The Nameless Slave

by Vitaly Zykov

  – I'll ruin you, bastard! – The excitement of a fight began to replace all other feelings, except anger and sizzling rage. – I'll smash you!!!

  Yaroslav set his feet apart at shoulder width, slightly bent his knees, and closed his eyes. His hands were placed apart and bent in elbows. His open palms were facing forward. This stance was chosen unconsciously, quite reflexively, as if it was the most natural one for this situation. The man's mind glided along the river, looking for cocoon-vampires. One was found, then one more, and more… Short pulses pierced the water. They looked like the whip of Nergal, but only of very low power, aimed to scare the creatures in the water and make them move in the direction of the water monster. At the same time, Yaroslav looked for approaches to these strange animals. Ok! He found it! Let's try with the first one.

  He sent the first trial pulse. And the cocoon even purred with pleasure, absorbing the gratuitous energy. Then again, and again, he slipped into the brain of the next creature or whatever surrogated its brain. Yaroslav generously poured the Force there, then artificially, in a short time, using only his intuition, increased attack power of the creature and its body resistance to damage, built an opened channel for recharge… And went to the next creature.

  It seemed to him that he had spent hours, but in fact it was split seconds. He generously expended his own accumulated power, creating dangerous monsters from not too strong predators of the Bone. Finally, the water demon was surrounded by the improved monsters. He looked confused. Yaroslav could hear a rumble of roaring waterfall somewhere in the depths of his incomprehensible body.

  «Come on!!» – Yaroslav's mental order was like a lash of a whip. Bodies of the river vampires leaped above the water surface, building a dome of magic-absorbing net over the demon. And at this moment Yaroslav began to suck energy through the left channels from the vampires, while they themselves were absorbing energy from the demon. He had defense, as well as Yaroslav, but Yaroslav had foreseen that – at the beginning of the attack he threw forward a cord of compressed magic. A rapid stroke of magic charge, and the demon distracted by the vampires roared in protest. He missed the magic blow, and his defense was breached. The lord of water was choking with rage: a mortal man dared to resist! The vampires were forgotten. The breached defense was forgotten too. He had one goal: to crush the bold little man. One magical order, and a water fist appeared from the flat river surface and struck at the man.

  Yaroslav regretted that he had not moved away from the riverside. He regretted strongly, very strongly. With his magical feelings, he clung to the rock, which he could feel deep underfoot, saturating his whole body with the Force generously pumping from the demon, and stoically enduring the hellish pain in his splitting and instantly healing bones. Only excess of the incoming magic allowed Yaroslav to survive in this critical situation.

  Finally the wave subsided. Without thinking, Yaroslav hurled another magical spear at the demon. A dazed cry was the answer. Sure that the man had died, the demon was just going to pay all his attention to the bold vampires, who were devouring his energy at a terrible speed, but he was struck by an unexpected blow, which destroyed his defense.

  – Uuuurrrr!! – The roar of rage echoed far above the water.

  The echo had not disappeared yet, as the demon lashed with a water tentacle which grew from his body. Yaroslav flattened on the ground, letting the deadly water whip pass over him. Yaroslav knew that high-pressure stream of water can cut steel sheets, and he felt that this tentacle had similar or even much stronger properties. Immediately after that, he had to roll aside when, in reverse movement, the whip lashed the ground, ripping its surface like a rotten sackcloth. It could not continue this way for long and Yaroslav met the next hit with the whip of Nergal. His accustomed weapon easily severed the appendage of the demon. Writhing and life-threatening a moment ago, and now cut off, the appendage crumbled into a drizzle directly on Yaroslav's head. Separated from the body, it lost all the magically acquired properties.

