Magic, Sorcery and Witchcraft: Book One of Marcus Grimm saga

by Stas Borodin

  I plucked a flower and sniffed. “It doesn’t have a smell!” I was surprised.

  “Yeah,” Ash chuckled. “Let that be your first lesson.”

  Long wide streets lined with big luxurious houses seemed to disappear into infinity. I marvelled at the high spiked iron fences, graceful turrets, and glittering stained glass of the marble balconies. My old house, pretty big by Lieh’s standards, would be lost in the back yard of any local property.

  “Do you know who lives here?” I asked.

  “The rich people. Merchants of all kinds, aristocrats, courtesans. Oddly enough, this is one of the most expensive districts of the city, in spite of the noise and stench,” Mash chuckled. “The rich have their quirks.”

  The stench was unbearable. It is possible that the flowers on the window sills were to contend with the street fragrances, but I highly doubted the effectiveness of such a ploy.

  Here and there I saw steaming piles of horse manure and stinking water gurgling in the gutters, and countless hissing braziers spitting out molten fat and the smell of a million spices and seasonings. I felt dizzy for a moment, but even that could not stop me from enjoying the sights.

  Soon we reached a magnificent square turned into a huge market. Covered stalls piled high with curiosities from around the world stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Here you could find all kinds of fabrics, garments, armour, weapons, jewellery and spices.

  Competing with each other, the local merchants shrieked at the top of their lungs, enthusiastically praising their wares.

  “Drawers! The best drawers in the whole city!”

  “Daggers! The sharpest sarkiss daggers!”

  “Sausages! Spiced Zenor sausages! Sharper than the sarkiss daggers!”

  “Yeah,” I said with a shiver, “I must admit, it’s a bit different from Lieh’s Sunday fairs.”

  The scouts were laughing so hard that Ash almost choked on some exotic fruit. “Oh gods,” he moaned, holding his stomach. “And we have to leave him alone in the midst of all this madness!”

  “Wait till he sees Paara.” Mash shook his head. “That’s where the real madness is.”

  I shrugged. At that moment all my attention was riveted to a half-naked slave girl carrying a huge multicoloured fan.

  “What the fuck!” Ash heartily kicked some passer-by in the face. “Decided to check the contents of my purse?”

  The man took to his heels, shouting insults and calling for help hysterically.

  “Watch your things, lads,” Mash grumbled. “These thugs could steal the horse from under you and you would never notice!”

  A man in uniform pushed his way through the crowd. Blue velvet jacket, gold epaulettes and a high cap.

  “What’s going on here?” the man barked.

  “Everything is under control, officer,” Ash reported cheerfully. “Just stopped an attempted theft.”

  “Silence!” the guardsman snapped. “I was told that some stinking nomads have offended an honest citizen.”

  Ash raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Who’s stinking?” He cautiously sniffed his damp armpit. “Come on, man! Girls like the strong odour of male sweat.”

  The guardsman grimaced in disgust. “Follow me, clowns, we’ll talk later!”

  Mash shrugged and nodded at the retreating officer, so full of himself, so sure that we were following him like scared puppies. Ash spat contemptuously.

  We spurred our horses and disappeared into the nearest alley. To my relief, it turned out that there were plenty of dirty winding streets littered with debris and garbage up to the roof. The local dwellers here wore skin instead of silk and knives instead of feathers.

  “I feel almost at home,” Ash said in obvious approval. “Can’t stand all this pomp. Did you notice how our officer was dressed?”

  “Like a damn parrot,” Mash chuckled.

  I’d seen enough parrots that day and the officer was the ugliest of them all.

  Mash led us confidently through the maze of passages and crossings directly to the inn. “We will spend the night here, lads, but be ready to depart at first light.” He pointed his gnarled finger at me. “And don’t you dare venture out. It’s a really dangerous place for a country bumpkin like you. Stay at the inn. Understood?”

  I was very disappointed. I’d fallen in love with the city at first sight, and I was impatient to uncover all its secrets and mysteries.

