The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series)

Cover The Road to Magic The Road to Magic (First book in The Way of the Demon Series) by Alexey Glushanovsky The Road to Magic THE ROAD TO MAGIC All Rights Reserved 2012 by Alexey Glushanovsky No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher. Published by Alexey Glushanovsky The Road to Magic Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue The Road to Magic

Chapter One
A Difficult Morning Oleg Davidov woke up and solemnly promised himself that from now on he would follow the path of virtue. Last nights battle with the green snake of alcohol had left a considerable number of slain bodies scattered in the most varied positions on the floor of the none-toolarge, three-student apartment. The bodies only had one thing in common: the strong stench of alcohol. The two beds in the room next to Olegs were occupied by couples of different sexes. Well, Oleg thought, smirking, Sanya and Lyokha have got themselves nice warm bedfellows but Ive screwed up again. He began to get up but felt something blocking him. On closer examination, that something turned out to be a girls delicate hand, meticulously manicured, draped over his neck. Turning in astonishment, Oleg found a splendid blonde head decorating his pillow. By straining his brain to its absolute limit, he managed to remember her name. Marina, he said out loud. The creature grunted, sighed and opened its eyes. Hi! What time is it? Eleven. That early? Then Ill sleep a bit more, drawled the girl, and lowered her lids again. Mmhmm, Oleg said to himself as he got up. We sure celebrated hat exam. *** At nineteen, Oleg Vladimirovich Davidov was a typical example of the species studiozus vulgaris (Ordinary student) and was a third year philosophy student. Tall, good looking and well-built, his slightly harsh facial features gave him an advantage in one of the two traditional student sports chasing skirts. His blue eyes and very fair, almost platinum hair gave some of the captured skirts reason to call him the blond beast. Oleg was offended when someone likened him to a German, and each time it happened he would proudly trace his Slavic ancestors back as far as Denis Vasilevich Davidov, a hero of the 1812 War. Nor did Oleg shirk the second traditional student sport drinking at which, despite his zealous training, he was unable to shine; in spite of his best efforts, he kept his good posture, assured after four years of karate training, and displayed a total absence of a beer belly. In the breaks between these arduous tasks he read sci-fi and fantasy, and tried not to miss lectures.

However, he had another pastime, too, and although he didnt exactly try to hide it, he at least tried not to advertise it-- he dabbled in magic. Not the psychic, charlatan stuff that legions of black or white or sky-blue-pink-and-yellow-spotted magicians, wizards and witches on the lookout for the bulging purses of gullible citizens promised to teach. No, Oleg was interested in ancient magic rituals, tarot, runic divinations, using futark, (the Scandinavian runic alphabet) for magical purposes, and such like. Hed even had a certain degree of success. Good grades in many subjects, for instance, like this last exam, had recently become the norm. It was all because, not that long ago, in the vast reserves of the university library which Oleg had access to thanks to Lena, his former classmate, one time heart-throb and good friend he had found The Book. It had a long and boring eighteenth century title, which took up most of the front page, so for Oleg it had immediately become, simply, The Book. And a very, very strange Book it was. Firstly, its title beginning: The spectral Book, the crafts of the dead was executed in an ancient script and was generally in keeping with its ancient appearance and the time-yellowed paper on which it was printed. The text inside, however, was almost modern. Secondly, it wasnt listed in any catalogues, which was highly unusual. Thirdly, taking into account its extremely ancient appearance, it was hard to understand why it wasnt kept with the rare books but was gathering dust in the librarys reserve room. It was a collection of ancient magical rituals and spells with notes on how they should be correctly used, together with a short description of the results. After having performed one of them, the description of which seemed the most innocent to Oleg, he became aware of new abilities in himself. For instance, his runic divinations, which had previously produced no results, had become much more reliable, almost one hundred percent accurate. Furthermore, considerably inebriated, he had once succeeded in lighting a cigarette without the help of either a lighter or matches, but just by exercising his will. However, he had not been able to repeat this achievement when sober. By trial and error he had learned how to tell which exam question would fall to him, and now he was exploiting his new abilities to the full. Nevertheless, Oleg never tired of marvelling at the fact that the ritual which had increased his powers at reading Scandinavian runes and European tarot cards was clearly a variation of a Hindu ritual of fire worship. Though admittedly, there were differences. The most striking was the replacement of the Hindu god of fire, Agni, by a certain lady named Clear Flame, who, judging from the details of her invocation, was a rather attractive colleague of Agni. It was soon after Oleg had preformed this ritual that exams started, so today Oleg made his way to the universitys main complex, which housed the library to look up something else which might prove interesting and come in handy.

*** Engaged in his favourite occupation, Oleg didnt notice how time was flying. But after four hours of careful reading, having all but reached the end of The Book, he was disappointed. His thorough study had not uncovered anything suitable. The rituals described in the Book were either too technically complex, or the results were of absolutely no use whatsoever. OK, he mused, bent over the next description. Lets say I manage to talk a couple of guys and three or four girls into an orgy during the full moon in an oak stand on the slope of a hillbut just where am I supposed to find that oak stand on the slope of a hill, and how am I supposed to explain to the lads and lasses that they cant drink vodka and beer but only light wine, and even then they have to pour more than half of it into little hollows in the ground? Theyd bury me in those same little hollows for suggesting such a thing, and keep the booze. But most of all: what the hell do I want with kindly Brias, the goat-herder, and his magical method for warding wolves away from goats and sheep! Then theres this ritual which gives you the ability to sense precious metals, gems and artificially created cavities under the earth. Now that would come in really handy, but you have to get hold of quite impossible ingredients. Dragons vertebra or a river horses hair, Oleg mused, wouldnt be too hard. After all there were plenty of fossilized dinosaur vertebrae in the vaults of the paleontological museum where hed worked last summer, and no-one would notice if one went missing. The hippos hair was easy, too. A hippo named Diamond who lived in the municipal zoo was known to be calm and good-humoured, and for one or two treats, he would gladly let himself be stroked, so getting one of his hairs didnt pose a problem. But where, pray tell, where in this world could you find such a mythical thing as a lock of hair from a virgin actress, the saliva of a truthful lawyer or a drop of blood from an honest politician? And so with the sure knowledge that he would never find a way to lay his hands on such rare ingredients, Oleg reluctantly gave up the idea of getting rich by searching out hidden treasures. He was just about to leave, having come to the sad conclusion that The Book held nothing more of use for him, when, turning the last page, he found two sheets of handwritten paper stuck to the back. On one sheet, Freedom of the Way was written in Russian in a strange angular hand, and below that were three lines of runes similar to the Scandinavian. Oleg examined the piece of paper carefully. He knew the ancient Scandinavian alphabet pretty well; he could read it and even had a smattering of vocabulary, thanks to some study and a general flair for languages. But this manuscript was very different from anything he had seen before. There was a kind ofincorrectnessincompleteness about the words written in runes which made it impossible to concentrate on them, impossible to read or even take a

good look at them. Oleg turned the sheet of paper this way and that trying to decipher the text, but the meaning slipped through his fingers like a wriggling minnow in the hands of an inexperienced fisherman. Oleg focussed his attention more and more on the unyielding sheet, as if falling into some kind of meditation. The world around him moved away, a grey twilight curtained off the bookshelves, and the window with the jolly, sunny town beyond it disappeared. But the obstinate sheet of paper didnt give itself up. Ill have to start reading aloud, letter by letter, pronouncing each rune separately and then construct the words from memory. E-r-r-i-m, no, no. E-r-r-u-m gkh-a-r-a-shti What sort of a language was it? No clue. But it sure wasnt Scandinavian. So then why was it written in runes? Suddenly a flicker of ginger flame flashed before Olegs eyes, and at once everything disappeared. The electric lights went out, but visibility didnt diminish. An even, yellowy glow lit up the empty library. A dull greenish luminescence wrapped around the books on the shelves. When Oleg looked around he could see waves of orange, blue and violet flames pulsating on him. He remembered that something similar had happened before. That time, at Seriogas dacha, he had seen that glimmering flame which reminded him of a womans face, and the cigarette in his hand had suddenly been lit from the casual touch of his finger. Trying to maintain that out-of-the-ordinary state, he trained his eyes on the text and, as though spell-bound, read out the lines which suddenly became clear to him. Errum gkhanash ti uvairey. Zenum ugandsh zum shaidey. Erkhabn nun zigdanshraidey! His usually soft and gentle voice took on cold and harsh tones. Thats how a crazy and triumphant north wind might sound as it blew over a frozen city; harsh and dead cruel. Through the veil covering his consciousness he clearly understood the meaning of the lines: Death is the freedom of the way. A magician is not bound to go to the dead. Find for yourself the path to tread! The mirage ended abruptly. The lights came back on and an agitated Lena rushed up to him. What happened? What do you mean? Oleg asked, feigning ignorance. He really didnt want to explain what had compelled him to read those verses in an unknown language in the middle of the library, and at the top of his voice.

It seemed like someone was reading poetry. In a, you know, really creepy voice! Really creepy! Ive got goose bumps all over. And then all the lights went out. Someone was reading here? Yeah, it was coming from here. Well, it wasnt me. Didnt you hear anything? No, nothing. But I was engrossed in reading. But the lights did go out, I saw that. Probably someone fiddling with the switches. Could be. Lena calmed down. Im so sick of this library! Now her eyes showed not fear but anger. Im going to leave. Ill work till the end of this month and thats it! Whats wrong? Oleg asked. Do they give you a hard time? No, of course not. Gazing into her hand mirror with great concentration, Lena set about fixing her makeup. Its just not a good place. No-one can work here for more than a year. Theres all kinds of weird things going on. Today, for instance, someone recited poetry and made all the lights go out. Then in the evenings the books rustle as though there were some wind, and three months ago, not long before you came waltzing in here for the first time, I even saw some sort of vision or hallucination. Its enough to drive you mad! Getting interested, Oleg began to quiz her, particularly about the hallucination, but Lena announced that she would prefer to keep the details of her madness to herself and only share them with the shrink when they locked her up in the mad house, which would most definitely happen if she didnt quit this job ASAP. Oleg didnt insist. Apart from stunning beauty and an outstanding mind, Lena was also noted for her unswerving stubbornness. He was reminded of something that had happened not all that long ago. The Aesthetics prof--a dried out, bilious woman who had taken a dislike to Lena and some of the other pretty girlswas simply hung up on dress codes. Before the exam she insisted that all the boys should come in suits and ties, and all the girls should wear formal blouses and knee-length or longer skirts. She drew particular attention to Lenas midriff, all-too exposed, in her opinion. Lena kept quiet, although she usually caused a huge fuss if anyone tried to tell her what to wear. Everyone thought shed resigned herself to it and the Sour Spinster (they often used the abbreviation of this nickname SS) thought so, too. The next day, Lena showed up for the exam in a formal blouse up to her chin and a kneelength skirt. But apart from that, she was wearing only scarlet lace G-string panties, little white socks and high-heels, and anyone who wanted could testify to that. As for the blouse and skirt, worn on the teachers orders, despite towing the line in length and cut, they stood out because they were transparent.

Lena had to resit the exam in front of the examining board, after which a little note appeared in her file: Is endowed with great aesthetic taste and is not afraid to show it. Its not hard to guess that the examining board was made up of men, some of whom had had the good fortune to witness her dmarche with Sour Spinster. With this story in mind, Oleg didnt insist that Lena tell him about her hallucination but asked instead how he could help. The girls answer came instantly: as a gentleman, it was his duty to wait until she finished work, and then escort her to some place that served alcoholic drinks, to lower her stress levels. Oleg smiled to himself. This announcement meant that once again Lenas love till the day we die had ended, and she would be happy to spend some time in the company of an old friend. Well, he was far from against accepting the rules of the game, all the more so because Lena was a pretty girl. And after that? he asked. What are your plans? After all, theres lots of different ways to lower stress levels, and alcohol is not the best, by a long shot! Well see, Lena said with a mischievous wink. It depends on how you behave yourself, and where you take me. Today, I guess itll be a caf, Oleg said, and remembering his resolution that morning, added sadly, And Im just drinking fruit juice! As he said those words, SUCH universal grief was written on his face that Lena couldnt contain herself. She burst out laughing. When she was done, she inquired as to the cause for such uncharacteristic restraint. We celebrated my exam yesterday, Oleg informed her in a sad voice. And today, everything is like the old saying. Which one? Lena asked. My head aches, my pockets are empty, and a mouse has hung itself in my mouth. Oleg replied gloomily Except that in my case my livers about to walk out on me, too. So Ill have to give it a vacation. Understood, Lena smiled. So for the next few days youre a sober tee-totaller. Mmm-hmm, Oleg sighed. Maybe we can go to Ray, he added. Lena frowned, displeased. Ray was not far from the university, so it was the students favourite haunt, and for that reason alone, it didnt rank among the places one should bring a date. Recognizing his blunder, Oleg hurried to sweeten the pill. And on Friday its Deniss birthday. If you like, we can go to his party together. On hearing this, the girl brightened up. Ok, deal. Ray today, and Deniss on Friday. And with that she walked out of the room.

For a while Oleg sat in silence, wondering whether he wanted to start up a relationship with Lena again. Flighty and easily carried away, she was always rushing off after something and changed her mind seven times a week. And besides, as a friend, she was very good, and reliable. Even back at school he had valued that in her. Oleg had tried to step out of his first ranking, the category of potentials, into the category of friends, and hed managed it. But five years had passed since they first met and Lena had grown even more beautiful, so it seemed downright silly to let such a beauty go. Seeing as he hadnt managed to think up a solution, Oleg decided to put himself in the hands of fate. Wherever life took him, so be it. Having made such a momentous decision, he leaned back over the table and began examining the second sheet of paper. Written in the same angular handwriting already familiar to him, he made out three incomprehensible words, written in Russian letters this time, with the following note below: If thou dost desire to show thine gratitude, for their support, to some powerful creature, which those who do not know often name the gods, then thine own blood shalt thou spill over the earth, a quantity fitting for thine gratitude, whereupon, having unified these words with the name of that creature, thou shalt utter them hence. On reading this, Oleg fell to thinking. He did feel a certain gratitude towards Clear Flame because it was the ritual to her which had opened up the possibility of magic for him. But on the other hand, Oleg had a healthy loathing of the sight of blood, all the more so if it was his blood No, definitely not. He would not willingly chop off his own arm and watch the blood flow over the earth; he clearly didnt have the stomach for that. And so he made up his mind to hold off expressing his gratitude until the next time he cut himself badly, learning the spell by heart just in case. *** The expedition to the caf went not too badly. The outcome of their shared drink (cherry juice for Oleg and wine for Lena, which raised a few eyebrows with the waiter) was the decision to postpone any other anti-stress techniques to Friday, when they got back from the birthday party at their mutual friend Deniss place. In the opinion of the participants of this high-level talk, after such an epochal event (Denis knew how to throw a party and loved to do so) they would be drunk enough to attempt jumping into the same river twice. Having made this decision and exchanged innocent kisses on the cheek, they went their separate ways. The Road to Magic

Chapter Two
Crossing the knifes edge The three days flew by quickly and Friday had come round. As he was getting ready for the party, Oleg thought long and hard about taking his guitar with him. It was, in fact, a tricky question. On the one hand, live music always went well at a party. And whats more, Oleg was good at playing the guitar and enjoyed it. But on the other hand, if you play the guitar you should really sing, too, and here Oleg had serious problems. Although he had a good ear for music, hed long since reconciled himself to the fact that he was definitely not endowed with a pleasant voice. Well aware of this, he preferred to simply play, leaving the singing to someone else. However, when certain people (and Denis in particular), had had a bit to drink, and begged him relentlessly, and when - as often happened - they had lubricated him with alcohol, well, those people would get what they wanted. Usually Oleg took a rather philosophical attitude to this: if people want to suffer, go ahead! But this time Oleg didnt want to perform the vocal variations of the mating cries of the baboon, as he jokingly called his singing. That was the last thing he needed; after all, Lena would be with him and the last thing Oleg wanted was to make a fool of himself. Finally he compromised: hed take the guitar, but wouldnt play much, and on no account would he sing. Having made this decision, Oleg set off for his date with Lena. *** The party was going well. Having taken quite a bit on board (alas, despite all his solemn promises) Oleg let rip and decided to repeat his trick of lighting a cigarette. To his amazement, he managed it with ease. Following a successful demonstration, opinion was divided. Half the group were curious to know where he had got hold of white phosphorous and why he was wasting it like that, and the other half asked which chemical compound produced an invisible flame, and where hed managed to hide the lighter with it. Oleg grinned and smirked, but didnt reveal his secrets. In any case, what could he say? Moreover, they did manage to convince him to sing a few songs. Contrary to all his expectations, he was not greeted with a rain of rotten fruit, but instead a few all-too kind glances from the female section of the audience convinced him that it was not as bad as he had feared. Oleg was shining. And Lenas glances, full of promise, clearly displayed that his showing off was not going unnoticed and that the second stage of the evening would be very, very interesting.

At around one a.m. the party started to wilt. Someone went out for more supplies, others had already fallen asleep, couples were kissing in corners and Oleg decided it was time to head for home. Having put on their coats, they set off in the direction of Lenas house. They had quite a long walk ahead of them, but Lena was pleasant company, and it was a warm, starry evening. Chattering away, Oleg didnt notice three skinheads whod been following them. Overtaking the couple, the gang blocked their way and one of the skinheads, who looked like a boar on steroids, grabbed Lena. Meanwhile another, obviously the ringleader, turned to Oleg suggesting he hand over any valuables and take off. Four years of regular karate practice were not in vain. Olegs accurate blow completely took out the Boar who had been holding Lena. Next Oleg ordered Lena to run, and to give her time, he took on the other two thugs. The fight was going pretty well for Oleg. Not expecting any resistance, used as they were to getting their own way, the thugs were in shock. Olegs karate training not only meant he could easily block blows from the ringleader and Spotty, as he had nicknamed the third gang member he was a tall young guy, about sixteen judging from his looks, his face covered in unbelievably huge zits - but also to counterattack sometimes, too. Olegs blows were rare after all, he had two opponents to deal with but totally convincing. After the ringleader failed to block a Kagi Tsuki his nose took on the form of a pancake and Oleg reckoned that Spottys mouth now held three teeth fewer on the left. Unfortunately, in the heat of the battle Oleg had quite forgotten about the third guy, the Boar whod been knocked out by the first blow and was taking a breather in a puddle, as a result of which his likeness to a pig beggared belief. But having rested enough in his natural element, he felt his strength returning. Pulling a cheap Chinese knife with a flick blade from his pocket, he hurled himself at Olegs back with unprintable howls. It was just at the point, when Oleg was taking out another three of Spottys teeth with a repeat Kagi Tsuki, that the Boars blow struck home. Oleg felt a sharp pain in his side and looking down, saw the plastic handle of a knife, clenched in the Boars fist. Then it disappeared, but blood appeared in its place. And there was a lot of blood. Really a lot. Bright red, it quickly soaked his clothes and flowed down, pulsating in time with his heart. Looks like an arterys been punctured, Oleg thought listlessly, slowly slumping down onto the tarmac. Having some medical knowledge, he was fully aware of the fact that he had less than a minute to live. The shadows thickened around him fast, covering the thugs, whos agitated voices he heard as though from far off, and even the stars suddenly became enormous, close, as though calling him to them. He looked at his blood, abundantly flowing out onto the tarmac, and all kinds of nonsense whirled in his head. He remembered the Book of magic,

which hed read just three days and a whole life ago, the handwritten sheets with the spell Freedom of the Way. The symbols he had read out then danced before his eyes once more and the mysterious verse rang in his head like a drum beat. Only now it no longer hid any secrets from him. Death that was the key word, that was what activated the spell. And now Oleg, on his deathbed, fully realized this. The incantation was ready like a cat by a mouse hole, the tip of a whiskered nose already poking out; it was waiting until the last second to catch the soul as it flew away and to send it off. Where to? That was what Oleg wanted to know. What worlds would he see? What would happen next? And with these memories he remembered the second sheet of paper, too. What a good moment for gratitude, he thought. Theres lots of blood now How did it go?... Ottorey mikharey liris, Clear Flame, he whispered. And as though they had been waiting for that moment, the shadows thickened and hurled themselves at him, utterly blocking his view. Then he sensed a mighty force that carefully picked him up and carried him to the very heart of the darkness, past the tunnel filling with blinding white light which suddenly appeared above his head, transporting him further, further, to a place where, amid the shadows now taking on a myriad of hues, light and joyous flame flared up. Drops of water glistened, taking on the image of little laughing grimaces, and clouds flew by like pictures in a book of goodnatured fairy tales. The gusts of wind driving them suddenly became visible, and massive boulders of amazing shapes and colours rolled around... All this was mixed up without any order whatsoever, moving around chaotically and, although at first glance it looked very attractive, it soon made Oleg tired. Oleg closed his eyes and tried to relax. After a short while, he sensed that the momentum had slowed down, and soon he came to a complete stop. And immediately heard a pleasant female voice calling him. *** That evening Tolan was planning to have a really good time. Tolan that was what they called Anatoly, the ringleader of the small band of thuggish youths. They had already chalked up several raped and mugged individuals of various sexes and ages. But so far they had got away with it all. Anatolys father held a very high position in the municipal police and he protected his son as best he could. Tolans two companions were called Semion and Vitaly, though Semion far rather preferred to be addressed by his nickname Boar, which he got thanks to his particular appearance and behaviour. As for Vitaly, no-one called him anything but Pucker. And so today Tolan was planning to have a really good time. Along with Boar and Pucker he was wandering about in search of adventure.

It was Pucker who noticed the strolling couple first. Eyeing Lena lustfully, he let fly his favourite exclamation and said in a loud whisper, to get his mates attention, Hey, look at that beauty! The three oohed and aahed. And indeed, it was a sight worth looking at. The short skirt barely covered Lenas elegant hips, which could have been carved out of white alabaster by a Greek masters hand. The slim waist, enough to rouse the envy of any model, was bare. The light top, semi-transparent, was sliding off one shoulder with erotic negligence, baring it. And the pert bust seemed to be literally bursting out of the light fabric of the top. It was as though her silky, dark hair blowing in the wind were beckoning one to touch. While they were feasting their eyes and drooling, ogling something which really deserved spectators attention, the couple disappeared round a corner. Boar was the first to come to his senses. After them! But this time their tried and tested routine fell apart. Instead of eyeing Tolans band and meekly carrying out their demands, the guy picked a fight. And whats more, he wasnt at all bad. He was lucky to knock Boar out with his first blow and Anatoly, who was used to giving the orders but never actually lifted a finger himself, had to fight along with Pucker, who was really only any good for finishing off and taunting adversaries once they had fallen. Within a few minutes of fighting, Tolan bitterly regretted going after the couple. The broad had took off and was surely phoning the cops right now, while the guy turned out to be a tough fighter. Semion was lolling around in a dirty puddle, doing full justice to his nickname, and it didnt look as though he would be able to do anything in the near future. Pucker was coughing blood mixed with shards of kicked-out teeth, and was clearly trying to figure out how he could split. Even the ringleader was hard pressed to counter the blows, trying in particular to shelter his bloody nose, and miserably trying to figure out whether it was broken or just squashed. It was most likely broken and this observation upset Anatoly considerably. All the more so as their adversary seemed practically invincible, not counting a smallish scratch on his left jaw, and he hadnt even bothered to take the guitar case off his back. (For the sake of fairness, it has to be noted that the thought had crossed Olegs mind to use the guitar as a percussion instrument, and give a jolly little whack on the heads of his attackers. He simply didnt have the time to execute this cunning plan. And it would have been a shame about the guitar) In short, Tolan was almost on the point of bowing to the best form of bravery, i.e., to run away so fast that not even light could catch him, when the situation suddenly changed dramatically.

Slowly Semion picked himself up and, swaying, stared with cloudy eyes at Olegs back. Noticing this, Tolan and Pucker doubled their efforts in the hopes of quickly getting even with this unlucky night and the loathsome tough guy. As a result they forgot about defence, and with his next blow Oleg once again made Vitaly spit out shards of his teeth. But they achieved their goal. Rolling his eyes crazily, Boar grabbed the flick knife he so often liked to wave in front of his mates, and swearing foully, he planted it in the guys side. With a short gasp, the latter slumped onto the tarmac, pressing his hand to the wound. Tolan and Vitaly stared at Boar. Under their gaze he bristled and quickly muttered: Who does he think he is? Thatll teach him! Tolan glanced at the guy. He was lying on the tarmac, a red puddle spreading swiftly around him. No, he wont. Youve killed the dude. There wont be a next time for anything for him! The gang began to panic. It was their first stiff and Anatoly remembered his fathers admonition: If you want to play around, then play around, but know the limits. If it goes as far as murder then the case will be sent to the public prosecution office and theres a few folk up there who wish me ill. You could really land yourselves in it... Now, standing over a pool of blood, he remembered another piece of his fathers advice, which he had not given any importance to previously: If youre already in it up to your neck, grab all the valuables and documents. A robbed and unidentifiable corpse, thats a run-of-themill case, might even go through as an unresolved. And its best to hide the body as far away as possible the later its found, the slimmer the chances of you being caught. It was time to cover their tracks. Drunk on adrenalin, the gang immediately set to work under Tolans keen leadership, and the one thing which made their undertaking pointless didnt so much as enter their heads: Lenas escape. She was already close to the dorm and would be calling the police, dictating where they had run into the gang, and describing the attackers. There were many tips which pointed right to them, such as the drops of blood from Tolans nose, the shards of Puckers teeth and the dirty stain on Boar, not to mention the pool of blood flowing out from Oleg. All this was more than enough to open the case, find the murderers, and put them all behind bars. But as it happens, Tolans band didnt need to know any of this. A completely different fate awaited them. When the frightened thugs made a move towards Olegs body, another force came into play, a force which Tolan, Vitaly and Semion had no inkling of. As usual, it was Pucker who smelled trouble. He let out a short squeal, leapt away to one side and screamed out in fright, pointing at the pool of blood collecting around Oleg.

What the hell? Its burning! Tolan looked up mechanically, glanced at the blood, and his hand, already poised to deal Pucker a smack on the head so he would keep quiet, froze in mid air. The blood was indeed on fire! Unbelievably bright and blinding tongues of scarlet flame were dancing over the equally scarlet liquid, as though licking it, making their way steadily towards the body. One of them gingerly touched the wound from which a weak little stream of blood was still trickling, shrank back as though frightened, and then flitted inside. At that moment the whole body burst into flame. The fire surrounding Oleg seemed to tenderly and carefully carry the body somewhere far away, dismantling it molecule by molecule and transporting it somewhere into the unknown. Suddenly becoming semi-transparent, the body disappeared with a soft bang, leaving only its outline on the tarmac, melted by the heat. Tolan was the first to get over the shock. I dont like this. I dont like this at all, he announced. Lets get outta here, he bellowed at his conspirators. And coming to, the gang ran off at top speed. But they didnt manage to run far The Road to Magic

Chapter Three
Elementalistics and Demonology When his flight stopped, Oleg felt something hard under him. For a few long seconds, he strained to think: was it worth risking what was left of his common sense and opening his eyes, or was he alright as he was? He was distracted from his musings by a pleasant female voice, asking with noticeable sarcasm: Well, sleeping beauty, are you awake yet? Oleg opened his eyes and looked round. He was in a very strange place. At first glance you could take it for a small forest clearing somewhere in central Russia. However, on taking a closer look, Oleg noticed some most unusual differences. Everything around him the young fir trees with grey trunks and little needles, the emerald-green grass, the boulder which seemed to be granite, and even the small gingery lizard sitting on it, in short everything, absolutely everything which met his eye was made of flames. Fire was everywhere. Frozen like earth, lapping or flowing like water, it surrounded Oleg, supported him and carefully bent around his hand when he wanted to touch a leaf or break off a branch. Impressive, isnt it? This time there was unmistakeable pride in the voice. I created it myself. Specially for you. Enjoy it. Coming back to his senses, Oleg looked round to where the voice was coming from, but saw no one. Only the lizard on the boulder, looking at him quizzically. Hang on, where are you? Oleg asked into thin air. Im here, the voice rang out from the boulder again. Oleg peered around even more thoroughly but still didnt spot anyone. But you can see everything! the female voice said indignantly. Its just that you humans have no imagination. And the lizard jumped off the boulder and slithered towards Oleg. With each step, it grew bigger and changed its appearance, so that it was no lizard that came up to Oleg but a beautiful young woman, taller than average, with a splendid figure, eyes like the work of a Japanese cartoonist, and fiery auburn hair. She was dressed in a short red frock. Oleg was conquered in the blink of an eye. And who might you be, beautiful stranger? He was answered by heartfelt laughter. When shed laughed her fill, the girl smiled kindly at Oleg and said: You, my young man, have a very original way of dealing with women. First you give a girl an expensive present, accompanied by a signed card, and then when youve got her attention and are invited over, you ask her name!

