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

by Stas Borodin

  “Pay him!” I exclaimed. I put my hand on Andar’s neck, and ran my fingers through his silky mane. The horse whinnied softly, looking me straight in the eye.

  “He likes you,” the trader smiled. “Let’s see if you like his price!”

  Mash and I sat in the living room, sipping sweet Paarian wine and listening to the voices coming from the adjacent room.

  “Usually I do the bargaining,” moaned the old scout, stroking the handle of his knife. “I would have struck a good deal.”

  “This time leave it to Ash,” I said. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  Unlike Mash, I wasn’t bored. The walls of the room were covered with beautiful paintings of horses, complete with tiny plates explaining who their owners were. I went from one picture to another, admiring the beauty of the animals and the skill of the artist.

  “Mash, quick, look!” I pointed to a picture. “It’s Atamak, Master Keandr’s horse!”

  “Turns out he bought him here too,” said Mash. “I bet this bastard took our king’s last pair of pants.”

  “Don’t worry, old man, your pants are quite safe.” Ash was beaming like a small sun. The horse trader, wobbly from fatigue, wiped his face with a towel.

  “Your friend is a hard nut to crack,” he complained. “He’s stripped me to the bone!”

  Chapter 11

  I rode Andar, looking down at the passers-by from above. The city guards saluted me, meeting my eyes, and the townsfolk bowed. It was funny to see how suddenly their attitude towards me and my companions had changed.

  “What did I tell you?” Ash grinned. “They don’t care about fame and wisdom here; they respect only wealth and power.”

  “That’s good to know,” Mash chuckled. “Some things never change.”

  Paara acknowledged me and spread her arms wide, welcoming me in. The day was warm and sunny, and so was my mood.

  “This is how you should storm a city.” Ash nodded casually right and left.

  We passed several luxurious palaces and entered the park grounds. The guards at the entrance parted their halberds, letting us in without questions.

  I saw endless lawns with neatly trimmed grass and strange bushes trained into various geometric shapes. Stone vases filled with multicoloured flowers towered everywhere, and fountains decorated with gilded figures murmured quietly.

  We rode a little bit more and found ourselves at the shore of man-made lake.

  I saw the roofs of the small pavilions entirely covered with ivy and rows of decorated boats bobbing by the piers.

  The park was almost empty except for some young men and women with hoops and straw baskets, a few respectable-looking matrons dozing on the benches and a couple of servants in fine livery walking some ugly-looking dogs on shining golden leashes.

  “Where have you brought us?” Mash protested. “Is it the lunatic asylum?”

  I followed the old scout’s gaze and was startled myself. Bending over the neatly trimmed lawn, a servant was collecting his dog’s poop with a silver spoon. He carefully put the prize into a silk bag, pocketed it, and, as if nothing had happened, continued to walk.

  “You’re such a country bumpkin!” Ash laughed, looking at his friend. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen a servant walking a dog!”

  “And what about the turd?” Mash squinted suspiciously. “Don’t tell me that they shit gold and precious stones here. Why did he hide it in a bag?”

  “So that’s what struck you.” Ash rolled his eyes. “The turd will be shown to some doctor so that the owners can tell if everything is okay with their beast – if it’s eating right, whether it is necessary to change the critter’s diet.”

  Mash looked puzzled. “Wow! That is disgusting!” He shrugged. “When I was a kid, I had a dog too. One big scary bitch. Rest assured, she never heard about a diet. The beast ate everything she could catch. Piglets, chickens, rats – you name it. And when she moved her bowels, forget a spoon; you couldn’t move the outcome with a shovel!”

  We burst out laughing. The old scout scratched his head. I understood him perfectly. This city was strange, and no book reading could ever prepare one for these kinds of things.

  “We’ll stay at the Lake Castle Hotel,” Ash told us. “That place is impregnable; it’s like a real fortress, in fact. I’m sure it will put our friend-priest’s sneaking skills to a true test.”

  I felt ashamed. How could I have forgotten about our pursuers? I was so engrossed in the recent days’ events, I’d left all the thinking to my friends the scouts.