  Fighting with the life-threatening water whip, Yaroslav lost the demon himself from sight, while he had prepared a new attack. And when Yaroslav turned to the water monster, he saw a spear of water magic, rushing into his face. There was no time to dodge, and Yaroslav threw a giant ball of energy straight ahead, almost emptying all his reserves, creating a powerful Force shield. The impact of the two encountering forces was terrible. The shield, held at the limits of strength, dragged a couple of yards along the beach and did not fall only by miracle. It had withstood!! But the pressure on the shield continued. The monster decided to compete in brute force. The water hammer was transformed into a monstrous press. All the man's veins were swollen from straining, his muscles were cracking in an exorbitant effort, unsuccessfully trying to help his mind. But there was not enough energy, all the reserves had been exhausted. At this point Yaroslav remembered about the vampires. And he pulled Force from them, using it to feed his shield. It became easier, now he had some hope.

  The confrontation delayed. The opponents froze against each other. Yaroslav just had no way to retreat, and the water demon, should he showed some weakness, would be opened for a strike. But he faltered, and the pressure eased. Inspired, Yaroslav began to pump energy of the demon with more tenacity, moving his shield forward with each new sip of the Force. And the demon could not withstand, he panicked. Probably the first time in his long and calm life in this backyard of the world, he met such an enemy. Gurgling something unintelligible, he abruptly withdrew his magic press and rushed away. He obviously lost his ambitions and desire to kill. The vampires could not keep pace with such a frisky victim, so the demon easily escaped from their embrace, only a couple of times using his deadly water whip.

  But Yaroslav remembered what he had learned in his wanderings through this inhospitable world. Never leave a defeated foe behind. Enemy must be finished, to ensure that no one would take revenge. And, following this law of survival, Yaroslav formed his own hammer from the remains of his shield. He raised his clasped hands over his head, and heavy load of concentrated magic presses him into the soft ground. Finally, considering the time suitable for a strike, Yaroslav made a movement as if lifting an ax over his head in order to chop firewood. And the giant hammer found its goal. Something invisible collapsed on the fleeing monster, tearing magical connections of his water body. There was a splash as from a bomb explosion and the river flow carried away a strange dark oily spot. The magical duel, previously unthinkable for Yaroslav, ended with his full and unconditional victory.

  Yaroslav wearily sank on the bank pitted with merciless blows. He was dying for some rest, but could not allow that. Not now. The Urgs remained on opposite shore. And they were very numerous. The magical battle scared away all the river monsters, freeing the ford for a while. So having enough influence on their people, chieftains or shamans could send these grimly standing warriors to fight against Yaroslav. But now dead silence hung on the other side of the river. The head shaman was standing in a shock, holding his wand, as if trying to fence from dreadful Ryrga. Simple soldiers were frozen like motionless statues, discouraged and lost like a puppet[25] without a puppeteer. It was somehow sad to look at them. The man had no hatred for the enemy, but only sorrow about ruined hopes burdened his heart. After all, should they not have that damned prophecy, Yaroslav could settle down with them. Fate of wanderer did not seem so attractive to him on this coast. Yaroslav sharply shook his head:

  – Don't be a crybaby! The action plan is as follows: wash off this sticky dirt, while there is no danger coming from the water, and move away from here.

  Sooner said than done. Yaroslav hurriedly washed off the adhering dirt and nasty clammy sweat. Cold water cooled the heat from the fight. Tension, constricting his muscles, eased. Yaroslav shook himself like a dog, and walked slowly away from the river, towards the tops of the far mountains. Only ones did he look back at the Urgs remaining behind, but they were still standing there shocked, like pillars of salt, looking at him. As an act of hool
iganism Yaroslav waved farewell them.

  Thus was passed this milestone of his life. And in Urg's encampments they began to tell and retell with more and more new details, stories about coming of Ryrga the Great.

  CHAPTER 15

  Oleg was lying in a wicker hammock, lazily sipping beer. Or ale, as his father used to call his favorite drink, and Oleg took over this habit. However, the local majordomo told him that beer was for common people and the esteemed guest should not stoop to that level. Since, the blood of vine befits the noble lords and magic highnesses. That's a truly dignified drink! But Oleg only shrugged. The local beer was divine. Thick, with some unusual flavor, it incredibly pleased his stomach, yearning for the favorite drink. Any kind of Earth beer in comparison with this «drink of common people» tasted like horse urine.