Having delivered this tirade, she looked into Olegs astonished eyes and, reading absolute bewilderment there, burst out laughing again. The mocked Oleg decided to protest: But what present are you talking about? I dont remember anything of the sort! If it had been something valuable, Id have known about it. And besides, how could I forget a beauty like you? The girl suddenly grew serious. You want to know my name? Ok, Ill give you a clue. And explain something at the same time. You see, your present was very valuable. You gave me everything you had: blood, life, body. Thats why I came when you called; there was no way that I would refuse such a gift. Its been three thousand years since Ive received anything like that. And even before, such gifts were extremely rare. I never demanded human sacrifices, I always preferred willing gifts Her story gradually sunk in. Finally, Oleg cried out in shock: Youre Clear Flame! So you finally figured it out. The girl smiled. Thats what the people of one smallish tribe called me. They lived around three thousand years ago, far away to the south-west of where you arrived from By the way, I have other names, too. If you like, you can call me Heliona. Thats what the only representatives of the human race who were my friends called me. They sailed over from a country you call Greece and they called Ellada. Their leader took me for Heliona, the daughter of their sun god. I had nothing against that. I liked the name. Oleg had kept a discrete silence. Finally, he risked asking the question that was burning him: Tell me er... please if you would be so kind are you a goddess? Bearing in mind the possible status of the person he was talking to, Oleg decided to be polite. Impudence is, as they say, the second happiness, but it did seem rather out of place to adopt a casual tone with a being who, even though she appeared to be his peer, was in fact far older than any modern civilization. Zeus, he remembered, had immediately snatched up his lightning and knocked it on an impudent humans head. This change in address didnt go unnoticed, and provoked another outburst of laughter from the purported goddess. You dont need to stand on ceremony, she spluttered through her laughter. Im not a goddess any more. And anyhow, I never did have time for those fools who propped up their reputations that way. So you dont need to worry yourself about your head. Evidently Olegs thoughts were no secret for Heliona, goddess or no goddess. When Oleg tumbled to this fact, he blushed deeply, remembering some of the indecent thoughts which had gone through his mind when he had first seen Helionas female form. This time the girls laughter was closer to hysterics.

Have mercy! she said, trying to pull herself together. Oh, thats it! The last time I had such a good laugh was four hundred years ago when some half-baked wizard was trying to invoke a succubus but got his spells mixed up and called up one of the dullest, lowest ranking demon-destroyers. And he, as if to spite the wizard, was in female form. So there they were, the two of them, and the wizard was hinting strongly that he was prepared to give up his soul in exchange for a night of fiery passion, while the demon was trying carefully to understand what he had to burn in order to get this fools soul. Oleg chuckled, and then asked curiously: So how did it all end? With the Fire of London, she said indifferently. Then after a moments thought, she continued: Seems Ill have to give you a short lecture, otherwise you wont understand anything. Yes, I was a goddess. Not the most powerful, nor for very long, in terms of divine time. And what do you think lends such power to gods and demons? Without waiting for Olegs answer, she went on: Faith! In one of your most holy books it says: According to your faith be it unto you. Its a very accurate observation... When I decided it was entertaining to appear to humans in the form of a goddess, they believed in me and I became a goddess. But then I got fed up with it and left. I was gradually forgotten, and I once more became what I had been earlier a free-willed fire spirit, a fire elemental, or a salamander as you used to call the likes of me in the Middle Ages. As for your thoughts, the ones you are so embarrassed about Theres no need to be embarrassed. Im not just a fire spirit, Im a woman, too, and theres nothing wrong in your interest. Some of the variations quite took my fancy. Its a shame that virtually none of them can be realized in the near future. At these words the blushing Oleg raised his head and looked at the salamander with amazement and hope. He tried to find a reason why two free adult people (well, one person and one former goddess) could not satisfy their mutual desire. Suddenly a horrible thought came to him. He looked into the salamanders eyes and asked softly: Is it because they killed me? I dont have a body? Im just some sort of phantom now? No to all three questions. Heliona gave a gentle flick of the wrist and a flicker of silvery flame darted up from the ground, becoming a perfect mirror when it cooled. Looking into it, the ex-goddess gave an approving nod, adjusted her hair and went on: First of all, you havent died yet. Or rather, youve died, but youll resurrect very soon. With your last spell you handed your blood, your life and your strength over to me. Ill return them to you, if you wish. And whats more, you have a pretty good body right now. Take a look at your new body! So saying, she moved slightly to one side. Oleg came closer and looked in the mirror. In truth, he wasnt thinking about the mirror right then but about how best to embrace Heliona, standing so temptingly close. But the first glance in the mirror swept all foolish thoughts from

his head. Looking at his reflection, he saw a demon. Over six and a half feet tall, his powerful body was covered in greenish scales. Huge wings hung like a black cape behind his back. The muscled five-fingered hands were also covered in scales, and huge claws stuck out from each finger. The face still had several of Olegs features, but something had been added to them, and the eyes were like two lakes filled with darkness and dread. Instead of hair, his head was wrapped in long, thin snakes. What is that? Oleg gaped in amazement at the mirrored demon which copied his every move. Despite its highly unusual appearance, the demon was far from ugly. On the contrary, you could call him handsome, but it was the blood-curdling and enchanting beauty of a perfect murder tool. Besides, Oleg didnt feel like a demon. All his senses told him that he had his usual, own dear body; looking at himself, he neither saw nor felt any scales, claws, wings or snakes. At a loss, he turned to Helonia. Seeing his reaction, she smiled. Yes, that is your outward appearance. Thats how you appear to everyone except yourself. Well, and to me, too, when I look into your thoughts. But why? Oleg asked in surprise. Its a peculiarity of our world. Here, everyone appears the way they subconsciously want to appear. And if what they want and whats convenient dont match, then the guest gets two appearances. Others see him as he wants to be seen, but he himself has the sensations of the appearance which is convenient for him. By the way, you shouldnt be disappointed. Your new appearance is fetching. You look like one of the highest demons of the Dark Circle. And your fighting capacity is way beyond that of your human body. I reckon it wouldnt be so easy to kill you now! At these words Oleg sighed sadly. Dont get so upset, Heliona guessed the reason for his sorrow. I told you: Ill return your body to you, almost as it was before. Almost? There was a note of alarm in Olegs voice. Yes. The ex-goddess looked at him like a strict teacher looks at a naughty pupil. You did die after all. In order to bring your body back to life, I had to pour a particle of my fire into your blood. I think youll like it. Magicians often request a similar procedure to increase their capacities. But then why cant we be together? Oleg asked, puzzled. Is it that you have such strict moral codes of conduct here? No. Heliona suddenly pulled in her waist and wiggled her shoulders slightly. The way she did so was charged with such passion and suggestion that Oleg, unable to contain himself,

turned his eyes away and began reciting the multiplication tables, cursing his too-tight jeans. Then he remembered the salamanders ability to read minds and blushed again. With a contented purr, Heliona answered: Morality, in terms of sexual taboos, was invented by Christians and Im a pagan goddess, albeit a former one. Im not talking about any such nonsense. She arched herself again. The former pagan goddess obviously enjoyed tormenting Oleg, who finally tossed all dos and donts to the wind and began openly ogling the girl. But she merely smiled approvingly and continued her movement, which was like a mix of aerobics and blatantly erotic dance. Oleg was finally able to take his eyes off her cleavage and asked: So then whats the matter? Its our nature, yours and mine. Heliona gave a sad smile and stopped dancing. Im a salamander, youre a human. Like any other elemental spirit, I often lose control of myself in moments of passion. And? Oleg didnt understand. I like passionate girls. Im not just passionate. Im fiery! Literally. If I lose control of myself youll be burnt to a crisp in the blink of an eye. In normal conditions my body temperature is over six thousand degrees Celsius. When I get aroused, it can reach tens or even hundreds of thousands degrees. Now, as always when Im dealing with humans, I maintain a barrier which doesnt allow my heat to touch you. But in moments of passion this barrier gets weaker and can even collapse totally. Believe you me, it isnt pleasant finding nothing but ash left of your beloved when you come to after an orgasm. Helionas eyes clouded over and filled with sorrow. Thats why I dont consort with males of the human race who dont have magical powers sufficient to maintain their own barrier. Oleg latched onto that last phrase at once. But that means that unions between elementals and humans are possible? Yes. If the human is a powerful enough magician, he can maintain the protective barrier. And could I become such a magician? Oleg asked. You could. After all, you already have great potential, and now, after proper study and training that potential, you can become one of the most powerful human magicians in all the history of that troubled tribe. Where can I sign up? Oleg tried to make a joke, although he was actually very intrigued by the idea of becoming a mighty magician. In some world where magic is well enough developed. There are even magicians academies in some worlds. And by the way, any magician would be glad to teach such a gifted student.

Great. Oleg rubbed his hands. So well send me off to the nearest world where theres a magicians university, Ill study, and He paused. But how, then, will I get back to my world, my life? Im afraid that wont be easyfor a number of reasons. Please believe me when I tell you that youre not ready yet. You may never be ready; only time will tell. Until you have enough power and experience to even begin to consider that possibility, I suggest that you make do with these other worlds. Swept away by his feelings, Oleg got up, strode across the clearing and, turning back towards the salamander, said, Well, alright, if thats the way it has to be then thats that. He gave her a sly wink. So, lets get back to us She just smiled. If you really want to lose your human essence in the pursuit of mightiness, then there is another way, and for you it would be much easier, she said after some hesitation. Demons well, and gods, too, of course are endowed with a natural immunity to the manifestations of elementals powers But whats that got to do with me? Oleg asked in surprise. Well, youve got the body of a demon, and whats more, obviously a high-ranking one. That means that somewhere in your soul theres a bit of demon and the wish to become one completely. So I would advise you to keep that body, even after you return to your own At this point Heliona cut her speech short and listened very carefully. Then she said hurriedly: Which will happen any second now. Suddenly a huge pillar of flame rose up in the middle of the clearing. Already used to various fiery phenomena, Oleg stared at it curiously. The flame, however, didnt cool down nor did it turn into any useful object, but went out slightly. The outline of something in its midst could be discerned. That something, like a gigantic vacuum cleaner, drew unto itself all the flames raging around it; finally, when the flames had all but died down, that mysterious something became clear. To Olegs great joy it turned out to be his body, his own dear body, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, with his guitar on its back in short, precisely that body lost as result of a fight in a dark alleyway, which it was so hard for him to part with. Forgetting himself in his delight, he rushed closer, but was stopped at once by the salamander. Stop. I wouldnt recommend you touch it yet. Why not? If you touch it, youll immediately reincarnate and lose the body you are in now. And youll need this one really need it--to go to some world different from your own, for example. The most convenient way to transport to a suitable world is to use some invocation of a demon.

So I would advise you to try and keep both bodies. How does that work? Do I need to tear myself in two? Oleg didnt find the idea inspiring. No, youll become a shapeshifter. If you want, youll be a human, at least, as far as thats possible for you now. And if you want, you can crawl into the demon-body. By the way, if you are in demon form for long enough, and if you fortify it with the corresponding actions so people believe that you really are a demon, then you will be. And thats exactly the path I would advise you to take. No, Id rather turn myself into a magician. I dont fancy the idea of ripping heads off and torching cities. Having said this, Oleg began nervously pacing about, looking at the body lying in front of him. He obviously couldnt wait to return to it, although Helionas publicity for demonic capacities hadnt fallen on deaf ears. And how am I supposed to keep this appearance? Oleg stopped at last and stared straight at the salamander. Its very easy. Feel that its yours. Feel yourself as a demon Helionas voice changed, it became deep and broad, with hypnotizing power. Feel the cold fury and the hot hatred of a demon the ability to fly and the thirst for the torment of your enemies dont feel hair on your head but malicious snakes ready to pounce on anyone who is careless enough to approach you feel the reliability of your armour and the sharpness of your claws As the former goddess pronounced these words, Oleg fell into some sort of deep trance. Her words went through him, imprinting themselves deep in the twilight of his soul, dissolving in it and giving birth to an answering reaction. Hatred was the first to come; a bright red burning wave flowed through his body, making him feel every muscle in his mighty body. Yes, Oleg felt his strength and power which needed no other support because it stemmed from the sharpness of his fangs and claws, the strength of his muscles, the resilience of his armour of scales, and the lightness of his wings which enabled him to overtake any enemy trying to escape. That was the second feeling to overwhelm Oleg, and for long seconds he revelled in the sense of incredible physical strength which was new to him. But then Oleg was covered by the next, the third wave, and he shrieked in pain and amazement. In the blink of an eye he understood why there are so many strange legends about demons and he understood that the legends dont contain an ounce of truth. The third wave was thirst. Thirst for the blood and pain of his enemies, the thirst to kill and terrorize, to lord over slaves and throw down adversaries. Then it all passed. Oleg stared at Heliona, dumbfounded.

What was that? A few emotions of a real demon of the High Circle. Now you can imagine what it means to be a real demon. But what did you do that for? You liked it, didnt you? N-no. Olegs answer sounded hesitant. Oh, really? The girl smiled her most cunning of smiles. But Oleg stood firm. Well, yes, that is, I liked it at that moment, but not now. I dont want to be such a he thought, searching for a fitting description. joyful killer. If you dont want to be, then you wont be. Heliona answered calmly. But I needed to do it so you would completely unify with your demon body OK, whats happening behind you? Dont turn round! Oleg thought for a second, then suddenly saw. He saw everything around him, 360 degrees, above, below, to the sides, with the eyes of the hundreds of tiny snakes growing on his head instead of hair. He realized that he could single out a hair-snake at will and send it wherever he wanted to, controlling its movement an ideal spy and killer. That he could deal a blow with his hatred, cause pain or kill at will, and rip the strongest armour to shreds with his claws. He realized many things about this body which had fallen to him, and not everything that he realized could be put into words. Well, whats there? Heliona repeated impatiently. Oleg laughed. Madam likes to joke? Well, we can do that, too! And with great pleasure he showed her the finger, drawing in his claws. This sign, your ex-divine Flamingness, he informed her with maximum sarcasm. Yeah, you win, Heliona said embarrassed, lifting a fiery hand to remove the sign from the top of the boulder Oleg was leaning his back against. But her embarrassment didnt last long. Well then, do you appreciate your advantages? And now quick march back to your own body. Its been waiting for you long enough! Oleg obediently walked over and brushed the hand of the body lying next to him. The world about him began to spin dementedly at once. Instinctively, Oleg closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them he realized he was lying on his stomach, face-down in the incredibly green emerald grass. And the world around him had changed once more. Now it was a perfectly normal forest clearing, the only difference between this one and the ones he was used to was the absence of any smell. And nothing has changed, Helionas voice rang out above him. Its just that before you saw it through the eyes of a demon, and saw the real nature of this little place. I fashioned it in

a hurry so that you wouldnt freak out from being in our world so long. Of course, I created it out of the elements that I had to hand and your demon eyes easily distinguished them. But human eyes, which you are using now, are not so difficult to trick. A long silence followed. Oleg looked at himself and at the world around him, trying to find signs of the change in his condition. Not having noticed anything special, he turned to Heliona: You said Id get some sort of magical super-powers? Yes, thats what I said, and you will get them. Why? How can I use them? How should I know? Im not a human magician, am I? Youll have to learn the art of wielding your powers from them, and youll have to study long and hard. My energy will only help you to control fire a bit. The most primitive way to use it is simply to make a wish connected with fire, imagine whatever it is and exert your will. It might work, your powers are already sufficient for many things. Oleg made a wish. After a few minutes of very hard straining and frowning, a small flaming sphere appeared on his palm. Oh! A fireball! Not bad for a first try, Heliona passed judgement on his achievement. Oh and by the way, besides practising and developing your fire talents, I suggest you develop your own strengths, too. My own? You have a natural talent for dark magic. Its not by chance that you received a demon body here. So I would recommend you study that art, too, especially necromancy. After all, youve already been acquainted with death, and those kinds of meetings are never without their consequences. Oleg nodded silently, but thought to himself: something is pushing me intensely towards the dark side of the force. Why? Youre pushing yourself! the auburn ex-goddess protested at once, still shamelessly reading his mind. You think its my fault that you have that magical leaning? And for your information, to be a master of the dark magic doesnt mean youre a bad person. Oleg at once thought sarcastically: yeah of course, because you probably cant become a dark magician and still be human. The salamander neighed like an untamed horse. You got it! But I didnt say magician, I said master. And that is totally within a humans reach. At this point Heliona suddenly turned her attention to Olegs long-suffering guitar, still hung over his shoulder.

Are you a bard? she cried out gleefully. Sing something! Oleg frowned: Ill be happy to play something. But as for singing You see, theres only one good thing about my voice its loud. As for the rest Sorry. Bullshit! The salamander exclaimed. Take on your demonic form and sing. Demons have a very wide vocal range, after all they have to be able to tempt and terrify. Demons are wonderful singers. Noticing how Oleg grimaced, imagining himself trying to play the guitar with fingers topped with hooked claws two centimetres long (and that was when they were drawn in as far as they would go) she came up with another variation: You dont have to take on the full form of a demon. You can just take a few demonic organs. And by the way, thats a really useful ability. Could you sing like that? And Oleg sang. It took him about half an hour to learn how to invoke the necessary organs of the demon body, swopping them for his own, and then twice as long to learn how to use this bodily assortment, but once he had mastered the right tools, he gave a concert for his lone spectator, singing his favourite rock ballads. Heliona listened, holding her breath. In that instant she no longer looked like a powerful flaming spirit, a salamander able to reduce cities to ashes and travel over continents like a fiery tornado, nor like a wise pagan goddess whod lived over three thousand years, all-seeing and all-knowing. No, she was like a little ginger-haired girl, a first-year student at her first ever rock concert. Heliona shuddered and suddenly came closer to Oleg with a flowing movement. Her graceful figure gave off a strong heat. Pressing her lips to his cheek for a second, she leapt away with a jerk and began to dance. Tongues of flame shot out around her and although Oleg was now quite far away from the girl, he could feel a tremendously strong heat like that from a well-stoked, red-hot stove. Unable to withstand the rising temperature, he took on his demon form which was more heat resistant. The temperature was rising and Oleg was getting afraid. The guitar was already beginning to carbonize. And just then, what Oleg was afraid of happened. Having taken on his demon form to save himself from the heat, he continued playing the guitar but accidentally snapped one of the strings with his claw. It snapped with a loud twang. Heliona stopped and looked at Oleg. Her eyes were still full of dreamy longing Its wonderful! What did you stop for? Then her eyes fell on the half-charred guitar in Olegs hands, on Oleg himself, fully demonized, but even so clearly feeling extremely uncomfortable, and on his skull, quite bald of hair-snakes (so that his handy little beasties didnt get burnt alive, hed sent them further away). She gave a quiet Oh and the fire abated at once.

A string snapped, Oleg answered as though nothing had happened, returning the snakes to their place and then taking on his human form. Claws really do get in the way when youre playing! Thank you. The girl hung her head guiltily and suddenly snuggled up to him. Oleg found her lips. Coolish at first, they soon warmed up and got hotter. The slim girly figure relaxed in his hands for a second. Oleg managed to feel a wave of heat running through her, and then Heliona carefully extricated herself from his embrace. Oleg couldnt suppress a sigh of disappointment. To his amazement, Heliona blushed, embarrassed. Remember I told you that most of your desires cant be fulfilled yet? Yes. Sadly. And now Ive just been convinced of that. I really have to bump up my heat resistant capacities as quickly as possible, Oleg gave a sly smile. But once I do watch out! Ill seduce you and lead you astray! Still embarrassed at the beginning of this speech, by the end Heliona couldnt hold back her laughter. OK, its a deal. You can take it that youve already seduced me and led me astray. Now you just have to bump up your heat resistant capacities. But actually I wasnt talking about that, but about your desires. I would satisfy them all with pleasure, and not just once, but, alas, until you bump up your heat resistant capacities, that wont be possible. Nevertheless, one of your wishes can be met considerably earlier than the others. Oleg looked at her in amazement. The girl laughed. No, not that one and not that one, either And what kind of position is that? Stop guessing right now, Im getting horny! Heliona sighed. Sadly, all of that is impossible for now. However, amidst all that chaos filling your head, there is one tiny little thought. Ill quote: Ah, if only I could take her to one of our discos all the guys would die of jealousy, and Lyova the mouse catcher would eat his hat! I of course have no idea why the mysterious Lyova should eat his own hat Ah-ha, a bet. Now I get it. But anyhow, about those desires. Its unlikely that theres discos in the world where youll be studying magicianship, of course, but there will be balls, receptions and other such events. So, if you like At this point the girls voice sounded very solemn: I, Heliona Clear Flame, a free fire spirit, give the human standing in front of me the right of immediate invocation of my true appearance in the world in which he finds himself for the purposes of here she paused for thought, obviously trying to find a more-or-less ceremonial expression for dances. A new voice rang out. A thick, masculine bass, coming from somewhere down below pronounced: Helia, my child, maybe you shouldnt make rash promises? Then a cheery little voice seemingly belonging to a little girl interrupted the bass from above: Hi, can we come in?

Heliona frowned, vexed. OK then, come on in, both of you. Only in human form. Ive got a visitor. Yes, we already know. Were not deaf, you know, came grumbling up from below. Then the boulder lying not far away suddenly shuddered and began changing shape and form. For a second it reminded Oleg of the boulders hed seen while he was in flight, then it stretched upwards, took on a likeness to human form, and turned into a mighty, thickset man of around forty with a curly black beard, dressed in a non-too fresh tunic and a scorched leather apron. My uncle, Heliona introduced the newcomer. The earth elemental, but he prefers to work with metals. He spent quite a long time in your world, and was known by the name Hephaestus. With some trepidation, Oleg shook hands with this living pagan god. His hand was firm and blistered. Suddenly there was a noise something like the yowl of a crazed Ninja coming through a small girls voice: Owwweeeeee! And down fell a small meteorite wrapped in flames. Landing with a soft thud (from the centre of the flaming apparition could be heard a disgruntled Oh!), it shot out clods of fire. And out of the fading flames popped a small figure with light gingery hair, strongly resembling Heliona herself. Judging from her appearance and behaviour, if she were human, you could have said she was twelve or thirteen. My cousin, please be nice to her. Due to her youth and extreme disorderliness, she has not been allowed to meet humans yet and doesnt yet have her own name, Heliona reported. Hi! You play really well! I really liked it! And youre a human? Maybe you can give me a name? Hold on, Younger One, Hephaestus interrupted her. First of all we have to deal with this coquette who, it would seem, has once again decided to bestow the right of invocation to... The end of his sentence to anyone she bumps into was left unsaid, but clearly understood. Have you forgotten what happened last time? her uncle said angrily, turning to Heliona. And what did happen? I had a great time! And anyhow Uncle, dont be such a bore. After all, I ought to thank Oleg for his song. And here she gave Oleg an imperceptible wink so that he would pick up his jaw which had dropped - and she walked over to him slowly, swinging her hips flauntingly. She embraced him passionately, after which they faked a prolonged kiss. Oleg guessed what this was all for. In answer to his mental question: You want to shock your Uncle? Heliona gave a barely noticeable little nod.

Wow! Younger One clapped her hands loudly. Hephaestus frowned disapprovingly but held his tongue. When Heliona at last tore herself away from Oleg (he was sweating mainly from his titanic efforts not to turn the fake kiss into a real one, so as not to get high-degree burns), she went on: Im glad you decided to pop in. I could do with direct witnesses to strengthen the transfer of power. And without giving her relatives a chance to come to their senses, she intoned: I, Heliona Clear Flame, a free fire spirit, give the human standing in front of me the right of immediate invocation of my true appearance in the world in which he finds himself for the purposes of She stumbled at this point again, thought for a second but then, with a wave of her hand, finished in a far from ceremonial manner: for the purposes of really living it up! And so saying, she stuck her tongue out at Hephaestus, who had frozen like a stone idol. Younger One squealed enthusiastically: Bravo, Helia! Youre fantastic! Hey, can I come with you? Just a sec, your guyll give me a name and then Ill pronounce the word, too. No, Heliona said firmly. You are too small to go roaming around different worlds. And turning to Oleg, she warned, Whatever you do, dont call her anything but Younger One. Otherwise, shell immediately announce her name and shoot off somewhere, then well have to search for her She was interrupted by Hephaestuss displeased voice: Youve outdone yourself this time, my girl. How many times do I have to tell you: be more careful with a summons. You cant go leaping in there straightaway and trip out the word. Think about it, who knows how he might like to really live it up! However, without paying attention to the long-since familiar remonstrations of her divine uncle, Heliona turned to Oleg: Now, all you need to do is call me by name and Ill come. And if by then youve become a more-or-less respectable magician, you can think about the fulfilment of your other wishes, too! Oleg gave a solemn nod. OK. Well, that seems to be it then. The salamander looked Oleg over with pride. Are you ready for transfer? Oleg nodded again, inwardly preparing himself for anything and everything. Then we need to find someone whos invoking a demon in some suitable world. Will it take long? Oleg was really nervous. No, not really. There are a lot of worlds, most of them have magic and magicians. In some there are universities and academies of magic, and in nearly all of them you can find two or three idiots who are bursting to summon demons at any moment. And if my uncle were to help hes a real expert in interworld relations Hephaestus made a suffering face but nodded. He and Heliona froze, transforming into two statues, obviously searching for a world suitable for Oleg.

Meanwhile, Younger One, making the most of the fact that the elementals watching over her were otherwise engaged, quietly sidled up to Oleg: Are you really a human? she asked in a conspiratorial whisper. Well, I was before, at least, Oleg whispered back. Why? So you are a human, then. What difference does it make if you got the body of a demon? What a shame! Why is it a shame? Oleg asked, taken aback. Well, you humans dont live long. But we like you, Oleg. And we liked your songs. And so did the rest of us, the fire ones, the water ones, and the air ones. And it looks as though Helia has really fallen for you. I can easily understand it you sang her such a song! None of the fire sprites could have resisted. And its time for her to here she broke off abruptly and fell silent. Oleg pretended not to have noticed her slip of the tongue. Well, whats to be done? he shrugged. I am who I am. I was born that way. I cant become an elemental like you. So Im looking for a world where I can study to be a magician. Helia says that we can date each other then. I really like her, too. But what do you want to be a magician for? Youve got a demon body! And by the way, it can probably prolong your life. You can become a demon way faster. And theyre more powerful if theyre high-ranking. Bewilderment was written on the girls face. Oleg was just about to explain that demons, unlike magicians, didnt really have positive associations for him and anyhow he didnt really want to become a dark one, but Hephaestuss bass voice interrupted him mid-word: Younger One, come here! Its time. And this young man there was a heavy note of sarcasm in those last two words of the five thousand year old god- should soon be on his way, too. Sighing sadly and muttering: Its always the same! They never let me do anything! Younger One jumped up and, scampering away from Oleg, wrapped herself in tongues of flame. Then the flames scattered and a bird something like a seagull, only a strange reddish-ginger colour, flew up. It circled Olegs head and with a cry of: Bye-ee! See you again! it disappeared into the sky. Following her with his gaze, Hephaestus growled,: Farewell. Have a pleasant journey! and making the nearest cliff open up with a nod of his head, he stepped inside. The cliff silently sealed itself after him. Heliona went quietly up to Oleg. Weve found you a suitable world. Magic is developed, although the dark magic has been driven underground. Theres an academy of magic, although there are very few real magicians of high rank, and you, with your capabilities and your demonic appearance, will be in a pretty advantageous position.

