The Nameless Slave

by Vitaly Zykov

  The road meandered among the forest. Yaroslav had never seen the monsters dwelling the other side of the River, but met other animals. According to his observations, animals dominating in this part of the forest were closer to the Earth analogs. There were animals like elk, deer, horned hares, elephants with a size of a pig and pigs with a size of an elephant… He met predators too. Several times, though from afar, Yaroslav saw the huge yellow-eyed cats, exactly like the one that had once hunted him. They were really terrible beasts. Fast, tough, very smart and possessing their own magic, and in addition, with wool protecting better than any armor. That was the most dangerous predator in the forest. Several times Yaroslav witnessed such a beast darting lightnings, which killed its prey. No magical defense of local animals could withstand those attacks. Once he saw two cats fighting with each other. Their movements which were hard to keep an eye on (despite the fact that Yaroslav's speed of movement could now be quite high), crackling lightnings and terrible blows of paws, obviously reinforced with magic. He had no chance in a battle against such a beast, so he hid again, moving on top of trees…

  But despite all dangers that he faced here, Yaroslav did not feel smeared by evil, which had oppressed him behind the River. The putrid evaporation of the marshes had been quietly poisoning his life both body and magic-wise. So his present situation was incomparably better!

  But all the same, he had to move carefully, watchful on every step, in constant alertness, sleep with one eye open. Constant vigilance! These words became his motto. However, once, he succumbed to his feelings, disburdened his mind and did a good deed at the same time. There was that rare case when he was moving on the ground, not on trees, he heard fierce cries of some not too big an animal from above. The animal was very similar to the ermine, only its fur had color of steel and its eyes were bright yellow. It was squealing, rapidly jumping from one branch to another, hurrying to a small hollow in a tree. And there, on a nearby branch, was crawling a bone boa, which had clearly outlined the hollow as its goal.

  «Is there a nest?!» – Yaroslav thought, and at this point the boa, the spawn of evil magic, began to thrust into the hollow. The hurrying animal cried like a wounded bird, and then, without hesitation, but remembering his fear of the evil creature, Yaroslav whipped the branch twined by the nightmare snake with emerald lash of Nergal. As it could be expected, the branch was instantly severed, and the snake flew down. The height was small, about three yards, and the creature quickly reached the ground. Yaroslav was standing ready. At the moment, when the snake reached the ground, his hand full of accumulated Forces struck the creature's head, and its skull crumbled in rotting trash. The bone body froze like a dead pile. There was no agony or convulsive crimps, there was nothing.

  Something made Yaroslav raise his head. A gray ball fell from the hollow and rushed to the ground. Yaroslav mechanically stretched his hand and caught the falling object. Something snapped. He raised his hand to his face, and saw that it was an egg that was cracked whether from falling or simply because its time had come. And a little wrinkled creature with eyes tightened with colorless film was getting out of the egg, squeaking from efforts.

  – Well, you are lucky, kid – said Yaroslav and touched it by his finger.

  As if in answer, the cub raised its head on its feeble neck making smacking sounds. And then its eyes opened, colorless, but already absorbing the surrounding world. Eyes of the man and the young animal met and the latter made a joyous squeak, and then with even greater joy clutched its small but sharp teeth on human finger.

  – Oh, you kid! What are you doing?!

  The small animal was not frightened by the sound of human speech. With stone tranquility it licked oozing blood from the bite and hummed fairly.

  Yaroslav heard a melodious whistle. The relaxed man shuddered and glanced in that direction. There was the animal looking like a weasel and whistling as if pleading.

  – Are you a mother or a father? – Yaroslav asked curiously and without waiting for an answer, handed the newly hatched lump to the beast.

  It cautiously approached, and looking into the man's eyes, grabbed the cub with its teeth, gently shook, and ran into the nest.

  – Well, Yaroslav, beasts already are not afraid of you. So, soon you will be wild enough to fly from tree to tree like Tarzan, yelling in bad voice. – These words made him very sad for his fate. Yaroslav sighed heavily and continued walking.

