The Nameless Slave

by Vitaly Zykov

  It was difficult to handle with the pressure of energy. His brain was boiling from the raging Forces. Yaroslav slowly moved the fragile but powerful weaving into the bowl of his hands. It became easier. Heat from the weaving escalated into strong burning in his hands. His hands were spreading and spreading, as if he held a ball which was slowly swelling. It was miracle that Yaroslav could still hold the weaving.

  Having finished the weaving, Yaroslav pushed it there, where he felt concentration of the beasts. There was a quiet hissing whistle, quickly fading away. Yaroslav was going to open his eyes, but at this moment, something small, but strong darted under his feet and threw him to the ground. There was no soft ground, by the way! His body fell on bare rock! He swore again. And at the same moment the green glow lit up the sky. It was bright morning, but for a moment the sunlight was outshone by furiousness of the handmaid Forces. The wave of dry heat struck up. Then came a terrible roar. The rock trembled from strong aftershocks, cracks appeared in some places. Cloud of dust and ashes rose high up, dust was everywhere, in his nose, his mouth, his eyes, and made breathing difficult.

  For Ghol it all looked very simple. At first he was shocked by what he had seen. Of course, hunter squads were completely unprepared. They were fragmented and expecting scattered small groups of spawns, but here was a giant horde! There had never been such a number of monsters in previous invasions like here in one place at once! Those thoughts almost crushed Ghol. But then he got a devilishly great idea, why not making a deal with Ryrga?! Sooner said than done! However, he had to plead a little, but he did that for his people!

  Ghol had every right to be proud of himself. Especially due to the fact, that Ryrga quickly agreed to tackle the problem. He froze like a column, as if dead, though his heartbeat could be heard. Shaman Virgen sometimes used to lie in the same way, when he happened to miscalculate the dose of mushrooms in his decoction. His apprentice told Ghol about that. Ryrga stood without breathing or moving, only a drop of sweat running down his face, and emerald aura surrounded his head. And then Ghol was frightened even more, he felt as if the whole world became crazy. Enormous streams of Force rushed to Ryrga. Shiver went through his body, then through Ghol's body too. His ears were trembling so much that Ghol thought they could fall off. He cupped them with his hands.

  The spawns were getting closer meanwhile. Now they were only a few big jumps away from the top of the rock. At this point some glow with color of his aura appeared between Ryrga's hands. Streams of emerald light were pouring out from Ryrga's hands folded in a bowl, and merging into a small ball. The ball gradually grew. At this moment a horned skull with pig's snout appeared over the cliff.

  – Take that, you shit! – Shouted Ghol, discharging a fiery ball from his bracelet.

  A small fireball like a lightning overcame the space between Ghol and the snout. The slobbery opened maw successfully caught the present. An explosion flashed briefly. Lumps of flesh were scattered in all directions. Blood gushed like from a fountain. The other monsters howled at the foot of the rock. But Ghol understood that it was no time to relax. He had to finish the beast. Its wound began to cicatrize already, and in a couple hours it would grow a new head. Ghol flew closer to the monster and shot two remaining balls. One to the heart in its sternum, and the other to the heart under the sacrum. The monster legs jerked in the last convulsion and its corpse fell in the passage blocking the way upward.

  Ghol glanced at Ryrga – he was making something unimaginable. An emerald ball of two cubits in diameter, full of Force, spun furiously between his hands.

  «If he does not keep it…» – it was terrifying to think further.

  Finally Ryrga pushed off the giant ball from his chest and began to take short breaths. With a soft hissing sound the ball ran down. At this moment Ghol did something inexplicable. He darted to Ryrga's feet and strongly pulled him to the ground. The monster from the prophecy fell very impressively: his curses were totally unfamiliar to Ghol, but obviously very strong. And then an end of the world came. The maw of Yrha, mentioned in the prophecy, had opened. Ghol was ready to meet the ancestors…

  CHAPTER 13

  Yaroslav came round first. He felt ringing in his ears, his eyes, mouth and nose were clogged with fine dust, something pressed on his legs. There were burns all over his whole body. But all that was small stuff, most important was that life was going on, but the wounds… the wounds will heal soon. Not the first time! Yaroslav did not expect that his weaving would produce such effect. He stood up with a groan. The cargo that was lying on his feet, was Ghol, he had not recovered yet.