How about the language? Oleg asked quickly. Well, since youve become a demon you can easily converse in any language of the Universe. For instance, maybe you didnt notice, but on principal my uncle only talks to humans in Ancient Greek, and my little cousin doesnt know any human language at all. So? she went on, when Oleg had recovered from his shock. Ready to go? The sorcerer whos doing the invocation is obviously inexperienced: hes demanding a high demon with magical inclinations and high fighting capacity, but his own powers are pitiful. Just squash the fool against the wall and be done with it! Why should I kill him? The thought of polishing off some poor magician the very instant he set foot in a new world didnt appeal to Oleg, even if the wizard was, as Heliona put it, a complete idiot. Till now, the largest of creatures to fall at Olegs hands were overfed cockroaches, and, in fact, Oleg wouldnt mind if it stayed that way. So he doesnt get too big for his boots, Helionas answer was quite strange. But she gave the necessary clarification at once. Hell probably suggest some dodgy business, and will call you into the circle of obedience. See how the line of the invocation is wavering. But if I accept the invocation, then Ill already be in the circle of obedience. I dont really want to do the bidding of just any old fool... Well what do you think your fire magic is for? Put out the candles of the outer pentagram and youll be free. Squash the loser good and proper. After all, youre not a real demon maybe a little over a third but less than half. So the circle and the pentagram will have a much weaker effect over you. The salamander listened to something which was inaudible to Oleg, and hurried on. Hes already more than half way through the rite. You need to hurry! OK, but how? Take on your demon form. Can you hear the call? She was right. All Oleg needed to do was change form and a quiet voice immediately began to rustle and throb in his head. A kind of noise in my head, very faint? Yeah, I said he was a weak magician! So just relax, obey it, listen to it like music, and allow it to carry you away. Oleg followed her advice. The call grew louder, filled with sound and he could clearly hear the throbbing. Suddenly the world spun around him and a dark funnel swallowed him up. When he was able to see again, he understood that he was in a large room with a stone floor, right in the middle of a circle which was in turn drawn in a pentagram with coloured candles burning at the corners. A short, puny fellow in a grey tunic with a hood was leaping around squealing gleefully: It worked! It worked!

The Road to Magic

Chapter Four
Did you call a demon? Still prancing around the pentagram, the minor wizard turned to a seventeen-year-old girl standing against the wall in a white dress-cum-tunic, who was watching the proceedings with an expression of intense concentration on her face. Ata, Ive done it! Ive called forth a demon! Kreghist wont be able to harm you now! And with these words the wizard flung himself at the girl. Now Oleg understood why he seemed so puny. The lad was not more than fifteen years old. The girl didnt protest, but didnt show any enthusiasm, either. She couldnt take her eyes off Oleg. And he was truly fed up of standing around like a pillar so he headed towards the exit, but suddenly he felt some sort of opposition. The flames of the candles standing at the corners of the pentagram flickered in alarm. The wizard tore himself away from the girl whom he was undoubtedly trying to impress, and turned back to Oleg. Striking a pose he clearly thought to be grandiose, but for Oleg seemed extremely ungainly, he pronounced in a sing-song voice: Halt, wily demon. Your urges are hampered by my art. Chasing anothers soul, you have fallen into the seal of my might and are henceforth obliged to obey me. Bow now before my will and the power of my might, and hearken, as a slave hearkens to its master, humbly and meekly! After pouring all this out in one breath, the lad stood stock-still, expecting some reaction, obviously believing this nonsense to be a spell. Oleg burst out laughing. He suddenly wanted to mock this hapless student of wizardry and his girlfriend, venturing to summon a demon. So he tried to make his laughter sound as evil as possible. And he succeeded. Heliona was right when she spoke of the broad spectrum of a demons vocal chords. Even Oleg himself gave an imperceptible shudder when he heard the echo of his chortle bouncing off the walls of the hall, and a cold wave ran down his spine. Not to mention the teenagers! Judging from the state of things, it looked as though he had unwittingly managed to add a fairly large dose of infrasound into his laughter. Pleased with the impression he had made, Oleg spoke, trying to maintain that same bombastically evil tone: Pitiful fool. You are playing with forces whose might you cannot comprehend. Fall to your knees and pray for a swift death. If you are convincing enough, then, perchance, you may obtain that honour. And with those words Oleg walked over to the edge of the circle and froze, as though he were unable to step over it. He did indeed feel some sort of opposition, but he was sure he could easily go through the barrier if he really wanted to get out.

The wizard grew pale. Then, looking at the girl, he began to rummage purposefully through a book he had taken from the small table near him. Oleg waited, lazily leaning against the invisible wall which had formed around the circle drawn on the floor. It groaned and bent under him, and the flames of the candles fluttered and flickered in alarm, threatening to go out. This drew an admiring, terrified whisper from the wizard: Such power! If only I could tame him, he would rip Kreghist to shreds! Continuing to play the role of an evil demon, Oleg whispered: Ill rip someone to shreds alright! But not Kreghist! And he stared evilly at the wizard, so that no-one was in any doubt as to just who he would tear up. The lad gasped, looked up from his book and asked in amazement: What, you heard me? Instead of replying, Oleg showed his fangs, trying to extend them as far as possible. That caused a stir. The girl against the wall turned white and recoiled towards the door, the lad rustled his book all the faster. Suddenly, with a victorious yelp, the wee wizardlet halted his search and solemnly babbled some phrase in an unfamiliar language. The effect was immediate. The wizard swelled up, turned red, then sneezed. Smallish rainbow balls flew out of the wizards mouth and nostrils, immediately grew in size and began exploding prettily, filling the room with rainbow droplets. Oleg glanced over to the girl, puzzled. She replied with an uncomprehending look and a shrug of the shoulders. Then they both turned to the wizard. Under their quizzical gazes he reddened once again, then mumbled: I got a bit muddled up no big deal... Its an old book, the pages got stuck together And as he said this he looked at Oleg with the sad eyes of a student who hadnt studied for the exam and could now only hope for a miracle and the good will of his professor. Oleg was on the verge of saying something reassuring to him, something comforting along the lines of: Never mind, it happens to all of us when he remembered, just in time, that evil demons rarely say anything comforting to flunked wizards whod conjured them up. So in keeping with the strict rules, he had to dole out another portion of evil laughter. The wizard pulled himself together at once. Throwing a glance at the girl giggling behind her hand he set about rummaging through his book even more desperately, mumbling to himself. The wizard stopped. Peering into the book he walked round the pentagram three times with Oleg inside and solemnly read out a spell. When hed finished, the wizard pronounced loudly: Fall to your knees and acknowledge my power! And immediately pain swept over Oleg. Although nothing much at first, it became stronger and stronger by the second. Oleg somehow knew that all he had to do was fall to his knees

and acknowledge the power of the wizard in front of him and the pain would pass. He also knew that he wouldnt do that as long as he still had a shred of consciousness left; Oleg had no intention of becoming a slave. Then he heard the wizard say to his companion: Just a few more minutes and hell give in. Your Highness, you shall have your own demon! And now he understood full well all the wisdom of the salamanders advice squash the wizard against the wall as soon as you arrive. He understood and regretted that he had not followed such wise advice immediately. Livid with rage, Oleg threw himself at the wizard. He staggered, but the circle held. Either it was stronger than it had seemed to Oleg, or he himself was too weak from pain. Nevertheless, the candles at the corners of the pentagram kept flickering and almost went out, while the pain lessened for a few seconds. And those few seconds were enough for him to remember Helionas second piece of advice: Put out the candles at the corners of the pentagram, and youre free. With genuine gratitude Oleg remembered the gay ex-goddess. Then, overcoming the new wave of pain, he turned to the nearest candle and straining what was left of his will, mentally ordered: Go out! The flame flickered and wavered, then, unable to oppose his will, went out, giving off a thin stream of smoke. The pain decreased at once. Turning to the second candle, Oleg noticed that the wizard cried and staggered, clutching at his head. Soon all the candles had been extinguished. There was no more pain, nor did Oleg feel the barrier any longer. He didnt hesitate. With a great roar he bounded out of the pentagram and, extending his claws to the maximum, rushed at the wizard. Oleg had firmly made up his mind to follow the wonderful, wise advice of the salamander and smear the hapless fellow against the wall, preferably in as thin a layer as possible. The lad didnt protest. He stood, clutching his head, moaning weakly. A thin stream of blood flowed from his nose. Evidently the extinguishing of the candles or the broken spell was having a bad effect on his health. But as it happened, the wizards health didnt concern Oleg in the least. Gleefully baring his fangs, he grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up above his head. And then Oleg fell to thinking. Two thoughts were broiling in his brains drunk on rage, and neither of them befitted a human. Firstly, the demon Oleg was seriously considering the possibility of squashing the wizard against the wall. It was only the thought of how labour-intensive this would be that held him back, and that in the smearing process the wizard would die swiftly without feeling the full depth of his wrath. The second thought was to pluck out his arms and legs and leave him like that, to die from the shock of pain and loss of blood. It was this second thought which Oleg found more attractive.

At that point he became aware that someone was carefully trying to loosen his claws, which were holding the wizards neck in a deadly grip. All the while that someone was calling out in a thin, girlish voice: No, please, dont do it! Its not his fault, its all because of me! Have mercy on him! These cries, full of terror and pleading, brought Oleg to his senses. He slowly turned his gaze on the hysterical girl, drenched with impotent tears, aware of the futility of all her attempts, then he took another look at the wizard, now beginning to turn blue, and stopped in his tracks. The two parts of his being were at loggerheads within him. On the one hand, Oleg-thestudent, a jolly, civilized chap, lover of pretty girls and beer who tried not to harm anyone, was loudly crying out: What are you doing? Do you really intend to kill him? What are you turning into? Hes still a just a kid after all! OK, so he made a mistake, but theres no need to punish him so cruelly And on the other hand, the new-born demon was roaring in him thunderously: A kid? Then he should be playing quietly in his sand pit not trying to enslave demons. What would have happened if you hadnt remembered Helionas advice? How long before the pain knocked you unconscious and youd become this kids slave for evermore? And wheres the guarantee that if you let him go, he wont start it all over again once hes had a good rest, but with better success this time, and make someone else his slave? Like Younger Oneshes going to start to roam around various worlds any time now, not caring a jot for anyone. At that thought, the demon Olegs fingers began closing by themselves, blocking the wizards last molecules of oxygen. But the former Oleg came up with one last desperate attempt to save the life of the half-pint wizard: OK, I agree, hes a bastard, worthy of annihilation, but before you kill him, you should give him the chance to try and justify himself. Maybe he can explain his actions. This reasoning seemed convincing enough and Oleg slackened his claws slightly allowing his captive to swallow some air. The lad breathed in noisily. His face gradually took on its normal hue. The girl, seeing the result but not knowing the reason, increased both her cries and her efforts on Olegs fingers threefold. The wizard panted and began coming round. Be quiet! Oleg barked and scraped the claws of his free hand against the wall menacingly. There was a terrible screech, dust fell and the wall was decorated with four deep scratches. The girls cries were silenced at once, and even the wizard did his best to pant more quietly.

Oleg went on: First of all we introduce ourselves. My name is But here he remembered that in many myths when a wizard learns a demons or another wizards real name, he has power over him, so he thought for a split second and then went on, taking for himself the name of a demon in an English fantasy story which he had sometimes used as a nickname: Arioch. Seeing the gleeful glint in the wizards eyes, Oleg was convinced he had acted quite rightly by not giving his real name. Just in case, he squeezed his fingers slightly. The wizard began to gasp again and Oleg turned politely to the girl with an oddly chivalrous expression: Allow me to inquire as to your name, O splendid young lady? The girl evidently took his joke absolutely seriously. She drew herself up, flashed her eyes and announced proudly: I am Ataletta, crown princess of Fenrian, Grand Duchess Browdvar. I command you to release Albert at once! Oleg smirked. So his name is Albert? He shook the lad slightly. Well, well. But no more commands. Oleg gave the wizard another shake. And if you cant find a good reason within five minutes why I should leave his head on his shoulders and not add it to my collection of the most stupid heads in the Universe, then this part of his body, which is of absolutely no use to him, will be forever separated from the rest of his organs. Of course Oleg had no such thing as a collection of heads, but they couldnt know that. Having uttered this tirade, Oleg looked triumphantly at the dispirited teenagers. His rage had already abated somewhat and he quietly made up his mind that so long as the couple didnt do anything stupid, like attacking him, he wouldnt kill Albert. It seemed a far better idea to take a handsome ransom for him instead (Oleg strongly suspected there would be money in this world, or something no less important than money was on his own world), and recite some spell over him which would remove any possibility of him using magic in the future hed quite often come across such spells in his Book. Well, Im waiting for an explanation. Oleg looked threateningly at the girl. Hes not stupid, well, at least, not so stupid, she stuttered, her little voice trembling with fear. What? Oleg had been prepared for tears, pleas, excuses, attempts at bribery and he was planning to go for the latter but not at all for this dmarche to defend the wizards mental capacities. But the young princesss next phrase gave all the clarification he needed. Dont put him in your collection. He may have made a mistake, but hes not really that stupid. That is, in your collection you probably have the really, really stupid . And hes not like that

Oleg held back his laughter with difficulty. His face contorted from the exertion. Ataletta noticed, and evidently taking his spasm of stifled laughter for an evil grimace, a precursor to ripping the wizard to shreds, she quickly played her last trump: He can read! His head would spoil your whole collection! Oleg could bear it no longer. His roaring laugh shook the stone walls of the cellar (Oleg could tell he was in a cellar by the smell. And anyhow, where else would you practise black magic?). Spoil it, you say? he asked when hed got his breath back. Yes, spoil it. The girl nodded more boldly, apparently deciding that if the demon had had a good laugh he was getting kinder. And in fact, in a way, she was right. Would you be so kind as to let Albert go? Catching Olegs amazed look, she quickly corrected herself: Well, at least, let him go for now. Temporarily so he can breathe properly. After all, youre not about to kill him right here and now, are you? It really isnt his fault. I talked him into invoking a demon. Oleg smirked and looked her over carefully. The crown princess of Fenrian, Grand Duchess Browdvar and so on and so forth, was a seventeen-year-old maiden who still hadnt shed her teenage angularity and didnt have the necessary quantity of curves required for a woman. Nevertheless, you could see that in the near future this slip of a girl would become an extremely beautiful young woman. Ataletta was endowed with all the necessities for that. A natural blond, not too tall, her figure was pretty even though not yet fully formed, a slim waist and pleasant facial features, which nevertheless showed slight imperfections, would not stop her from taking her place among the three finalists of any of the beauty contests so popular on Earth. The same imperfection could be seen on Alberts face, too, and if Oleg hadnt witnessed how he had made up to the girl, he would have said they were close relatives. Once hed finished his thorough and even somewhat blatant examination, Oleg looked into the eyes of the princess, who was blushing at such attention, and said: Well, I suppose I can let him go. I was about to let him explain himself anyway. Before either of the unsuccessful demonologists could give a sigh of relief, one of the snake-hairs detached itself from Olegs head, slithered along his arm and gently wrapped itself around the hapless Alberts neck. Oleg released his hand and the boy tumbled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Smiling his sweetest of smiles, Oleg turned to the princess: Your request has been granted, Your Highness. Might you have any other wishes? Looking at the now grey Albert, who was afraid to so much as move or even simply breathe, (the poor guy was suffering from an acute attack of serpentophobia, the fear of

snakes), she mumbled to herself: Valdes was right when he warned us not to get mixed up with demons unless it was absolutely necessary and if you do get involved, to formulate your thoughts clearly and unambiguously. If this is how he carries out requests, then how is he going to carry out orders? After listening to her little speech, Oleg countered without delay: Youre right, Your Highness. If that were an order, I would have simply killed him, for the only way for a human to gain absolute freedom is death! The girl looked at Oleg dolefully: You know, Arioch, now I think I made a big mistake in invoking you. I wanted you to save my life, but it seems that even if Albert had been able to force you to obey him, youd have found a way to rebel. And no doubt that would have caused more people to suffer than my death would. Whats going on? You dont look as if youre mortally ill, and Oleg scanned her aura just in case. No, everything was fine. An unusually healthy girl. Its my father, the king, whos ill. Hes slowly dying. Im not a healer, Oleg shrugged his shoulders, perplexed. In fact, you could say I was quite the opposite. Its unlikely Ill be able to cure your father. And anyway, how do you fit in? No, you cant cure my father. Its impossible to lift the mortal curse of a black magician. Valdes really went to a lot of trouble. But my death goes by the name of Lord Chancellor Victor Kreghist, Duke de Briion, Regent of Fenrian, my uncle. She gave a shuddering sigh, as though holding back tears. You see, Im the crown princess and as such I stand between my uncle and the throne. My fathers not got long left at all, and as soon as he dies, no doubt some unfortunate accident will befall me. Ataletta was about to go on, it was obvious her soul was troubled and she wanted to get everything off her chest, but Oleg interrupted her rather rudely: What did you need a demon for? What for? To kill Kreghist. Assassins cant get near him he has many guards, and he knows magic, to boot. And hiring a magician isnt an option; after Valdess death, there isnt a magician wholl come near us. But why do you want to kill this Kreghist? Why doesnt he just marry you? Much easier, and nicer, too! Hes my uncle. My fathers brother. The church is categorically against such marriages. And anyway, hes already married and has a son who he wants to make his heir. Oleg thought for a while. He had to find something to do in this world, anyway. He had to somehow settle in, earn some money, and find the school for magicians. By helping the princess he might be able to solve quite a few of his own problems at the same time. The main thing was to figure out if he would just be swopping one set of problems for another, maybe

much worse set? And as for money Oleg hit on a very interesting idea He turned to Ataletta. And whos this guy? Oleg rudely poked one of his claws into Alberts side; he was frozen, like a statue. Thats Albert Krozeltz, son of the High Priest of Orchis, Petronii Krozeltz. He found a book among the belongings of some magician who had been sacrificed to Orchis and decided to risk invoking a demon to help me. Please dont kill him. If you want revenge, punish me. What difference does it make at whose hands I die, yours or one of Kreghists henchmen? she added bitterly. Most laudable loyalty to your friend, Oleg said, looking into the girls doleful eyes. By the way, I dont think youll have to die. I dont really have any issues with you, little Princess. Oleg noticed how the girls eyes blazed with fury at this. Blazed and went out; the crown princess of Fenrian, it seems, had a will of iron. Oleg went on: If the poor fool hadnt tried to make me his slave when he invoked me but had tried to come to some agreement with me on friendly terms, I might have worked for you. You can both go now. And what about him? The princess went up to Oleg and looked searchingly into his eyes. Meeting the bottomless abyss which had recently taken up residence in them, she shuddered and turned away. What about him? Oleg pretended to be thoughtful, paused and came to the realization of his plan. He tried to enslave me and caused me terrible pain. Now let him experience both pain and slavery for himself. I shant kill him. He shall be my slave. At these sinister words, the son of the priest started. Oleg went on: Maybe in the course of time Ill let him be bought out, or Ill sell him to some slave dealer. Ataletta looked at Olegs cruel smile, at Albert, pale with horror, and almost in full accordance with Olegs plan suggested: You said we could have come to an amicable deal with you. I would like to hire you. And Id also like to buy Alberts freedom. Slavery is forbidden in our kingdom anyway, and it wouldnt be worth taking him. Oleg looked at her with new eyes. The girl was showing certain practical and business skills, quite unexpected in a princess, as she had so quickly come to the crux of what Oleg had hinted at about buying Albert free. But as for working for Ataletta Oleg weighed up the pros and cons again and decided it was worth a go. It was far easier to get along in a strange world if you had protection at your back in the form of an important individual highly interested in your success, for instance a blonde princess. And anyway, from a human point of view, Oleg simply didnt want such a pretty girl to be killed. In short, he decided to integrate her alterations into his plan. A career as an assassin, albeit a very highly qualified one, was not

really up his street. Well, thats an interesting proposal. I may even agree to work for you. What can you offer me? You agree to kill Kreghist? There was note of joyous excitement in Atalettas voice. No. Im not a contract killer. But for a good compensation package, Im willing to work as your bodyguard. As far as I understand it, you want to save your own life not take that of your uncles? The girl made a sad little grimace. A demon-bodyguard? Kreghist will set all his bravest knights on you. You wont have time to sleep, let alone guard me. Oleg smirked: But what if Im not a demon? What if Im a human with special powers? And so saying Oleg took on his human form. The princess gave a start and stared at him in astonishment, while Albert suddenly breathed much more calmly and put his hand on his neck, from which the snake had disappeared. Finding nothing but a thin hair there, he gave a sigh of relief and was about to rip it off. Oleg gave a warning cough: I wouldnt advise you to touch it. It can bite. The fact that Ive changed my appearance doesnt mean you are free. The son of the High Priest hung his head again. How do you do that? There was open amazement in the girls voice. Not even the mightiest demons can change their appearance so totally. And its not an illusion, otherwise my amulets would give a sign. Somewhat taken aback at the princesss knowledge in the field of practical demonology, Oleg told her the story hed prepared earlier: Im of mixed blood. I repeat my question: what can you offer me in exchange for my services as a bodyguard, and for that young, obedient slave full of strength and energy? Oleg was openly poking fun at Albert, paying him back for the pain and horror he had felt inside the invocation circle. The princess listened and sighed sadly: Im not rich. The treasury is in my uncles hands. Since my father fell ill hes practically been running the kingdom. Of my very few valuables, only my jewellery is left. All I can offer is my soul. Its said that many demons hunt them. Or you can wait until I get my throne back my. Then youll become the richest and most important Duke in the land. The girl looked at Oleg anxiously, awaiting his reply. He thought for a while, weighed up all the pros and cons, and then made his decision: Im not looking for souls He was interrupted by Atalettas relieved sigh, waited, and went on: Id prefer something more material. But as for your dukedom, what use is it to me? I suggest a rather different method of payment.

You humans like to enslave demons and make them do your bidding. But well do things the other way round. Ill offer you my protection and help in saving your life, in return for fulfilling one of my wishes. Which one? The girls thin voice rang with hope and trepidation. I havent decided yet. Dont worry, I told you I dont need your soul. The princess thought for a moment, then answered uncertainly: I agree, if by fulfilling your wish I dont have to go against noble honour or the countrys interests. Oleg wanted to joke that she wouldnt need to go against noble honour, only maiden, but glancing at the frowning little face, he kept quiet. Who knows, she might take it seriously. And then what if she agreed? Oleg wasnt interested in underage girls. He gave a curt nod instead. Its a deal. From now on you are under my protection. But I havent yet received the slavery ransom, so hell remain my property. And where are we, by the way? This is one of the palace cellars. It used to be Valdess spell room. Hes the former royal magician. Fine. Then lets go. First of all, I need to get clothes for your world, Oleg gave a meaningful glance at his jeans and leather jacket. Then you can introduce me to whoever you need to as your new bodyguard. But then another idea came to Oleg. He touched the guitar hanging on his back. No, its probably better if I call myself a minstrel. A bodyguards too noticeable, especially a new one. No-one will suspect anything from a minstrel. Ataletta was amazed: You mean you can play and sing? I can do more than just play and sing. I reckon Im not the worst minstrel around here. Certainly not the worst, Oleg repeated, remembering his performance for Heliona. But how will you protect me? As a minstrel youll be called to various homes, including ones where Im not allowed. Well be in different places. Its all quite simple. I wont be just a minstrel; Ill be a minstrel in love, a minstrel whos fallen in love with you! I reckon falling in love with a doomed princess is quite fitting for a troubadour. No-one will suspect a thing. At this, Ataletta nodded in agreement. A strange expression froze on her face the idea of becoming the heroine of a romantic tale about a minstrel madly in love with her was at once both to her liking but also a cause for some sort of regret, for instance, that it would all only be make believe. After only a few seconds she tore herself from her fantasies and continued dealing with a more painful problem. That problem was in the shape of Albert who stood quietly by the door, from time to time throwing Ataletta glances full of pleas for help. Albert clearly didnt want to be the slave of an evil demon, even one that could pretend to be human. It was very logical,

really. Catching yet another plea-laden glance, Ataletta turned to Oleg, who was already turning towards the door: Wait... What is it? Oleg was fed up with these underground discussions. He was impatient to see the new world with his own eyes, to breathe the fresh breeze, to warm himself under the rays of a new sun, and to get out of this devilish little room with its threefold pentagram and other magical items. Not yet acquainted with the tones of Olegs intonation and the emotions they conveyed, Ataletta said: Its unlikely that a wandering minstrel would have his own slave. All the more so here in Fenrian where slavery is forbidden by law. And its even more unlikely that the slave would be the well-known son of the High Priest. Oleg nodded irritatedly. Reasonable. Seems Ill just have to kill him after all. He transformed his hand to a demons paw and slowly reached for Alberts throat. The princesss cry rang out: No, please dont kill him! Oleg shrugged his shoulders. But what can I do with him? It seems I cant keep him as a slave. But just up and let him go? With neither punishment nor even a ransom? He particularly stressed the last word. Im not so kind-hearted. Albert saw the life-saving possibility at once. What ransom do you want? My father will pay any sum! Really? Well, thats splendid, Oleg drawled. Not having the faintest idea of the local monetary system, Oleg hesitated. Remembering from his school books that gold was a very valuable method of payment in the Middle Ages, he hazarded a guess: I think two thousand gold pieces would be an acceptable sum for your impudent attempt to enslave me. Watching the lads lengthening face and the princess widening eyes, Oleg understood he hadnt undercharged. Hanging his head, Albert nodded, agreeing to the sum. Splendid. You can go. When you bring the money, Ill take the hair from your neck. But once again, I dont recommend you do it yourself. My snakes have very strong poison. And really you should hurry shell get hungry quite soon, and when she does, shell just bite a small chunk off your neck. It wont be fatal, but most unpleasant. The pale Albert shot up the stairs like an arrow. Ataletta looked after him with sympathy. Is it true that your snake will eat him alive? she asked. Oleg kept quiet. He wasnt about to admit hed just thought up all those horrors to hurry the lad and his Pop along to bring him the ransom. Oh, hes really going to get it from his father now, the girl went on. Old Petronii will have to really shake out his coffers to pay such a ransom.

Never mind, itll be a good lesson for your little wizard, Oleg responded. If theres no brains in his head, maybe his dad will be able to beat some in through the back gate. The princess laughed: You have a vivid turn of phrase, demon! Arioch. Thats what you should call me, Oleg reminded her. I dont think it would be wise to call me demon in front of people. And anyway, Im of mixed blood and havent yet decided which way I should go whether I should be a demon or a human. I like you much better as a human. Hm. But another girl I know says the exact opposite. She insists I take the path of a demon. Oleg remembered Heliona. OK, lets go. And on the way you can tell me about your world and this country. And about money, too, by the way. Otherwise I dont know whether Ive asked enough for the priests son. Oh, you asked enough all right! Its the annual income of an average baron. They usually ask that sort of ransom in wartime for an important prisoner. I see. Now, lets get back to other matters. Whats your world called? *** The world was called Elltyan. It was rumoured that it had been so named by elves, its first inhabitants. It was also rumoured that the humans who came after them changed its name. As a result, some of the elves left by themselves (no-one knows where they went) while others were pushed out or killed by the humans, who needed good wood, so abundant in the enchanted elfin forests. Nowadays only three elfin forest-fortresses were left in Elltyan. Magic was spread widely on Elltyan, but not evenly. For instance, there were few magicians in the kingdom of Fenrian. Or rather, at present there were none at all. Not counting all kinds of rabble like village conjurers, wizards or medicine men. It had to do with the cult of Orchis the Light-Bearer. No-one knew why, but that god had become very angry with magicians and proclaimed that anyone who sacrificed one magician to him (a fully-fledged, powerful magician, preferably with a diploma from the Valensian Academy or the stamp of the Dark Citadel) could count on one innermost wish being granted. The magicians, at first ignoring such an offer altogether, occasionally turning to ash (the Valensians) or zombifying (graduates of the Dark Citadel they really hated wasting human material in vain) those who tried to catch them as a sacrifice. But soon they were forced into hiding, and then had to flee to another land, as Orchis, noticing the catastrophic fall in his flock, furnished the priests with amulets which blocked magic. The amulets only worked in the territory of Fenrian, which Orchis had declared holy ground; in order not to allow the further spread of this holy ground, the cult of Orchis was forbidden in all other countries under pressure from the magicians. In Fenrian, meanwhile, the temples multiplied like mushrooms after rain in connection with the strategical necessity to oppose possible magical invasions. Or

that was how it was described in the royal communications sent out to the people when they were disgruntled after yet another tax rise. Thats how the number of magicians in the land fell to zero. The subsequent disturbances among the people were cruelly suppressed (the fertility of the soil, now deprived of the magicians positive influence, fell sharply while the rains, which had previously fallen in strict keeping with agricultural need, now fell when they felt like it). After the public execution of the ringleaders it was proclaimed that all the misfortunes befalling them were the result of a curse made by one of the last magicians to be sacrificed, the former royal sorcerer Valdes. In fact, this rather unsuccessful dark magician, tempted by the high post and the Kings promise of refuge from his light colleagues, in his dying moments only managed to curse the king who had tricked him. Nevertheless, a very convenient scapegoat had been found for all the troubles, and the phrase the curse of Valdes became common parlance. There was one thing which interested Oleg more than anything else in the princesss tale: would he manage to meet even one magician? But as it happened, Ataletta immediately explained that this was only a problem in Fenrian. There are other states on this world. In the Trir Empire, for instance, light magicians are held in great respect and revered, whereas the Academy of Light Forces is in Valensia, a state totally dependent on it, which is why it is sometimes called The Valensian Academy. Previously there had been a political counterpart, the so-called Citadel of the Dark Power, but after the war which ended twenty years ago, the Citadel was in ruins and the magicians of that Order were forced into hiding. Throughout this conversation or rather, lecture given by the princess Oleg and Ataletta had been making their way up a dusty, winding staircase. Due to its location in a deep strata the spell room could easily have been compared to a bunker built in the Soviet era in case of a nuclear war. Finally they arrived at the living levels. The stone floor, sooty ceiling and walls festooned with tapestries were lit by narrow windows which looked like arrow-slits. Curious, Oleg took a look out of one of the windows. His eyes were met with a magnificent view. Clearing horse manure from the back yard of a medieval castle lit up by the rays of the setting sun is how an artist might have described the scene opening up before him. Behind the big heap of precious fertilizer, constantly replenished from the stables, rose a stone wall, completely blocking any view of the rest of the territory. With a sigh, Oleg moved away from the window. The paysage, which was of rather dubious value in terms of both aesthetics and information, didnt inspire him to take a closer look. Where are we?