  The comfortable road ended suddenly – as if like cut by a knife. As though it was built just for fun – a traveler goes on the road, and suddenly stumbles into the flat wall of the forest. Why was the road for? And if its construction was not finished, what happened? Many questions and no answer.

  Once the road abruptly ended, Yaroslav continued walking in the same direction, but just taking a little bit to the north. Some time later, maybe two days, maybe a week, Yaroslav noticed that his path was leading up the hill. Well, not exactly uphill, of course, but the climb was noticeable. The trees became fewer and even seemed smaller. Soon he forced his way through quite thorny bushes, which painted his body with scratches in all possible directions, came out into an open area… and realized that the forest had ended. The sight was quite ordinary, without any magical delights. So his new path lay outside the already boring forest. Yaroslav was not on Earth, so he did not care where to go. A farewell with the forest promised him the change of scenery and new experiences.

  – When something ends, something new begins! – The phrase which came from God knows where, slipped from his lips, and Yaroslav trotted forward.

  Part 2

  THE FIRST STEPS

  Goblins are representatives of a deadlock branch of evolution of sentient beings along with trolls and huffs[19], although they are more intelligent. These savages worship nature spirits and their ancestors. They have nasty appearance, especially their ugly giant ears. They possess rudiments of magic and have own primitive language. They are pathologically stupid and very secretive. They live by hunting and gathering. The widespread genocide of these vile savages is a direct duty for all representatives of civilized races…

  From the book «Folks of Toarn from dawn centuries to the present day» by honorable Zeld from Jugha

  …the wall to the west will open,

  And Ryrga will come – the being without flesh.

  Horror is his name, and ash and blood.

  The thirst will be his guide,

  And revenge – his food.

  When he opens his maw,

  The great suffering for people of Urgs will begin…

  Fragment of goblins oral tradition, known as «Mad Shaman Prophecies», translated by noble Thelma from clan of Leopard, specially for University of All Sciences in Jugha

  CHAPTER 11

  Yaroslav was standing hiding in shadow of a standing stone. The watchman's gaze slid over all corners, tenaciously snatching every shade and at the slightest suspicion, he sent poisoned arrows there, but he could not notice the man. Yaroslav merged with stone, flowed over its surface, becoming a shadow. An eternity ago he read about Japanese mythical invisible warriors, who were masters of camouflage and could hide in a tiny shadow. Previously, it seemed fiction… But now Yaroslav himself, like a drop of mercury, flowed from one posture to another, using every shadow, millimeter by millimeter, approaching the enemy's camp. His head was empty of thoughts, even the mask of a predator, so useful in the Death Forest, was hidden very deep. Any thought violating concentration of the empty consciousness was torn into tiny pieces and scattered in its dark corners. Any magician, who might pay attention to these thickened shadows, would find only stones and gravel, gravel and stones. Even in the Forest filled with deadly nightmares it was not so difficult. It was much easier to merge with the living force of the forest than with unbreakable emptiness of bare rock.

  But Yaroslav managed. He was only a few yards away from the watchman now. He was lying, pressing himself down into the ground. Not a single stone or a bough crunched under him. The watchm
an felt danger and was warily looking out for enemy. Yaroslav did not hurry. It seemed to be easy: to run up, to stun, to shoulder the victim and run away. But in reality it was not that easy. The last time the greenskinned Urgs had taken alarm so quickly that Yaroslav had hardly fled away. And this time he needed not a watchman, he had decided that a young assistant of shaman would suit for his purpose. At that moment the lone Urg who had flown into a rage from waiting, began to sniff hard.

  «Sniff, sniff». – A wave of cheerful exultation swept over the man's body and faded. Yaroslav had changed a little the molecular composition of his sweat and now he smelled like a rock rat which dwelt there in abundance.

