Crown of Horns

by Alex Sapegin

  “Do not dare!” Ilirra snapped out of her trance. “Do not you dare, you cur!”

  “And she loves you. The ancients were right: love deprives the mind. Targ, a melodrama from the theater!” Andy switched to Alat. “Now I will cry, a villain and two lovers. No, two villains, the rest are white and fluffy. My uncle is a fine fellow. He found the key to controlling this moron. I respect him; he knows how to achieve his goal.”

  “Uncle?” Ruigar’s eyes widened.

  How about that! The governor fluttering on in Alat?

  “Is Hazgar your uncle?” repeated Ruigar in Alat.

  That’s it... I’ll have to kill the fool personally, although I’m no better….

  * * *

  Ruigar looked at his captor with half-veiled eyelids. He did not expect that a strange shkas would suddenly speak in one of the languages that was spoken among the southern peoples of the neighboring planet three thousand years ago, or that he would blurt out such shocking news. He did not risk anything, giving away his knowledge of the language from another planet. Death at the hand of the prince’s executioners or death from a shot by the Miurs’ gunners were no different. Both lead to Manyfaces’ palace. The terrible torture, which disconnecting the sensitivity of his nerve fibers did not soothe, left no doubt about his own destiny. They would send him straight to the other side. The dragon saw the strange magical fetters of Ilirra and Ania shift as they moved, as Ilirra tried to break free. The emperor’s name, pronounced in an unfamiliar language, made them stand like a row of hunting rixes. Ania was thinking about something. The way she looked at the tormentor, he could tell the sida had come to some conclusions, but she did not rush to voice them. The tormentor himself stared at the governor with his unblinking blue eyes and was silent. The cold spilling around him became uncomfortable. Uncomfortable—that’s putting it lightly.

  In another place and under other circumstances, Ruigar would have enjoyed talking with the blue-eyed impostor. He had already used an incredibly interesting magical interweave to capture the retinue and the governor. The concise, extremely cost-effective in terms of mana spell, which was exactly down to the last nodal point, was not consistent with any known magical school, which in itself was strange. The magic shackles held a surprise, hidden within the rune scheme. Any attempt to free oneself from the invisible fetters made them stronger and stronger. An energy source scheme embedded in the structure of the interweave drained mana from counter-spells, redirecting it to reinforce the spell. Ruigar, trying to break the magical chains with a direct impulse, nearly choked from the tightened cocoon, which squeezed him until his ribs crunched. No more attempts were made to free himself. The princess’ retinue faced the same difficulties. The dragons jerked for a few minutes behind the villain sitting on the wooden box, but, once they realized that the fetters only grew stronger, they quit their useless struggles.

  The governor turned cautiously to his left side. The shackles did not interfere, which was good. His chest was already numb from lying on the hard stone. From the moment he was captured, it took quite a long time for him to overcome the shock and try to somehow turn the situation in his favor. He needed to find the connection between the shkas and the cat people. Their unquestioning obedience to the non-human was no less strange than his magic. At first, Ruigar thought the Miurs were bewitched and under a submission spell, but an examination with true vision did not reveal any magic clamp or leash on the warriors that would control their minds. The version about live puppets did not materialize, which means that there was something else. Logic dictated the only correct conclusion: the pride was transferred under the command of the freak by the order of the Great Mother. The “ghosts” did not obey anyone else. Even the ruler’s daughters could not give orders to the formidable soldiers. Immediately, there was a blatant trampling of the felines’ ancient traditions: carrying out the orders of a scoundrel. The phrase about the emperor put everything in its place. The white cat got out of her funk and started a big game, but she was sadly mistaken: the emperor would never allow an unplanned grafting of a branch onto the family tree. All the emperor’s nephews and nieces were accounted for, right up to the seventh tribe. Where would another one come from? The old fool had decided to release another “liberator” into the world, even found a suicidal dolt for the role of the nephew. She should have come up with a “granddaughter,” too, for all the good it would do her! Interesting: did she tell the new “relative” the story of the last self-styled Jagirra, or did she omit the details? Hazgar was a master of coming up with painful executions. The dragon was dying for a long, long time….