  – That's right, – Oleg nodded, in the beat of his own thoughts, confirming the favorite allegory of good soldier Schweik.

  It was damn nice to lie in the sun, knowing that nothing threatens you and you do not have to hurry. And the sun fondles your skin, and quiet distant surf rustles far in the harbor… Beautiful! Archimagus chose the place for his residence very wisely.

  Oleg mentally went back three weeks ago. How they had feared Archimagus and the Master of Punishers! But it all turned much easier and lucky! They arrived in the country estate of Lir Vittor, where they were placed in rooms and fell fast asleep. They were excited, but fatigue from the ship's motions was stronger.

  The next morning began with Bryms's visit.

  «Lir Bryms, – Oleg mentally corrected himself. – I have to get used to this!»

  Bryms entered the common room, where they had breakfast. Or rather, slipped into the room and sat down on a chair. They noticed him, probably only five minutes later. Oleg remembered how he shuddered when his eyes came upon a man in the chair, which had seemed to be empty a moment ago.

  – Go on, eat your meal! I'll wait, – Bryms waved his hands soothingly.

  However, they did not understand yet, that this was the great and terrible Master of Punishers. Well, nothing special: a young man slumped in a chair and watching. Although he looked impressive. They usually say «dandy» about men like this. He was dressed in a snow-white uniform. White jacket, trousers, even boots – everything was white. Oleg wondered then, if it was dyed leather on his boots, or natural color? Certainly, there was no naturally white leather, but here God knows…

  The only thing that Oleg recognized at first glance, was that he belonged to the special services. When Oleg had served at the frontier post, there used to be a secret agent. Exactly the same man, with a cunning, tenacious, all-encompassing gaze, he was constantly sniffing something out, confident with warming breath of a powerful System behind him. However, despite all his peculiarities, he was a cool guy and friend. Everything else was, as they say, a print of profession. And the young guy, who was sitting in front of Oleg now, had the same print.

  When he saw that the visitors from another world had finished breakfast, he just got up, and bowing his head, introduced himself:

  – Lir Bryms. Master of Punishers of the island state Nold. – His eyes thoughtful and so old on the young face ran over faces of all the Earthmen. – Well, who you are I already know… «In absentio», if I may say so. You have no need to introduce yourself.

  – Then how can we be useful for you? – Nastya ventured to ask. – We have told captain Irung everything we know…

  – Oh, yes, he has handed records of your conversations. But you see, the thing is, you are offworlders. And this is a big problem…

  – For you or for us? – Oleg took the bull by the horns.

  – Mutually, my friend, mutually, – said the head of local secret service and explained in details all nuances of their situation.

  The young people were impressed, imbued, so to say. The deal was serious – they are offworlders, and they are dangerous. First of all, their organisms. Bryms said, that marhuz knows what germs or viruses in the bodies of offworlders could be dangerous for the local world and how the local world could be dangerous for them in return. So they needed medical research and measures to increase resistance against disease and sun radiation. Nastya tried to argue, that they were quite healthy, but Bryms condescendingly remarked, that after the first conversation, Irung had imposed a temporary defensive spell on them. Then added that it should soon be exhausted. They had nothing to argue.

  Then Bryms said that it was crucially important for science to explore people from the other world in magical terms. Oleg flinched, as if stabbed, and exclaimed interrupting:

  – Maybe we radically differ from you!

  The other man smiled knowingly:

  – No. Irung had already checked it back on the ship. You are the same as we are, I mean the local people.

  Oleg nodded, but made a mental note about the division of people and other «we». Meanwhile, Bryms continued:

  – By the way, Oleg, for example, is likely to be able to enroll in our Academy of General Magic. He has some Gift… And it gives him good chance to make career in our world. As for the rest, we will help you with little money and our patronage. Believe me, it's worth a lot under our skies.

  – Can you take us back? – Natasha asked timidly.

  – We are powerful, but not omnipotent. – Laughed this strange dandy. – Only wartags could do that, but that is fairy tales.

