The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series)

by Alexey Glushanovsky

  Smiling his sweetest of smiles, Oleg turned to the princess: ‘Your request has been granted, Your Highness. Might you have any other wishes?’

  Looking at the now grey Albert, who was afraid to so much as move or even simply breathe, (the poor guy was suffering from an acute attack of serpentophobia, the fear of snakes), she mumbled to herself: ‘Valdes was right when he warned us not to get mixed up with demons unless it was absolutely necessary and if you do get involved, to formulate your thoughts clearly and unambiguously. If this is how he carries out requests, then how is he going to carry out orders?’

  After listening to her little speech, Oleg countered without delay: ‘You’re right, Your Highness. If that were an order, I would have simply killed him, for the only way for a human to gain absolute freedom is death!’

  The girl looked at Oleg dolefully: ‘You know, Arioch, now I think I made a big mistake in invoking you. I wanted you to save my life, but it seems that even if Albert had been able to force you to obey him, you’d have found a way to rebel. And no doubt that would have caused more people to suffer than my death would.’

  ‘What’s going on? You don’t look as if you’re mortally ill,’ and Oleg scanned her aura just in case. No, everything was fine. An unusually healthy girl.

  ‘It’s my father, the king, who’s ill. He’s slowly dying.’

  ‘I’m not a healer,’ Oleg shrugged his shoulders, perplexed. ‘In fact, you could say I was quite the opposite. It’s unlikely I’ll be able to cure your father. And anyway, how do you fit in?’

  ‘No, you can’t cure my father. It’s impossible to lift the mortal curse of a black magician. Valdes really went to a lot of trouble. But my death goes by the name of Lord Chancellor Victor Kreghist, Duke de Briion, Regent of Fenrian, my uncle.’ She gave a shuddering sigh, as though holding back tears. ‘You see, I’m the crown princess and as such I stand between my uncle and the throne. My father’s not got long left at all, and as soon as he dies, no doubt some “unfortunate accident” will befall me.’

  Ataletta was about to go on, it was obvious her soul was troubled and she wanted to get everything off her chest, but Oleg interrupted her rather rudely: ‘What did you need a demon for?’

  ‘What for? To kill Kreghist. Assassins can’t get near him – he has many guards, and he knows magic, to boot. And hiring a magician isn’t an option; after Valdes’s death, there isn’t a magician who’ll come near us.’

  ‘But why do you want to kill this Kreghist? Why doesn’t he just marry you? Much easier, and nicer, too!’

  ‘He’s my uncle. My father’s brother. The church is categorically against such marriages. And anyway, he’s already married and has a son who he wants to make his heir.’

  Oleg thought for a while. He had to find something to do in this world, anyway. He had to somehow settle in, earn some money, and find the school for magicians. By helping the princess he might be able to solve quite a few of his own problems at the same time. The main thing was to figure out if he would just be swopping one set of problems for another, maybe much worse set? And as for money… Oleg hit on a very interesting idea…

  He turned to Ataletta.

  ‘And who’s this guy?’ Oleg rudely poked one of his claws into Albert’s side; he was frozen, like a statue.

  ‘That’s Albert Krozeltz, son of the High Priest of Orchis, Petronii Krozeltz. He found a book among the belongings of some magician who had been sacrificed to Orchis and decided to risk invoking a demon to help me. Please don’t kill him. If you want revenge, punish me. What difference does it make at whose hands I die, yours or one of Kreghist’s henchmen?’ she added bitterly.

  ‘Most laudable loyalty to your friend,’ Oleg said, looking into the girl’s doleful eyes. ‘By the way, I don’t think you’ll have to die. I don’t really have any issues with you, little Princess.’ Oleg noticed how the girl’s eyes blazed with fury at this. Blazed and went out; the crown princess of Fenrian, it seems, had a will of iron.

  Oleg went on: ‘If the poor fool hadn’t tried to make me his slave when he invoked me but had tried to come to some agreement with me on friendly terms, I might have worked for you. You can both go now.’

  ‘And what about him?’ The princess went up to Oleg and looked searchingly into his eyes. Meeting the bottomless abyss which had recently taken up residence in them, she shuddered and turned away.