  “How do you know Alat?” the shkas said, finally reviving. Ruigar wanted to say something smart, but, assessing the look on the shkas’ face, thought the better of it. The “nephew’ was not as simple as he seemed. He very well could have convinced the Great Mother of his claims; maybe it was not worth hurrying with the disclosure of the linguistic map. “It seems. I. Asked. A question?” the shkas repeated, separating each word.

  Ruigar, carefully rolling on his back, glanced at the executioner and froze motionless. Narrow yellow pupils erupted in the freak’s blue eyes. A series of scales broke through on the right cheek, and the pads of the fingers became decorated with sharp black claws half a finger long. With some sixth sense, the governor realized that lying was inappropriate; Death itself was looking at him. A few seconds ago, he was dealing with a magical mutant who was too big for his britches. Now, he was a dangerous, angry dragon, who had thrown off the mask of a simpleton. Perhaps, the Great Mother was right after all. There was something in the dragon, who stood up from the box, which made him treat him with all due respect and piety. Ruigar felt his back freeze to the icy stones. The “nephew” leaned over him and whispered ominously:

  “I do not advise lying or keeping silent. You will regret it.”

  The governor, who had lived more than one thousand years, felt the sticky tentacles of fear growing out of the unknown depths of his subconsciousness, taking possession of him. The terror that seized him was akin to the horror he experienced two fivers ago. The emperor was so persuasive in his words that it was impossible not to believe the threats. It seemed that no one could be more convincing, but life proved that this was incorrect. The impostor could turn out to be a real nephew because he could instill fear do no worse, if no better, than his crowned relative. A family trait, so to speak.

  “I was born on Ilanta.” Ruigar barely pushed the words through his squeezed throat.

  “Go on, I am listening carefully.”

  “My father and mother lived far to the south. My parents were studying the Alatites. I was with them, the language of the savages was not difficult to learn….”

  “What wind brought you to Nelita?”

  “Thirty years before the war, my father was invited to work at the capital’s university….”

  * * *

  The devil was not as scary as he was being portrayed. The governor could be called a fellow countryman. To some extent, the situation had become clear. It was just that circumstances pitted Andy against the connoisseur of the languages of another planet. He should remember this and say nothing for now. How many of these “countrymen” were fluttering around Nelita, and who was counting them? He found one—there might be others.

  Stopping the mental impact on the high-ranking prisoner, he leaned his elbows on his knees, put his chin on his hands, and thought hard. Thoughts, thoughts…. Andy massaged his temples. He was in up to his eyeballs now. How sick he was of spy games! The Great Mother, the Eldest, the Emperor, the princess, the governor, Ania—they were all weaving their personal webs. Navigating the sea of political intrigues had zapped his energy. He was fed up!

  “Maybe you will melt the ice?” Ruigar coughed, frozen to the pavement.

  “You will suffer,” Andy answered, glancing sideways at Irran, rushing from the wide portal site. “What now?” he asked the cat.

  “Milla says someone is en
tering the settings of an exit point for the beacon signal of our portal. Whoever they are, they are opening a spatial passage!”

  “Get away from the portal, everyone, now! Shelter the prisoners! Take up defense at the outer walls!” The warriors immediately moved the retinue behind the five-foot-thick stone parapet near the south wall. “To battle!”

  At the same time as he gave the last order, he covered the prisoners with several shields. The Miur got down from the walls and occupied the sheltered positions they’d determined in advance. Irran had assumed there could be a situation where the enemy breaks through the portal, so she in advance determined the boundaries of defense. They should have killed the governor….

  The space between the two portal frames turned into a ripple. It filled with a bright light and seemed to burst. Ahead of the humans, a detachment of dozens of metal golems with the coats of arms of the Principality of Ora on their chest jumped out onto the portal platform. Andy raised his left hand, gesturing to cancel the order to immediately open fire. Following the golems, people began to come out from the open throat of the portal; dragons appeared after the people.