  Mash nodded, attentively listening to his younger partner. The city was so different from the steppes, and it made him nervous.

  “Lake Castle is the most famous hotel in all Paara, and its security is outstanding.” Ash pointed. “Even King Keandr has stayed there twice.”

  The hotel was located on the left bank of the lake. It was surrounded by a high fence and its gates were closely guarded by a squad of stern-looking soldiers.

  One of the soldiers came up to us and bowed respectfully, expecting something. Without delay, Ash opened his saddlebag and produced a heap of cover letters.

  “Signed by the king himself,” he said.

  The officer scrutinized the paper, looked at the seals, then nodded solemnly. “Welcome to Lake Castle, Master Grimm!”

  ✽✽✽

  Ash ordered them to give us the most expensive suite, but it was already taken by a pair of rich merchants.

  “Well,” he sighed. “In that case, my master will have to stay at the White Crystal.”

  The hotel owner threw up his hands. “The White Crystal’s best room is worse than our cheapest!”

  “Really?” Ash raised an eyebrow ironically. “They say the same thing about you.”

  “Damned liars!” The owner turned purple with indignation. “How dare they?”

  “How dare you?” Mash retorted calmly, eyeing the luxurious decor of the reception area.

  The owner’s fingers drummed nervously on the table. “Maybe the Royal Suite would suit you? Usually, we keep it only for crowned heads, but in this case I can make an exception…”

  “And there is a good security?” Ash winked at me.

  “The best!” The owner beamed. “You don’t have to worry about your jewels. They will be perfectly safe.”

  Two guards in steel armour greeted us at the door of the suite. Their armour was polished to a mirror shine and their drawn swords looked intimidating. The scouts meticulously examined the guards and were left satisfied by their inspection.

  “These two are real soldiers,” approved Mash. “In this narrow corridor they can stand against an army.”

  On the balcony, which offered us a wonderful view of the picturesque lake, there were two more guards. These two wore light leather armour instead of steel and were armed with crossbows.

  “Sir,” one of the crossbowmen reported, “if you don’t mind, we’ll take turns every six hours.”

  We left the balcony door open to let the fresh air in. A breath of wind tossed the weightless curtains, sunlight reflected from the chandeliers’ crystal pendants and hundreds of colourful flecks of light danced around the room.

  In his dusty sun-bleached uniform, Mash looked pretty funny sprawled in a low armchair covered with expensive upholstery. His feet, in old battered boots, he put on a fragile-looking glass table.

  “We got here even earlier than I expected,” he said. “And I was afraid we might be late.”

  “We have three more days,” said Ash. “Three more days to finish off our feisty friend.”

  “He probably thinks that we still have the idols,” I said.

  “Or he wants to know where we hid them,” Mash agreed. “I think I can guess what’s on your mind…”

  Ash propped himself on the edge of the table looking smug. “It’s pointless to look for him in Paara, so all we have to do is sit and wait till he finds us by himself.” The scout folded his arms and puffed his chest. “The guards will finish him of
f, and we won’t even have to lift a finger.”

  ✽✽✽

  Mash strictly forbade me to leave the hotel, but staying inside was unbearable. I took my chair to the balcony and sat there enjoying the sunshine and the cool breeze blowing from the sea. The guards stood silently behind my back, cradling loaded crossbows in the crooks of their arms.

  “Tell me”—I turned to the guards—“have you ever had to repel an attack on your guests?”

  The crossbowmen looked at each other, apparently deciding who was going to answer. The older guard answered. “Yes, sir, we have.”

  The guard’s face was deeply tanned, only icy blue eyes distinguished him from the sken. His fingers were scarred and calloused.

  “Did your guests ever get killed?” I asked.

  “No, sir,” said the guard. “The protection of the Royal Suite is entrusted to the very best. We are the best.”

  All this was said in such a manner that I had no reason to doubt the soldier’s words.

  “Can I look at your crossbow?” I asked.