  ‘What about him?’ Oleg pretended to be thoughtful, paused and came to the realization of his plan. ‘He tried to enslave me and caused me terrible pain. Now let him experience both pain and slavery for himself. I shan’t kill him. He shall be my slave.’ At these sinister words, the son of the priest started. Oleg went on: ‘Maybe in the course of time I’ll let him be bought out, or I’ll sell him to some slave dealer.’

  Ataletta looked at Oleg’s cruel smile, at Albert, pale with horror, and almost in full accordance with Oleg’s plan suggested: ‘You said we could have come to an amicable deal with you. I would like to hire you. And I’d also like to buy Albert’s freedom. Slavery is forbidden in our kingdom anyway, and it wouldn’t be worth taking him.’

  Oleg looked at her with new eyes. The girl was showing certain practical and business skills, quite unexpected in a princess, as she had so quickly come to the crux of what Oleg had hinted at about buying Albert free. But as for working for Ataletta… Oleg weighed up the pros and cons again and decided it was worth a go. It was far easier to get along in a strange world if you had protection at your back in the form of an important individual highly interested in your success, for instance a blonde princess. And anyway, from a human point of view, Oleg simply didn’t want such a pretty girl to be killed. In short, he decided to integrate her alterations into his plan. A career as an assassin, albeit a very highly qualified one, was not really up his street.

  ‘Well, that’s an interesting proposal. I may even agree to work for you. What can you offer me?’

  ‘You agree to kill Kreghist?’ There was note of joyous excitement in Ataletta’s voice.

  ‘No. I’m not a contract killer. But for a good compensation package, I’m willing to work as your bodyguard. As far as I understand it, you want to save your own life not take that of your uncle’s?’

  The girl made a sad little grimace.

  ‘A demon-bodyguard? Kreghist will set all his bravest knights on you. You won’t have time to sleep, let alone guard me.’

  Oleg smirked: ‘But what if I’m not a demon? What if I’m a human with special powers?’ And so saying Oleg took on his human form.

  The princess gave a start and stared at him in astonishment, while Albert suddenly breathed much more calmly and put his hand on his neck, from which the snake had disappeared.

  Finding nothing but a thin hair there, he gave a sigh of relief and was about to rip it off. Oleg gave a warning cough: ‘I wouldn’t advise you to touch it. It can bite. The fact that I’ve changed my appearance doesn’t mean you are free.’ The son of the High Priest hung his head again.

  ‘How do you do that?’ There was open amazement in the girl’s voice. ‘Not even the mightiest demons can change their appearance so totally. And it’s not an illusion, otherwise my amulets would give a sign.’

  Somewhat taken aback at the princess’s knowledge in the field of practical demonology, Oleg told her the story he’d prepared earlier: ‘I’m of mixed blood. I repeat my question: what can you offer me in exchange for my services as a bodyguard, and for that young, obedient slave full of strength and energy?’ Oleg was openly poking fun at Albert, paying him back for the pain and horror he had felt inside the invocation circle.

  The princess listened and sighed sadly: ‘I’m not rich. The treasury is in my uncle’s hands. Since my father fell ill he’s practically been running the kingdom. Of my very few valuables, only my jewellery is left. All I can offer is my soul. It’s said that many demons hunt them. Or you can wait until I get my throne back my. Then you’ll become the richest and most important Duke in the land.’
>
  The girl looked at Oleg anxiously, awaiting his reply. He thought for a while, weighed up all the pros and cons, and then made his decision: ‘I’m not looking for souls…’ He was interrupted by Ataletta’s relieved sigh, waited, and went on: ‘I’d prefer something more material. But as for your dukedom, what use is it to me? I suggest a rather different method of payment. You humans like to enslave demons and make them do your bidding. But we’ll do things the other way round. I’ll offer you my protection and help in saving your life, in return for fulfilling one of my wishes.

  ‘Which one?’ The girl’s thin voice rang with hope and trepidation.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet. Don’t worry, I told you I don’t need your soul.’

  The princess thought for a moment, then answered uncertainly: ‘I agree, if by fulfilling your wish I don’t have to go against noble honour or the country’s interests.’