  “Understood.” I hid my eyes; I was a terrible liar.

  ✽✽✽

  The day dragged on endlessly. I sat by the window and looked at the passers-by. The local townsfolk were no different from me and my friends. Same skin colour, same shape of the eyes and colour of the hair. Occasionally, olive-skinned and blue-eyed foreigners walked by. Yellow-skinned people resembled the steppe nomads, but these were much taller and slimmer.

  Not all skens were rich, as I’d first thought. However, they were not slaves and roamed freely where they wanted. I admired their snow-white smiles and coloured silk turbans.

  The scouts also wasted no time. They decided to sample all the spirits in the tavern, so I just had to be patient and wait till they passed out.

  Soon it was dark, and multicoloured lights illuminated the streets, red, blue, green, yellow. At once the streets acquired a festive mood. There were even children playing and walking couples. It was so different from my home, and I immediately thought of Lieh, plunged into complete darkness after sunset. I remembered the rare lights, smoky torches and fire crews. Everyone knew that it was better not to stray from the main streets and to keep away from dark alleys. On many occasions I’d seen the mutilated corpses of those who were too confident or got lost on the way home.

  The scouts returned happy and red-faced.

  “The local booze is pretty good.” Ash patted his stomach. “If you don’t compare it to warra.”

  “Nothing compares to warra,” Mash confirmed.

  Five minutes later, my friends were snoring in unison.

  In anticipation of a late walk, I rubbed my hands and crept up to the window.

  “Take a dagger,” Ash muttered in his sleep, turning from side to side.

  I shoved my dagger into my bootstrap and quietly squeezed through the window.

  The air had freshened up considerably and I was able to breathe much more easily than in the heat of the afternoon. The walk was going to be pleasant.

  The road which led to the inn I remembered well, so it wasn’t a problem to backtrack to the market square. To my great disappointment, the vendors were already gone; only dozens of yardmen were sweeping the pavement between the rows, scaring away skinny dogs fighting over scraps.

  There were fewer people, but then there were some suspicious characters with hooded faces and small black-painted handcarts. It seemed that when the official market closed for the night it turned into the “black” market, infested with smugglers, swindlers and slave traders.

  A small group of guards in leather armour went past. I hastily retreated into the shadows, trying not to attract attention. The guards approached the nearest dealer, who silently held out his hand. Coins flashed and disappeared.

  So this was how things were done in Insana. I wasn’t a bit surprised. The guards were always so close to the underworld, and sometimes it was really hard to figure out who was the real criminal here and who was the servant of the law.

  I quietly watched the soldiers collecting the money. They were rude and arrogant. It appeared that we had made a wise decision getting away from their superiors.

  I waited until they were gone and decided to continue my tour of the night city.

  Carefully memorizing the way in order not to get lost on the way back, I decided to go up along the avenue that led from the Gates of the Prophet straight into the heart of the city.

  Despite the late hour, the streets were quite crowded. From open bar windows came the sound of lively music and singing, and all the tables lining the pavement were occupied. Noisy groups of richl
y dressed revellers ordered wine and snacks.

  Girls of easy virtue were pestering passers-by, promising uncountable delights for a tiny fee. One of them grabbed me by the sleeve. “Hey, young master, do you wish to have some fun?” She was a little older and taller than me, her long bony face heavily covered with make-up.

  “No, thank you!” I snatched my hand away and took to my heels.

  The young face of Ilaah appeared right before me, her sad eyes and her friendly smile. My lips twitched. As it turned out, I hadn’t forgotten the girl even for a moment. Usually I was able to distract myself with daily chores, but at this very moment, when I was left with nothing to do, the tears welled in my eyes, and the grief took a hold of me once again, making it hard to breathe and to think coherently.

  I ran into a dark alley, barely illuminated by the light seeping through the closed shutters, and pressed my fists to my eyes. My night-time adventure had lost its allure, and above all, I wanted to be back with my friends.