  The guards looked at each other and the younger one shrugged. The senior guard went down on one knee, took the bolt out and pressed the trigger, releasing the bowstring. Respectfully, he handed the weapon to me.

  I smiled, feeling the familiar weight of the crossbow in my hands. The weapon wasn’t much different from the models I was used to, only the groove was longer and deeper, and its lathe was made of solid steel.

  “Paarian crossbowmen are famous all over the world,” I said, gently stroking the weapon. “Back in Lieh we had a squad of your fellow countrymen under my father’s command. Master Ansel was their captain. Perhaps you’ve even heard of him.”

  The guard blinked. “Of course, sir. Captain Ansel is my older brother!”

  I was surprised. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Master Ansel gave me my first crossbow,” I said, and pulled the bowstring with my bare hands. “And he taught me how to shoot.”

  Mouths open, the guards were looking at the cocked bowstring. I took a steel bolt, put it in the groove, and returned the weapon to its owner.

  “You had a good teacher, sir,” muttered the guard. “But even he couldn’t have taught you that trick.”

  Looking closely, I noticed a small steel windlass hanging from the guard’s belt.

  “How did you do it?” The guard looked puzzled. “It’s a heavy crossbow, sir, not a toy!”

  I just shrugged; I didn’t want to talk about Master Dante’s magic ointment.

  “Would you like to move to Lieh?” I asked straightforwardly. “I need good soldiers.”

  The guards looked at each other again.

  “My name is Armel,” said the senior guard. “And this is my younger brother Avner. We haven’t seen Ansel for many years and didn’t expect to see him ever again.”

  “So, do you agree?” I was delighted. “Good! Whatever they pay you now, I will double it.”

  “Our brother served your father.” Armel straightened. “We would be honoured to serve you.”

  “How’s our Ansel faring, sir?” Avner asked hesitantly.

  I didn’t know what had happened to their brother, but I told them all about the coup, the battle with the Alims and the reason for my visit to Paara.

  “We didn’t know all this. We heard just some rumours!” Armel exclaimed.

  “We promise to protect your home as our own!” said Avner. “And who knows, maybe our brother is still alive.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  Stretching his back, Ash joined us on the balcony. All this time he had been standing behind the curtains, listening to our conversation.

  “The moment I look away you make friends,” he chuckled. “Or new enemies!”

  The crossbowmen hastily retreated into the shadows.

  The scout glared around and bent over my ear. “I have visited several taverns and found out that someone is asking about us. It seems that our friend is not far behind. Damn, we can only marvel at his stubbornness!”

  “So, what’s next?” I lowered my voice. “Have you found where he’s staying?”

  “Of course not,” the scout grinned. “He’s too damn careful for that. Instead, we dropped a few hints about our whereabouts. He’s a smart fella; he’ll find us in no time.”

  We discussed the details of the plan with the guards.

  “You’re a good shot,” Mash said to me, “but these guys are way better.”

  “Paarians always took all the prizes at shooting tournaments,” I said, remembering. “Because they are shooting not with their hands and eyes alone, but with their hearts and souls.”

  Ash nodded toward the balcony and gave me a thumbs-up.

  ✽✽✽

  The night has always been my sanctuary. Only at night do I feel truly free. Free from worldly cares and the bustle of everyday life, free from worry and anxiety. I went to the balcony and looked at the night sky, enjoying the sparkling scattering of stars.

  The sky over the steppe was majestic. So deep and close, it always took my breath away. Night noises, the scents, the crackling of fire, the cries of night birds and beasts, I felt fascinated and spellbound. Always happy to take the last predawn watch, I would sit there – hearing, feeling, observing.

  It was interesting to guess the origins of the faint night sounds, splitting them apart, and with each step, reaching further and further to new levels of perception. I listened carefully, hearing the soft breathing of my sleeping comrades, and even the rustle of a tiny vole somewhere deep beneath the ground.

  The Paarian sky was different. The stars were scarce, and only the brightest ones shone through the whitish haze from the pulsing glow of city lights.