  Oleg wanted to joke that she wouldn’t need to go against “noble” honour, only “maiden”, but glancing at the frowning little face, he kept quiet. Who knows, she might take it seriously. And then what if she agreed? Oleg wasn’t interested in underage girls. He gave a curt nod instead.

  ‘It’s a deal. From now on you are under my protection. But I haven’t yet received the slavery ransom, so he’ll remain my property. And where are we, by the way?’

  ‘This is one of the palace cellars. It used to be Valdes’s spell room. He’s the former royal magician.’

  ‘Fine. Then let’s go. First of all, I need to get clothes for your world,’ Oleg gave a meaningful glance at his jeans and leather jacket. ‘Then you can introduce me to whoever you need to as your new bodyguard.’ But then another idea came to Oleg. He touched the guitar hanging on his back. ‘No, it’s probably better if I call myself a minstrel. A bodyguard’s too noticeable, especially a new one. No-one will suspect anything from a minstrel.’

  Ataletta was amazed: ‘You mean you can play and sing?’

  ‘I can do more than just play and sing. I reckon I’m not the worst minstrel around here. Certainly not the worst,’ Oleg repeated, remembering his performance for Heliona.

  ‘But how will you protect me? As a minstrel you’ll be called to various homes, including ones where I’m not allowed. We’ll be in different places.’

  ‘It’s all quite simple. I won’t be just a minstrel; I’ll be a minstrel in love, a minstrel who’s fallen in love with you! I reckon falling in love with a doomed princess is quite fitting for a troubadour. No-one will suspect a thing.’

  At this, Ataletta nodded in agreement. A strange expression froze on her face – the idea of becoming the heroine of a romantic tale about a minstrel madly in love with her was at once both to her liking but also a cause for some sort of regret, for instance, that it would all only be make believe.

  After only a few seconds she tore herself from her fantasies and continued dealing with a more painful problem. That problem was in the shape of Albert who stood quietly by the door, from time to time throwing Ataletta glances full of pleas for help. Albert clearly didn’t want to be the slave of an evil demon, even one that could pretend to be human. It was very logical, really. Catching yet another plea-laden glance, Ataletta turned to Oleg, who was already turning towards the door: ‘Wait...’

  ‘What is it?’ Oleg was fed up with these underground discussions. He was impatient to see the new world with his own eyes, to breathe the fresh breeze, to warm himself under the rays of a new sun, and to get out of this devilish little room with its threefold pentagram and other magical items.

  Not yet acquainted with the tones of Oleg’s intonation and the emotions they conveyed, Ataletta said: ‘It’s unlikely that a wandering minstrel would have his own slave. All the more so here in Fenrian where slavery is forbidden by law. And it’s even more unlikely that the slave would be the well-known son of the High Priest.’

  Oleg nodded irritatedly. ‘Reasonable. Seems I’ll just have to kill him after all.’ He transformed his hand to a demon’s paw and slowly reached for Albert’s throat.

  The princess’s cry rang out: ‘No, please don’t kill him!’

  Oleg shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘But what can I do with him? It seems I can’t keep him as a slave. But just up and let him go? With neither punishment nor even a ransom?’ He particularly stressed the last word. ‘I’m not so kind-hearted.’

  Albert saw the life-saving possibility at once.

  ‘What ransom do you want? My father will pay any sum!’

  ‘Really? Well, that’s splendid,’ Oleg drawled.

  Not having the faintest idea of the local monetary system, Oleg hesitated. Remembering from his school books that gold was a very valuable method of payment in the Middle Ages, he hazarded a guess: ‘I think two thousand gold pieces would be an acceptable sum for your impudent attempt to enslave me.’

  Watching the lad’s lengthening face and the princess’ widening eyes, Oleg understood he hadn’t undercharged. Hanging his head, Albert nodded, agreeing to the sum.

  ‘Splendid. You can go. When you bring the money, I’ll take the hair from your neck. But once again, I don’t recommend you do it yourself. My snakes have very strong poison. And really you should hurry – she’ll get hungry quite soon, and when she does, she’ll just bite a small chunk off your neck. It won’t be fatal, but most unpleasant.’