This is Kreghist Tor, our family castle. It was built by my ancestor before the days when the Kreghists became the royal dynasty of Fenrian but were just one of the failing aristocratic houses under the great Tiis dynasty. Later, when the last Tiis tragically met his death while hunting and Friedrich the First Kreghist came to the throne, (all those who had witnessed the hunt quickly met their end as a result of a well-prepared series of unfortunate accidents), the capital was moved from Orvalen to Velmint, which has been the main city of our kingdom for two centuries. By the way, Oleg suddenly remembered, I wanted to ask you why you call your own uncle by his surname. It would be more logical to use his first name, especially for you, his close relative. I dont want to draw his attention. He possesses magical powers and they say that any magician whos strong enough has the capacity to hear when someone calls him by name. I dont want to risk it. Sometimes I think its a real pity that a person with royal blood cant be used for ritual purposes, otherwise he would have long since been sacrificed to Orchis. And the princess gave a dreamy sigh. Just then, a young man appeared from around the corner. He was wearing a tunic similar to Atalettas but cut slightly differently and much more lavish. Over the tunic was a cuirass reminiscent of that of the ancient Roman legionnaires. The hilt of the short sword hanging from his belt dazzled with its abundance of large rubies and diamonds. His armour was likewise dripping with gilt and precious stones. Lieutenant Leib-Guard Laed Ermini, son of one of Fenrians richest families. An agile courtier, not a bad fencer, one of my uncles closest aides and an utter scumbag. The princess shuddered and tried to turn down a different corridor, obviously attempting to avoid meeting him. Her attempt failed. Seeing the princess, the utter scumbag hurried towards her at once. Your Highness, where have you been? Unconcealed anger could be heard in the lieutenants voice. The Lord Chancellor is alarmed! Ive been ordered to accompany you to his cabinet at once. Come with me, if you please. He weighed Oleg with a quick glance, then deliberately ignored him. Atalettas eyes flashed. Her initial irritation turned to fright when she realized who wanted her and why. But then her fright vanished, too, forced out by fury: they dared to order her, the Crown Princess, like some court servant! The next moment that rage, like bubbling lava, spilled out onto Lieutenant Laeds carefully pomaded head: *** off and ***! Go *** yourself and your Lord Chancellor, and *** there. Im the heir to the throne and if some *** with boiled brains decides he can order me about then hes making a *** big mistake.

Once shed let off steam, the girl turned to Laed and said in a quite different, cold and calm tone: Lieutenant Laed, is that quite clear? You are dismissed. Inform the Lord Chancellor that if he needs our company, he may approach my secretary and request an audience. Gaping at such a response, Ermini jerked automatically and was on the point of leaving when he suddenly pulled himself together. Forgive me, Your Highness, but I am not at liberty to obey your orders. I believe that the Lord Chancellor is likewise unable to. In my opinion, it is simply anatomically not possible! The Lord Chancellors orders are quite clear. I have been ordered to deliver you to him at any cost. Will you come willingly or shall I use force? To show he meant business, he grabbed Atalettas arm and gave it a tug. The girl cried out, and Oleg decided it was time to get involved. He lazily took a step forward, eyed the Lieutenant who was almost a head shorter than himself, and enquired: Your Highness, is it my imagination or has this lieutenant indeed dared to lay hands on a person of royal blood? I have of course heard many rumours about your situation, but even so, it never entered my head that things could have sunk to such dreadful depths. Would you permit me to punish this impudent man? So saying, Oleg stared assiduously at the girl, trying to imitate a love struck gaze. He had decided that the sooner rumours about him and his love for the princess began circulating, the better. And this puffed up army boy was perfectly suited to the role of gossiper. It was clear that Oleg had completed his first task to appear as out-of-the-ordinary as possible with flying colours. Who are you and how did you get into the palace? By what right do you meddle in matters of state? Laed was so shocked that someone dared oppose the orders of the allpowerful Lord Chancellor, he even let go of Atalettas arm. She made the most of her newfound freedom and immediately slipped behind Oleg, from where she proudly announced: Lir( analogous to the French chevalier or the English sir) Arioch, I permit you to treat him as you see fit. He could use a little lesson in good manners. Only, please, dont kill him, she added hastily, evidently remembering the show Oleg had put on in the cellar. Certainly, Your Highness, as you wish. With a nod to the princess, he turned to the officer. My name is Arioch. I am a courtier minstrel from Russia, a smallish country on the southeast of the continent, beyond the Seli Khaliphate. Oleg risked nothing by such an announcement. As Ataletta had told him, the southeast of the continent was all but unchartered due to its politico-magical situation. Just what that situation was, the girl hadnt explained, and Oleg wasnt about to dwell on such details. The main thing was that all maps only showed one big white splodge where absolutely any country

could be with absolutely any even the most exotic -- customs. In other words, it was an ideal cover. Oleg went on: I am here by invitation of Her Highness, and I am meddling by the rights and duties of a courtier, in front of whom a conspirator attacks an heir to the throne, and as a man, who sees a scoundrel insult a helpless maiden! And with this phrase, so full of feeling, he slapped Laed in the face, and announced in the best tradition of prerevolutionary officers, Defend your honour, Lir. The officers reaction was extremely unexpected. Instead of giving a dignified nod and stating the time and place for the duel as Oleg expected, and instead of drawing his sword and trying to slay him where he stood, Laed Ermini behaved rather oddly. he deftly snatched some kind of amulet from the folds of his clothes. It looked like a schoolboys geometry instrument a triangle in a square and waved it under Olegs nose. Olegs karate reflexes sprung into action and the lieutenant flew down the corridor while his gadget remained in Olegs hands, pricking his fingers unpleasantly. He clenched his fist (the amulet crunched and broke). Oleg took a step towards his opponent intending to deal with the situation but the lieutenant jumped to his feet and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him, ducking and diving as though under fire. Whats up with him? Oleg turned to Ataletta, who was smiling from ear to ear. I cant believe you take cowards like him into the Guards? If he runs like that from a challenge to a duel, what will he do on the battlefield? And who told you to challenge him to a magical duel? He, like any other Guard, is a lower-ranking priest of Orchis, and as such he has had an amulet. Yep, there it is, youre trying to sweep its remains under the carpet now! And by the way, they say the amulet is protected by the power of the god and, theoretically, its impossible to break it. Defend your honour! Since the cult of Orchis appeared in our kingdom along with the amulets, thats the first time those words have been uttered! Its clear he was shocked! And when the amulet didnt have any effect on you even though its supposed to paralyze anyone--even the strongest magicians--he decided that he was dealing with an extremely potent magician, or possibly even a new god who had decided to come to my aid. I think he is now putting as much distance as possible between himself and the palace, and with all possible haste, and will keep away from politics in the future. In that case, we need to hurry! Hell report to his superiors and soon a whole army will be rushing to capture us. I dont really fancy slaughtering the armed forces of your country. Oleg was really worried and bluffing through his teeth. Dont worry. Hes not likely to tell anyone. After being disgraced like that, hed be shipped out to fight in the front line. And anyhow, I think from now on we should use the secret pas-

sageway. Seeing as Kreghist dared to give the order to capture me, that means theres not much time left Poor Papa! The princess took a few steps and took hold of something sticking out of the wall, evidently one of the rings used for holding torches. She rotated it around its axis and then gave it a sharp tug. The stone panel immediately moved to one side with a soft rustle, revealing a secret passageway. Lets go. The girl dived into the depths behind the trapdoor and all Oleg could do was follow her. The secret passage, which wound around capriciously, had many apertures for spying and eavesdropping. The sound of voices came up through one of them. Oleg went closer and looked through the opening. Before him was the guards room. Listening in to the conversation going on there, Oleg was quick to withdraw, leading the princess out behind him. It was not a conversation desirable for her to hear. three days. Ill bet you five silver coins. OK, agreed. Dont you want to bet on the method, too? The method? You know - poison, strangle, suffocate, fall down the stairs, or whatever? And how should I know? Well, how do you know when, then? Well, thats easy. Tomorrow the old king, will turn up his toes, then therell be three days of mourning, then the coronation should follow. And she, of course, wont live to see the coronation. But he wont bump her off straightaway. The Lord Chancellors not a beast, hell give her time to bid her father farewell. And so that means that in three days time No, no, the princess certainly should not hear that. Seeing Olegs obvious interest in the many spy holes, Ataletta decided to explain. This passageway was built by my great-grandfather who was renowned for his intense curiosity. It runs throughout the whole of the section my ancestor thought was of interest. Well, you can quite understand him, Oleg said as he leaned towards the next aperture, which he tore himself away from with obvious reluctance. The curious Ataletta, who had obviously inherited this quality from her great-grandfather, immediately availed herself of the free place. In front of her eyes she saw a luxurious bathroom. In the centre behind clouds of steam, a certain figure could be seen, and you could very clearly see the figure belonged to the female sex. By the way, there are four spy holes into the bathrooms. And I think that one of them, incidentally, is the mens room!

May well be. The layout of the rooms has changed a bit since my great-granddads time. Spy holes were made into all the bathrooms adjacent to the fraulein rooms, and into some of the guest room bathrooms, too. Not only spy holes, but in some places secret doorways, too. My great-granddad was not only a lover of secrets, but very loving in general, and my greatgrandmother was very stern in this respect. Come on. Walking on a little way, the princess suddenly sidled up to one of the apertures and carefully examined the room beyond. Then she jerked a lever and stepped into the space opening up before her. Where are you going? Oleg skipped after her quickly. Its my room. I chose it myself. No one but me knew about the secret passageway. My relatives didnt share my passion for history but they didnt stop me from exploring the palace, and sometimes its very useful to have an emergency exit. I need to grab some money and some things; I probably wont be returning for a while, or maybe ever, if my dear uncles servants catch me. So saying, Ataletta rummaged in the cupboard distractedly. After waiting quarter of an hour, Oleg locked the door with the bolt and without getting undressed, lay down on the sofa nearby. Wake me up when youve finished packing. And with those words he closed his eyes and, as though falling into an abyss, collapsed into the realm of Morpheus. The last time Oleg had slept was in his dorm before hed set off to Deniss birthday party. Since then, the impetuously swirling whirlpool of events over the last twenty-four hours had not allowed him the tiniest break. Now his body was insistently demanding its due. The Road to Magic

Chapter Five
The Princesss Bodyguard He awoke when the sun was climbing to its zenith. On the sofa next to him Ataletta was snuffling in her sleep, rolled up into a little ball under a heap of shawls. Two huge bundles were standing next to her, obviously packed for her flight. With a sigh, Oleg touched the princesss shoulder. She half opened a sleep-heavy eyelid. Why didnt you wake me up? Despite the fact that no-one had broken into the room and snatched the sleepers, Oleg was not happy. Fancy falling asleep, and right in the den of the enemies on their tail! Yes, hed been lucky this time, but you cant always be lucky. Fortune is a fickle goddess and you cant rely on her mercy. I tried to! Ataletta informed him, rubbing her sleepy eyes. But you were in a deep sleep and when I nudged you, you started waving around, shouting. Oleg blushed. It was true, someone had tried to wake him up and hed reacted like an angry bear. The princess went on mercilessly: And the guards are skulking about, so I was afraid theyd hear you . And you were waving your claws around so I decided it was better to let you sleep a while. She fell silent for a bit, then added: And anyway, I really wanted to sleep myself. Oleg gave a deep sigh. OK, lets forget it. Theres a positive side to all of this. Now we wont need to roam around the city at night looking for a place to sleep. Open your passageway! Oleg was overcome by an urgent desire to eat and drink. After another sigh, Oleg turned to his inner organs with the request that they wait a little longer to fulfil their lawful demands. The answering rumble told him, Well, OK then, thats how itll have to be, but not for long, otherwise Satisfied with the outcome of this diplomatic discussion, Oleg turned to the princess. She was waiting for him, standing by the door of the opened secret passageway. Well, shall we be off? And without waiting for an answer, Oleg took a step forward, but the girl looked at him and said, Havent you forgotten something? Now what? Oleg searched the room and saw the bundles, which he had successfully managed to forget about. Ive packed a few things, said the princess, confirming his worst fears.

A few? Yes. Just the most indispensable, like you said. Two everyday over-tunics, three evening and three day costumes, one hunting costume, three sets of silk underwear.. . Yeah, Oleg drawled. In fact hed expected something of the sort, but not in such an extreme form. And might I enquire as to whether youve taken any money? Yes, why? And jewellery? Yes. Then lets go. But what about my dresses? such heartfelt grief, such irrelevant sorrow, was in the little princesss voice that even Olegs heart, hardened from dealing with his mother and sister, wavered for an instant. But only for an instant. For a moment he imagined himself, hardly able to move, loaded up with bundles, crawling through the secret passage and captured by half-drunk guards; even worse hed be forced to carry all that weight first up to the hotel, and then on their flight from her uncle and his guards. Once he took them, the princess, undoubtedly, would never want to part with her precious dressespity abandoned his heart. After all, the donkey which has once been ridden will be ridden by the whole village, and people will always take advantage of you if you let them, as they say. Were not taking the dresses. Well, you, of course, can take anything you like from here, but on three conditions: firstly, you will carry it all yourself. I need to have my hands free in case I have to fight. Secondly, it must all be carried so if need be you will easily be able to run without any significant loss of speed. And thirdly, you will have to carry it all in such a way that it wont attract any attention. What sort of people go around your city with big bundles? Peasants. And what kind of clothes do you have? From which class? A noble city lady. An aristocratic lady, not a rich one. Ataletta obviously knew this subject inside out. And about how much do they usually carry? Well, maybe a little bag or a parcel. Not more. If need be, the servants carry the rest behind them. Well, you see, there are no servants here. So all you can take is a little bag or a parcel. Well, you could the princess started to say but stopped herself, catching Olegs cold glance. Hemming and hawing, she bent down and took a small box from the bundle. Having put it in a bag which was hanging from her elbow obviously the local equivalent to a ladies handbag Ataletta turned to Oleg. Im ready. Lets go.

The secret passage led them to a small alley. They followed it and came out onto a square teaming with poorly-dressed people. They immediately drew attention. And that was not surprising. In his silver-studded leather jacket and his jeans, with his guitar over his shoulders, and a head taller than those around him, Oleg stood out markedly from the local men whose average height, according to Olegs estimate, was around 5 foot, 3 inches, and wore short tunics with daggers or short swords hanging from their belts. Ataletta, too, in her rather crumpled but clean and light tunic of good quality material and well-cared for skin, really stood out among the local women. I reckon we need to find a hotel urgently, Oleg turned to his travelling companion. Do you know anywhere suitable? Yes. We should go that way, the girl waved her hand to show the direction. The hotel turned out to be a smallish tavern which went under the name of The Green Dragon, as was evident from the sign outside showing a smallish dragon with its body elongated in Chinese style, crawling out from a bottle of some local alcoholic beverage. The rooms turned out to be clean and light, although they were rather modestly furnished. Having eaten his fill and cheered up, Oleg turned his attention to the princess, who had fallen into despondency. Whats up? You look upset. Ataletta nodded her head and touched the purse hanging on her belt. Its not so bad really. Its just that were running out of money. We wont have enough for the journey, and we still have to buy you some clothes and weapons. Looks like Ill have to sell my jewellery after all. Id hoped we could have managed without that. Theyre family heirlooms and quite well-known. People will realize at once that Im on the run, and in this town. Well, they know that anyway. Youve only just disappeared, so youd hardly have been able to get out of town yet. The guards at the gates have probably already been warned and are carefully looking for girls who look like you, Oleg answered. He could clearly see the princess didnt want to part with the last keepsakes of her past, and besides, it irked him that a girl had to pay for him. Of course, it was within the terms of the contract, but still Oleg urgently needed his own money. And so far he could only see one way of getting it. Today, unlike yesterday, that way didnt appeal to him so much. But it looked as though there were no other choice. You dont have to sell your jewellery. Apart from all the inconvenience associated with selling it, itll cause you a lot of trouble when you take up your throne. Itll be a lot of hassle to buy it all back... I know where to get money. Where? The girls face lit up with hope and the expectation of a miracle. It seemed shed decided that Oleg was now going to conjure money up out of thin air or in some other magical

way. He had to disappoint her. If my memory serves me well, yesterday evening one of your acquaintances, a certain Albert, indebted himself to me to the tune of two thousand gold pieces. I reckon that should cover clothes and weapons, with some left over for the road, too. By the way, where are we heading? To the Iron Baronies. My godfather, Baron Maidell, warned me of possible treason when my father first fell ill and told me I could go straight to him. He wont turn his back on me, the princess answered lightly. It was clear that she had thought this matter through. Then it dawned on her just exactly where Oleg intended to get the money for the journey, and once again she grew visibly upset. In general, Oleg noticed that this girls mood changed extremely easily. Maybe youd better not? The money we can get in exchange for my jewellery should be ample for us. I feel really awkward about fleecing Albert. We grew up together and hes one of the very few who have remained faithful even now when everyone has turned against me. After all, it was him who thought up the plan of invoking a demon but she saw how Olegs eyes darkened and fell silent at once. Exactly! He thought up the plan of invoking and enslaving a demon. And he shall pay for it! And a lot less than he should, Ill say. In any event, his father is the one wholl give us the money. Whats his name by the way? And dont worry, you wont have to fleece your friend. Ill undertake that operation myself. You just show me where he lives, and then wait somewhere out of the way. The girl got up from her chair with a heavy sigh. Lets go. Its not far from here. Alberts father is called Petronii. As you probably know already, hes the High Priest of Orchis the Light Bearer. And apart from anything else, that means that there are over fifty guards of the main municipal temple and squads from dozens of other smaller temples on his land. And it also means that magic wont work on either him or his servants. Do you still want to go and see him about money? Of course! I have to go and get my little snake. I cant let her poison herself on Alberts tough flesh. And if Petronii decides to unleash his guards on me, all the better! I could do with a little exercise. And Oleg allowed his eyes to turn into lakes full of darkness for an instant. The princess frowned and turned away. You know, for a time there Id forgotten you were a demon. You were just like a human! Thats as it should be, my girl, Oleg said softly. I am a human and remembering his cover story he added half. Then it entered Olegs head to dramatize the situation a bit; girls like romantic heroes, and Oleg suddenly wanted Ataletta to like him.

Some day Ill have to decide once and for all whether to become a demon or a human and lose everything which makes up the other half of my soul Oleg tried hard to put on a suffering expression. Of course, this would hardly have worked on anyone back in his own world, but here a complex, conflicting and suffering personality should be quite a new approach. It was highly doubtful that the local simple folk would known the works of Rafael Sabatini or any of the other writers of Earths Romantic era. The gamble paid off. Atalettas gaze no longer held any disgust for the cruel demon that the winds of fate had made into a bodyguard. Now other feelings flickered in that gaze. Oleg even felt a bit ashamed for stooping to such an underhand trick, over-used by psychologists and writers of womens novels for many a generation. But at least the climate had improved, and with that he soothed his conscience. OK. I hope that answers all your questions. Show us the way to this Petronii of yours. Hes not mine at all, the princess mumbled, going out the door. It was indeed not far. As it turned out, Ataletta knew her city superbly well. After half an hour of looping through various back alleys, they came out onto one of the central streets of a wealthy part of the city. There it is, Ataletta whispered, pointing to a two-story wooden house surrounded by a high stone wall. A guard was lounging in front of the gates dressed in grey-white chlamys with a simplistic design on the chest the same triangle in a circle which Oleg had seen on the amulet belonging to the lieutenant who had tried to detain the princess. With great concentration, the guard was excavating treasure from his nose; his menacing weapon a huge though slightly rusty halberd, obviously extremely heavy leant against the gate post. Observing this, Oleg gave a sceptical snort. Are all the temple guards like that, I wonder? Thats one of the best, Ataletta pulled a wry face. Look, he even carries his halberd with him. Most of them dont usually carry anything heavier than a tankard. And they are guards? Warriors? Oleg was quite astonished. What sort of warriors? Who would they fight? First sign of trouble, out comes their little Orchis amulet, the opponents paralyzed, and there you are! But what if the amulet doesnt work? For instance, what if they wave it about in front of a warrior, not a magician? Magician, warrior, whats the difference? It paralyzes all of them. It knocks out the magicians magical powers, too. Youre the only phenomenon that the amulet doesnt have any effect on. When I saw it yesterday I couldnt believe my eyes at first. But I dont think they have any inkling of your abilitiesyet

And with those words the princess suddenly gave Oleg a most conspiratorial wink. Shed obviously come to terms with the fact that the priest would be robbed in any case, and had decided that, seeing as she could do nothing about it, she might as well sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Good girl, keep it up, Oleg muttered, and coming out of hiding, he swaggered towards the so-called guard, having made up his mind to turn up the heat. After all, the amulets had no effect on him, there were no magicians here, and if they tried to pin him down with brute force Meanwhile, the guard-doorkeeper had successfully completed his naso-geological enterprise. After examining his bounty, he wiped his hands on his ample paunch and, with his hand on his halberd, was leaning against the gate post with the clear intention of having a little snooze in the shade. This intention didnt really fit in with Olegs little plan, and he quickened his steps. But by the time he reached the guard, the watchman was already sound asleep. Hey, soldier! Oleg called. In the depths of the gateway Ataletta bit her lip. Never, ever had anyone dared to address a holy guard of Orchis in such a familiar way. Anyone with the cheek to address a guard other than most respected holy guard was immediately paralyzed with the help of the amulet and taken to the nearest court where they received a hefty fine, most of which went to the church, a small part going to the pockets of the injured party. Unaware of these subtleties, Oleg, who had been ignored, repeated his call to the guard and gave him a nice little kick. In reply he got a tuneless snore accompanied by a strong stench of alcohol. Oleg thought for a moment and decided to alter his plan somewhat. It would be cruel to wake this poor fellow now. He knocked the guard out with a well-aimed punch and rummaged around in the guards inside pockets. Oleg unearthed a bottle of sleep-inducing liquor and a bunch of keys. Then he hauled him out of his chlamys and put it on. Oleg dragged the guard to a ditch and, covering him with rags, gave the sleep inducing liquor a sniff and took a couple of good gulps. A drunkard, too! What have I done to deserve him, O Immaculate Orchis? the princess piped up bitterly. And as if in reply, a booming burp rang out. Then Oleg opened the gate and boldly went into the courtyard of the Great Pontiff and High Priest of Orchis the Light Bearer, Petronii. *** The first week of June had been very stressful for Petronii Krozeltz. The old king was living out his last days, his already close and inevitable death causing the strongest shockwaves on the political horizon. The High Priest had to constantly tack between carrying out the wishes of the old king - who was dying yet still powerful enough to bring down all sorts of

trouble on a fool who might cease to do his bidding - and expressions of devotion to the future ruler, the mighty Lord Chancellor. And amongst it all he had to remember to keep an eye on the pack of senior priests under him. They were straining at the leash to take his place and he constantly had to rein in the most zealous, showing that their leader hadnt lost his grip yet. And now his son had gone and got into trouble. That blockhead had somehow managed to fall in love with the crown princess. As if there werent enough tempting servant girls slipping around the house! Choose any one of them, and if thats not enough, take two or three! Distracted for a second, the middle-aged priest smacked his lips, but his thoughts soon returned to his son. When Albert had first come to him to confess his inappropriate love and even ask for help and advice, he had simply rejoiced in his sons passion. The King was healthy, he had only just brought another magician as a sacrifice, what was his name? forgotten, well, never mind. And there it was. His son had fallen in love with the only daughter of this wise governor. And she, too, it would appear, did not find him repulsive. And no wonder, they had been friends from early childhood. So Albert was in with a chance and Petronii had been inclined to help him in any way he could. Yes, he had been. And that inclination lasted precisely up until the royal medic gave his report on the magical nature of the Kings illness, saying that without the help of a highly qualified magician the King would not live to see the next summer. There were no magicians. Neither highly qualified nor poorly qualified. None at all. They had learnt well the lesson of Valdes, who had trusted the promises of an old friend and had been brought to the altar of state necessity. Or rather, to the altar of Orchis, to be precise, though state necessity was still present. And neither money nor honour could persuade them to set foot on Fenrian soil. And the powers of those medicine women, witches and conjurers who were not afraid to enter the kingdom because their powers were too insignificant to be of interest to Orchis were completely insufficient to cure the King. The King had resigned himself to his fate. It had been harder to come to terms with the inevitability of his daughters death, but he had to. Even during her life Ataletta had been a princess sacrificed to that same state necessity. She would live just as long as her father. Everyone understood that, and came to terms with it. Everyone but one young idiot! And he had to go and invoke a demon, trying to save the princess! Well, alls well that ends well. And this story, would end not merely well but splendidly. Fortune favours fools. His son had managed to drag some teleporting magician into his circle, evidently first and foremost a Sovereign of Beasts and an Illusionist as his additional speciality. But anyhow, what difference did it make? Any powerful magician would make a

suitable sacrifice for Orchis. The main thing was to convince him to take the snake from his sons neck the priest glanced at the weighty little chest with the ransom at his feet--and then the guards will overpower him. And just in case of emergency, he had another surprise: arbalesters were hiding behind the wall, ready to shoot anywhere in the room, aiming through specially made slits. No, the magician wouldnt be able to get away. Petronii gave a satisfied sigh. Not for a second did he entertain the thought that the demon his son had invoked might be a real one. He knew only too well what it cost a magician - a true, powerful magician, well-versed in demonology to invoke and tame even a rather shabby, weak demon. His childhood friendship with Valdes had left its mark, and now Petronii possessed certain knowledge not exactly typical for a devout priest. Just then a desperate knocking was heard at the door. At the High Priests disgruntled Come in! an agitated guard flew into the room. His dishevelled fair hair fell into his eyes and his tunic was too short for him, yet too wide for this tall but thin lad. Petronii frowned: Father Kelarii the Guest Master was skimping again, giving the new recruits second-hand garments. Hed have to give him a good talking to. Ten lashes would probably do the trick no, better twenty it would help him remember. What is wrong, my child? Theres a fireyour sonthe whole wing where hes housed! The last words were pronounced as the guard hurried after the priest who was rushing off to his sons wing. Happily, everything turned out alright. Albert was alive and well. And most importantly that horrid collar had disappeared from around his neck! Evidently the snake had been unable to bear the heat and had slithered off. It looked as though Orchis was well disposed to his priest. Now there was no need to fear for his sons life and he could catch the demon at once, as soon as he poked his sly nose into the courtyard. And the money could be returned to the treasury immediately. It was a shame, though, that because of his fright Albert had taken on a terrible stutter; it was impossible to understand a single phrase. It would have been interesting to know what had caused the fire in that wing. Like all the buildings in Petroniis courtyard, it was made of wood soaked in a cunning solution which was highly nonflammable But he could deal with his sons stuttering and the mysterious fire later. It didnt take him long to get an explanation from the guards. The wing had caught fire quickly and completelyhe would have to look into this Just then, that very same new guard came up to him. Your Holiness, he addressed Petronii. The wind is blowing towards your house! Will you give the order to evacuate your things? What if it catches fire? Petronii gave the new guard a searching look.