  Out on the balcony, I lifted my face, feeling the night breeze bringing cool air and the smell of the sea. Behind my back I could hear the even breath of my guards, still, cautious, listening to the night sounds just like I was.

  Back in the room, I went to bed and closed my eyes. My friends were already asleep. Mash’s dark figure froze motionless in his low armchair. Ash, wrapped in a thin blanket, curled up by the closed door.

  I could hear the watchmen talking in low voices in the corridor; I heard the creaking of the belts on their steel armour and the shuffle of heavy boots.

  Quietly I slipped into the gentle embrace of sleep.

  I awoke suddenly. I didn’t know how long I had been out, maybe an hour, maybe just a few minutes. Nevertheless, something was wrong. I kept still, listening and wondering what it was.

  All was quiet. Mash was snoring; Ash’s breathing came steady and measured. No wonder they were so exhausted, the local brew, as I had overheard earlier, was “damn mighty stuff”.

  I smiled, propping myself on my elbows. But what had awoken me? Something wasn’t right; something was bothering me. I should concentrate; I should make every effort not to miss this elusive fleeting feeling.

  I shook my head, walked over to the sink and splashed my face with cold water, chasing away the remnants of sleep.

  It was still dark outside, a few more hours before dawn. Holding my breath, I listened to the silence, trying to single out anything unusual. But no matter how hard I tried, the silence didn’t want to tell me a thing. I could hear only the breathing of the sleeping guards. Stop! I rushed to the balcony. The guards were fast asleep. My first impulse was to wake them up and give them a good thrashing, but I stopped.

  There was a smell. Not strong, but quite pleasant, as though a lady in waiting passed by, leaving behind her a trail of fragrance.

  As I went back into the room, the smell got stronger. I leaned over Ash. The scout was sleeping, his head resting on the sword’s scabbard. Mash mumbled something in his sleep, and his sabre rattled.

  I took a few quick steps and put my ear to the door. What startled me was the unnatural silence in the corridor, almost a graveyard silence. I shivered, stepping back. I had to do something!

  I grabbed Ash by the collar of his shirt, and g
ently tugged. The scout didn’t wake up. I pulled harder, but my friend remained indifferent, smiling in his sleep.

  The situation was becoming dangerous. I grabbed Mash’s sabre and froze in the middle of the room. I had no idea what to do. There was a rustle behind the door. I stiffened. Maybe it was the guards waking up? My heart pounded hard.

  Something clinked as if being picked from the floor. A key gently grated in the keyhole.

  On tiptoe, I crept up to the door, stepped over the sleeping scout and hid behind the curtain.

  The door opened a crack and a black shadow quietly floated into the room. The stranger leaned over my sleeping friend, lifting his curved sword above his head. There was no time to linger, and with an inhuman shriek I lunged forward, slashing wildly with my sabre.

  The stranger jumped back, easily avoiding the blow. His sword darted to my throat with lightning speed, but I reflexively raised my left arm up and caught the blade by its edge. My fingers tightened around the steel, my teeth gritted and I struck once more. With a thud, my curved blade bit the intruder’s neck, metal screeched on bone and the man fell to his knees.

  My hands were acting of their own accord. The left fist, still closed around the blade, went down, while the right hand dealt another blow. The attacker’s head, cleanly severed from his body, hit the floor with a thud. Black blood sprayed in my face, gushing out like a fountain.

  I took a few wobbling steps towards the balcony, but the strange sweet smell became too strong, overcoming me. The room spun around, and I fell on my face, straight into the sticky pool of dark blood.

  ✽✽✽

  Once again, I was first to regain consciousness. My whole body ached as if I had been trampled by a herd of wild beasts. There was a lot of blood around me, and it was already coagulating. I winced, trying to lift my head; my hair and cheek were glued to the floor.

  The priest’s body was lying next to me. His robe had slipped from his shoulder, revealing a ritual tattoo. A little further away I saw a severed head, its face turned to the window. I swallowed hard; thankfully, I hadn’t seen its dead eyes.