  The pale Albert shot up the stairs like an arrow. Ataletta looked after him with sympathy.

  ‘Is it true that your snake will eat him alive?’ she asked.

  Oleg kept quiet. He wasn’t about to admit he’d just thought up all those horrors to hurry the lad and his Pop along to bring him the ransom.

  ‘Oh, he’s really going to get it from his father now,’ the girl went on. ‘Old Petronii will have to really shake out his coffers to pay such a ransom.’

  ‘Never mind, it’ll be a good lesson for your little wizard,’ Oleg responded. ‘If there’s no brains in his head, maybe his dad will be able to beat some in through the back gate.’

  The princess laughed: ‘You have a vivid turn of phrase, demon!’

  ‘Arioch. That’s what you should call me,’ Oleg reminded her. ‘I don’t think it would be wise to call me demon in front of people. And anyway, I’m of mixed blood and haven’t yet decided which way I should go – whether I should be a demon or a human.’

  ‘I like you much better as a human.’

  ‘Hm. But another girl I know says the exact opposite. She insists I take the path of a demon.’ Oleg remembered Heliona. ‘OK, let’s go. And on the way you can tell me about your world and this country. And about money, too, by the way. Otherwise I don’t know whether I’ve asked enough for the priest’s son.’

  ‘Oh, you asked enough all right! It’s the annual income of an average baron. They usually ask that sort of ransom in wartime for an important prisoner.’

  ‘I see. Now, let’s get back to other matters. What’s your world called?’

  ***

  The world was called Elltyan. It was rumoured that it had been so named by elves, its first inhabitants. It was also rumoured that the humans who came after them changed its name. As a result, some of the elves left by themselves (no-one knows where they went) while others were pushed out or killed by the humans, who needed good wood, so abundant in the enchanted elfin forests. Nowadays only three elfin forest-fortresses were left in Elltyan.

  Magic was spread widely on Elltyan, but not evenly. For instance, there were few magicians in the kingdom of Fenrian. Or rather, at present there were none at all. Not counting all kinds of rabble like village conjurers, wizards or medicine men. It had to do with the cult of Orchis the Light-Bearer. No-one knew why, but that god had become very angry with magicians and proclaimed that anyone who sacrificed one magician to him (a fully-fledged, powerful magician, preferably with a diploma from the Valensian Academy or the stamp of the Dark Citadel) could count on one innermost wish being granted.

  The magicians, at first ignoring such an offer
altogether, occasionally turning to ash (the Valensians) or zombifying (graduates of the Dark Citadel – they really hated “wasting human material in vain”) those who tried to catch them as a sacrifice. But soon they were forced into hiding, and then had to flee to another land, as Orchis, noticing the catastrophic fall in his flock, furnished the priests with amulets which blocked magic. The amulets only worked in the territory of Fenrian, which Orchis had declared “holy ground”; in order not to allow the further spread of this “holy ground”, the cult of Orchis was forbidden in all other countries under pressure from the magicians. In Fenrian, meanwhile, the temples multiplied like mushrooms after rain “in connection with the strategical necessity to oppose possible magical invasions.” Or that was how it was described in the royal communications sent out to the people when they were disgruntled after yet another tax rise.

  That’s how the number of magicians in the land fell to zero. The subsequent disturbances among the people were cruelly suppressed (the fertility of the soil, now deprived of the magicians’ positive influence, fell sharply while the rains, which had previously fallen in strict keeping with agricultural need, now fell when they felt like it). After the public execution of the ringleaders it was proclaimed that all the misfortunes befalling them were the result of a curse made by one of the last magicians to be sacrificed, the former royal sorcerer Valdes. In fact, this rather unsuccessful dark magician, tempted by the high post and the King’s promise of refuge from his light colleagues, in his dying moments only managed to curse the king who had tricked him. Nevertheless, a very convenient scapegoat had been found for all the troubles, and the phrase “the curse of Valdes” became common parlance.

  There was one thing which interested Oleg more than anything else in the princess’s tale: would he manage to meet even one magician? But as it happened, Ataletta immediately explained that this was only a problem in Fenrian.