Evacuate my things? What for? Why, what if your house catches fire? Then everything will be burnt! The gold and silver will melt in the heat, then boil and evaporate, all the fabrics with be burnt, the weapons ruined. And how do you know all that? asked the priest. From my brother, the young guard looked at him with simple, honest eyes. Hes a smith in our village. And he told me that And at that moment he dashed nimbly to the house and began beating the flames on the burning walls. Without thinking, the priest ordered the guards to help him. In five minutes the heart of the fire was extinguished and the new lad came up to him, panting heavily. Your Holiness, what are your orders? We shall keep watch here with the guard, and you could lead the people out of the building. Otherwise they will all burn The impudence of this young guard made the priest indignant. And who might you be, and who do you think you are? The guard looked around stealthily there was no-one nearby. All the guards were piled up by the wing, eyes fixed on the fire. You wont tell anyone who I am? Petronii was overcome by curiosity. I wont tell. Who are you? The demon, the guard answered briefly. Petronii glimpsed a swift flying fist, and the whole Universe fell on his head. The guard looked round and dragged the priests unresisting body into the bushes. Once there, the guard checked his pulse and muttering to himself, Hes alive, the dog, he set about pulling the gold ring-seal off his finger in a business like way. That done, he scattered branches over the unprotesting Petronii and, whistling, headed towards the house. A large carriage laden with the most valuable possessions and weapons from the priests house soon drove out of the gates. In the middle of the carriage, in the place of honour, was a chest bound with iron rods, full of two thousand new gold pieces. The carriage braked for an instant beside one of the alleyways, and another individual jumped aboard, carefully turning her face from the light. Then the carriage rumbled on, towards the nearest market square. Approximately an hour after the departure of cart, the priests house was lit up by the light of a mighty torch and filled with unprintable cries, howls and curses against Orchis, his mother and various parts of their divine bodies. Then a cavalcade of riders rushed out of the gates, whirled around for a few moments, discovered the carriages trail and rushed off, yelping and whooping. After approximately another hour, the riders returned, gloomily dragging the utterly

empty carriage behind them. The head rider, a man of around fifty or fifty-five, was trotting in front without his helmet. A huge bulging bruise could be seen on his head and in his hand he held a note. Riding up to the house, he threw the note into the mud with an irritated gesture. It only contained a couple of lines written in Olegs flying hand: Thank you for your generosity. Demon. *** Robbing that poor priest was as easy as taking candy from a child, said Oleg, but then, remembering his childhood and his younger sister, quickly corrected himself. Easier. Much easier! He and the princess were sitting in The Green Dragon ravenously guzzling bacon and eggs and washing them down with expensive wine from the tavern keepers reserves. There followed a heated discussion on the moral-ethical, juridical and financio-pragmatic side of the expropriation conducted by Oleg. The chest bound with iron rods was standing in their room. In order to avoid the local proletariat from possibly acting upon that well-known communist slogan, steal the stolen, Oleg had summoned up all his experience and knowledge in the field of magic. Now any thief who even so much as thought to move the chest stood an excellent chance of turning into a wellcooked beefsteak. Oleg was wearing his favourite jacket and jeans (the new tunic they had just bought was lying in the chest, as once hed tried it on, Oleg didnt like it and decided to keep wearing his own clothes for as long as possible), a long and heavy two-handed espadon hung on his back, and his sleeve hid a flail he had prepared himself. Originally Oleg had thought of getting something along the lines of a Japanese katana or a no-dachi, (similar in form to a katana. although considerably larger) but having established the quality of the local metal workers, he came to the conclusion that hed better take something heavier and broader-- all the weapons for sale were made of iron; there was not even any simple steel to be seen, let alone damask steel. An espadon fitted these demands almost perfectly. Huge, almost six feet long, it was so heavy that when Oleg first lifted it using only his human strength, it made his eyes roll. Fortunately, his demonic muscles allowed him to wield the giant weapon quite freely, even with one hand. Oleg also bought himself a long poignard. In a situation where he might have to fight with both hands, it would make a fine daga (a long dagger for the left hand). After a short training session on the tavern courtyard, where Oleg remembered a few sword fighting tricks hed learned at school, the princess looked at him with admiration. When Oleg, sweating, walked up onto the porch, she muttered softly, as though deep in thought, Maybe he wasnt just boasting when he said it was within his power to slay our whole army! Seems as though I might stay alive after all.

And so now here they were, celebrating their first victory and their improved financial situation. Or rather, Oleg was celebrating, but the princess was trying with all her might to reach his conscience with philosophical arguments. This undertaking was very much to Olegs liking, even though it was doomed to failure from the start (as a first year student suffering from a cruel hangover, Oleg discovered in himself an absolutely worthless thing, (i.e. his conscience) and without thinking for long he tossed it away and bought a beer. He never regretted this barter, bragging about it to his friends on many an occasion); he was a great fan of debating lofty matters over a few drinks. The amount of wine on the table gradually diminished and the debate was becoming very heated. Unnoticeably, the tavern-keeper and his guests at the nearby tables became involved, but luckily the debate was purely theoretical and it never even entered anyones head to accuse Oleg of robbing the High Priest (conflicting rumours about this event had already begun circulating through the city). To his surprise, Oleg discovered he was gradually losing the debate. The side of the lawabiding princess - who maintained that stealing was bad, and no matter what sort of a bastard the High Priest of Orchis was, whoever burgled him had acted unfairly - was supported by most of the taverns visitors. On Olegs side - who maintained that theyd robbed him, and thank god, hed soon rob some more for himself anyway - were only a few individuals shrouded in dark cloaks, carefully hiding their faces in their hoods, and a small group of hirelings standing together. The debate spread and gradually caught the whole hall, taking on an existence quite apart from the couple, genuinely amazed at the outcome of their little debate. Here and there fists had begun waving. The shady individuals had pulled out little bags stuffed with sand, the kind so convenient for stunning passersby in winding city streets. The hirelings were weighing heavy chairs in their hands, working out how best to pull the legs off. Ataletta, frightened by such a reaction to her words, was getting ready to dive under the table and Oleg, in case things got bad, got ready to use his fists to shelter her (growing scales on his body under his clothes where no-one could see them, just in case). But just then an interesting idea suddenly wandered into his drunken head. It roamed around for a while in the primordial emptiness filled with alcoholic mist, finally bumped into the convolutions of his brains and immediately apparently out of sheer joy that it had at least found something to latch onto became fatally lost in them. As a result there was nothing for Oleg to do but try to carry the thought out, and he set about with far from sober enthusiasm. Oleg had remembered Helionas casual phrase about the amazing capabilities of a demons vocal chords. In other words, demons can convince people just by their voice. What an interesting concept, he thought. I should try it! Not fond of losing a debate, Oleg decided to influence his opponents with the joint forces of art and his demonic voice to prove he was

in the right. Quickly nipping up to the room to get his guitar, he tuned the instrument. Up until then, Oleg had completely forgotten about the snapped string and now he repaired the damage, thankful that hed grabbed a couple of spares as he was leaving for Deniss party. The brawling ceased instantly. Minstrels played very rarely in Fenrian and no-one was about to let such an opportunity slip just because of some banal fisticuffs. After all, you could clean up your neighbours physiognomy any day, but travelling musicians hardly ever played in taverns, being more accustomed to royal courts. In short, no-one wanted to miss this chance. Once hed finished tuning the guitar, Oleg eyed the crowd around him, glanced at Ataletta who was crawling out from under the table, intrigued, and began to sing. When Oleg fell silent an impressed silence reigned in the concert hall for a time. Then the audience erupted. A wave of applause broke over Oleg. One of the shady individuals, pulling his hood lower, came up to Oleg and quietly whispered: Youve cheered us up. If anything happens, go to Slanting Alley, the lads of Phil Tattered will stick up for you. Oleg gave a little laugh, but didnt refuse, he might need them in the future. Play more, wont you? Oleg looked over the tavern, which was pretty full. He looked over the shady individuals who were starting to whisper, flattered; at Ataletta, rapture rising out of her indignation drawing an indescribable expression on her face, and he answered decisively: Well why not? Ill play! A satisfied whisper ran through the tavern. He began singing Vysotskys Pirate Song. The tavern fell silent. Velmint wasnt only the capital, it was also a port after all, and quite a large portion of those present worked the sea. Many of the merchants had seen similar scenes in their nightmares. And judging from the all but toothless grin which appeared on the face of one of the dark hoodies, he had himself taken part in similar events. Olegs unfocused gaze he was now beginning to sober up only picked out a few tiny details of the crowd, individual tiles of the mosaic, creating a canvas of reality. Here, Ataletta sat amazed, listening to the song with rapture, but unable to fathom how you could praise and with such talent a cursed thing like piracy There, some young lad in a black leather overcoata sailor, judging from the short blade at his belt and his swaying gait--listening with such terse attention it seemed it was not the song he were listening to but the voice of fate itself Over there, a merchant, listening despite himself, ensnared by the romantic image of his eternal enemy And here, an aristocrat getting on in years, with a girl by his side. His daughter, judging from the coat of arms embroidered on both their garments and the age difference. How had

they ended up here in this tavern which, although respectable enough, was certainly not fitting for high society? The lady was holding a fan up to her face, and the gentleman, narrowing his eyes, was obviously scornful of the unskilled minstrel playing in the tavern instead of presenting himself in the royal court as befits a respected minstrel. And thus they were frozen, immobile, blinded and deafened by the waves of sea wind, by the freedom to live and perish, straining at every line. Bravado and wine had already carried Oleg away and he paid no attention to the audience. He finished his song, stood up and looked the hall over with his still drunken gaze. Well? Did you get it? Have I proved my point? Yes, yes! the audience replied, a cacophony of tuneless cries. And even those who had just walked into the tavern, attracted by the music, and had no idea just what the singer had proved, joined in their cries. Sing something else! Oleg glanced victoriously over at Ataletta and drawled out another tune by Vysotsky, Of Love in the Middle Ages, a ballad that tells of a brave warrior who has won a fair maidens heart but the jealous king calls him to a tournament. Although the braveheart wins, the king sends him off for one hundred daysand his beloved doesnt wait for him. Had Oleg been more sober, he might not have struck up such a provocative song in the capital of an absolute monarchy, with the heir to the throne just across the table. But he got away with it. The people greeted this narrative about the misadventures of the valiant knight with gasps and asked the aristocrat in a whisper in which country and when that treacherous Sire had ruled who had so terribly wronged his braveheart, and whether a rebellion had been sparked? The aristocrat whispered back that he did not know exactly, but judging from the kings name, it was somewhere in the east, possibly beyond the Seli Khaliphate, and most likely a long time ago. All the while the young aristocrat who had come with her father was throwing Oleg significant glances. This did not escape Atalettas attention and, hesitating a little, she moved her chair closer to Oleg in order to show her: this place is taken. The aristocrat girl wilted. Guessing the meaning behind these manoeuvres, Oleg smiled broadly at the princess while simultaneously winking at her competition. Both girls broke into smiles. There it is, the magical power of art, Oleg thought to himself. Just this morning one of these girls was mortally afraid of me and didnt consider me human, and I dont even know the other at all. And there they go, competing! Wondering at the female mind, Oleg continued his performance. Finally, after over an hour of uninterrupted singing and fully sobered up, he realized he might lose his voice, so he put down his guitar. It was a full house. People were sitting on benches, tables, chairs, stools, on

upturned pans brought in from the kitchen, and on the bar, too, headed by the tavern keeper himself, wiping tears from his unshaven cheeks. The final touch was the three sailors and a ginger-haired girl who had clambered up onto one of the beams on the ceiling. Oleg felt like a star. Once it was clear that the concert was over for the day, the crowd gradually began to disperse. The aristocrat came up to Oleg. Greetings to you, lir. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Noir, Count de Vinei. This is my daughter, Lermetta. Arioch. A minstrel, Oleg answered. The Count was obviously taken aback, but gave a well-mannered nod. His daughter, however, was not so restrained. Arioch. And what more? And what more? Oleg realized hed unwittingly broken some custom. Well, your surname, senyal, (warrior nickname) your lands... In your empire, I believe, the customs are not so far removed from ours. While Oleg desperately thought how to satisfy the girls curiosity but not be trapped in a blatant lie, the old Count himself came to his aid. Why, Meta, cant you see that the lir hunter doesnt wish to boast of his accomplishments? And turning to Oleg he added, I would ask you to forgive her, Lir Arioch. Here, unlike in the Empire, not much is heard of the Hunters Code. And if you wish to remain incognito, you would do well to change your clothes. In a jacket and the colours of the Imperial Hunter of the Unclean, you will always find yourself under attack from girls eager to ask all about your victories. After all, is that not why you avoid the royal court? Anyhow, that is your business. However, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your companion? Oleg looked at the princess. She nodded and sighed: de Vinei had obviously recognized her and was now simply following protocol. For a few seconds Oleg thought through the possibility of killing him; it wouldnt have been difficult for Oleg to unleash a snake from his head, and an elderly aristocrat with a heart attack wouldnt arouse suspicion. No one, including his daughter standing next to him, would notice anything. Nevertheless, that thought vanished as soon as he looked into the wise eyes of the old Count. Oleg had never killed anyone in his life, and even though he realized that in this new, raw world - and all the more so as a demon - he was unlikely to get by without doing so, he was nevertheless trying to delay that unpleasant moment for as long as possible. And to begin with the treacherous murder of the clever old man sitting next to him well to hell with the need to keep secrets f... it all, he decided.

Glancing around and not noticing any unwanted ears, Oleg announced: Allow me to introduce Her Highness Ataletta. Your Highness, this is Count Noir de Vinei. The Count bowed politely. The princess flashed her eyes at Oleg; it seems he had made some slip in the etiquette somewhere, but she didnt say anything. Smiling sweetly, she nodded to the aristocrat. Judging from the glances you threw in my direction, you recognized me. As you approached me and did not rush straightaway to call the Lord Chancellors guards, I conclude you wish to tell me something. Yes, Your Highness. Unfortunately, I must inform you of bitter tidings. Yesterday evening Lord Chancellor announced the beginning of King Friedrich the Fourths death throes. The princess shuddered and turned pale. Then she smiled sadly at Oleg and began to get up from the table. Well, thats it then. Thank you. It was a nice evening. You know, I even thought for a while I would be able to escape, she said quietly, with sorrow. Oleg, amazed by this, sobered up instantly. Where do you think youre going? Whats with the funeral mood? OK, so your fathers dying, but thats no reason to climb into the tomb yourself! Ill see you safely out of the country, youll gather your strength and take your throne back. I might even help you with that! Ataletta shook her head sadly. Thats not the point, Arioch. Why wasnt anyone guarding me? Why was I able to walk the streets so freely? Why, even after wed run away, werent the guards sent out into the city? No one followed me, no one looked for me, not counting that fool Ermini. Oleg kept quiet, beginning to understand that in fact it was all rather strange. It seemed that no one could care less whether the heir to the throne was in the castle, where they were about to murder her, or not. Instead, she was allowed to wander the city, or anywhere else she pleased, on her own, without any kind of guard or chaperone, as if no one was afraid she might run away. Its quite simple, the princess replied to his silent question. Uncle knows that no matter how much I might want to run away, I have to be in the castle when my father dies. The family curse wont permit me to be anywhere else. And seeing the look of utter incomprehension still in Olegs eyes, she asked the old Count: Explain to him, would you? Hes from far away and doesnt know about the subtleties of Fenrians royal succession. Meanwhile, Ill go and get changed. It seems I still have time. And she ran upstairs. The old aristocrat told the story. His tale was unbelievable, smacking of make-believe, and if Oleg had been in his own world, he would not have believed him for anything. But he was in a different world with different laws, and any nonsense could be truth.

The gist of the tale went as follows. Coming to the throne as a result of a conspiracy, Friedrich the First Kreghist was very concerned that one of his descendants might be overthrown as a result of a similar conspiracy. So, being a good magician, he cast a spell on his descendants and his country. According to this spell, only descendants of the Kreghist family could rule there. Precisely which calamities would befall the country if the throne should fall to anyone else, Oleg didnt understand. But suffice to say the calamities would be severe, as in all this time no-one had ever tried to overthrow the royal dynasty. As soon as the next king had been enthroned, the enchantment itself chose his successor, and in a very simple manner. The heir would be the oldest child of the newly-crowned king. If there were no children, then it would be the nearest blood relative. Many problems and scandals often arose as a result of such an automatic selection of successors. It was all the same to the spell whether the heir was clever or a fool, a child of wedlock or a bastard born of a beautiful peasant girl. Nevertheless, the system worked. But that was just the beginning. The crux of the matter was that under the power of that same enchantment the dying king was unable to die without handing over his power to the rightful heir, the heir chosen by the enchantment. They suffered, tormented and agonized for weeks sometimes, but simply couldnt die until the heir showed up and heard the secret word and took the crown, which became his own and was the fundamental symbol of royal power. No one but the king could wear it. And as for the heir, even if he felt the strongest revulsion to taking power, he could not refuse it, even if he decided to sacrifice his own life. In such cases, it was not the heir who appeared but his phantom, driven by the enchantment. And the phantom was crowned in accordance with all the customary protocols. And after that, a new successor, chased by that same enchantment, had to show up. There had been such precedence. Thus Atalettas uncle could easily play the role of a kind-hearted liberalist knowing that as soon as the king began to die his heir would be forced to show up anyway. He only had to keep an eye on the king, who evidently with this in mind -- had been quartered in a fortified tower, in a room right at the top where there were no secret passageways. On hearing all this, Oleg fell to thinking. Letting the princess go into the palace now was out of the question. That would mean certain death. And not letting her well, the enchantment would draw her--alive or dead. His musings were interrupted by the arrival of Ataletta. Pale, dressed in a new white tunic, her head held proudly high, she walked straight towards the exit, obviously preparing to die. And at that very moment, a thought flashed through Olegs head, a thought he reckoned was rather clever. So youre off, then? he remarked quietly to the girl as she passed. She nodded silently, obviously holding back tears.

Oleg had been counting on the fact that the princess, who couldnt bear to be addressed rudely, would get angry and lose her temper, but now he realized hed have to raise the stakes at once. Not having much experience with people in deep depression, he nevertheless concluded that the easiest way would be simply to really wind the girl up. Let her be furious with a demon-lout rather than give in to mortal languor, burying herself alive. So you cant live without saying goodbye to darling daddykins, then? he continued in a deliberately boorish voice, paying no attention to the reproachful looks of Count de Vinei and his daughter. Ataletta spun round sharply, measuring him with raging eyes. How dare you? Aha, thats better, Oleg said in his usual tone, ignoring her fury. But youre not mad at the right person. Im not Kreghist. And theres no need to rush to your death. Can you bear the Summons for a while? Summons? Ataletta was at a loss. You know, the thing which makes the heir hurry to the king. Such things are often called summons in magic. Oh, I see. Yes, I can bear it. Its not strong at first. Until the Count told me that my father was dying, I hadnt noticed it. I thought I was just missing him and the palace. And how long can you hold out for? It was de Vinei who answered instead of the princess. Judging from certain manuscripts and archive documents, the heir can easily withstand the Summons as you rightly call it for thirty-six hours, and in cases of extreme necessity, for forty-eight. It would appear that this time is set as aside for willing submission. Then the Summons becomes painful and Thank you, Oleg interrupted him. So in other words, shell be able to bear it till tomorrow? Er, yes, easily, the old aristocrat declared at a loss, unaccustomed to such unceremonious behaviour. The princess just gave a nod of confirmation. Excellent! Oleg felt he was on a winning streak. He was being carried on a wave of inspiration. Lir Noir, you said that minstrels usually stay at the palace. What do you think, how would it be if this evening another minstrel from a far-off land showed up at the palace with his page? Highly suspicious, de Vinei answered stoutly. I have lived a long life but in all my years I have never once set eyes on a minstrel with a servant or a page. Either minstrels are not rich enough, or their code is such that they are not permitted to have them.

Oleg thought for a while, then came up with another variation: And what about the minstrels young love? He threw a glance at the livid Ataletta standing by her chair and hurriedly went on. Or lovely student girl? Somewhat pacified by this speech, the princess remained standing nevertheless, gently toying with a heavy oak tray and eyeing Oleg suspiciously. De Vinei chortled. Well, that variation could well work. A minstrel with a lovely he stressed the word student girl is run of the mill. And very often with more than one, I should say. Admittedly, usually the minstrels students stay at home, they dont get taken with him, but thats a matter of taste. But if the student girl is a lovely favourite, well, the minstrel could certainly take her with him. Realizing what the men were talking about and more importantly who they meant by student girl, the princess blushed deeply, but kept quiet. Lermetta, who also understood full well, gave her a mocking, but at the same time rather jealous, glance. It seems she would not have been at all against becoming Olegs favourite student girl. Catching her glance, Noir silently shook his fist at her. She giggled but didnt stop making eyes at Oleg. Oleg heroically didnt succumb. With a perfectly oval face and a large chest, Lermetta was slightly heavy-boned; in short, not quite his type. However, the Count went on, The matter of just where you managed to get hold of a student girl the spitting image of the princess at such a time might rouse legitimate curiosity. Oh, dont worry, she wont really look that much like the princess. Can it be that I have the good fortune of meeting a person who has mastered the magic of illusion? De Vinei evidently found this prospect extremely exciting. His daughter, too, looked at Oleg with renewed interest. Im not so good with illusions... but before Oleg could continue, Lermetta interrupted him. So you do have such powers! Please, show us something. After all, even among top graduates of the Valensian Academy there are very few who have mastered the magic of illusion! Oleg grinned. There are too many people here to show you anything on a large scale. But as for something small He plucked a couple of hairs from his head and threw them down onto the table. Only, dont scream, he warned. Father and daughter nodded eagerly. Ataletta, imagining full well what was about to happen, moved further away. Oleg waved his hand over the hairs, hiding them for a second with his palms and when he moved his hand away, there were a couple of little snakes on the table. De Vinei and his daughter gasped as one.

Asking permission with his eyes Oleg nodded magnanimously the old Count put out his hand to touch the little snakes, but as soon as he had reached them, there were only two hairs on the table once more. (Oleg had had to try really hard to catch the right moment and turn the snakes back in time.) Im afraid that is the full extent of my modest abilities, Oleg shrugged, pre-empting any possible requests to show something else. The princess gave a most sceptical snort. Reading the snort correctly, the Count and his daughter stared at Oleg. I mean, in the arena of illusion! he dodged, nudging the princes carefully with his foot to stop her from saying any more. And do you have other talents? De Vinei enquired cautiously. His eyes were burning with the enthusiasm of a naturalist who had just discovered a new species of animal. Well, just some little trifles. But weve got distracted, Oleg went on, blocking the Counts attempts to further question his abilities. Shall head for the palace? May I ask for your help? The Count nodded in agreement. Anything you wish. I never warmed to the Lord Chancellor. Nothing complicated. You often got to the palace, dont you? Another nod. Then please be there this evening and try to make sure that a new minstrel is received with respect. Then, when everyone is exhausted, invite him and his student to spend the night somewhere in the palace. Ill do that, but really I think there is no need. After todays performance your fame will spread throughout the city, if it has not already done so. Take a look around the hall. Its absolutely full. These people have come to take a look at you and hear your songs. The whole town will be talking about you by evening. They shall be delighted to see you at the palace and shall of course offer you rooms. Excellent. In that case, well get ready. Oh, by the way, you couldnt tell me where I could hire a couple of trustworthy people who would be ready to accompany a minstrel and his student to the border of the kingdom, or perhaps a little further, for very good money, without asking stupid questions? Oh, thats simple. Just look around and take your pick. This tavern is just the place for such things. If you cant choose, ask the tavern keeper. Such deals make up his additional income. Having thus cleared up all important matters, Oleg and Ataletta bade a fond farewell to the old Count and his daughter. Oleg then handed the princess a handsome sum of money and sent her to buy clothes, make-up and greasepaint, advising her to seek the latter from a troop of actors. Judging from the girls glowing eyes, that was right up her street. Oleg himself set

off to negotiate with the tavern keeper. *** Towards evening two travellers rode up to the gates of the kings palace. As soon as they set eyes on them, all the off-duty guards, a considerable part of the servants and a number of courtiers rushed up to them immediately. And indeed, there was certainly something to look at. No, it was not the newly-arrived minstrel - rumours of whom had already spread far and wide - who caught their eye, although he did arouse curiosity thanks to being taller than the local average, unusually dressed-- in a rather tatty leather jacket very reminiscent of Imperial Hunters of Unclean--and bearing arms. Extravagance was a characteristic of many of the minstrels who frequented the royal court of Fenrian, long-since favoured by them as a good source of sustenance. So the appearance of another, even a very unusual one, was not what roused such a reaction. But as for his student People came streaming from all quarters of the palace just to get one glimpse of her. Ariochs companion that was how the newly-arrived minstrel introduced himself was a real live elfin girl! Here it should be pointed out that the plan Oleg had come up with to get to the King had one vital flaw, which became clear as they were preparing to execute it. In order to bring the princess into the palace, where she was known to alleven the dogs knew her--without being captured by the guards, the girls appearance had to be radically altered. Oleg had originally thought of making her into a humble servant girl, shy of high society, who had been battered by the winds of fate and therefore shrank from everyone. However, this plan was met by blazing opposition from the princess, who categorically didnt want to turn herself into a peasant wench. And anyway, Oleg soon discovered some serious defects in his plan himself. The most significant was that no minstrel would drag a peasant wench around since he had the possibility of collecting a limitless number of them wherever he went. Therefore his plan underwent some alterations. Remembering the well-known proverb that the darkest place is under a burning candle and the no less well-known saying of Edgar Alan Poe that one should hide in plain sight, Oleg made up his mind. In her new image Ataletta should attract attention, and as much attention as possible, so that no one, not even in a drunken reverie, would suspect her of being the princess. With this a new problem arose. The dye bought from a band of wandering comedians turned out to be beyond all expectations, in an instant transforming Atalettas hair from golden blonde to shiny black, the colour of ravens wings. The rest of the make-up, alas, did not do its job at all, barely masking her telltale features so that an experienced eye would be able to re-

cognize the princess even when she was plastered up to the limit. Undaunted, Oleg suggested an old psychological trick, namely baring everything below the neck to the maximum, a sure-fire way to distract attention from the girls face. After one glance at the costume he prepared, it took just over two hours of uninterrupted rows, shrieks and rummaging around in her things, Ataletta got used to this idea and no longer attempted to smash something heavy over Olegs head. The bottom half of her outfit consisted of a short leather mini-skirt just one and half palms wide (originally sold by the merchant as knights belt, wide). The second half of the clothing was a large, many-layered necklace made up of precious and semi-precious stones which Oleg was convinced was perfectly able to cover the breast, if it were worn just a little lower. After the princess had tried to use the above-mentioned necklace as a garrotte to strangle one impudent, rotten, treacherous demon, who was trying to push a pure and innocent girl down the slippery path of sin and debauchery, forcing her to appear naked in front of everyone, Oleg exchanged the necklace of contention for a wider belt totally bejewelled with precious stones (a pretty serious blood-letting operation was performed on the priests chest). This more-or-less fitted the princess in her role as hostage stolen by the brave minstrel from the ruler of Selis harem, but here, to Olegs pride, already savouring his appearance at the castle with such a stunning concubine, he found another solution. On the tavern keepers recommendation, Oleg had hired three hirelings, two lads and a girl, to accompany them to the Barony of Maidell. The first - a strapping, strong lad in heavy armour hung with weapons - was called Olaf and was a master swordsman. The second - a small, dry chap with brown hair by the name of Kendir armed with a light sable and a bow was a good archer, according to the tavern keeper. The third was that same ginger-haired girl who had listened to Olegs songs sitting on one of the beams on the ceiling. As it turned out, Clairene was the best enchanter-hireling in Velmint, if not in all Fenrian. Clairene witnessed the scene of transformation, and when shed finished laughing, offered her aid. For a small sum she could put a good magical semblance on the princess. Everyone liked the plan, especially Ataletta, although Oleg decided to introduce a few changes. After some prolonged bargaining, his suggestions were accepted and the hidden chest was once more subject to merciless plundering. As a result, Clairene came out of the room holding, with visible trepidation, a plump little bag in which gold coins clinked pleasantly, and Oleg learnt his first illusion-spell. The hireling assured him that it was extremely difficult even for qualified magicians to master such a spell. Admittedly, it required a lot of energy, almost depriving the ordinary magician of the power to do anything at all apart from maintaining the semblance. But this didnt bother Oleg much. First of all, since he had met Heliona and had her gift in his blood, he had