  Sitting on a bench, I tried to calm myself, trying to put a mental barrier between me and all the painful memories. It had gone fairly easily in the past, but now, for some reason, I couldn’t cope with this nagging pain. This time the barrier didn’t help. I knew I needed to hide from disturbing thoughts, but I couldn’t. But why was that? Perhaps those memories were so dear to me that I just didn’t want to fence myself off?

  Eran, my father, Master Dante, Ilaah, they all passed by, scrutinizing me carefully. They were silent, but I wanted to hear them speaking. Just a single word! I wanted them to cheer me up. I wanted them to tell me that it’s not so bad in the other world. But they were dumb.

  I sat in silence on the bench, completely exhausted. The tears dried up, but there was a dull throbbing pain, muted for the time being.

  Suddenly a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. The man who was standing nearby was well dressed. He had a short sword on his belt and a leather stick stuffed with sand in his free hand. These sticks, as far as I remembered, were the weapon of choice among jailers and slave traders.

  “What are you doing here, boy?” asked the stranger; his strong fingers clutching my shoulder tightly.

  It seemed that he had been watching me for some time. I felt uneasy.

  “Why are you crying, my friend? Maybe you got lost?” The stranger chuckled. “Well, come with Uncle Frawley, I invite you to dinner. A free dinner…”

  The man squeezed my shoulder again and pulled me from the bench. “Be a good boy and I’ll give you a candy,” he hissed in my ear. “Misbehave, and I’ll beat you to a pulp.”

  Just to be more convincing, he put his stick under my nose. The stick smelled bad.

  “Don’t flutter, my little bird. Be nice to Uncle Frawley!”

  “I will.” I pulled my dagger from my bootstrap and drove it hard under Uncle Frawley’s chin. The slaver’s fingers went slack; he released his grip and fell like a sack to the ground. Jet-black blood gushed from his gaping mouth. Instinctively I took a step back so as not to get dirty, and stared in puzzlement at the lifeless body sprawled before me.

  Everything had happened so fast that I hadn’t even had time to get scared. My hands had acted on their own accord, and that was what scared me the most.

  Taking a few steps back, I turned and ran. The road was familiar, but I still missed the right alley and wandered more than an hour through the dark streets and passages. The street lights were off but the darkness was ripped by streaks of light falling from open windows. Bursts of laughter and loud music came from the inn; despite the late hour, the festivities were in full swing.

  I took a few steps and stumbled into a man shrouded in black, standing in the deep shadows. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me from the light into the darkness.

  “Where are you going, you blockhead?” the man hissed. “Do you want to blow our cover?”

  I clung to the wall without a sound. It appeared that next to me there were a dozen more similar figures all dressed in black. The malefactors waited in silence, hiding their weapons under their baggy clothes.

  “Patience, lads! It’s still too early,” a familiar voice sounded. “Wait till the lights go out. I hope everyone remembers who we’re looking for?”

  “Of course we do,” the grumpy reply came out of the darkness.

  “Repeat it again, damn you!” hissed the man. “I don’t want unnecessary bloodshed like the last time. This is serious, lads. Captain Farid will cut our throats himself if you go wild again!”

  “Don’t be so jumpy, Slith!” came from the darkness. “It’s three savages. One old man, one big guy and a little kid.”

  “Right, and take the kid alive,” recalled the leader. “Our customer has some questions to ask.”

  I froze, unable to breathe.

  “I need to take a leak,” I whispered, backpedalling. No one thought to stop me. I ran around the building and climbed a drainpipe to reach the roof of an adjacent building. From there I scaled the roof of the inn and crept through the balcony window into our room.

  “How was your night walk?” Ash was lying on the bed, facing the wall. “The dagger proved useful?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  At once, both scouts were wide awake.

  “Tell us,” demanded Mash. “And in every detail.”

  I briefly told them about the slaver and, wasting no time, went on to the bandits in the alley below.

  “Oh, that’s interesting.” Ash peered out the window.

  “They’re in the alley on the other side of the building,” I said. “They can’t be seen from here.”

