Crown of Horns

by Alex Sapegin

  “Mistress!” Irran ran towards them from the camp. “The Great Mother is in contact! She immediately demands to speak to you and Her Ladyship!”

  Andy dismissed the princess. With a flick of his fingers, he freed Renat and Torvir from their bonds.

  “Do not jerk,” he said to the dragons.

  * * *

  “The emperor received permission to march his troops unimpeded through the Principalities of Wirr and Archen. While we were waiting for his legions in the north and east, imperial diplomats were secretly negotiating with the southern princes. Hazgar deceived both me and the prince. He managed to enlist the support of Lord Archen, who has been promised one-third of your father’s land in exchange for his support, princess.”

  “And will Wirr,” the ruler grinned, “get my foothills too? Hazgar is very generous.”

  “The imperial army is on the march?” Ilirra asked, going pale.

  The Great Mother shook her head sadly:

  “They are already on the border of the principality. Hazgar gave command over to his son. An hour ago, the emperor’s dragons burned Sardat.”

  “Sardat is a trade town. It has never had large garrisons! What was the purpose of destroying a defenseless population?!” Ania cried, sobs in her throat.

  “Intimidation…. Hazgar used Sardat as a deterrent, a hint that there will be no mercy,” Andy said quietly. He felt worse. He could barely keep on his feet. The union with another body left an imprint. His head was dizzy from the loss of blood; he saw little spots swimming before his eyes. The illusiogram rippled. The image turned into a thin strip and disappeared. “What happened?” Andy turned to Irran.

  “The imperial mages are jamming us. They are somewhere nearby.”

  “The virk is completed,” the dragoness said firmly, glancing at Andy. She took a few steps back, changed hypostasis, grabbed the ambassador in her front paws, and took off into the sky.

  * * *

  “It’s a shame I can’t see Ania,” Andy thought, hugged as he was against Ilirra’s wide breastplates of a rich emerald color. “I wonder what color her scales are?”

  The small herd of dragons, making their way with synchronous flaps of their wings, flew westward. Rare observers, far below, were amazed at the strange load in the paws and on the backs of the ancient monsters. It wasn’t every day you could see the Lords of the Sky carrying people, or, what was previously considered impossible, Miur.

  Rivers and rare settlements or outposts rushed under Ilirra’s light green belly. The continuous carpet of the forest spread out over the entire visible area. Carefully spinning in the tight grip of her clawed paws, Andy settled himself more comfortably and, for lack of anything better to do, undertook to analyze the events of the last few minutes.

  The picture was interesting. The princess’ action was unexpected. Her impulsiveness and behavior screamed youth. Ilirra was young, very young, by dragon standards, not far from kindergarten. Her second hypostasis and age of only three hundred years gave her a pass for some rash steps. But Gray would have thought twice, maybe even three times before picking someone up in his paws. Andy would never take any load in his front paws. The burden would become an insurmountable hindrance if he needed to use magic. Some spells required free hands; without them, throwing a fireball and activating many other weaves were impossible, as the direction of magical movement of the structure was determined by the hands or paws. Flying over obviously dangerous territory, Ilirra deprived herself of the ability to enact a rapid attack and limited her own defense. The landing was a problem too. Now the dragon would have to land using a long run on her hind legs; the front ones were occupied by the Miur. They say cats have nine lives, but he would have to wait and see how she did during the very tricky maneuver. Hopefully, this was not the first time she carried a passenger in her paws.

  The passenger, lulled by the measured swinging of the wings, built a guard cocoon around himself and plunged into settage. While there was free time, he had to bring his body into relative order. Andy examined himself, adjusted some energy channels, and then turned to the outer shell. A few seconds was enough to realize the gravity of the situation: the puppet’s time left alive was rapidly decreasing. An attentive examination revealed the cause of weakness and generally poor condition.

  Andy opened his eyes and looked down at the winged shadows running along the green crowns. Somewhere among the group was the creature who spoiled his health. The parasite interweave found in the puppet’s blood was distinguished by its jewelry-like work and the gracefulness of execution. Not long ago, thinking about magic and analyzing the work of local magicians, he came to the conclusion that thin weaving was not popular here. The spell cast on him proved the opposite. Someone in the dragon company was able to weave a weightless lace, so imperceptible that he did not feel its initial impact, and now it was too late to do anything. If he were a real Miur, it would not be difficult to cope with the magic infection, but the body of the were-dragon inside the puppet did not leave a single chance for the artificial shell. The dragon’s natural immunity, like a mirror, deflected all attacks of the curse from itself, returning the cocoons that budded from the parasite to the external shell body, which was already weakened by the wound and the effect of the foreign hypostasis hidden inside. The result was a double blow, killing the “Miur” Anrisha better than any sword. The unknown assassin had planned for her to die in three or four days, but in real life, it was less than half a day. Dark gray spots appeared on the site where the left arm used to be. Swiftly spread out in all directions like a cancerous tumor, the necrosis that began at the tip of the stump was spurring the process on like a charioteer. Basically, it really sucked. Somewhere alongside him an enemy was hiding, striking at one of the key figures of the envoy. The Great Mother said that the virk was initiated with several goals, and achieving at least one of them justified the campaign. The princess’ detachment was a hodge-podge team. He couldn’t exclude the possibility that there could be a secret agent of the forces working under Hazgar’s wing. And so it was. The Miur ruler’s ambassador did not fit into the political alignment; Hazgar’s henchmen couldn’t allow the rapprochement of the parties and union of Prince Ora and the Great Mother. The unfortunate puppet was collateral damage.