  A second of triumph almost ruined his plans: the tentacles of alien attention began to fumble around Yaroslav. Apparently, an old shaman was in trance and searching for him. As Yaroslav suspected, this pretty powerful tribe arranged ambush for him. Well, what else could he think? An Urgs camp of twenty tents or wigwams, guarded by just one warrior. A shaman wary fumbling through the neighborhood and waves of danger evidently coming from the tents nearest to the shaman's – they were obviously crammed with warriors. Obviously, Yaroslav had annoyed them greatly!

  The campfire behind the tense guard began to hiss. To hiss unnaturally and dangerously! The Urg squinted: who knows what it could be! With an aptly click Yaroslav tossed there a poisonous shellfish wrapped in a piece of cave jackal skin. Burning of this mixture, petrified during ten days, produced such a nasty hiss as of an enraged dragon with keen sense of self-esteem.

  The part of a second which Urg paid to a suspicious sound was enough for Yaroslav to jump up to the unfortunate watchman and gently touch his forehead. However, at such speed, the touch resulted in a powerful blow. The unhappy greenskinned guard rolled his eyes and fell into a banal swoon, Yaroslav barely managed to catch him and gently put him to the ground. Such diligence was caused not by love to «thy neighbor», but only by fear of noise.

  Then he listened with all his senses. There was no danger yet! No one noticed! By sliding step he was accustomed to since the Forest, Yaroslav crept to the shaman's tent. Behind linen canopy there two vague shadows. According to Yaroslav's assumptions, an old shaman was lying in trance, and a young Urg was waiting for a signal from him, in order to announce it to the ordinary warriors. So he chose a shadow sitting near the exit. It was a trifling matter to send a short magic impulse through the linen cloth, especially considering the fact that the young Urg was sitting very close. An emerald flash glinted briefly in magical range and the alert body went limp. However, at first moment there was some weak resistance, but it was immediately broken by power of Yaroslav's magic. Now he only had to get the boy from the tent. Carefully, expecting a trick, Yaroslav reached the canopy and encountered nose-to-face with a sturdy Urg. He paused for a moment, but the man's experience played its role – the Urg had already opened his mouth to give alarm when his hand with a spear slid into backswing. But Yaroslav survived in the Death Forest, where speed of reaction decided everything. His right hand shot forward and confidently imprinted into the forehead of the greenskinned, while his left hand grabbed the Urg by some necklace on his neck. Urgs were surprisingly undersized: the tallest Urg's head leveled with Yaroslav's navel. The soldier fell to Yaroslav. The spear slipped from his hand and rustled in the grass. Yaroslav quickly put the Urg to the ground, darted forward and almost without looking, made two magical strikes. The two guards, alarmed by the rustle, tumbled on each other. No one was killed.

  Having neutralized the security guards, Yaroslav slid into the tent. The young shaman slumbered softly at the threshold, but the old one had almost come round. He certainly had smelled the magic and tried to call to his assistant. When he got no answer, the old man started to urgently withdraw himself from the trance. Yaroslav estimated, that it would take about three more minutes. It's good enough if he would not waste time. He silently shouldered the shaman's assistant, and ran away from the camp. He had to run to the nearest standing stones and to run file. The following night would be definitely restless for him.

  Small pebbles were crunching quietly underfoot. The night spread its wings widely, but the darkness did not squeeze the man in a suffocating embrace, but gently covered him. Night would be a mistress if you know how to approach to it. It could be gentle and playful, but if not, it could be not a mistress, but a stranger woman. Yaroslav always loved the night. What could be better than a night jogging that makes your blood sleeping under layers of civilization run faster! At home, he often liked to run at midnight in forgotten alleys of the city park and adrenaline was a decent flavoring before bedtime.

  In his present life the night became his closest friend. It hid him from the eyes of enemies and the eyes of prey. However, in the Forest it was different, but now he was not in the Forest! This region was harsh and unpretentious too. The rocky steppe was not for weak men, but Yaroslav was no more that helpless kid who had come into this world. He had no impressive musculature, his belly scratched his spine, his skin sunburnt to black with terrible scars covered his sinewy body. His dark hair was bleached by the sun. His face changed too. The softness of an intellectual had disappeared, instead, there were hard lines of nose and lips, sunken eyes and wrinkles cutting through his forehead. But his eyes had changed more then everything else. His dark brown expressive eyes had acquired superhuman depth and filled with darkness. And for that reason, from his not too impressive appearance, exuded danger, mortal danger.