  Mash hastily gathered our belongings.

  “We’ll go down to the stables at once,” he ordered. “In the dark, it will be easy to slip away unnoticed.”

  The stables were empty. We wrapped our horses’ hooves with sackcloth, opened the gate and silently slipped into the darkness.

  Mash knew the dark maze of alleys like the palm of his hand, so we soon left the inn far behind, along with the band of hapless hitmen.

  The city gates were locked for the night, but three silver coins easily persuaded the night-guard to let us out without any unnecessary questions. We spurred our horses and galloped down the Insara highway which led straight to the sea coast.

  Chapter 10

  The Insara highway led through Insara forest and the Paarian wasteland straight to the sea. Paved with shiny black stone, which looked just like new even after centuries of hard use, it had four wide lines, separated in the middle by a waist-high stone wall.

  Our horses’ hooves clattered loudly, increasing the distance between us and Insana with every minute. I looked back and sighed with relief.

  Yellow gas spheres, set at regular intervals, formed an infinite dotted line reaching into the darkness. We passed countless tiny shops, hundreds of inns, cheap brothels, and taverns filled to the brim with merry laughing crowds.

  The scouts rode slowly, in order not to draw too much attention.

  “Damn!” Mash shook his head. “Our priest friend appears to be an extremely stubborn fella. The likes of him do not give up easily.”

  “We’ll see!” Ash snorted. “We’ll see who wins this time!”

  “No more games, boys.” Mash looked worried. “We must get rid of this sonofabitch as soon as possible. It’s getting too dangerous.”

  I must admit that the priest showed miraculous resourcefulness and an extraordinary organizational skill. No wonder Mash was worried.

  “What if he follows us further?”

  “Too bad we can’t stop him now,” Mash said. “But there is some good news. It is unlikely that he has allies in Paara.”

  “Should that make us happy?” Ash slammed his fist into his palm. “Let’s set a trap of our own. We’ll crush this bastard like a damn bug!”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Mash shook his head, pointing to the caravans standing on the roadside. “This bug can easily slip by unnoticed. But don’t worry, lads, we’ll catch him later.
I have some ideas on this matter.”

  ✽✽✽

  The Paarian wasteland that stretched just beyond Insara forest looked very much like the steppe on Lieh’s border. We pulled off the stone-paved road and let the horses run free. The moist, dark forests infested by midges and the smell of rot were finally behind us, and our horses were as happy as little children.

  The day was sunny; white clouds slowly crept across the sky, covering us from time to time with cool blankets of shade. The hot air was filled with the bitterish aroma of different steppe flowers and grasses. These scents and the boundless shimmering horizons made my head spin.

  Every now and then, flocks of colourful birds, along with clouds of sparkling pollen, fluttered from under our hooves. It was nice to enjoy a fast ride and have nothing to worry about.

  After a few hours of racing, we saw the green hulk of a mound blotting out half the sky. Mash waved his hand, pointing to its bald top strewn with ancient-looking stone idols. We spurred our horses and rushed forward. Within seconds, we topped a steep slope, and stopped at the very top, sweaty, panting, but happy. Ash gestured to the horizon. Squinting in the bright light, I peered into the distance, and gasped with delight.

  Those were the sails! They floated in the yellow haze of the steppe grass like white clouds.

  “The Sea of a Thousand Islands!” Ash said. “The cradle of life!”

  We stood in silence, admiring the amazing sight; only the wind was whistling in my ears, and the sun was blinding my eyes.

  “Well, boys, it’s time to eat,” said Mash.

  We jumped onto the grass and sat down in the cool shade of a giant idol. The scouts unfurled an old blanket and took out our simple supplies. Hard cheese, bread, smoked meat and a wineskin. I fumbled in my saddlebag and found a package of dried grapes and a few red apples bought in Insana.

  I’d never tasted anything quite so good. With a smile, Mash watched Ash and me devour our rations. “To bad you gonna leave us so soon, laddie,” he sighed. “You could make a decent scout.”