strength to spare, and secondly, he barely knew how to harness it. And that is precisely how the elf Lthien was born. Oleg decided to use a familiar name as the cover story he had hastily thought up for their appearance based precisely on that Tolkienian tale--heavily edited, of course, seeing as Morgoth, Silmarils and the others were not present in this world. It was more than five hundred years since the elves had left their forest fortress, and only a very few magicians were allowed to visit their lands, as a result knowledge of their appearance remained very sketchy indeed. And Oleg made the most of this. Without trying to be too clever, he gave Ataletta the image of the only non-human girl he knew, making only the slightest unavoidable alterations, such as pointy ears and slanty eyes. Hesitatingly, he left out the auburn-coloured hair, leaving Atalettas own locks, died black. Then he stood back not bad! In front of him stood a pointy-eared, slanty-eyed, black-haired, but nevertheless inexpressibly beautiful Heliona. Satisfied with his handiwork, he invited the princess to pass judgement on it. After a prolonged silence filled with a studious stare into the mirror, the princess asked in an icy tone: How long do I have to look like this? Taken aback by this unexpected reaction, Oleg nevertheless answered that the semblance had been cast for tonight only; tomorrow her normal appearance would return. This was immediately followed by another question, and Oleg calmed down straightaway when he heard it. The princess asked if she could keep this appearance for longer, and where he had got it from. When she got the reply, I copied if from the original--Oleg was getting pretty fed up with all this explaining and wasnt about to spell out that the model wasnt actually an elf Ataletta at once wanted to know if he was acquainted with elves. Remembering his part in role playing games, Oleg announced with aplomb that he was in fact acquainted with many: hed had a drink with some of them, or fought with some of them, but now it was time to stop messing around and go and fetch the horses as it would soon be sunset. Having quickly thought up their cover story, they hurried to the stables. And so it was that towards evening two travellers rode up to Kreghist Tor, causing quite a stir. *** It was the Lord Chancellor himself, the Kings brother and main pretender to the throne of Fenrian, Victor Kreghist, who came out to meet the famous couple. Oleg had not miscalculated; his vocal talents were only a small fraction of the reason for this grand welcome. The smiles radiating from the Grand Duke of Briion to the wonderful elf honouring us with her visit left no room for doubt. After Oleg had introduced his companion as my wife, Lthien, of the people of Eldar, known among humans as the Light Elves the smiles faded slightly and Oleg earned himself a hostile glance. As a matter of fact, most of the men present reacted in a similar way. Nevertheless, the guests were led into the castle with extreme politeness and given

rooms. By way of an odd coincidence, there were only single rooms in the palace, and the room allocated to the princess was a long way from the one allocated to Oleg, but right next to the Lord Chancellors. Oleg was on the point of stirring up a small scene about this when Ataletta came to his aid. I thank you for your attention, my lord, though I should however prefer to be quartered with my husband. Unfortunately, on our journey we have not had the opportunity to unite and I have missed him terribly, she stated with a disappointed smile, embracing Oleg passionately. There was nothing for it but to join in her game. Which he did, by the way, with great pleasure. Please excuse her, my lord. The moral code of the Eldar is quite different from that usual among humans. It was only with great difficulty that I managed to persuade Lthien to wear clothes. However, she still doesnt feel completely at home, he announced with an apologetic smile. Now in the looks the men directed at him you could clearly read: What have you done, you son of a bitch? while the womens looks expressed genuine gratitude. The elfs request was met at once. However, watching the Lord Chancellor carefully, Oleg noticed that he held a brief conversation with a man dressed in black, then nodded in his direction. Catching his moment, Oleg turned to Ataletta: Whos that? She followed his gaze and shuddered. Thats Morron, one of the courts best swordsmen; if not the best. He serves Kreghist, often doing dirty deeds for him. Usually he sets it up so that the victim is forced to challenge him to a duel, or he throws down the gauntlet himself, and then he simply kills the hapless guy. Handle him with care! Mmmm, Oleg thought to himself, following after the Grand Duke and his retinue. Looks as though Ill soon have to meet a professional assassin. And closer than I would have like if this kind uncle takes it into his head to turn poor Lthien into a widow. And not because of any dislike for me, but only to get rid of the competition. And even the regent himself is giving sidelong glances. My little prinnys kind old man reminds me of someoneSome historical figure By that time they had reached their rooms and the Lord Chancellor, turning his back to Oleg, said to Ataletta, Here is your chamber, my lady. Should you have any wishes whatsoever, please come straight to me. My chamber is not far. We shall await you and your husband at a feast in your honour. I hope he wont refuse to play for us. Without fail, Oleg mumbled to himself, realizing only then who Atalettas uncle reminded him of. If it werent for his fair hair, lack of moustache and correct speech without the slightest accent, there would have been cause for panic. Victor Kreghist, Lord Chancellor and Regent

of Fenrian, was the spitting image of the great leader and teacher of the soviet people whose portrait Oleg had seen more than once in history lessons and about whose crimes he had once had to write an essay: Joseph Visarionovich Stalin. This discovery struck Oleg to such an extent that, crushed, he hurried to lock himself in his room, making the excuse of being very tired and having to rest before his performance. Once he and the princess were alone, Oleg wanted to question her at once, but Ataletta spun around and placed a finger on his lips, clearly signalling him to keep quiet. Then, brushing his ear, she pointed to the wall. Aha, they could be listening to us, Oleg guessed. With a nod, he transformed his eyes and looked the room over with demonic eyesight. And indeed, at the far end of the room the outline of a human aura could be clearly seen. Going into the second room, he discovered an eavesdropper there, too. What could he distract them with? Oleg strained to think, making small talk to Ataletta. Suddenly he had a flash of inspiration. He took out his mobile phone and set it up (silently rejoicing that at how loud it was and how full the battery was) then pronounced loudly: My beloved, why dont you take a bath while I practise a little before tonights performance? Once hed turned on his mobile phone, where there were luckily a few recordings of his songs, he very quietly, on tiptoe, led the princess who was most impressed at this magic into the bathroom where there were fortunately neither eavesdroppers nor spies. Admittedly, there was no bath there either, as it turned out. Instead there was a huge barrel filled with barely warm water. Splashing his hand around in it (just in case), Oleg began to quiz the girl. Having quickly found out all about the customary laws governing duels in Fenrian and his likely rival, Morrons, favourite weapon, Oleg calmed down. If there were no other arrangement, the opponents could fight with any weapon they felt at ease with. The only ban was on thrown weapons and protective devices such as shirts of mail, armour or helmets. The only such item permitted was a shield. According to Ataletta, Morrons favourite weapon was a long, thin Irinian sword especially suited for sharp thrusts or sometimes a long poignard for the left hand. A sword and dagger, Oleg translated for himself. If Morron attacked, his opponent wouldnt stand a chance. Having thus found out what was of greatest importance to him, Oleg decided to satisfy his curiosity on another matter and asked the princess: So why is Kreghist coming on to you so strongly? After all, you said hes married and loves his wife. So what if he does love his wife? What difference does it make? According to many of the old legends, even one night of passion with a Firstborn can prolong a humans life. And the beauty of the eternal maidens doesnt give a person rest. I didnt really believe in those tales before, but, - and she turned to the mirror and carefully examined her reflection now I have

to. In other words, now I have to watch out that some guy hungry for a long life doesnt shove you into a dark corner. Of course, I would be glad if you were always by my side, but that is not necessary. According to the legends its a night of love, not rape, that can prolong ones life. And there are very she stressed the word convincing examples of the calamity which will befall anyone who confuses those two things. Well, thats fine, then. Having found out all he wanted, Oleg left the bathroom and turned off his mobile. Then he played his guitar a bit for real while Ataletta changed into her evening dress. When shed finished, Oleg put on his leather jacket again he preferred to be in comfy, familiar clothes in case of any trouble, and to hell with all the court customs and etiquette! Grabbing his two-handed sword and his guitar, he took his elf by the arm and they set out to the throne room. The feast which by Olegs standards was merely an evening meal, and not a very lavish one at that didnt last long, only about an hour. Then, at a sign from the Lord Chancellor, the servants quickly moved away the tables and left-overs and all eyes turned to Oleg. He understood that the time had come for him to play. Without much ado, he picked up his guitar and began to sing. Gradually, as he was singing, Oleg noticed something strange. While a large proportion of the audience who had at first been frozen in a deadly, disapproving silence were now listening attentively, and some occasionally and as though in fear of something applauded, a small group of courtiers with Morron at their head exactly mimicked the behaviour of Victor Kreghist, who was sitting at the head of the table with a gloomy and displeased expression on his face. The tension in the hall was rising perceptibly. But everything was soon explained. No sooner had Oleg laid his guitar down for a moment to get his breath, than from the centre of the group of the displeased could be heard: Finally that whinings stopped! What does she see in him? No muscles, no strength, just howling, and he cant even sing hes not sung a single ballad or ode! Donned some hunters clothes he pinched from somewhere and goes strutting around. He even showed up at the feast dressed like that, the uncouth lout! The speaker came out from the crowd and walked towards Oleg, who was not surprised to see it was Morron. He had evidently used up the store of insults which could be used in the presence of ladies, and turned to open swearing in a pretty pathetic manner. Most of his words, if translated into literary language, would have cast doubts over the minstrels honest and upright nature, and would also have accused Oleg of exaggerated sexual behaviour and irregular sexual relations. He ended with a passage in which he clarified his certainty that Oleg had married the elfin girl and kept hold of her thanks to some sort of unfamiliar magic.

Oleg glanced at the Lord Chancellors smug face which clearly showed that all was going according to plan, and at the now silent hall, waiting impatiently for him to give the challenge, and realized that a duel was unavoidable. Well, I wasnt really trying to get out of it. His death will be his own fault, Oleg thought to himself and was just about to demand satisfaction when he suddenly remembered that in Fenrian a challenge to a duel was a highly ritualized phrase which he didnt know. But Oleg quickly found a way out. Well, well. Looks as though theres nothing for it but to make sure he challenges me. And in the process, Ill teach the locals how to curse, otherwise their expressions are too monotonous. you and ...your up your As bait, Oleg let rip the phrase which Elisey had once uttered, suffering from a bad hangover, when Oleg had tried to wake him up. Oleg had memorized that phrase, and now hed found an opportunity to use his knowledge. A reverent silence reigned in the hall. A notepad and pencil flashed in the hands of one young hussar. Ataletta was listening attentively. Realizing that a kind of truce had ensued, looking at Morrons face, red with rage, Oleg delivered his coup de grace using a refined turn of phrase which sounded particularly odd against the background of such foul language. As for your announcement regarding my behaviour in connection with ladies, I must admit, that prior to making the acquaintance of Lthien, I did indeed indulge in certain frivolities in relation to beautiful ladies. However, there were neither protests nor complaints. I have always been able to win over maidens who pleased me. Quite contrary to you, lir, as the passion and quantity of your accusations bear witness to the fact that, should you be able to attract the attention of even one of the not-so-sought-after ladies, it would most certainly not be in your powers to furnish her with satisfaction, Oleg smirked snidely. That was the last straw. In a rage, the livid dueller threw himself at Oleg, grabbing his sword and yelling: Fight to the death! You have insulted me, and I demand a fight to the death. Here and now! Oleg shrugged his shoulders, drawing his espadon. As you wish, lir, as you wish. The spectators parted, making room for the fight and the Lord Chancellor gave an approving nod, consenting to the duel. The duel itself was over very fast. Having decided not to demonstrate his inhuman (in the most literal sense) strength, Oleg took up the classic pose for a fight with a two-handed sword. Let his abilities be a pleasant surprise for his opponent! Moreover, the skin under his clothes was transformed and had become the robust scales of a demon. Oleg was not about to take needless risks, though he was sure of his victory.

His opponent was equally sure that Oleg didnt stand a chance. In single combat, one to one, with no armour, a heavy espadon intended for straight and uningenious thrusts to smash the opponents armour was a poor match for his own light court sword which allowed him to move much more quickly, to dodge and deflect blows and then to pierce the unprotected body. The match didnt even last a few minutes. Holding his sword above his head, Oleg hacked a mighty blow which was absolutely foolish in such a match. Smirking condescendingly, Morron smoothly deflected it to one side and made his move, accurate and fatal. And that is precisely what Oleg had been expecting. Letting go of the sword handle with his left hand, which enabled him to turn sideways to his opponent and let the blade of the court sword slide along his chest, still holding his espadon in his right hand only, he made a cutting thrust from top to bottom. Not expecting anything of the sort such a blow is theoretically impossible for a human, due to the weight of the heavy sword and its colossal inertia Morron was unable to defend himself. The sharpened tip of the espadon went into the depths of his stomach and pushed out his ribs. He stood for a few seconds longer, looking around with disbelieving eyes and pressing his hands to his horrific wound, and then collapsed in his death throes. With a glum face, Oleg carefully wiped his sword and went to his seat. He was feeling nauseous but he couldnt show his weakness. Duels and murder were common occurrences in that society and to turn your back on a dangerous enemy was fraught with peril. The Boars knife had taught him a good lesson. I thank you for your attention, Olegs voice reached zero degrees as he addressed the courtiers. My wife and I are very tired and wish to rest. I hope no one has any objections, and he looked the audience over darkly. No, no, of course not, Victor Kreghist was the first to come round after the shock. You may leave. Once in their quarters and having checked for the presence of unwanted listeners, Oleg nodded to Ataletta, whose eyes were burning with the desire to speak her mind. Before he could finish his its OK, no ones listening to us, the crown princess threw herself around his neck with a wild squeal and began to cover him with kisses, babbling incoherently: Thank you! Thank you! Finally, the absolutely astonished Oleg managed to catch the meaning of this rushing torrent of words. The said crown princess felt a great gratitude to the brave, kind, strong and splendid demon who was a manifestation of all earthly and unearthly virtue. Since he, the said demon, had finished off that miserable, treacherous, shitty Morron who had killed many of the said princesss friends belonging to the male sex and forced several of her female friends to co-habit with him, threatening the lives of their relatives.

There, there, calm down, Oleg said, stroking the hair of the sobbing girl resting on his shoulder. So you see how well everythings turned out. Dont cry, theres no need for tears. Hes dead, your friends have been avenged. Everythings going to be alright. Well go to your father now and then well leave this vipers nest. Well set off for your friendly Baron, what was his name Maidell. Youll be fine with him. Calm down, sweetie. Thank you. Forgive me for the hysterics. You see, I hadnt even dared hope I would live to see this moment. If you could only have seen how he mocked Orvill before he killed him. And his only crime was that he had tried to protect me from my uncles attacks. He was in the habit of challenging someone to a duel, then visiting that persons sister or wife and proposing she became his lover, promising that if she pleased him he wouldnt kill her brother or husband but only wound him. I remember how Orvetta came to me, all in tears, and told me how hed done all sorts of vile things to her. And the next day, Morron killed her father. And he was trying to pull something similar just now, she suddenly realized, Only you, instead of challenging him then he could have put the duel off till tomorrow swore at him yourself! And how you swore! The legends are true when they say you cant swear better than a demon! So then he had to challenge you himself. And then he got his comeuppance, Oleg said with a hard smile. Though I think he challenged me on the orders of your uncle. Quite possibly, but one wouldnt get in the way of the other. He could always have broken his word. But thats enough of pondering about it. Thanks to you, the worlds become a bit cleaner, and that alone is a good thing. But how do you plan to lead me to my father? I can feel hes close by and the enchantment is drawing me to him. I can hardly bear it. When? Not long now. They told me your father is in the Central Tower. Do you know where it is? Yes, of course. But there are no secret entrances into that tower. Thats probably why they put him there. Not to worry. Now everyone will calm down a bit and fall asleep and well just do what has to be done. But there are guards there! Theyll stop us! Dont worry, the guards will fall asleep, too. Do you believe me? Yes, but how? Do you know some kind of spell? The guards probably have the amulet of Orchis and magic is useless against them! Aha, a spell! You figured it out. I have the simplest and most reliable spell. Oleg transformed his hands, put out his claws and admired them for a while. Then he drew them back in and made a fist the size of a good melon. Still admiring it, he showed it to the princess. Ill put them to sleep with this very spell. I assure you, no amulet can help against this, and this spell works on absolutely everyone!

Yeah, the princess eyed the proportions and weight of the proffered spell. An amulet really cant help against that! You should be careful with that, otherwise someone could easily die from such a mhm spell. Its not the guards fault, its just their job. By the end of her little monologue Oleg was simply shaking with laughter. OK, Ill try not to hit them too hard. Seeing as its you whos sticking up for them. And by the way, it seems as though everyones gone. Well wait another hour and then set off. Time passed slowly and sluggishly. The nervous princess either quizzed Oleg on how he planned to get them out of the tower and the castle once shed finished the right of succession to the throne, or fell to crying because she wouldnt manage to finish anything as the ritual took at least fifteen minutes, and Victor, having sensed when it began, would send the guards straightaway. Oleg calmed her down, but didnt answer her questions. Hed long since thought through their escape plan, although it was pretty original to say the least, and could easily get the princess worked up. Let her learn to trust me, Oleg reasoned. Finally the time Oleg had allocated for the courtiers to fall asleep had expired and he and Ataletta, without particularly bothering to hide, headed towards the Central Tower. Before leaving their quarters, after thinking for a moment, Oleg left a note addressed to Victor Kreghist, Regent of Fenrian. In it he expressed his apologies for their unexpected departure, caused by the danger to his own life and to his wifes honour which is regarded with too much interest inside your court. Oleg did this to muddy the waters and confuse the investigation at least a little, but a desire to play a dirty trick was also present. They went on the principle: Im a tank and as for those who didnt hide, its not my fault, but luckily they didnt meet anyone. The guards at the doors leading to the Kings tower were circumnavigated without much problem. Ataletta, with her elfin appearance, conversed with them, telling them a pitiful tale about how she had gone for a walk before going to bed and had lost her way in the endless corridors, and would the valiant guards be so kind as to help her find her room. While the guards were vying with each other as they explained how she should get to where she needed to be, bitterly regretting that they were unable to leave their post and lead the despairing girl wherever she wanted to go, Oleg in his demon body climbed up to the ceiling behind them and then put his spell into action. The guards obediently fell asleep. After carefully piling them up in the corners, Oleg and Ataletta made their way up the staircase and came out into the chamber of the dying king. After a quick glance at the blue-brown wheezing and bubbling king, his companion darted forward with a cry of Papa! Oleg turned away at once, busying himself with barring and strengthening the door. The King, dying from the curse, was a most unpleasant sight. There wasnt much to do. The door was sturdy and the staircase leading to the top of the tower so narrow and winding that you couldnt a drag a battering ram up it, so Oleg could reckon on

being able to hold out long enough for the princess to complete her ritual. Once hed shunted the bolt across and piled furniture lying against the door, Oleg turned to Ataletta, still trying hard not to look at her father. Go on, begin your ritual, and then he noticed that she was standing stock still, squeezing the Kings hands in hers, her lips moving, whispering. Already, Ataletta mumbled interrupting her ritual for a second, then whispering again. And at once, as if to confirm her words, a loud shriek arose out of the courtly calm below them and Oleg could easily recognize the voice of the Lord Chancellor. Guards, on your feet! Men! Follow me! The princess is with the King! They are carrying out the ritual! *** That evening the Lord Chancellor and great Regent Victor Kreghist could not fall asleep for a long time. He was overwhelmed by thoughts of future grandeur. Not more than two days were left before he would be able to put on the crown and officially declare himself king. Everything was unfolding exactly according to his plan. The unexpected visit of the elfin girl was an additional and very pleasant gift. It was not without a certain smugness that Victor thought: Seems I have pleased Orchis the Light Bearer quite greatly if he is rewarding me so generously. At forty-three he was already beginning to feel with some trepidation the shortness of human life and was not now about to miss the chance of growing younger and living three to four hundred years. For that was the amount that, as legend had it, elves can extend the life of their chosen ones. The elfin girls current chosen one, that minstrel Arioch who was so ready for a fight, posed a small problem. Now, after sober consideration, the Lord Chancellor was even glad that his impulsive and not-thought-through attempt to orchestrate the minstrels death in a chance duel had failed. After all, then what would have happened? Lthien would have grieved, maybe would have cursed the murderer and ridden off to her elfin enclave. And to hold her back no, no. Only a madman would rush to meet an elfin curse. The legends paint a very clear picture of the fate of fools who dared to try to take an elfin woman by force. Remembering some particularly colourful episodes from the legend of the Prince of Reir and the elfin girl Tariel, the regent shuddered. And you couldnt just put it all down to the story-tellers imagination. There it was, the Reir Sea, lapping not far away. And the archipelago was still there, too, pirates used it as their base. In times gone by, according to the legends, they were mountains, the Reir Mountains. Yes, he was entering shaky ground, a dangerous place. Maybe it wasnt worth the risk? Court the elfin girl, keep her here as a guest, show her his might and if she was not seduced, it would be better to let her go. Otherwise nothing would come of it. Tseld Reir, or so they say,

lives to this day in that cave and begs any passerby to kill him, to relieve him of his suffering. But then, winner takes it all, as they say. But he probably wouldnt be able to woo her. To all appearances, this elfin girl was still young. You cant win over that sort with power and wealth, you have to hand them youth and heroic deeds. In other words, trying to winkle her away from that singer wouldnt work, then. Well, thats OK. I wasnt really burning for it. Its not true love I need from her but youth and long life, Kreghist thought as he tossed around in his bed. Pity, of course, that he couldnt use force. But maybe he could think up something more cunning. What if, say, her companion was arrested and sentenced to death, wouldnt the elfin beauty soften then? And there would be no need to fear the curse. No need for the Firstborn lords to get involved. We dont lay a finger on elves, your subject is free, she may go wherever she pleases. But as for holding her companion, as a human, hes a criminal. It is our business, for us humans, to punish our criminals. So it may work, it may just work! the Lord Chancellor thought with delight as he fell asleep. She wont go anywhere, not so long as I put her lovebird behind bars, shell come running to me herself, to plead for her hubbie. And then Ill propose she stays with me in exchange for his life. She wont run off anywhere, she wont turn to her lords for assistance. Shell stay here to save her young minstrel lad. And everythingll be fine. Now I can go to sleep. But sleep didnt come. Aroused by the image of Lthiens beauty and splendour almost within reach, Kreghist tossed and turned, quite unable to fall asleep. Finally giving up, he rang his little bell, called the attendant and ordered him to bring one of his concubines, a young one. Full of expectation, while he was waiting for his orders to be fulfilled, he once again set about thinking his plan through. So he would have to set the minstrel up. What could he be accused of? It would have to be something major so that the elves wouldnt dispute it, even if they wanted to. The murder of a courtier? Someone quite important? Stupid idea. Theyd never fall for it. Seeing as he commanded his weapons so well, he could kill anyone he wanted in a simple duel. What, then? Stealing royal jewels? An attempt on the life of the king, or his heir? Hang on! Theres something in that! Only not an attempt on their life, but murder! Thats it! And I happen to have a spare heir to the throne! Mmm Everythings falling into place perfectly. Of course, I dont expect Ill be able to talk him into doing it, but never mind. Victor had been keeping a small phial of elixir for a long time now, and it enabled a magician or even a pretty weak wizard like himself (Victor didnt deceive himself; rumours of his powers were seriously exaggerated) to subject a persons will to his own for a short while, providing that person didnt possess magical powers and was not protected by a special amulet. And if that didnt work, he could steal the minstrels dagger and do the dirty deed himself, no problem.

At this point the Lord Chancellor was distracted from his musings. Wheres my concubine, demon take those slow servants! My hands are already trembling with desire and I want to stroke something soft. Hang on. Whats going on? Im trembling? Impatient? An urge to hold something in my hands? That sounds like the ritual! But she couldnt have got in to see Freidrich there are guards! Fearing the worst, the Lord Chancellor looked down at his hands and froze. A rainbow hue enveloped his palms, clearly indicating that the ritual of handing over the inheritance was already going on in the Central Tower, turning his niece into a queen and him into the successor. Whats more, judging from the brightness of the glow, it had already been going on for five minutes or so, in other words, a third of the time needed to complete the whole ritual. There was no time to lose. And it was right then that a cry rang out, the cry which Oleg heard and which so amazed our hero: Guards, on your feet! Men! Follow me! The princess is with the King! They are carrying out the ritual!! The Lord Chancellor could act speedily in an emergency. *** Kreghists guards sprang into action with amazing efficiency. The princess had only just reached the key part of the ritual when heavy blows could already be heard on the door. In the name of the Regent, open up! There was no reply. Ataletta was too caught up in her ritual and Oleg preferred to remain silent, to remain an unknown component for as long as possible. Shes in there, you idiots! What are you waiting for? Break down the door! And the door was battered with renewed strength. Then Kreghists yelping squeals could be heard again: What are you doing? Youll be beating it till youre old men at that rate! Get some axes! There followed a short interval and then the blows rang out again, this time with the characteristic sound of iron cutting into wood. Oleg was beginning to estimate how thick the door was and, as a result, how long it would hold out, when the whispering behind him ceased and two narrow little palms were laid on his shoulders. Thats it then. Forgive me for dragging you into this. Now we shall both die together, came the princesss woeful whisper. The next instant the hot, dry lips of the girl were pressed against his. She was inexperienced but really tried her best, and Oleg only just managed to withdraw his fangs in time he was in his demon-body after all! I guess I should have told her earlier, Oleg thought not without penitence. But on the other hand, if I had told her everything, then I would probably never have landed something like this, he replied to her kiss with enthusiasm. So everythings alright. Ill make her happy now. What gave you the idea that were going to die? he said when the princess no, the queen now came up for air. (He himself, an experienced guy, had been breathing carefully

through his nose and was barely out of breath.) All the Royal Guards and half the municipal watchmen are out there! Not even you can get through them. And theres only one way out of here, and she nodded towards the door, which was already beginning to splinter. Oleg cocked an ear to the noise and decided it wasnt worth dragging the comedy out any longer. Well, actually, not only one. You people are so unobservant! What dont you like about that one? I dont think anyones guarding it. Oleg nodded towards the window. But the new queen didnt get it. What I dont like about it is that Im a person, not a bird! I cant fly! My dear uncle would be most delighted if I used your exit. He wouldnt even have to kill me Oleg didnt give the girl the chance to finish. She was getting hysterical again and he interrupted her very rudely. Sure, people cant fly like birds. And neither can I. Not like a bird, that is. Only like a demon. Though they do say that demons fly just as well as birds. And they can carry loads, too. Such as virgins or princesses theyve kidnapped. Which category do you fall into? To back up his words he slightly spread his wings which till then had been hanging from his shoulders like a black cape. To both! Ataletta finally got his point and she laughed. I have never known a man and so until my official coronation I can count as a princess! So you can fly! I thought it was just some sort of cape. While she was laughing Oleg climbed onto the window ledge and flung back the window. Well, are you ready to be kidnapped? he asked her. I am! The girl who could be counted a princess until her official coronation ran up to her kidnapper and embraced him tightly. Off we fly! she ordered. So thats the way it goes sometimes, Oleg thought light-heartedly to himself. In the blink of an eye, a wilful demon transforms into the personal transport of a royal personage. Then he stopped joking, glared at the door (which was shaking ever-more strongly, cracks already appearing in it revealing the blades of axes), tossed his head (a few little snakes scattered from his hair - a surprise for those who cut their way in), grabbed Ataletta firmly below the waist (mixing business with pleasure) and stepped out into emptiness. The Road to Magic

Chapter Six
The Road to Maidell The hirelings were waiting at the agreed spot by the city wall. Oleg was pretty out of breath She may be a princess, she may be a virgin, but try carrying about 110 pounds from the centre of a big town to the outskirts! In the air! So Oleg experienced a great sense of relief as he landed a little way off the agreed spot (so as not to shock folk); a little further and they would have had to hunt out the hirelings on foot. Oleg turned back into a human and straightened his guitar, which had reappeared on his back. Whenever he fully took on his demon form and then transformed back into a human, he always appeared in the same clothes and with the same things as he had the very evening when he had been killed. Oleg really liked that except for the fact that no matter how he sewed his jacket, the slash from the Boars knife was always there again. But on the other hand, all other tears in his tattered jacket should have theoretically disappeared, too. So now he had to adjust his scabbard a bit, displaced by the guitar which had materialized out of nowhere, and he and Ataletta set out towards the clearing from which horses neighs and peoples voices could be heard. I tell you: it was the princess! Why else would he need to cast the semblance over her? And by the way, he paid me three hundred Imperial coins for it! Clairenes ringing voice cut the nights darkness. What do you mean? You dont take more than two silver pieces for a semblance, A deep bass came in reply. Oleg recognized the voice of Olaf the Swordsman. He wasnt paying for the semblance itself, but for me to teach him the spell. By the way, twenty minutes ago there was a flash of magic in the city, and by its spectrum it looked like the inheritance spell. So I reckon our boss will show up in an hour or so, once hes left the city. And that girl will be with him for sure, well disguised most likely. Ill bet you an imperial coin! Agre... Olaf began, but just then Oleg, who didnt want to set the girl up nor hang out in the woods for a whole hour, especially seeing as it was highly likely they would be chased, walked up to the hirelings without dawdling. They at once fell silent and grew wary. Greetings, my good folk, Oleg said loudly. The hirelings put down their weapons and breathed easily. But not for long, incidentally: Ataletta followed Oleg out of the woods, still as an elfin girl. The hirelings froze again, open-mouthed. It was Clairene who came to her senses first.