  Ilirra started flying lower. Andy, as far as possible, twisted his neck and glanced at the approaching small town. The road flashed by, blocked with carts and levitated cargo platforms. Thousands of people were moving along the slopes and trails. Many human figures were burdened with trunks and bales; women carried babies. In the gaps between the trees, horse-drawn hasses and troxes galloped. According to the characteristic coloring of the riders’ clothing, the experienced gaze recognized Forest Elves. The mass of people was heading towards the city. A military march was moving towards it. Hundreds of small figures swarmed on the peaks cleared from vegetation surrounding the settlement. Without switching to true vision, he could see the strongest haze of interweaves of magical constructions. The city was preparing for defense.

  Upon seeing the dragons, people and elves left the carts and rushed in all directions, trying to hide under the crowns of trees. The soldiers in the army line acted differently. They gathered in a circle and put up shields. A couple dozen mages were located in the center of the circle. On the outer perimeter, several weapons bearers instantly installed heavy gunners on special racks. Apparently, the parade of refugees and the city had already undergone an enemy raid. The reaction to the air-borne danger spoke for itself.

  Ilirra was beating her wings fast and hovered in the air. She unclasped her front paws. Andy did not have time to be frightened, as he was caught by a black male. The image of the emblem of the principality flashed brightly before the princess. The warriors, who were standing in a defensive construction, lowered their shields. Several dozen people separated from the detachment of troops, who cleared a decent section of the road from the carts and platforms in a couple of minutes. The dragoness went to lan
d.

  * * *

  “What do you mean it does not work?!” the princess cried. “When will it be working?”

  “In five or six hours.”

  “What were you looking at?”

  “At the sky,” a small wrinkled old man answered the dragoness. “When five imperial ‘vultures’ are circling over the city and firing at the houses from gunners, you look at the sky and fire back with whatever you can.” Ilirra frowned. She was insulted by the comparison. “If that would make any difference,” the mage finished quietly. Despite his bodily dryness, the old man sported a bright aura which testified to his powerful magical potential. “The dragons flew upon us suddenly. They came out of nowhere, and in the next moment, the northern barracks of guards shot up, but the Imperials killed the griffons in three minutes. It’s good that we were warned about possible provocations and managed to put up a shield over the center of the city. The raid could have had more devastating consequences, and then the legionaries arrived in time… We extinguished the fires quickly, but we could not save the portal.”

  “But how could the Imperialists have gotten to the portal? It is in a fortress!” The princess would not calm down.

  “They did not. In order to destroy the suspension towers along the perimeter, all they had to do was throw a couple of discharge arrestors at the edge of the city. They blew up and released so much mana that the portal contours began to lose their coordination, and the towers fell,” a lieutenant spoke up in place of the mage. He was the commander of the regiment that met them at the city gates. “We do have extra tower components on hand, but it will take time to install and check them.”

  “Alright,” Ilirra said, “we will wait.”

  Andy, holding Milla’s arm, listened to the princess’ squabbles with the leaders of the free city of Libr. The news was bad. Little was left of the stationary portal. They would not be able to make a quick exit from the borderlands or contact the Great Mother. Imperial raiders had thrown a lot of “jammers” into the surrounding forests—artifacts that create insurmountable obstacles for magical communication. The city council sent a dozen detachments to search for and neutralize the annoying “guests,” but no one could guarantee that the Imperialists would not repeat the raid and fill the neighborhood with a new portion of “gifts.” And time was flowing like water. He called Irran over.

  “Irran, please rent a room in a hotel.”

  “I do not think we will find even a single place with vacancy. Milady, you saw the refugees flooding the city with your own eyes. Where have they all come from?”

  “I do not know, but I think the Great Mother could shed light on the subject.” Irran looked at the ambassador with a surprised expression. “Most of the refugees are Forest Elves, and where did they live?”

  “In the Mellorny groves in the foothills,” Irran answered. Andy nodded.

  “Now imagine what will happen to the groves if the Imperials and our external guard start magical combat. How many fireballs were launched against the orc regiment? The gorge of Singing Waters has been burned up like dry hay in an oven, and what will happen when they start firing at the settlements? The elves do not have the necessary number of magicians to build protective domes of the required power. With massive bombardment, no artifacts or accumulators will help.”

  “If it is as you say, how were the ‘vultures’ able to fly over Miur territory?” the princess turned to him. “Why were they not shot down?”