  – Hell with you, – said Yaroslav concerned with the more important matter: he was looking for traces of the Spawns. He could see nothing, and what could he find anyway?! Here, on the top of the rock there was dust and small stones, but below… there was almost nothing… Only vitrified stone and a funnel twenty yards in diameter with fritted edges. And several shadows on the rocks. The same shadows as from people incinerated by the atomic bombing in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But here were shadows of vile creatures, and Yaroslav was not sorry for them. In some places the stone of the rock melted so that it turned into some yellowish glassy mass.

  – I've played a good game!..

  Now it was possible to treat the wounds of the Urg. His own wounds were already covered with film of young skin. Oddly enough, but some of his new abilities had nothing to do with magic. The accelerated tissue regeneration for example. For better effect Yaroslav increased blood flow and internal energy in the most damaged areas. He would be absolutely healthy in an hour! It's time to see what's wrong with Ghol.

  The young Urg had injuries much more serious than it seemed at first glance. A burn of entire back, very long gash on his leg (he even could bleed to death!) and apparently he had brain concussion.

  – And you'll be cured, too – Yaroslav muttered under his breath.

  His hands fluttered over the most severely damaged areas, generously giving the life energy. The flow of nutrients increased, the young Urg's blood obedient to the will of Yaroslav, ran faster. After about only half an hour of treatment, the terrifying appearance of the burns began to look better, and self healing became possible. The wound on the leg transformed into a thin white scar, looking strange on green skin. Unconsciousness turned into healing and strengthening sleep.

  – You only survived because of amulets! Such a heavy blow should have killed you. – Yaroslav shook his head. – Maybe it makes sense to construct amulets for myself too?

  Having finished the treatment, Yaroslav began to think about his next steps. The present refuge was now absolutely unmasked. Flash and thunder of magic explosion was certainly evident for any creature who possessed hearing and vision. In magic range there was such a trace too… And if speaking of magic… Yaroslav decided to examine his magical abilities. It would be better if he did not do that. There was exhaustion of all magical reserves, the extreme exhaustion. He was full of life energy, he even could share it with the Urg, but alas, the situation with magic was not the same. He had to forget about magic whips and other mighty things for a couple days at least.

  – Maybe, it's time to get lost from here? – Yaroslav asked his inner voice aloud, but this rascal was silent.

  Yaroslav looked once again at what became to the trail upon which the Spawns climbed to the rock. Now the trail was no more. He was left only with a «backdoor» now, what he called a descent for acrobats. He had saved this track for emergency case, hoping it would never happen. But this hope was vain. Additionally Yaroslav had one more problem: the wounded Urg. Even in healthy state he could not descend upon this trail, so being wounded he could not do that all the more so.

  – It would be wrong to leave him in the lurch, – said ruthless Ryrga, a bogey of all Urgs folk, and attempted to bring Ghol to senses. – Wakey! Get up! Hurry! It's enough to wallowing here. Stand up!!!

  The eared kid jumped as if stung, but immediately groaned from pain. His young skin burst on the burns.
>
  – Yes! What?! Have we won?!

  – Yes! We won!.. Any doubts?!!

  – No! Of course, no!..

  – Then quickly climb on my back and hold on tighter!

  – …?!!

  – HURRY UP!!!

  Ghol instantly shut his mouth, already opened for the next question. Yaroslav squatted. The greenskinned kid, moaning from pain, clasped his hands behind Ryrga's neck and wrapped his legs around his body.

  – Hold on tight! Is it clear?!

  – Yes, but…

  – Shut up!!!

