by Alex Sapegin
The old man had many questions for the shkas who had saved his son. He did not believe that the person who had fled from the dugaria was suffering from selective memory loss. How could he forget everything, but keep his knowledge of High, the language of dragons, known to Andy as Younger Edda? What’s more, the High he spoke was an old, archaic form, which was spoken in the higher circles of dragon society. Or the name? Strange name for a human; instantly recognizable as dragon’s. No less interesting would be to learn about the shkas’ mother, who taught him knowledge of medicinal herbs. Who was she, from what kind of tribe? He got only silence in response, shrugging of shoulders, and uncomprehending eyes. Was it funny to pretend that Evael did not see in his long double braid a hint of the Snow Elves? Only the Rauu braided using the double spike. Or his fighting skills? Simple people can’t move like that. They tear their muscles, and their joints don’t wield such flexibility. If he were a sorcerer, his skills would be explained by his magical nature, but the village mages checked the blue-eyed man and found no magic in him; but this too created questions. The boy was constantly covered by the cocoon of a mind shield, which he supported unconsciously. And, which was absolutely impossible for someone who was not a mage, he absorbed mana. Where did it disappear to and what was it spent on? Many questions—and almost no answers. The dugaria did not influence Kerr-Andy’s mind in any way. He was only skillfully hiding behind the opportunity to keep his past a secret. It’s fair to say that for Evael, Andy was a hard nut to crack.
In turn, the elf himself was a treasure chest for the were-dragon, a fount of information about the new world. In learning Common, he terrorized his mentor with tricky questions about the world order, the customs, their neighbors, and politics. The old elf often lamented that the order in the world had lessened compared with what it used to be. Once he mentioned that the once united state had collapsed into separate territories that were butting heads, turning free elves into hostages to the situation and the ruler of the empire’s greed. Andy picked up on the chief’s reservation and gradually extracted all the details.
And the details were both interesting and suggestive of strange parallels in the histories of the two worlds. According to the old elf, three thousand years ago, there was neither the Principality of Ora, nor the lands of the miurs, nor the Celestial Empire, nor a dozen other states, but one big country. The collapse began with the mysterious death of the ruler. Normally that would be fine: all living beings are mortal, and no one attached much importance to the death of the old dragon. But the heir disappeared, and then the brother of the deceased ascended to the throne. Then true bloods and dragons appeared out of nowhere, who came from Ilanta. What happened on their heavenly neighbor, Evael did not know, but the newcomers took up arms against the new emperor. There was a split in the country. Some of the Lords of the Sky supported the newcomers. A protracted civil war began, the result of which was the death of all the true bloods from Ilanta and the collapse of the country. The Miur did not take part in the massacre that had begun. The Great Mother did not support either side, saying that only a legitimate heir could reign over the cat people. She wasn’t about to bow to the pretender who had put on a purple robe. After achieving victory over the coalition, the new emperor invaded the lands around Mount Lidar and lost half of his army, wiped out by the Miur mages. Many dragons died. Even the Emperor’s true bloods could not counter the prowess of the combat mages of the mountain tribe. The defeated army retired, but the time would come when it would return. The ruler of the northern lands, Hazgar, was collecting the fragments which were once one country. In some places, he used flattery and promises, and elsewhere he used force of arms. While the three princes who fought on the side of the newcomers remained independent, both the miur and others fell under the iron fist of the Celestial Empire, which had significantly increased its borders to the east and north. There was something to think about: was it just by chance that the root of evil was growing from Nelita, where the dragons and Forest Elves of Ilanta had such a bloody conflict three thousand years ago? Why should the true bloods rush into battle against the emperor?
Andy stopped about a half a mile before the lake. The trail went right along the edge of the creek. On the left side of the trail, a broad glade of thick green grass cleared the forest giants. It was there that he met Atrael and Lilly. How long had he been living with the forest people? A month, but it felt like a lifetime. If he had his way, he would stay here, but intuition told him that the relatively peaceful time was coming to an end. Andy sat down on the log he’d jumped over four weeks ago, or six fivers, to use the local time measurement. The not-so-distant events surfaced in his memory.
* * *
Andy dug at the earth with the toe of his boot, got up from the log and walked through the clearing. The rixes he’d killed had long since been swallowed by the local scavengers, and ants cleared the remains of their skeletons to a mirror shine. A little more time and these silent reminders of a deadly skirmish would return to the ground and be covered with grass. Time. Andy looked up at the sky: how were his friends and relatives doing? The dark disk of Ilanta was wrapped in cumulus clouds. For a long time, the desire to get to Earth had subsided. Now he often thought about Jagirra and Karegar. An unclear languor and strange dreams told him that not everything was so simple now in the relations of parents. In his thoughts of home, the word “adopted” disappeared. What kind of adopted parents were they, Targ take it? From what he had learned and understood here, they were the real ones. Dragons don’t have it any other way. But that’s just it: dragons. He was already guessing his mother was not the simple Snow Elf herbalist she had always claimed to be. She must have a deeper connection to the winged race. But what? What secrets was she hiding? And what secrets was he hiding? A month of “playing the fool” cost him dearly. Only the results of the game were the opposite of what he’d planned. The mages several times rushed to examine the tattoo in detail. He had to writhe like a slippery eel to come up with reasons and excuses for refusing. The mages nodded, but judging by their eyes, they would not abandon their harassment.