Shes not real, right? she asked in a hopeful voice. I mean, you put that semblance I taught you on someone? Such a beauty cant be real, right? Right? Three pairs of eyes were trained on Oleg. Partly. That is not a real appearance but a disguise laid by me. Allow me to introduce Ataletta Kreghist, former crown princess of Fenrian, and now, after the death of her father, apparently, the Queen? He said the final word with a question in his voice, looking at Ataletta. She laughed. No. As I already told you, I remain a princess until my official coronation. And she gave Oleg a mischievous wink. As an elfin girl with huge eyes, this was particularly expressive. But the other thing is that now no-one can be crowned but me, no matter who they might be. So shes still a princess for now. However, although her present appearance is illusory, my imaginations not good enough to think up something like that. The current appearance of her Highness is, with some slight alterations, taken from an acquaintance of mine, who, by the way, is not human. The hirelings reaction was marvellous. Although that was no surprise in their profession. No sooner had Oleg finished his short speech than Kendir and Olaf barked as one: Can you introduce us? Do I look like an idiot? Dream on! Im still hoping to seduce her somehow! An envious Aahh came from the male hirelings. During this jovial banter the things were packed, the fire put out and the horses saddled. Oleg and Ataletta were soon mounted on their steeds and the company trotted off. In order to throw any possible hunt off their trail, they decided not to take the direct route, the Gnomes High Road (so-called because most of the trade with the gnomes of the Red Mountain Ridge took place along it) but to alternate the high road with the Black River, following its right bank for a while. Then, if all was quiet, they could go back to the high road and take it right up to the Iron Baronies, the lands of the free barons, one of whom was the aforementioned Baron Maidell, Atalettas godfather, from whom she hoped to receive assistance. Bumping along in the uncomfortable saddle, Oleg closed his eyes, tired. He hadnt managed to sleep that night again, either. The sun was just rising, birds were singing, Clairene was gaily egging Kendir on, and Ataletta, her semblance already starting to slip, was only longing for the chance to rest a bit. If Oleg - a student used to prowling the night and then having to pop in for a double lesson - could somehow manage to stay in his saddle and keep up the tempo theyd set, then it was pride alone which kept the princess in her saddle. After three hours on the road, once theyd ridden a fair distance from the city, Oleg noticed the state she was in and called for a break.

After a little rest and a bite to eat, Ataletta cheered up and just then Olaf and Kendir returned from scouting. They were alarmed. Kendir, who had checked the place for pursuers, went first. Ive got two bits of news, one good and one bad. Ill start with the good news: no-one is tailing us. I dont know how you managed to get out of the palace, but however you did it, you didnt leave any tracks so theres no-one on our heels. And now for the bad news. The Regent has sent out hoards of people. Huntsmen with dogs are circling all quarters of the city looking for tracks. Theyve not found any yet, but its just a matter of time. And there are more groups of searchers out, especially in our direction. I managed to exchange a few words with my mate, he serves with the huntsmen and according to him, the Lord Chancellor is in a wild rage, hurriedly putting together a Regiment with not only guardsmen and huntsmen, but also a few high class henchmen. Hell personally lead that regiment himself and will search using all the magic within his reach. Everyone grew glum. That was really bad news. Whats the official version of events? Oleg asked. Oh, thats really interesting. It turns out that the princess has either been killed or kidnapped by a group of conspirators who decided to replace her with a double. And that double, having successfully completed the ritual of succession he didnt manage to finish. A roar of laughter was heard from Clairene, and Ataletta, whod seemed to be dozing. When theyd laughed their fill, the girls deigned to explain that the ritual had been specifically set up in such a way that if anyone apart from the one true heir even a very close relative of the king tried to carry it out, it would kill them. A lot of people knew that and thats preciously what forced Lord Kreghists hand, not letting him just proclaim himself king by-passing Ataletta. So the lie about the double didnt hold water. After listening to this commentary, Kendir continued: Having successfully completed the ritual of succession, the double fled, after killing the king. So the deeply-grieving Regent was forced to take power into his own hands and lead the hunt for the conspirators. Laughing heartily, but at the same time pondering over this news, Oleg turned to Olaf, who had been riding along the high road. Im afraid Ive got nothing to cheer you up, either, he informed them straightaway. There are mounted patrols all over the place, like fleas on a stray dog. Everyone has to undergo a really thorough search, not even a mouse could slip by. Despondency reigned after these words. Oleg was the first to break the gloomy silence. OK, enough moping. Lets go up onto the high road and take a look at these mounted patrols. I have a little idea. After all, we dont have to ride along the high road, we only have to cross it.

When the group arrived, Oleg saw the swordsman had been right. All along both sides of the road, spaced out such that they were within sight of one another, stood groups of mounted men, around six in each group. Sitting in a little copse, Oleg and his companions discussed what theyd seen and looked for a suitable solution. Olafs suggestion attack the nearest group of soldiers, quickly slit their throats and then run off before the others came was kept as an emergency plan for a worstcase scenario; their tracks would be too easy to follow. And whats more, they might not manage to kill all the soldiers. There were six men in the nearest patrol whereas in Olegs team there were only four warriors, counting himself, but not Ataletta. Kendir came up with a slightly better variation, proposing to attract the patrols attention himself and then while they were chasing him, the others could pass by. Oleg turned this plan down; the risk was too great. Oleg suggested putting a semblance on the whole party, turning them into flies or some other small things. As a result, virtually invisible, they could cross the high road without difficulty, absolutely unnoticed. The main thing would be to try to move noiselessly. A fly which snorted, clopped its hooves, clinked its weapons or swore if it stumbled awkwardly was capable of rousing the highest suspicion. Clairene pointed out a few other failings in this plan. The main one was that maintaining such a colossal semblance would demand a great deal of energy. She explained that the more the illusion cast differs in size from the original, the more energy it demands. As an example she informed them that she would be able to keep up the illusion Oleg had suggested, but only on herself, and not for more than ten minutes. She wouldnt even try to turn a horse into a fly. She wouldnt be able to keep up such a semblance for more than a moment. After hearing her out, Oleg tried to cast a semblance over the whole party, one by one, but as soon as he had cast the spell, he hurried to undo it. It was really hard! Maybe, if he really strained himself, he would be able to hide the whole party including the horses for three minutes or maybe five. But after that his powers would weaken. They had to find another solution. And one was found! The new plan was a variation on Olegs, but it demanded far less energy expenditure. The combined force of Clairene and Oleg should be enough. *** Half an hour after our heroes had thought of a way to avoid the mounted patrol, a herd of deer flew out of a copse near the high road. They quickly crossed the road at the distance of about one arrow shot from the nearest patrol and, ignoring the arrows flying after them, bounded on towards the Black River. They swam across and hid themselves in the wood. Many of the soldiers let out a rain of half-whispered curses--at the sergeant commanding their patrol, who would not permit them to abandon their post to kill a deer, at the strict orders

which forbade the sergeant to let anyone leave and most of all, at the Lord Chancellor, who had given that idiotic order. This muttering went on for about four hours, until the party led by the Lord Chancellor rode up to the mounted patrol. After the sergeants report on the absence of events or suspicious travellers, the patrol headed back to the barracks, relieved. Atalettas trail had gone cold and after rushing around on the high road for six hours, Victor Kreghist, Regent of Fenrian and heir to the throne, was forced to admit she had made good her escape. He was very curious as to how she had managed to penetrate the well-guarded palace and kill the watchmen with a blow from behind. (Oleg, still not used to his demonic form and its capabilities, had misjudged the strength of his blows after all. Luckily, Oleg knew nothing about this. Not having been too worried about murdering Morron, he would have been very upset to know that he had killed innocent people who were merely following orders.) Then Ataletta had disappeared again, as though she had simply vanished into thin air, without leaving any trace of magic which the Lord Chancellor could see. He returned to his castle in the evening, not having found any traces of his niece and having come to terms with the fact that he had let her slip. Another disappointment was waiting for him at home. It turned out that the minstrel and the elfin girl whom he was already counting as his own had used the confusion of the hunt for the princess and run off, taking with them all hopes of youth and long life. He didnt dare declare a search for them, wary of elfish magic, so he turned his anger on the courtiers who hadnt been able to hold them till his return. They defended themselves, blaming elfish magic which the couple had obviously used to conceal themselves. For a second the Lord Chancellor pondered the coincidence of two disappearances, but then immediately pushed such thoughts away with a vexed frown. The married couple could have nothing in common with his niece. Had he conferred with the High Priest, and found out what had happened to him and his son, then Victor would not have been so sure of this. Who knows, perhaps he would have found the answer to the puzzle which tortured him so. Petronii had his suspicions but kept his disgrace quiet, having decided that it was better to have sacrificed money than his reputation. Moreover, after weighing up the abilities of the magician who had robbed him, he considered it wise not to meddle in his affairs. Who knows And if that magician managed to miraculously put Ataletta on the throne, then some interesting possibilities might arise, taking into account the mutual attraction between his son and the princess. And so Petronii kept quiet and the Regent didnt suspect anything. Towards evening, coming to terms with his lost opportunities, Victor took the guards from the road leaving only mounted patrols and some hidden outposts of huntsmen. The flight of the party led by Oleg had been a complete success.

*** After riding into the forest and hiding from the guards, Oleg leapt off his horse and took off his part of the semblance with a sigh of relief. Clairene collapsed beside him. Maintaining the semblance had cost them dearly. The conjuress was completely exhausted and although Oleg still had some strength left, he, too, was unable to ride any further. Olaf examined a new scratch one of the arrows had made on his armour. Luckily, the guards had hit with widetipped blunt arrows which hadnt punctured his breastplate. Ataletta, who was finding the journey arduous, sat, eyes closed. Like it or not, a rest was indispensible. They buried themselves deeper in the forest and even decided to light a campfire. Kendir and Clairene assured them they could make one with almost no smoke. Nevertheless, all their attempts were unsuccessful. Their flints and tinder had got soaked when they had crossed the river and refused to bring the fire to life. Olegs lighter had suffered the same fate, so he had no choice but to gather the remains of his strength and use Helionas lessons. Oleg spread out his hands and concentrated. It didnt work very well - his extreme exhaustion after the semblance was taking its toll - but after a minute a blue flame flickered between his fingers nevertheless, and the pile of wood burst into bright flames. That had taken his last strength; Olegs head was spinning and with a soft grunt, he threw himself onto his back. Oleg came round at the smell of food. It had got dark. The campfire was flickering cosily and the appetizing smell of boiling meat was wafting in the air. Oleg was lying in a smallish two-man tent and Clairene, curled up in a ball, was sleeping next to him. The voices of the hirelings came from near the fire, occasionally interrupted by Atalettas ringing exclamations. They were discussing their further route. Along the river well go for three days, then we can go back to the high road and ride into the Barony, Olaf said. And no unnecessary suffering, it leads us precisely where we need to go. Well, its not exactly direct, Kendir remarked sceptically. The direct route does go right through the Black Marshes, but why should we loop about needlessly? Aha, and next youll be telling me you intend to take this direct route of yours! You want to ride along the old high road, right into Dead Oner. Cheer up some local Undead, you will, otherwise they have nothing to eat, the poor fellows. Olaf clearly didnt like the idea of going through the mysterious Black Marshes. Well, we might have to. You saw how many patrols there were on the high road. How do you intend to ride past them? If pressed, then we can try to go through the marshes. Weve got two enchanters with us, with luck well manage to sneak through. I know Clairene well.

Weve worked together more than once. Shes a capable conjuress. And they say that theres a lot of loot still left in Oner. It might be worth our while to have a look. Well what of the patrols? You said yourself, weve got two enchanters. They cast a semblance spell and off we go, right through the patrols. That is, if they havent got rid of them altogether in three days. I reckon its far less dangerous to go through them than to try to find our way through the marshes. At least the patrols are made up of humans and not Undead, like there are in the marshes. Thats as may be, but where are you going to hide your weapons and armour if our sorcerers only cast a partial semblance? And if they cast a full one, well you can see for yourself, theyre flat out resting after less than an hour. And anyway, then how would you go, Id like to know? Ride through Orvalen under a semblance? There are amulet-gates there they may be old, but theyre still effective. Theyd start wailing when they sensed the semblance. And if you go round, its through those same marshes. So wouldnt it be easier just to go through the marshes in the first place? The argument had evidently been going on for some time and Oleg, unable to bear the appetizing smell any longer, decided it was time to get up. No sooner had he approached the fire than they roped him in as arbitrator, justifying this with the fact that he was their employer and he should select the route. They explained that Oner was a city which had, until the advent of the cult of Orchis the Light-Bearer in Fenrian, been one of the magical centres of that world. But when Orchis had decreed his rights over the land of Fenrian, the town had come under continuous attack from his followers. Finally, the light magicians abandoned it, heading for Valensia, while the dark magicians took up a defence. The city fell, but before they perished, the doomed dark magicians managed to lay a curse, not wishing Oners riches to fall into the hands of enemies. As a result, the Black Marshes sprang up around the city, inhabited by the Undead and the Unclean. The spirits of magicians who had lived there and loved the city more than their own life stayed in Oner, along with other Undead, and the city became known as Dead Oner. Once he heard this, Oleg said, First well try and go along the high road, and if that doesnt work then well check out the marshes. I reckon that even if they renew the pursuit, they wont follow is in there. Soon Clairene came out of the tent, too. Asked to give her opinion on which way they should go, she tended towards Olafs view that they should leave the path through the marshes as a last resort. Thus having eaten well and resolved all their problems at least theoretically they allocated watches and lay down to sleep. Oleg and Clairene, as the most exhausted, were given the last and the second-last watches to give them a chance to rest properly. Ataletta, as the youngest and least experienced, was given the first.

The next day they swiftly broke camp and set off. They tried to keep to woods and thickets, avoiding open ground wherever possible and giving villages a wide berth. Nevertheless, they didnt particularly try to hide. During their breaks, Oleg sang songs not known in that world, and learnt how to use a bow and arrow. He wasnt too bad at it--harnessing the great strength and accurate eyes of a demon. Admittedly, he always had to be in a state of partial transformation to do so; when he tried to shoot with Kendirs bow as a complete human, he could hardly draw back the string. The bow was incredibly taut. After that attempt, Oleg had the highest respect for the archer. Having weighed the possibilities of this weapon, Oleg promised himself that as soon as he had the chance, he would get himself a good bow. And so three days went by. On the fourth day they turned onto the high road. Kendir, whod been sent as a scout, informed them that he hadnt seen any mounted patrols ahead. Forging the Black River once more, they rode the high road again. The road was deserted. Not only were there no mounted patrols to be seen, there were no other travellers, either, which as Ataletta pointed out, was very odd indeed. Clairene remembered a couple of cases when a particularly large horde of the Unclean had come out of the Black Marshes and the merchants had kept off the high road till theyd been exterminated. Whatever the reason, the empty high road seemed to be in the hands of our travellers, allowing them to significantly increase their progress. After about six hours on the road they passed a little stone bridge thrown over a largish brook with unusually dark, almost black water. Nodding towards it, Kendir said to Oleg: Thats the source of the Black River we crossed. Now do you see how it got its name? Then he waved his hand upstream, to the right of the travellers. And the Black Marshes it flows out of are over there. Soon therell be the fork with the Old High Road which once led to Oner, and then on to Irinia. They say you could still ride it if it werent for the Unclean and the inhabitants of the Dead City. Just then they heard a desperate cry from Clairene, riding ahead: An ambush!!! Everyone grabbed their weapons, but it was too late. Six people in green tunics emerged from the high bushes. Three of them were holding arbalests at the ready. Their blunt snouts were aimed at Oleg, Olaf and the retreating Clairene. The other three were armed with swords. One of them, obviously the leader, took a slight step forward: Forest Guard of Orvalen. In the name of the Regent, you are under arrest. As he said this, he put himself between Olaf and the archer aiming at him, blocking his line of fire. Oleg seized the opportunity; lately hed become adept at quietly and discreetly protecting his skin with his extremely robust demon scales. The procedure complete, and sure of his

own armour, he sent a flickering ball of flame at the arbalester aiming at Clairene. He immediately ignited without discharging his weapon. Oleg just managed to catch sight of Kendir hurling his knife and the laggardly arbalester aiming at Olaf, when a strong blow to his left shoulder knocked him out of his saddle. The arbalester aiming at him had discharged his weapon pretty accurately. Finding himself on the ground, Oleg grabbed his sword and brandishing it furiously, rushed into battle. His left arm was numb from the blow and didnt work properly, and his shoulder ached badly so he had to fight with one hand. Entering the fray, Oleg thought fleetingly that it seemed he had somewhat overestimated the robustness of his scales. The huntsmen were not taken by surprise. Three of them rushed to the attack, while the surviving arbalester hastily reloaded his weapon. The terrible death of one of his friends obviously made him nervous and, looking constantly at Oleg, he couldnt seem to get his heavy infantry crossbow loaded. The hunstmen had reason to fear. Angry from the pain in his wounded hand, Oleg rotated his sword above his head, so that the huge espadon with flashing light resembled helicopter rotor blades. The commander, trying to shield his warrior, barely had time to block to Olegs sword and was thrown into the bushes with a fractured hand and a completely useless weapon. Thats it, said Oleg with an evil grin as he started increasing the speed of his sword and moved toward the pale arbalester. At that moment he was startled by Clairenes desperate scream. She was lying on the ground, cowering, and one of the rangers held a sword over her head. Olaf was rushing to them, having just finished with his opponent; his heavy armor, which rescued him many times, this time hindered him. He could not get to Clairene in time ... Kendir was facing a strong opponent, and Ataletta, armed with only a small, almost toy dagger, couldnt help Clairene either. If there are no other tools around, said Oleg sadly, and the huge sword flew through the air and pierced Clairenes attacker. Seeing that his opponent had thrown his weapon away, the eyes of arbalester glimmered with hope. The arbalester threw away his crossbow, pulled a short sword from his belt, and rushed impetuously to the attack. Oleg laughed contemptuously, sidestepping the arbalesters rush easily. The arbalesters attack was, in the demons eyes, similar to the movement of a heavily crippled turtle. He briefly considered growing claws and stabbing them in the warriors back. Surrender, suggested Oleg, lazily pulling out a dagger. Its the only way you can stay alive.

Death to the enemies of the regent! the arbalester croaked, turning for a new attack. This time, he walked carefully, frozen in a strange sort of fencing stance. Well, as you wish, Oleg shrugged his shoulders and nodded to Kendir, who had killed his enemy with Olafs help, and was looking inquiringly at Oleg. Kendir held his faithful bow with an arrow on the string ready to shoot. Oleg nodded to him. Youre a scoun The arbalester rushed Oleg, but Kendirs arrow pierced his chest and did not give him time to complete this movement. ...drel, he muttered as he fell to the ground. I just do not like extra work, said Oleg with an evil grin, staring at the lifeless eyes of his recent enemy. Putting the dagger in its sheath, he went for his sword. *** It was over. Five bodies in green tunics lay lifeless on the road. Their commander was trying to bandage a deep gash in his thigh. Ataletta was helping Clairene to bind her wounded arm one of the huntsmen knew how to wield a knife, too and Olaf was mournfully examining new scratches on his armour. The battlefield had fallen to Olegs companions. Looking at his shoulder, Oleg whistled. The bolt from the arbalest had literally pushed one of his scales into his shoulder, making a tear in his demon skin, which was far from thin or fine. The thought flashed through his mind: better not to get in the way of arbalest fire in the future, especially not at close quarters. Still, the wound in his shoulder wasnt so great, and after it was transformed back into his human skin, it was just like a common cut, the only difference being the deeper ray-shaped scratches left where the scale had caused the crack. Having looked over his wounds and deciding they didnt call for any further attention, Oleg headed for the verge where Kendir and Olaf were already questioning the captive, who turned out to be most talkative. They were soon joined by the enchantress and Ataletta who had finished their bandaging. In the course of the interrogation, they discovered some very unpleasant things. It seems that no-one had decided to call off the search for the princess. Guessing where his niece might be headed, Victor Kreghist had ordered all roads leading to the Iron Baronies closed. Hidden ambushes like the one the travellers had run into had been set up everywhere under orders to capture anyone on the high road, carry out a thorough search and establish their identity. The ambushers were equipped with amulets capable of dissipating charm-guises, so being able to cast a semblance wouldnt help them much. They had to make a decision. They rode some distance away from the captain of the Forest Guard, whom they had tied up in gratitude for his information, and began to look for another road. It seemed they had no choice. The Old High Road, the road through the Black Marshes and Dead Oner, laid down when they were still the Enchanted Forest1 (So called because many of the magicians resid-

ing in Oner liked to release the most attractive and good-natured fruits of their magical experiments into this magnificent and ancient forest which still remembered the elves.) and Great Oner, lay beckoningly under their horses hooves. The Road to Magic

Chapter Seven
The Dead City Everyone was wary as they set out along the Old High Road. Kendir, whistling cheerily and chatting about his many acquaintances whod apparently travelled along that very high road unharmed and had even rode into Oner itself, nevertheless kept his hands on his bow and arrow, ready to shoot at any moment. Olaf had lowered his visor, put on chainmail gloves and didnt take his hand off the hilt of his sword. Clairene was riding as if in a trance, lips moving, and with all his newly acquired senses, Oleg felt waves of magic energy streaming from her. Infected by their anxiety, with an effort of will now familiar to him, Oleg covered his body in protective scales, regretting he could not fully demonize himself. Suddenly he had an unexpected thought. He thought that he was becoming too dependent on the body hed acquired in the world of the Elementals; he was actively using its capacities in any unpleasant situation. Arent I taking on my demon form too often? he thought. After all, Heliona warned me that if I did that too often, and if a lot of people believed in my demon nature, then Id become a demon through and through. I should be more careful! Turning this idea around in his head, he still didnt remove his scales. Transformation or no transformation, theyd already saved his life once. It would be stupid to hang about in a perilous place and reject his only possible form of protection. Lost in these thoughts, Oleg didnt notice that Clairene had stopped her magic and been riding alongside him for some time, curiously eyeing his left shoulder. Finally her glances caught his attention. Is something wrong? Well, Im just curious as to how you can avoid being seriously wounded after being hit from an arbalest at almost point blank range. At that distance the bolt would puncture even heavy armour forged by gnomes. But as far as I can see, youve only come away with a bruise. And you cant hide even a light chainmail shirt under your jacket. You dont even have one. So Im curious: what kind of armour do you have, and is it possible to get hold of one like it somewhere? Oleg pondered his answer for a while. He didnt want to lie to a girl who had entrusted her life to him, nor did he want to offend her by not replying. But on the other hand telling her the truth was clearly not desirable. So he chose his words very carefully when he replied. I dont think youll be able to. Its not armour in the usual sense of the word. Its more like a characteristic of my own body, which unfortunately I cant share. I obtained it quite by

chance, along with a few other useful abilities, in a very nasty tight spot. You could say it was an unrepeatable side effect of the combination of two powerful spells (he was thinking of the spell he had pronounced in the quiet comfort of the university library, not so long ago after all, and the gratitude spell he had murmured with numb lips as blood flowed out of the wound inflicted by the thugs knife) and an unforeseeable, fatally dangerous confluence of events. I survived thanks to a miracle. (As he said that Helionas gay face appeared in his minds eye and the thought immediately flashed through his mind: Well Im not lying that smiling Elemental is really nothing short of a miracle!) He added out loud: Believe me, Im really sorry, but I cant help you there. Understood. In other words, Ill have to make do with my little chainmail shirt, as always. Just then Ataletta rode up. Shed been listening in on their conversation attentively, and now she joined in: And Id like to know how you managed to burn the arbalester? How? Well, you saw me I threw a fireball at him. The conversation was obviously getting unpleasant for Oleg. The wild shriek of a man being burned alive was still in his ears. He comforted himself with the thought that if he hadnt done that, Clairene, and maybe even all of them, would be dead now, but it didnt really help. He certainly didnt want to remember it. The simplest of fire spells. Whats not clear about that? Nothing, Ataletta agreed rather too easily, Except for one small nuance: all the warriors of the Forest Guard are part of the Royal Guards and the Temple Guards and they are obliged to undergo an initiation as novice priests of Orchis and wear the relevant amulets. And that means that they are immune to magic. Maybe that huntsmens amulet was broken? said Oleg naively. And anyway what do you mean, immune? They managed to curse your father, didnt they? So that means the amulets dont provide total protection. So maybe my fireball got through some such hole in their protection? My father was cursed by Valdes, a graduate master of Dark Magic. He was cursed by the force of True Darkness. He damned him with the power of True Darkness, having given his life for that! Only the power of the True Elements can overpower the protection of a god. Ah-ha. And what if my little fireball was in fact one of those True Elements? Lets say, fire? True Fire? But thats not within hum Ataletta bit her tongue, obviously remembering who he was, and added in quite a different tone: Yes, thats it, it probably was. The amulets are powerless against True Fire. And so saying, she spurred on her horse and shot ahead. Clairene followed her, giving Oleg a very odd look.

Pondering over this conversation and lost in puzzling over what the enchantresss gaze might mean, Oleg stopped looking where he was going. It was only when there was a loud squelch and his horse slipped, sitting down on its back legs, that Oleg turned his attention to the surrounding countryside. A considerable change had taken place meanwhile. The magnificent pines standing along the verges of the cobbled road had disappeared. In their stead were low, sparse birches and aspen bent into fantastical forms. The road itself was covered with a thick layer of greasy mud, and that was what his horse had slipped on. Pools of mud were everywhere, overshadowed by tall tussocks of sedge grass. All of a sudden, Oleg caught a suspicious noise. It was reminiscent of the quiet zing when a taut guitar string is touched. The sound was vaguely familiar and awoke very unpleasant associations in his soul. But just what it was, he really couldnt remember. Ears pricked, he began to look around him more closely. His concern didnt go unnoticed. The hirelings and Ataletta gathered around him, drawing their weapons. Whats up? Kendir asked, eyeing their surroundings attentively, holding an arrow on his bowstring. Can you hear it? Oleg whispered. The mysterious sound came gradually closer. What is it? Atalettas frightened little voice cut through the thickening silence. I dont know. But I dont like it. Its a nasty kind of noise, Oleg twitched his shoulders. The Unclean, Olaf squeezed the hilt of his sword. The noise finally came close enough for them to determine its source. It was coming from a small gingerish cloud approaching the travellers at a great pace. Kendir was the first to guess what it was. With a gasp of horror, he quickly began rummaging in his saddle bag. He pulled out some sort of dirty greyish rag and quickly began winding it around his head. And then it dawned on the other members of the party what the cloud was. Mousquitoes! The Unclean would have been better! Oleg muttered, hurriedly transforming his skin, blood and inner organs demonic in the hopes that demons blood would be inedible for these little vampires. Olaf and Ataletta hurriedly wrapped themselves in some cloths. Clairene mumbled a spell. The cloud flew up. Oleg swore. The mosquitoes couldnt drink demon blood, but that didnt bring him any relief. They all wanted to try! Once theyd bitten him, the insects fell like sand, poisoned by the unsuitable liquid, but there were just as many still waiting for a sip. Ataletta, Olaf and Kendir were wrapped cosily in the bits of cloth protecting them from the thirsty bloodsuckers, while Clairene was enveloped in a dim orange halo which instantly burnt any insect which flew into it. Fiery sparks flashed next to her. However, her companions could see that

maintaining the halo cost the girl a fair bit of strength. And it was that very moment that the local Unclean chose to attack the party. With a smacking sigh a crack appeared in the bog and a weighty, whitish body leapt out at the travellers. If anything, it resembled a grotesquely overfed frog the size of a grown man. The frog was out of luck. Enraged to their wits end by the mosquitoes, Olegs party gladly threw themselves at a visible and tangible enemy. The left hind paw was chopped off by Kendir. The right foreleg flew off, cut right through by Olaf. Olegs blade slashed open the belly and the face was covered in some sort of slimy green goo hurled by Clairene which burnt out its eyes in an instant. Stunned by such an inhospitable welcome, the frog made a strange sort of cry, rather reminiscent of a hiccough, and gave up the ghost. Oof, what a stink, Oleg said with a grimace. The party crowded round the dead creature, looking at it attentively. Its probably a karong, Clairene pronounced uncertainly as she eyed the creature lying in front of them. A karong? turning to the other travellers, Oleg read similar surprise on their faces, too. In times gone by, before the fall of Oner, they used to live in the water meadows of the Enchanted Stream. They are the creation of a nature magician from Oner. It is said they were almost intelligent, and very kind, that they liked to take children for rides in the stream. They looked rather like big golden frogs with a crown of horns on their head, and they had a pleasant flowery smell. Well, this one doesnt really fit your description, somehow, and Olaf nudged the slimy flesh with the tip of his boot. It does look like a frog, thats true: pale stomach, the backs a shi (He turned to the girls) lets say an unhealthy brown. Nothing golden to be seen whatsoever. The same goes for intelligence and kindness, otherwise it wouldnt have attacked us. Olaf turned the creature over with his foot and taking a look at its head, gave a quiet sigh. Growing on the strange creatures broad bumpy head, which was covered with some kind of growths and warts, was a small and remarkably graceful crown, which looked as though it had been braided from ivory. A lot of time has gone by. These lands were cursed. But still, its a great shame that the karong mutated, Clairene pronounced, trying not to look at the dead beast. The practical Olaf immediately tried to cut off the crown which he hoped could be sold for a tidy sum. Once hed finished, he put it in his saddle bag and they set off once again. Oleg rode up to the enchantress. How do you do that? and with a nod he pointed to the halo enveloping her and in which the tiresome insects were still being burnt.