  The Urg sniffed resentfully. His fear before the legend coming to life, had gone in an unknown direction. His lively character overcame natural wariness and coupled with childlike curiosity, made the young Ugr's behavior almost unbearable. From the viewpoint of the Great and Terrible Ryrga, of course. Especially when he extremely straining all muscles, descended down the steep wall. Of course, there were, hollows very comfortable as a support for hands or to put your leg on. But they were in such different places and levels, that it was obscenely difficult to find them.

  – What an idiot said that man evolved from apes?! Where's the tail? Where's tenacious grip? Where is all that, I'm asking?! – Yaroslav hissed violently, hanging on one hand and desperately seeking for a lightest support. – And these Spawns! Damned freaks… Why could not they come from other side, so I could safely descend upon the trail… Ghol?!!

  – What? – The frightened Urg whispered quietly, fearing even to breathe again. He was out of his wits from terror of hanging on the man, who was hanging over the abyss: what would happen if they came off?!

  – Why are you silent?! Are you afraid of heights?

  – I'm afraid of nothing! Just a little worried…

  – Ah! But I'm afraid of heights… Very much! Since childhood. – The last phrase was uttered in a trembling voice. Yaroslav groped two deepenings in the rock with his feet, but in order to set feet there it was necessary to unclench his hand. – Okay, neck or nothing!

  A second of slipping and…

  – Abyss!.. Don't do that anymore! – The Urg thought a little and added heartfully: – Please!

  Even a shocking message that the Great Ryrga had childhood and was afraid of something being a child paled into insignificance beside the crazy way that Ryrga used for descent.

  Meanwhile, Yaroslav sprawled on the stones and holding to the rock only with his feet, suppressing fear and trying to disperse goose pimples from his nape by an effort of will, nodded in agreement.

  The descent continued. Sometimes Yaroslav moved aflat, hand over hand groping horizontally disposed deepenings, but more often he had to wriggle like a snake, trying to reach the next inconveniently located step. At some moment, the descent stopped. Straining every sinew, trying to merge with the rock in order to relieve tension in bursting muscles, Yaroslav groped over the rock with his feet but could find no toehold. Yaroslav went hot and cold all over, he had almost no strength left…

  – Oh, Ryrga the Great! – Whispered the Urg, hanging behind. Hysterical fun could be felt in his voice, though hidden, in respect to merits of Yaroslav. – Oh, Ryrga! Unclench your fingers. We come down!

  Yaroslav squinted down and spat furiously: it turned out that his feet were at the height of about one or two cubits from the ground. He unclenched his numb fingers and, accompanied by a heap of small stones, slid down.

  – Why didn't you, asshole, say that before?!! – There was not an ounce of Christian humility or love to neighbor, in his voice. – I'll strangle you now with these very hands…

  – Master! No, master! – The Urg jumped away. – I was sitting with my eyes closed! I am very afraid of heights. I opened my eyes, only when you stopped for a long time. – He paused a little. – Thank you, master!

  – For what? – Said Yaroslav and chuckled.

  – For not leaving me there, on the rock. – The Urg looked into Yaroslav's eyes seriously. – And thank you for my folk! These Spawns will not kill Urgs anymore.

  «Wow, how are his eyes shining! Yaroslav, you are a hero now! – He looked sadly at the excited Urg. – But do you really need admiration of a greenskinned boy, if he is not a man?! If you're doomed to live alone? What means this admiration in comparison to loneliness?..»

  Yaroslav laughed angrily and the lop-eared boy fell silent in fear.

  «Though, I can use your admiration! Now you'll tell me with pleasure all the things, that could conceal before! – These thoughts flowed smoothly, like beads on a string, and building a logical sequence of actions. – And I'll ask you, what is on that bank of the Bone River! And how do Urgs get there!»

  – Hey, Ghol! Can you tell me, what is on the other bank of the river? In the North there is your tribe, in the South there are spawns, in the West there is the Forest, but the East? What about the East?