It seemed Evael was beginning to guess about his guest’s second essence. Why else would he have given him the boiled swamp root for washing? Swamp root is used by rangers to remove their scents. What was his scent? That’s just it. For the past week, Andy had begun to smell like lily of the valley, and his magic began to return. That was the hardest thing to hide. Will shields and mind shields did not guarantee the preservation of his secret, but it was hoped that the village mages would not pay too close attention to him, and Lilly would not blab about what happened at the waterfall. It happened unexpectedly….
Lilly had enticed him into a hike to the waterfall. The lumes had begun to creep into their cocoons, and Atrael sent his daughter to catch new ones. Elves preferred to use living lamps; magical lanterns somehow did not fit them. The point-ears fished large luminescent caterpillars from the banks of the reservoirs and placed them in wicker spheres woven from a thin vine, which were suspended from the ceilings and walls of the rooms. The caterpillars were fed freshly cut grass and leaves and gave off unexpectedly bright and even light. The one downside was that the living luminaries served for no more than three or four weeks; after that, they began to weave cocoons and turned into pupae, from which a huge butterfly of iridescent color hatched in a month.
Lilly handed Andy a large basket with a tight lid, whistled to Bayuk, and led the whole honest company to meet their adventures. On the way to the traps, Mimiv joined them, pretending that this path was on the way she just happened to be going. Bayuk immediately hid behind the mistress’s back and began to creak plaintively with his chelicers. Mimiv snorted at the arachnid traveler, and, with her tail lifted, ran ahead.
Andy stroked the creature, which was always offended by the cat, for the hundredth time, amazed at the softness of the wool that covered the spider-like creature. The pseudo-spider’s hair flowed pleasantly between his fingers and crackled from el
ectrical discharges. Bayuk stretched out his paws and, swaying from side to side, creaked with pleasure. Who would have thought…
When Evael appeared in Andy’s cottage and announced that the council had allowed him to stay in the village, he felt a heavy stone fall from his heart. Lilly jumped out from behind the old elf, grabbed her rescuer by the hand and pulled him into the street, if one could call a broad platform between the dense intertwining of the roots of the Mellornys a “street.” No sooner had the girl crossed the threshold of the temporary shelter of the guest of the forest tribe, than a huge bright yellow red and brown spider-shaped creature drew near her, as tall as her knee. Lilly carelessly brushed off the six-legged creature. The spider pinched its paws, flopped onto the ground, and plaintively squeaked.
“Bayuk!” The girl’s eyebrows lowered threateningly. The arachnid spread its legs limply to the side. “Bayuk, on tele tarot urrat!”
The nightly feline visitor jumped down from the roof of the prison. The spider immediately stopped pretending to be offended, jumped to its feet, and instantly climbed the nearest tree.
It turns out that the forest inhabitants specially bred the arachnoid-like creatures called naxes, receiving from them the finest silk fabric. The female naxes wove a kind of thin nest or cocoon-bag each night in the branches of trees. In the morning, the caretakers drove the spiders from their soft nests and folded the cut cocoons into baskets. The second stage was soaking the arachnoid material in special boilers, extracting it, and pressing it between rollers. The output was a thin, colorless fabric. The fabric was dried and dyed with coloring agents. The final product went to both domestic consumption and local markets, and sold like hot cakes. Male naxes were smaller than females and much more intelligent. Usually they were kept in place of dogs guarding the house and yard, but in Andy’s hosts’ home, the role of malicious dog was played by Mimiv.
The journey to the waterfall passed in a calm and, one might say, friendly atmosphere, not counting the fight between Bayuk and Mimiv for the fact that the pseudo-spider had scared a large rodent, somewhat resembling a short-eared rabbit, from under the cat nose. Andy caught caterpillars, and Lilly threw pebbles into a wide creek. When Andy showed her how to skip stones, the girl was impressed.
The elf girl went to the water and poked at the water with a stick, choosing flat pebbles. Mimiv disappeared somewhere, and Bayuk was basking in the sun. The blue-green crocodile snout that surfaced near the shore was a complete surprise to everyone. The huge jaws spread wide; the mouth was dotted with a fence of sharp teeth. The river monster rushed at Lilly. A shrill shriek spread over the river.
Andy feared not reaching the girl in time. She was frozen in horror. Time stopped. The basket with caterpillars hung in the air; Bayuk was frozen in place; the waterfall ceased its noise. With an outstretched hand pointed towards the crocodile-like creature, Andy let a bolt of lightning fly. The monster was thrown back. Several dozen dead fish bobbed to the surface of the creek. Following the lightning, Andy let the “ax” spell fly, cutting the beast in half. The twitching halves were picked up by the current; the water turned red.