  – So, we bound to live in your world?

  – Pretty girl, not in ours, but now in yours too. That's why I have said that, if you cooperate with us, we will take care of your future.

  – Well, that's clear. We have already had a conversation with the captain on this subject, but it's something else is unclear, – Oleg intervened again.

  – What do you mean?! – Bryms faked a surprise.

  – You have concealed part of the truth. You need more from us than medical and magical research and information about technologies of our world.

  – I said nothing about technologies, though, if you can actually recover something from your memory, it will be just fine.

  – So, you have no objection about the rest, do you? – Oleg emphasized.

  Lir Bryms laughed heartily:

  – You know, I'm starting to like you. Young man, believe me, with such assertiveness and shrewdness you'll go far. After some training you will be a good professional.

  – You have not answered again, – Oleg arched his eyebrow.

  – Well, well. We are very interested in the missing member of your group. The smallest scraps of information about him, about his condition and behavior, everything you know.

  – Yaroslav?! But he died! That marhuz chased him, and certainly gobbled him, – cried the girls.

  – Quiet, quiet, ladies. Believe my experience, a man who survived there where no one could survive, could not die so stupidly. Even in claws of a deadly monster!

  Oleg joined the conversation again:

  – Ok, so he survived. The beast did not kill him, but he remained in this Zaar'h'duor. The captain told us, that it is a hotbed of evil, the land of Death. And not just ordinary death, but with a capital letter. He also said that it is difficult to survive at a relatively safe coast, but in the depths of that land it is certain death.

  – Zaarr'h'dorr, – corrected Bryms.

  – Sorry?!

  – The right is – Zaarr'h'dorr, the land of dead spirits. The place of repose of two greatest civilizations of antiquity: raptor-men aka reptomen[26] and raptor-horses aka reptohorses[27]. The place of no return.

  – What do you mean?!

  – In unimaginable antiquity there used to be enormous battles. With use of magic and different technical devices, which had led to change of reality itself. The real world is melting there, creating monstrous distortion of physical laws of our world. I hope you have noticed the green sun? – said Bryms thoughtfully. – There's another magic, emanations of old wars, degenerated animals and sentient beings. All that forms such a cocktail that very few
have returned back, and only five returned in sound mind.

  – But we survived… – Olesya said hesitantly.

  – You were on the very edge, and marhuz almost ate you, – laughed Lir Bryms. – You were just wildly lucky. There are still stable laws of reality and monsters are few. But further, even the best magicians do not risk to go there. It is believed that these lands are cursed by both Fair and Dark gods of Toarn.

  – Yeah, – said Oleg. – But what was with those five?

  – With whom?

  – Those who came back sane?

  Before answering, Bryms looked attentively at the questioner, then said:

  – It happened three thousand years ago. Plus or minus a century, no matter. It was a time of crazy adventurers who were ready to rush even into embrace of Cali for profit and for their share of luck. And those five found it…

  – Cali? – Oleg already familiar with a local pantheon from stories of Arg, was skeptical.

  – No. The luck, – smiled Bryms understandingly. – Three of them gained artifacts of unprecedented power, and two got Knowledge and Force. – And with his eyes closed, he began to list almost with reverence: the Hammer of Zelod, the Scepter of Power and the Skull of Nekrond. Salvation and damnation of our world.

  – Excuse me, but why damnation? – Olesya cut in.

  Bryms turned to her:

  – Its master has great power. Hammer of Zelod can destroy walls of the most powerful fortresses. Scepter of Power commands Elements and Skull of Nekrond raises armies of dead and summons demons. Once upon a long time, possession of one of these artifacts decided the fate of war, the great war.

  – And where are they now? – Interrupted Olesya again.

  – Lost, for one and a half thousand years already. The most powerful one, the Scepter of Power, was lost with its hostess and magician, who had found knowledge and Force in Zaarr'h'dorr. The Skull of Nekrond was destroyed at the beginning of the Wars of the Fall Age, and the Hammer of Zelod disappeared with Zelod himself.