  The question was completely unexpected for the young Urg, but after a little hesitation Ghol reported:

  – Tarks[23]!

  In this short word were condescending contempt and envy with a slight touch of fear.

  – Who are these Tarks?

  – Well, Tarks are Tarks. They are big: half again as you in height, Ryrga! Very, very strong. One Tark alone could kill a Spawn without any magic. Their skin is very difficult to break. They live in the mountains behind the River. And they can hide very well. They are very clever, almost like Urgs. – Ghol thought a little. – But, we are still tricky. There are no good craftsmen among them. They only use cudgels as weapon. And they have no shamans… But all the same they afraid of nothing.

  At last words Ghol sniffed resentfully. It seemed that the last feature of Tarks was an object of constant envy for all Urgs.

  – An interesting tribe. And how do they deal with you?

  – They laugh at us… But sometimes they traded.

  – Trade what?!

  – Well, we sell them dried fish and shellfish. They sell us flint and obsidian. Sometimes they bring different goods.

  – Like your bracelet, for example?

  Ghol cocked his head, eyes flared with fire. But then, as if remembering something, he fell silent.

  – Yes, when I was just a child, my father exchanged it for the skin of the Forest kaifat with Tarks.

  – What's that?

  Ghol hesitated choosing words:

  – These are the animals of the Forest, which sometimes make forays into our land… Rob our stores. Kill our animals. – And after a slight pause. – Scary creatures. Fast. One's eye could not even follow them. If you stand in their way, they can kill any Urg in one moment. Even a shaman. Spirits could not protect from them.

  Yaroslav got interested: what was this beast? Maybe this is his old friend, from the family of yellow-eyed cats?

  – Can you describe them?

  – Dead easy! Theirs body and tail are the length of your elbow each. Its fur has steel tinge. And frail-looking paws have curved claws. – Ghol easily sketched the silhouette of the beast with a short stick. – Here are the ears, and the nose. Here are the eyes. Such wondrous eyes without pupils or iris. Yellow as the sand on the shore of the Big Water. – He sighed dreamily. – I have not been home for a whole canine now.

  – Do not worry, you will be there soon. – Yaroslav scratched his head thoughtfully. The painted beast looked very similar to the small animal, whose cub he had rescued shortly before he left the Forest. Looked very similar. – Is this kaifat?

  – Yes. It is.

  – And this is a very dangerous animal?

  – Yes, very dangerous. My father could kill it only by accident. He just got lucky, – Ghol spoke heatedly, but added: – My father was a very good master of palm. He was a master, almost like a shaman. He traveled a lot, but after the fight with this beast, he barely recovered from his wounds.

  – Why did you say that he got lucky?

  – One kaifat's paw was injured. Though, it's hard to pierce its fur even by the blade of a palm.

  Yaroslav remembered steel g
listen of the animal's skin, looking so soft, and shook his head:

  – Ok, it's clear. And you want to say that your father traded this skin for your bracelet?

  – Yes. And for a large piece of obsidian. Skins of Forest animals are very valuable. Forest animals very rarely leave their land. Generally only cripples. They cannot survive there…

  – And these cripples are deadly dangerous?

  – Yes. Very!

  – That's clear. Let's go back to the bracelet. Where did Tarks get it? You said that they are big, damn strong savages, who have no crafts?!

  Ghol ingenuously looked into Yaroslav's eyes:

  – Spoils of war, of course. They are constantly at war with Gwonks[24].

  Yaroslav looked up to heaven, «Lord, why me? Now the Gwonks, above all. Boy, am I tired of them. Why aren't there any people here?»

  Uttering this mental appeal to heaven, he turned to the Urg, who was waiting patiently. It seemed that he believed that Ryrga was full of extravagance, but he was Ryrga. The one who had defeated Spawns, was allowed much.

  – Well, who are these Gwonks?

  – That is what I don't know, we don't have any trade with them. So I've never seen them.