Then there were a lot of tears and oaths about keeping silent about what had happened. Andy was in settage for a long time, checking his internal mana stores and energy channels. Killing the quork came as a surprise not only for Lilliel. The savior was as dumbfounded as the victim and the rescued elf. He had started to collect mana. He could not boast of a huge amount of energy, but the results spoke for themselves. Now he was at about the same stage as when he was sitting in the zoo of the king of Rimm.
It was no wonder that the Elven magicians saw nothing. The mana he used was, in his giant vaults, like a drop in the sea, condensate on the walls of the railway tank. If only Lilly didn’t blurt out too much, no harm, no foul. The time would come when he could restore his connection with the astral.
Along with the magic, his ability to sense the world’s energy relations also returned. For the last few days, he hadn’t been able to find his place. It was like some string in his soul was ringing with an intense roar. Time…. It flows like water between one’s fingers. Intuition and forebodings told him that the days reserved for a quiet life were expiring. Last week, messengers came from other villages with grim news. The orcs had become active at the imperial borders. There had already been several large raids into the depths of no man’s land. There were no dragons with the “grays,” but without the approval of the imperial astals, they would never have crossed yet another border delineated by thousands of years. The emperor was feeling out the situation.
The elves, rightfully alarmed, put a spear in the hands of every able-bodied member of their community. The convoy sent to the mountains brought back a dozen heavy gunners. The miur had decided not to skimp on magical devices for their allies. Special teams of loggers went to organize additional abatis.
“How are you at the art of assassination?” Two days ago, Evael summoned Andy to a frank conversation. The elf was blacker than a thundercloud and decided to speak without equivocation.
“It depends.”
“I mean in general,” the chief interrupted. “I do not ask you to fight for the village, but you can fully train the youth. And do not make a lean face. I was once a ranger. I can tell a wild rix from a domestic puppy. You do not look like a pup.”
“So I look like a rix?”
“No, not like a rix either.” Andy lifted his right eyebrow. “More like a rix killer. Andy, I would not ask you if it was not a dire need….”
“I will do it. All the more so since I too need to get in shape.”
The elf scoffed:
“Thank you.”
“No thanks needed.”
“I’m grateful all the same. You could have said no and calmly left, but you have decided to stay and help.”
“Who will I be training? I want to say that I cannot work with novices.”
“Will you take the Leaves candidates? The warriors and the novices from the three surrounding villages are now gathered by the lake.”
“I will. But how do they feel about being trained by a shkas?”
The chief grew pensive.
“I will speak to them. And you, hm, you do not have to be shy when it comes to discipline and persuasion. Moreover, go to Atrael. He will get you a real blade, and you can hand over this manure that you call a blade to be melted down.”
As per Evael’s order, Andy was not shy during training. The Leaves gathered on the shore of the large lake. Wide sandy beaches were an ideal platform for mass training. The young elves greeted the blue-eyed coach with a disapproving murmur. The shkas did not inspire confidence. Of the two dozen wards, only two village acquaintances did not express their displeasure. The pointy-ears were already butting heads with the freak and got their nuts beat for it.
Andy, copying the methods of his former mentor and teacher Berg, forced everyone to do a whole bunch of gymnastic exercises, checking the stretching and their coordination. When the long-eared youth began to roar with discontent and speak in a negative way about the methods of the freak who had not been killed in the dugaria, he picked up a thick stick and called in a circle of three volunteers. A crowd gathered around the circle. The rangers left the classroom and came to watch the duel. The young boobies, playing with swords, competently stepped to the sides. Andy stood in the center of the circle, smiling contemptuously and tapping his thigh with a piece of wood. In the next moment, he tossed a handful of sand into the first opponent’s face with the toe of his boot, sharply turned to one side, gently snatched the second disciple’s sword out of his hands, and painfully poked him in the stomach with the butt end. The elf doubled over and fell to the sand. Quickly, in one fluid motion, Andy transitioned to a low stance, and the second student flew to the ground from a strong blow to the knees. If Andy had had a sword in his hands, the candidate for the Rangers would have been left without legs. The elf who got sand in his eyes fell down next to his compa
nions from a blow to the forehead. The experienced fighters appreciated the man’s skill and smiled approvingly. Andy rejoiced internally. He had arranged the whole show just for the experienced rangers. Young people always take their lead from their senior comrades, and very much depended on how they behaved with the mentor-shkas. The soldiers expressed their approval of the new trainer’s methods. The dissatisfied rumble in the ranks of the young candidates came to naught. There were no fools among them; they didn’t want to get a stick on the forehead. From that moment on, the elves took all the tutor’s tricks with the serenity of elephants. Respect for the elders is highly developed among the long-eared tribe, and Andy was able to prove himself worthy of respect. All issues totally disappeared by themselves. For two days, he rode the youth into the ground. Today he was asked to work with the “old men.”
“Enough indulging in memories,” Andy thought, snapping back into the present. “Time’s pressing. It’s not good to keep yourself waiting.” Andy dove into the river and carefully rubbed himself with swamp root. A few minutes later, he raced to the taiga reservoir.
The beach met him with a lively hum and new faces. Well well, what kind of ladies are these?
