  – We'd better not go into the forest – finished Keroon.

  – Why, they do still respect the agreement of forbiddance and will realize our need. – The doubt in Irung's voice was not too encouraging.

  Suddenly Oleg's hand holding Yarik's collar became wet. The apprentice of magician looked at his hand and cried out in surprise – his entire hand was covered in dark blood. Irung turned to the cry of his student, and hastily ordered to stop.

  – What's there? – His voice sounded anxious.

  – Blood. The collar is literally oozing with blood. – Oleg whispered in shock. – And the leash is not just weakening, but simply disappearing.

  – Lift the spell! Hurry! – Irung shouted suddenly.

  Shocked with this holler, Oleg immediately executed the order. He waved over the collar and said a few words, his fist immediately was enveloped with a shimmering cloud, which quickly disappeared.