  “Targ! It is a good thing we did not start firing,” he said to Irran, looking at the dragons emerging from the portal. The tribesmen were dressed in a sort of armor that covered their wide breastplates, but this was not the main thing. A protective block was inserted into each metal plate of the dragon armor. In magical vision, the armor sparkled like a cut diamond crystal. It was completely impossible to break such armor, except maybe by a shot from one of the fortress chuckers, and even so, no guarantee. The new characters, taking up the defense, competently distributed themselves around the palace square. The golems put up a multi-layered protective field.

  “Shawars!”10 cursed Irran.

  “Shawars,” Andy repeated, following the cat’s lead.

  Tearing through the thin film of space compressed by magic, fifty “ghosts” stepped onto the pavement in heavy armor that covered their entire bodies. Watching the incoming troops, he almost missed two characteristic claps from the newly opened portals. One passage opened in the center of the city, the second behind the city walls.

  “I do not understand,” said Irran, looking at the second squadron of cats appearing in the square, rolling out magomechanical constructions that most resembled artillery guns and anti-aircraft devices.

  “What is not to understand?” Andy went out into the open space, levitated the wooden box over to himself, and sat down on it. “Have you ever heard the saying about eggs and baskets? The rule that forbids storing all one’s eggs in one basket?”

  “No.”

  “Well, now you have heard it,” he answered the kitty cat, with a wave of his hand removing the shields from the princess’ retinue and deactivating their bonds. Only Ruigar remained bound hand and foot.

  “One word and you are a rotting corpse!” The governor nodded. “And here are the distinguished guests!” said Andy, feeling incredible fatigue descend upon him. The busy day had drunk up all his strength; he could hear his heart pumping blood through his veins.

  Illusht appeared on the site, surrounded by bodyguards. Beside her, a mighty emerald dragon stepped cautiously.

  “Father!” Ilirra jumped to her feet.

  “What did you say about eggs?” Ania approached Andy. She had taken advantage of the commotion and running around.

  “There is a rule that says do not store all one’s eggs in one basket. The Great Mother wisely followed it, sending two embassy detachments to the prince, one of which from the very beginning played the role of bait. Can you guess which? And why are you all of a sudden switching back to the formal address with me?”

  “I do not know who you are really,” Ania quipped.

  “Even so,” Andy said, standing up from his makeshift seat. “I thought you guessed everything.”

  “I can arbitrarily build various assumptions about your person, but will my guesses be correct?”

  Andy could not comprehend what the conversation was or what Ania was trying to achieve. His head refused to think at all. He had to sleep. An hour would be good, but two would be better. Otherwise, he would collapse in the middle of the city and fall asleep on the pavement.

  “No respect,” came a booming bass behind his back.

  “Oh!” squeaked Ania.

  “You have not earned it!” Andy snapped, turning to the prince. The dragon released two streams of thick smoke from his nostrils in surprise. “Irran, follow me.”

  “Where are you going?” Illusht was taken aback.

  “To sleep!!!”

  “What do you mean, sleep?” The prince and the princess could have competed in a variety show with a synchronous speech duet act.

  “It is when you lie down, close your eyes, and stay motionless and quiet for a while!”

  Andy turned sharply on his heels, clicked his boots with his heels and headed toward the fortress gates. Ahead of him and behind him, Irran’s “ghosts” instantly lined up in rows. The cats went with activated protective amulets and weapons ready to fight. The prince twisted his neck inquiringly and turned towards the Miur princess. She jerked her tail and showed the commander of her “ghosts” an open palm, with a brief gesture stopping the detachment which was ready to punish the impudent man. The emerald dragon, restraining his fury, released a second stream of smoke from his nostrils. The guard dragons, armed with hefty fire-starters, remained standing motionless. For the prince’s subjects and bodyguards, it remained a mystery why he didn’t fire a long tongue of flame at the person who had crossed the line. Ora threw a questioning glance at Ania, who watched the detachment retreat behind the gates with unconcealed sadness on her face.