  It is hard to run with burden on your shoulders. Especially if you do not just run, but escape from a chase. Urgs' shouts came from the camp remained behind his back. The greenskinned shorties yelled furiously, going in pursuit.

  «You have no horses! – Yaroslav thought with evil-humored derision. Try to catch me up on your short legs!»

  His lungs worked smoothly and steadily. He did not feel fatigue, and it would not come soon. This kidnapping was the fifth for Yaroslav, however, it was the first time when he had such a serious trophy. A shaman's assistant (rather, apprentice)! It's not a dumb warrior!

  The cries behind became more ordered, even with some sort of rhythm. Apparently, Urgs began the chase and now encouraged each other. Everything as usual! Calm and measured steps devouring mile after mile, allowed to think freely, and thoughts of Yaroslav sped back to the place where it all began in this land of stones and gray ground.

  When he had come out of the Forest, he still went to the east. Periodically, he hunted rock rat, the animals which looked like rats with fangs of a boar, and with the size of a hare. This land was literally swarmed with them. They constantly dug into the ground, looking for worms, bugs and other filth. When they saw Yaroslav, they always tried to flee, but neatly thrown stones invariably provided lunch for Yaroslav. For some time he had not come across any traces of other creatures.

  Once Yaroslav, straining his abilities, was searching the nearby vicinity for a source of drinking water. Finally he sensed very close an aura of a water source rolled up in clew. Its aura seemed as cold and slipping from hands as the water itself.

  In about five minutes Yaroslav was on the spot. Between two boulders was springing a small rill feeding a brook lost among small stones. The water string there was too close to the surface and something wrong and unnatural was in this fact. As if it was not work of nature, but of an intelligent being.

  – Well, well… – Yaroslav looked more closely. Yes! The water string going under the ground was magically pulled closer to the surface and strapped by some invisible clamps.

  – Oops! I am not alone here. I strongly doubt that this spring was made a millennium ago! – The thoughts raced like mad hares. – What would happen if I look around?!

  And he began to rummage around, which gave a result soon. In about ten yards from the source Yaroslav found the remains of an old campfire under a boulder. But there were no other tracks. Whoever they were those who stopped here did not like to advertise their presence.

  – As Alice used to say: curiou
ser and curiouser… – the rocky veldt, as it turned out, was not a lifeless place. At first, there were those who make fires and hide ash under boulders. And at second, there were those from whom these fires were hidden. – Wow!

  From that moment Yaroslav moved with redoubled caution, and that allowed him find out the camp of Urgs and hide from them, before they could notice him. It happened near a river, to which he came after a couple of days. That day he did not know yet that they were Urgs.

  Wriggling between stones like a snake, Yaroslav crawled almost to the camp of unknown greenskinned creatures. He was bursting with curiosity. Their alien guttural dialect and strange appearance – all that caused the most intense interest. The loneliness was so weary that he almost howled like a lizard-poodle. But the learned lessons of survival warned him for caution. Secret service was the companion of diplomacy always and everywhere. Scout it first, and only then go to negotiate. In fact, it could turn out, that there is no need to negotiate!

  Yaroslav scrupulously tried to understand details of alien everyday life. But at first he studied the appearance of these creatures, which was utterly amusing. Although, amusing was not quite the right word. It was a mix of fun and threat. Almost everything was menacing: the green skin, small deep-set eyes, glowing like coals in the dark, wide nostrils like of Earth's gorilla, clawed muscular arms and eerie amulets or simply decorations. But the appearance of rough warriors was spoiled by their ears. They were huge, the size of half-head each. Moreover, they were protruding and looking in the same direction as the creatures' eyes. And their height was a yard with a cap and in jump from a stool – their height was scarcely above Yaroslav's navel.