  “That is just it. I am not sure…,” Andy said, almost using the male form of grammar, but then correcting himself, “...that the attackers were indeed Imperials. It is entirely possible that similar attacks were carried out on all nearby cities that have stationary portal sites. The prince has enough internal enemies and pro-imperialists in Ora. Now they had a fine reason to curry favor and trap a certain careless dragoness. They could have put on anything they liked and painted it to look like the ‘vultures’’ armor, then retreated under the cover of a curtain of invisibility to hide which way they came from. Fear and panic after the bombing are provided.”

  “What made you think that the attackers were not Imperials, Milady?” the lieutenant asked Andy.

  “It was because I counted over two dozen patrol circuits over the city, and none of them, according to your story, worked. How is that possible? Or do not your mages change the frequency of the control interweave, so that it can be faked in five to ten minutes?”

  “They change it four times a day. Are you saying that there is a traitor in the magistrate?”

  “Yes, that is what I am saying. Someone gave the attackers the ‘keys’ to the guarded perimeter. Counting the time it took to hand them over, activate them and get out, we can safely conclude that the attackers were from the inside and had no relation to the imperial army.”

  Ilirra was a scary sight at that moment. Although her calm face and ironic expression did not betray her emotions, the colored sparks of her aura that made their way through the shields left no doubt that she was in the utmost confusion. The virk started out swimmingly and ended up a disaster. Andy did not throw out the information about the magical parasites to the princess, or the assumption of an “ill-wisher” in her retinue. That conversation would require careful treatment and a private atmosphere, but having a tête-à-tête with the dragoness would not be easy to arrange. Announce the traitor’s presence in public, and he would hide, and the chances of finding him out later were null. For now, the cretin did not suspect that the lethal interweave had been detected and a cast made from it which allowed them to discover the identity of the scoundrel. It was possible by using a simple spell, triggered by the blood of the “parent” of the curse. But if you scare the enemy, he will put some protection on or change his blood for a short time—then all efforts would be dashed.

  “I must tell my father everything, immediately,” the princess said. “How can we aid you in rebuilding the portal?”

  “You cannot,” the old mage said. “New towers are already being erected. Then they will have to be tuned; that will take no less than five hours. With all due respect to you, Your Grace, please just rest and regain your strength. I ordered ten rooms in the hotel of the magistrate to be released for you and the honorable Miur.”

  The old man bowed politely yet with dignity. The lieutenant saluted them. Ilirra bowed her head in response. The corners of her lips twitched. She was not used to this sort of address. Libr was located on the territory of Ora, but considered a free city. Its inhabitants rarely saw dragons and did not have any special reverence for the creatures. The princess’ entourage felt the lack of reverence fully.

  The princess did not go to the hotel. Instead, she went to the portal site, followed by the entire retinue. Glancing at the dragons and pausing on the slender figure of Ania, Andy shook his head. According to the cats, the sida had not changed hypostasis and flew on Renat’s back along with Milla, Irran, and Simiba. He waved his hand and pointed towards the magistrate. The old man struck him as a sane person who did not lack experience in magical affairs. If he said five hours from now, that meant it would be so, well, or nearly so. Moreover, Andy was getting worse with every minute, and rest was just necessary.

  “Milady, are you alright?” Milla asked sympathetically, looking him in the eyes.

  Alright? Do I look alright?? I need to get out of this puppet. It won’t last, well, maybe it’ll last another twelve hours or so, but I sure won’t! The necrosis was affecting the respiratory tubes; the infection had also spread to the eye nerves. He would make a good ambassador—deaf and blind.

  Three hours later, the puppet was blind in one eye and deaf in the left ear…

  “Irran, Milla, gather the ‘ghosts’ in my room,” Andy ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Irran replied and ran off to carry out the order. A few minutes later, all the Miur were gathered in the spacious room.

  Counting the cats present, Andy activated some spells and closed the apartments off f
rom peeping and eavesdropping. He formed an impenetrable smoky shroud along the walls and a hung a curtain of silence which cut off all the noise from the inside, but still allowed them to hear what was going on outside.

  “Mistress, why such precautions?” asked the healer.

  “Because I am not a mistress but a master, and they call me Andy,” Andy answered. The Miur gasped simultaneously. Anrisha’s ribs trembled violently in her chest cavity. A deep tear appeared by itself and spread downward. The ribs split apart with a loud crack and out stepped Andy, in all his naked glory. “Now listen to me carefully.” Several of the “ghosts” recognized him as the mage that had danced with the spellcasters of the elements. The puppet’s ribs snapped back into place. The bloody scar sealed itself up, bottom to top, and the puppet fell lifelessly to the floor. “As you have guessed, I am the real envoy. I will be commanding you starting now.”

  The felines said nothing. Milla kept looking at the body on the floor and then at Andy and back.

  Someone banged on the door.

  “Milady Anrisha, her grace summons you,” Renat’s voice said. “The mages have fixed the portal!”

  Andy looked at the ceiling….

  * * *