  “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Illusht bowed ceremoniously, “for the conduct and manner of Her Majesty’s ambassador.”

  “Yes,” the dragon struck the ground with his tail. “The Great Mother could teach him a couple of lessons in how to treat the crowned heads…. What did you, your highness, mean by calling that impudent boy an ambassador?”

  Illyusht nervously twitched her triangular ears:

  “The Great Mother gave this impudent man her Voice.”

  “A human?!” The prince of Ora choked with surprise.

  “It is not that simple,” Ania approached the ruler.

  “He is a dragon, Your Grace.” Ora stared at Illusht. The miur nodded, confirming the sida’s words.

  “So, what else do I need to know?” the ruler asked, waving his wings, not addressing anyone in particular. “And who will tell me what happened here?” he asked, bending over Ruigar in his impenetrable magical cocoon. “Daughter, you do not want to tell me anything?”

  * * *

  “Spread yourselves out,” Andy shouted at the warriors as soon as the detachment left the gates of the fortress. “In a dense formation, you are a very good target. Three in the avant-garde, three in cover, watch the flanks and roofs of the houses. You never know when someone might catch us, as we caught Renat.”

  The city, when viewed from the height of a small hill on which the fortress with the portal was located, resembled a ravaged anthill. From the bright archway of the portal illuminating the outskirts, live rivers of troops flowed toward the central gates of the city wall. Dragons flew out one by one. Covered in dark visual curtains, platforms with heavy weapons swam out of the arc, around which fortifications were immediately built. Soldiers pressed refugees and city residents to the walls of the houses, who had come to gaze at the prince’s army. Like a flock of crows, dozens of dragons circled above the second portal, which opened between the hills on which the lieutenant’s assistant mounted the resonator. There was no way to see what was happening there. After the artificial earthquake, a dusty haze hung in the air.

  “Sir,” after giving the necessary instructions, Irran went to Andy, “where are we going?”

  “To the hotel. I really do need a couple of hours of sleep. That dying p
uppet really exhausted me.”

  “?!” The cat woman tilted her head to her right shoulder.

  “I was one with her,” he explained to the warrior, who nodded understandingly.

  “Why did you not stay with the prince?” Irran decided on a third question.

  Andy stopped. The rest of the cats stood beside him as mute statues. The “ghosts” did not show their interest in the question with a single gesture or glance, but the auras that blazed in different colors gave them away. Until the very last moment, the elite soldiers did not believe they would leave the fortress alive. They were prepared to defend their commander to the last drop of blood, cursing his language and manners in their souls…

  “No reason to. Nothing would have changed. The emperor outplayed the prince and the Great Mother.”

  “Hmm,” the feline said incredulously in reaction to his last sentence. “So that is why you did not kill the governor?”

  Andy looked attentively at the commander of the “ghosts.” She was very keen. Smart girl, but too many questions…

  “Irran, do not you think you are asking a few irrelevant questions?”

  “No.” The girl was not at all embarrassed. “In following you, we made our choice.” Now it was Andy’s turn to wonder. “In the presence of Her Highness, we have listened to you. Now none of us has a way back, and that is not because the Great Mother called you her Voice. We owe you for saving our lives—twice. Rimas entrusted you with her honor, we have trusted you with our lives.”

  The “kitties” had taken upon themselves a debt of blood. Cool... and stupid. A thoughtless decision. From now on, they were connected to him until his death, and he could not change the cats’ decision with any words. When did they find the time, by the way? Andy blushed to the very tips of his ears. Well done, Irran, you really poked my face in the mud. Sobering, however! Honor and life, Targ take them. That’s not a lot of responsibility for me or anything…. But the commander’s words left a pleasant warm trace somewhere deep in his soul. These girls would never betray him.