Its a normal fire shield, just a very weak one. It only works against mosquitoes. I dont have enough energy for a stronger one. After all, Im only a conjuror, not a magician. And I cant extend it out over you, either. Teach me. Maybe Ill be able to. Watch and listen For an hour Oleg tried to reproduce the spell. At last he was able to formulate the complicated magical ligature as it should be, and a bright scarlet glow surrounded him. Wow, the hireling commented on his success. You have great potential. Why didnt you study at the Academy? They might have made a strong magician out of you. Well, thats exactly where I intend to go, actually. Im just accompanying her, Oleg nodded at Ataletta. Its almost on my way, anyhow. OK. And now watch how to extend the shield over the others. Finally Oleg was able to establish the shield over all the members of the party, and Clairene dropped her own shield with a sigh of relief. Now they travelled on in comfort. It wasnt a big job for Oleg to protect all his companions from the tiresome insects. The day was drawing towards evening. They needed to look for a place to sleep, only there were no suitable bits of high ground around. It was always squelching underfoot and the horses shuffled tiredly along the road which they had to find by guesswork as it was practically invisible. Moreover, Oleg couldnt shake the unpleasant feeling that someone was following them. And he wasnt the only one: his companions often turned round, too. Finally they found a place to camp for the night. It was a low, rounded hillock, rising slightly above the marshes surrounding it. They set up camp and began cooking supper. I dont like all this. Olaf muttered unhappily. You dont like porridge? Then dont eat it well manage fine by ourselves. Kendir couldnt stop himself from teasing. Yeah, and I dont like that either! Your porridge should be fed to prisoners sentenced to a particularly severe form of punishment. Cant you tell its burning? Here, give me the spoon. You need to stir it, see? Judging from how willingly Kendir handed over his chefs duties, the porridge hadnt burnt by chance. The brave archer couldnt bear a chefs duty and when it was his turn to cook, he tried any trick to get out of this honourable obligation. But this time he was unlucky. After giving the porridge a good stir, Olaf licked the spoon with pleasure and then handed it back to Kendir. Apart from your cooking, I dont like the fact that were proceeding along the Old High Road with such ease. Think about it: the road through Oner is the shortest route between

Fenrian and Irinia. But despite that, since the curse of Oner, people have stopped riding along it, not even the merchant caravans use it any more. And theyd ride right into the devils lap for profit! And? Weve covered a quarter of the way now, and tomorrow well come out near Oner, and - nothing! No hoards of Unclean, no crowds of resurrected dead, no dark hounds. Just one crazy karong which we put an end to easily. None of the horrors of Oner weve heard so much about. I suspect some sort of huge foul play. Olafs fiery speech was certainly a cause for concern. It was Clairene who answered him: Well, in one way, of course, youre right. But youre forgetting something. First of all, two none-too-weak wizards are travelling with you, and they kept up an active spell all day long. The Unclean are capable of sensing magic and try to keep as far away from it as possible, unless, of course, theyre sent. And whats more, the curse of Oner was directed at the servants of Orchis. The curse-maker had nothing against other magicians or wizards, quite the opposite, in fact; he considered them allies. Does anyone here have an amulet of Orchis the Light Bearer? No? So there you are, you see. The local Unclean simply dont count us as enemies of their creator. And whats more, weve only covered a quarter of the way, and that was during the daytime when the Unclean and the Undead are pretty inactive. We still have to put three quarters of the road behind us, so its all still to come maybe the dead, maybe dark hounds. Well, thanks! You didnt need to have added that last part. I was beginning to cheer up. They think were one of them, we can pass peacefully and quietly, without fights or adventures. What would it have cost you to keep your mouth shut about the nasty part? Olaf grumbled jokingly. I was doing it for you. After all, its you whos been missing the Unclean, the conjuress countered just as jokingly. And it was just then that, as if to give weight to her words, a terrible howling rang out over the marshes, full of longing and powerless hatred. Dark Hounds! Clairene paled noticeably. Olaf reached for the hilt of his sword. Ataletta moved closer to Oleg, and only Kendir kept his cool. Carefully tasting the porridge, he announced loudly: Its ready. Get out your bowls. And then began calmly eating his share of porridge. Oleg was the first to hold out his bowl. The others followed suit. Once theyd finished supper, and without bothering to wash the dishes so as not to leave the fire, they allocated the watches and went to sleep. Ataletta was absolved from watch duty that night because of the great danger and her obvious inability to fight if there were an attack. This was met with stormy protests on her part. Besides that, Clairene took her own measures of precaution, drawing a circle with a charred log from the fire and then busying herself for a long time with a

spell. When she was through, the circle blazed with a bright white light and the sorceress returned to the fire completely wiped out. Thats the most Im capable of. It wont stop a pack of Dark Hounds, of course, but it will delay them and raise the alarm. And it shouldnt let any weaker Unclean or Undead through. With that, they all went to sleep. *** Oleg dreamt of all kinds of nonsense. It was the same night time marsh, but somehow not quite the same, more like a marshy sedge. And the twisted stunted birches and aspens were larger. Or maybe he himself had grown shorter. But such abstract thoughts werent of much interest to him at that moment. In fact, there werent really any rational thoughts. It was thought-commands, thought-orders and indicators of danger, not reasoning, which arose in his brain. He was hungry. His flock was hungry too. The Owners/Masters had been gone for too long. Sad. A scent in the wind revealed that someone had crossed the border Violators are food. There is food - there is no hunger. Kill the violators - to please the Owners. Hurry to the violators! And his four long legs carried him quickly through the swamp to the source of the border violators scent. His pack rushed in behind him, joyfully howling. Soon they ran onto the path of the violators. Inexplicably, all the violators preferred this path. He only rarely came across other violators off the paththey were usually small and hairy, or covered with feathers--but the Owners werent as pleased by their deaths as they were for the deaths of those two-legged, clothcovered ones. Therefore, the two-legged soon became the main prey of his flock. Emerging onto the path, he again sniffed it carefully, and happily howled. Violators were everywhere! Absolutely everywhere! And it was good. Food. A lot of food! His obedient flock rushed to his call. Soon they could see the light from a campfire. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the attack. His powerful, flexible body easily avoided the awkward defenses of the enemy. Oleg, through the hounds eyes, was amazed to identify a Fenrian soldier. The poison sting from the end of his tail lashed the solider across the chest, easily puncturing his body armor. The solder lay in excruciating agony, and Oleg moved on, attacking the next violator. It was ... weird. Oleg was increasingly amazed, watching the fine, strong bodies of the flockhe hadnt realized how beautiful these monsters were before now--as they tore the Fenrian detachment to pieces. Oleg realized the Fenrians were on the very path which they had traveled this morning. This must be the same unit that had been dogging their trail all along.

Amazed by these strange ideasFenrians? Unit?--the flock leader, just for a moment, hesitated. In that instant, a spear bounced off his body, unable to penetrate the solid scales. He tried to ignore these stupid, unnecessary thoughtsDetachment? Oleg?--on the hunt, and his paw swatted the violator to the ground. He glimpsed the powerful, glossy black bodies next to him. Strong scales, a long tail with a deadly sting, burning eyes of crimson fire ... My flock! The hunter thought with satisfaction, soundlessly jumping over a blazing fire and bursting into a strange, large den of soft tissue, which, as he knew, was where the violators always slept. He couldnt resist. They didnt even have their usual metal shells, which always stuck in his teeth during a meal. Good catch, he thought, and with a few strokes, he moved the bodies into a more convenient position for his delicious meal. It was difficult trying to enjoy a meal that was trying to run away. Actually, decided the hunter, running out of the bloodstained tent, it would be better to take the bodies for the pups in the den ... let them play, practice catching them when they run... they are still too young to bite through iron. When their teeth get more mature, they can have normal violators ... Like this one. With a rough jump, he sent his body into flight, and then with all his weight, he fell onto a heavily armored knight, who was bravely brandishing a battle-ax in front of a pair of young females with impacted stingers. Olegs powerful teeth closed on the knights neck, easily puncturing the veil under the steel helmet and the knight went limp. The flock was feasting, but the feast would not last long. Oleg sent a group of the youngest females to carry their catch to the pups. The leader sniffed the air and again howled, but stopped, puzzled and pleased. Somewhere ahead in the middle of the hunting territory were more violators! And once again flock was rushing through the swamp. But now he was confused. The smell of these violators was comprised of two distinct odors. One of them was familiar to him. It was the smell of Stinging Pain, or as he considered it, a Stingy. Again, he carefully sniffed the trail. Undoubtedly, this was a female. Masters were not pleased by the death of a Stingy; moreover, whenever the flock fought the owners of this smell, it had lost many of its members. Thats how he became leader. Therefore, he preferred not to touch the Stinging Pain. But there was another smell. Most of it smelled like that of the Owners, but much fainter. This one had none of the Owners usual smell of death. Instead, the smell had the same Stinging flavors. For a few seconds he wondered what a being with the smell of his Masters could be doing among trespassers/violators. Maybe he was weakened? Wounded? Maybe he couldnt kill them himself? But then where did the taste of a Stinger come from, why had it replaced the scent of death? Maybe its a pup? Yes, its probably the Masters pup, captured by trespass-

ers. Odd, but hed never seen the Masters with pups. No matter. They should hurry to help the puppy before the violators killed it. And the stone path flew up to meet him Oleg was rudely awakened from his dream. Kendir, who had taken the second watch, was shaking him. It was Olegs watch next, though it was too early. The archer was very frightened. Pressing a finger to his lips, he signalled Oleg to come away from the tent so as not to wake the others, and then whispered: Dark Hounds. What? Oleg really wanted to sleep, but he couldnt shake the feeling that the hero of his dream hed already stopped identifying with him was not far away, and he really wanted to know how this hunt ended. Dark Hounds. I heard the howl of a hound following the trail on the side of the High Road. Theyll be here soon. We should keep watch in pairs so well have time to wake the others when the beasts get nearer. On the High Road, you say? Oleg remembered some details of his dream. Well, it seems his dream was not a simple one. And the sense of somehow identifying with the leader was still there. Just then a howl sounded from the high road and Oleg, familiar with it from his dream and if he remembered rightly, recognized the command: faster! Its them! A note of panic appeared in Kendirs voice. They move quickly. Another ten or twenty minutes and theyll be here! Lets wake the others! Hold on. I think I can influence them with magic. Maybe we can avoid a fight. Theres no need to wake anyone, let them get a good nights sleep. If it doesnt work, then we can wake them and arm ourselves. With these words Oleg leaned against a small pine nearby and closed his eyes. He was trying to activate the strange connection between himself and the leader of the Dark Hounds. To his amazement, he did it quite easily. Hurry, hurry, hurry the Pack was closing on the violators. Soon, soon, soon... the patter of soft paws on the cobblestones of the road. A small pause a dead karong no need to waste good meat. And again onwards. Suddenly the soft smell of the Masters/Owners came with the sound of the wind, so close. Wait, he whispered. An instant, and the Pack stood stock still. But why is there no death in this smell? After all, it is always with the Masters, it always accompanies them, mingling with the smell of their power. Because Im still young, the marsh grass whispers. I havent died yet, like they have, drip the drops of light rain. But you are a Master? Yes! came with the crackling of fire with the fingers of a Pain-Stinger. Are you the one whom the violators/trespassers have captured? Well tear them to shreds!

I am the one who is leading the Invited to the Masters, came the strange reply. Who are they, the Invited? The ones you thought were trespassers and the female Stinger. If the Masters wish to see anyone, it is neither trespassers nor the Stingers, but the Invited. Their death saddens the Masters who have invited them. So it is forbidden to kill them? Forbidden! Are you sure? Sure, otherwise we would not be here. Should we leave? No. You should run ahead and clear our way to the City where the Masters are. Let everyone know: it is forbidden to attack us! There are those who do not listen to us. May we convince them with the conversation of fangs? Yes, you may. Now go. With a solemn howl, the Pack, rejoicing in the Masters direct order, raced off to obey. Staggering away from the welcoming pine, Oleg wiped the sweat running off him. It had been unbelievably difficult to communicate with the leader of the Pack and sense its reaction to his words at the same time. It turned out that the Dark Hounds had a very odd perception of conversation. Moreover, when hed finished the conversation, hed heard someone give a satisfied sniff and a cold voice uttered: Not bad at all, young fellow, you dealt with the guards splendidly. Well be waiting for you. In some surprising way, that voice gave off a strong smell. The voice which had praised him smelt of death. Coming to his senses slightly, he turned to Kendir, who was standing still, warily. Everythings OK. I managed it. The Hounds wont touch us, and theyre even going to clear our road for us. They took me for one of the Masters. The archer tensed up again at those words. He looked Oleg over carefully, felt his pulse and only then did he calm down again. More at ease, he decided to enlighten Oleg right away about the mysterious Masters. When Oner fell, all the magicians who remained there - and there werent that many of them left barricaded themselves into the citadel and melded their forces to cast a curse. Their joint strength was insufficient and the curse took their lives. The priests army had to flee from under the citadel walls. Hardly any got out. The curse of the Dark ones reaped a rich harvest. That is what is known for sure, from the chronicles. But there are legends, too. According to the most common one, there was a necromancer among the defenders of Oner. Necromancy is a very rare and powerful type of dark magic. It enables you to raise the dead

and Dont bother, I know what necromancy is. But the tale caught Olegs interest. Then what? You know what it is? Where from, I wonder? Kendir didnt wait for a reply and went on. Fine. Anyway, as I said, there was a practitioner of necromancy there. It isnt really that difficult to kill a necromancer, in fact its rather easier than killing a regular magician, but its incredibly difficult to destroy one. This one died with the other magicians, but then he managed to rise, to raise himself from the dead. After that, he set about raising his friends and brothers-in-arms. Now undead magicians reside in Oner harbouring hatred for Orchis and his followers. Undead magicians, you say? In other words, liches? Yes, the bard who told me the story mentioned that word. He said that now Oner is the city of liches. But how do you know that word? Like I said, I know a bit about necromancy. But go on. Oleg tried to get Kendir off the subject because he didnt want to explain that his favourite game was Heroes of Might and Magic and that often as not hed played the necromancer, whose ability to increase his army using skeletons had particularly impressed Oleg. Its unlikely the archer would have understood if hed told him. Well, theres not really much else to say. From time to time new death-dealing beasts, like the Dark Hounds, appear on the marshes. Sometimes they burst out beyond the boundaries of the Dark Marshes and sow death and destruction all around them. Rumour has it that such things are the work of the Oner magicians, still dreaming of taking revenge on the whole of Fenrian for their death. It is also said that something has slowed the necromancer in his work of raising his brothers-in-arms and that as soon as he has succeeded in raising them all, hell attack Fenrian and kill everyone. But I dont think thats the case. If no-one has attacked for all these years, theyve only sent out some beasts and not far or for long then that means something is holding them in check. I see. OK, go and get some sleep. Now its my turn to keep watch, Oleg said, settling himself more comfortably. He was overwhelmed by the thought that apparently hed just managed to converse with a real lich, and whats more, hed received an invitation to visit him. So potential teachers have shown up, Oleg mumbled to himself. After all, Heliona said I need to study necromancy. Mmm, I wonder if she meant that any of the magicians who would be happy to teach me referred to liches, too. Aha, something tells me thats exactly what it means. But I dont somehow fancy the idea of studying with the dead. Who knows what might happen. Anyhow, well wait and see.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. In the morning, finding signs of Dark Hounds on the road, everyone was alarmed. Oleg had to briefly retell the events of the past night before they set off. Clairene, who hadnt said a word as she listened to Olegs story, road closer to him and asked quietly: Tell me, are you a student or an apprentice? How did you manage to get out alive? Dont worry, wizards have always kept strictly neutral, I wont give you up to the Valensians. What are you talking about? About you and your magic, and about what youve just told us. The Hounds, creations of the Dark Magic, thought you were one of their Masters and obeyed you. Thats only possible if youve mastered Dark Magic. The Hounds wont perceive anything else. Almost all the Dark Magicians were annihilated in the last Magical War. Whoever was left is hiding in the Mountains of Darkness and isnt in a hurry to show their nose in the world. But you showed up in Fenrian, where no magician would dare appear, otherwise hed be discovered straight away and handed over to the priests. That means youre not a magician. So you must either be a student or an apprentice of some dark magician. Except its not clear, how did you manage to survive? And youre really young, too... although not long ago you were saying something about a nasty tight spot, a convergence of spells and how youd only survived by a miracle. I can suppose that, along with a hide able to withstand arbalester bolts, you also received eternal, or at least extremely long, youth, didnt you? The enchantress gave a little laugh and looked Oleg right in the eyes. He scowled, mentally: there you have it, a glaring example of how a person can come to a conclusion which corresponds to reality but is based on utterly false assumptions. And how to convince her otherwise? And, incidentally, why? Let her think what she wants. Although Just to keep up appearances, he should protest anyway. Youre mistaken, Clairene. Im neither a student nor an apprentice of a dark magician. Admittedly, I do have a certain talent for dark magic, which allowed me to pretend to be a Master to the Dark Hounds, but I never studied at the Citadel of Darkness. And actually, Im heading for Valensia to study in the Light Academy. Though I must admit, its true that I wont age for a very, very long time. I see. I was mistaken then. It happens. Dont pay any attention. Long hair, - and Clairene stroked her luxurious ginger braid Short brains, as they say! Only, when you get a place at the Light Academy, dont forget: for ordinary people, necromancy, demonology, or the black arts, its all dark magic to them and they dont know any difference between them. And of course they have no idea whatsoever about what liches are. The inner terminology of the Dark Citadel hasnt really become common parlance.

Oleg looked at Clairene. She gave a snide smile but it seemed to him that deep in her eyes, under the layer of mockery and snideness, pity and respect were concealed. Not for himself, but for the image shed created of a dark magicians apprentice who had miraculously survived that long ago war and obtained new, mysterious abilities. But incidentally, her next words quickly shattered that impression. Why are you looking at me in such amazement? I had a terrible attack of insomnia last night. It happens to me, you know, when there are Dark Hounds roaming around nearby Dont worry, you could have heard those names anywhere, or I might have just dreamt it all Thats probably what it was Strange dream, though. What could it mean? A good journey, Oleg answered, nodding at the remains of some monster which had been ripped to shreds apparently unwilling to bow to the Dark Hounds order to get out of the way and convinced by a conversation of fangs. The journey was unusually calm. Without any delays, they proceeded along the Old High Road which had been cleared by the Pack, occasionally stopping for a short rest not far from the remains of yet another uncooperative monster to discuss its form and which species it might belong to. And so they reached Oner. The city was in ruins. The gates were ripped off and the strange black-white walls had glaring holes in them. Traces of fire could be seen on the walls of the ruined buildings. Everything was thickly overgrown with the bright green marsh grass, and the castle towered over it all. Here was the Citadel of Oner, which had been neither taken nor surrendered, the residence of magicians, who - if the legends were to be believed - were still waging their war on the new god of Fenrian and his devotees even after their death. They decided to set up camp for the night right on the collapsed city wall. There was plenty of room, the walls of Oner were thick enough. And moreover, as Clairene pointed out, it was the only place, apart from the high road, which wasnt a swamp the streets and squares of the city had all transformed into bog after the magicians had cast their curse. As the spellmaker well versed in history said, four fifths of the besieging army had died in those swamps. Once they had set up camp and finished cutting wood for the fire, Oleg volunteered to go out on a scout. He justified his wish with the necessity of checking the road, to see whether it had become a swamp, and whether there were any strange monsters. In fact, though, Oleg really wanted to get away as soon as possible and see what was going on in the abandoned buildings standing in the middle of the swamp and to visit the liches residing in the citadel. After the short message hed heard following his conversation with the leader of the Dark Hounds, for some reason, he was sure that no danger threatened him there. His proposition aroused a heated argument. Olaf was definitely against the idea and thought it would be stupid to separate in such a dangerous place. Kendir supported his com-

panion, but not quite so categorically, hinting that if Oleg discovered some way of looting the abandoned city then he, Kendir of Shem, would be at his service and always ready to be at his side. Completely confident in Olegs capabilities, Ataletta took the position do as you please. It was Clairene who pondered his suggestion longer than anyone else, but when the flow of arguments for and against scouting had been exhausted, with a sly wink at Oleg, she whispered in his ear: Say hello to those who didnt capitulate and supported his suggestion. Having received the approval of the majority, it didnt take Oleg long to get ready. Grabbing his sword, he stepped lightly on his way. Oleg had decided to go on foot so that he would have the possibility of returning to the camp quickly with the help of his wings in case of emergency. The sun was beginning to set as he walked up to the citadel. Its crimson disk was all but hidden behind the collapsed black-white walls surrounding the dead city and only its very tip could still be seen behind them. The cobbled high road led to the moat near the citadel gates and turned into a large square where, apparently, fairs had once been held. The road then continued on the other side of the citadel. Rotten and broken remains of battering rams reminiscent of trebuchets were standing in the square. Opposite the spot where Oleg was standing he could see the gates into the citadel walls, now closed as the drawbridge was up. Some kind of suspiciously black slush was floating in the moat. Oleg wondered what he should do. Putting together everything hed heard about the Masters of Oner in the past and in the present, he was sure that they were in the castle. And it seemed as though theyd invited him to visit. However, the drawbridge was raised and the gates closed. Of course, it would have been no trouble for Oleg, in demon form, to simply fly over the wall, but he was far from certain that the dead magicians would take kindly to such an impudent guest. Frankly speaking, he wasnt even really sure that it was worth his while popping in. After all, who knows what was festering in the heads of the Undead. What if they suddenly decided they could make a good lichlet out of him, or worse? So Oleg decided to behave as politely as possible, to knock, introduce himself and ask permission to travel to the border with Irinia. He planned to put particular emphasis on the fact that he was dragging with him the heir to the throne, who would become queen any moment, and that if he managed to deliver her safe and sound, then that would gravely harm Fenrian; this should please the dark magicians. Once hed come up with this plan of action, he picked up a smallish cobble stone and threw it at the gates, yelling at the top of his voice: Hey! Masters! If Im invited, then open up! And if Im not invited, then Im losing my marbles, he added under his breath.

But someone, it seemed, had heard him. Behind the wall of black-white stones a chortling laugh broke out. Whoever it was obviously tried to maintain an evil, gloomy tone but when Oleg, somewhat offended by such a welcome, turned round and went away, muttering to himself under his breath: Humph! Malicious phantoms, mighty liches, terrifying masters of Dead Oner! Found yourselves a clown, have you? Guffawing like youre at your mother-in-laws funeral. And what wouldve happened if Id told a joke? Youd have died, my dears, of laughter! The laughter did indeed turn into hysterical guffawing. The drawbridge wasnt so much let down as came crashing down. Two sinister figures in black capes appeared on it. The figures were clutching their stomachs and obviously trying to contain their fits of laughter. Youre invited, dont worry. Youre not losing your marbles. Come on in! one of them said to him, holding back the next fit of laughter. The second, finally controlling his guffaws, added, By the way, we cant die. Not from laughter nor anything else. Were dead already. So you can tell us your joke after all. As he walked across the drawbridge, Oleg tried to get a good look at these gatekeepers, who turned out to be those same liches who were so frightening and terrifying, and so on and so forth. But as it happened, they were nothing special. Rather pale faces half-hidden by the hoods of their black mantles; the hands holding staffs were rather too white, but within the limits of what was acceptable. No bared bones, no traces of mummification or decay so often depicted by makers of horror movies or computer games. Had Oleg met them earlier or somewhere else, he would probably not have paid any attention to them. Well, maybe hed have given them a quick glance but would have just decided the guys had a bad hangover or had had a rough night. Whats more, their appearance, and their behaviour, too, clearly showed that at the moment when Oner came under fire from the fanatics under the governance of His Highness Villam the Second, Atalettas dear great-grandfather who avidly supported the new religion, they could have been no more than twenty to twenty-two. Oleg was surprised when he walked into the grounds of the citadel. What he saw in no way corresponded to his expectations of the abode of magicians raised from the dead. There were no gloomy, half-ruined towers, no cold, mouldy tombstones. Instead, a beautiful, welltended garden spread out in front of Oleg and took up most of the internal part of the citadel. Little paths wound capriciously between apple trees of various varieties which, despite the fact that it was still only early summer, were dripping with ripe fruit, and a few more figures wrapped in black mantles appeared from around the corner. Coming closer to Oleg, one of them threw back his hood. Concealed beneath it was the face of a tired man of about thirtyseven to forty with sagging black eyes. Like all the other residents here, he was rather pale.

Im Viss, third level master in necromancy, graduate of the Dark Citadel. Now acting head and sole mentor of these ruffians. And so saying, the terrifying necromancer gathering forces to destroy the whole of Fenrian affectionately ruffled the hair of the teenager standing next to him. He looked no more than twelve to Oleg. The lad slipped out from under the hand on his head in a practised fashion and introduced himself: Ratek, student of the Dark Citadel, fifth grade. The others present also threw back their hoods. Moshek, graduate of the fifth course of the Faculty of the Science of the Unliving of the Dark Citadel, a dark-skinned lad introduced himself. He had an earring in his left ear and looked something like a gypsy. Tobi, graduate of the fifth course of the Faculty of General Magic of the Dark Citadel, said a chestnut-haired youth, bowing. His face was somehow reminiscent of Olegs. Oleg nodded mechanically, memorizing their names. Leya, graduate of the third course of the Faculty of Earth, Department of Druids, of the Light Academy. This last figure accompanying the necromancer threw back her hood revealing a rather attractive, delicate girl of eighteen or nineteen, just as pale as the other lords of this strange fortress. Pleased to meet you. Oleg tried to pull himself together and not show his amazement too openly. My name is Arioch he remembered his decision not to reveal his true name to anyone just in time. Minstrel and traveller. We are pleased to have you as our visitor, lir Arioch, Viss bowed courteously. Its been a very long time since any minstrels looked in on us. May we count on hearing you play? Why not? Ill be happy to play. Only, I left my guitar in the camp. Well need to send someone for it, and at the same time alert my companions to the fact that Ill be delayed. However, how did you manage to sense me, and even more so, to honour me with an invitation? As far as I know, you are not fond of visitors. We noticed you intercepted control of the Guards and I plucked up the courage to invite you to visit us, especially seeing as you had yourself expressed such a desire while talking with the Guards. Would you care to follow me? The necromancer turned around and walked off. There was nothing for Oleg to do but follow him. As he was walking through the garden he plucked a large juicy apple growing over the path and bit into it with pleasure. The apple was unusually succulent and tasty. Now I know why you have barricaded yourselves in like this, Oleg said once hed finished and was looking for a second helping. And why is that? there was a note of wonder in the necromancers voice.

Well, so no thieves break in. This garden should be guarded even more rigorously than it is. Ive never tasted such delicious apples in my life. Thank you! For some reason it was Leya who answered, not Viss. Pride could clearly be heard in her voice, but for some reason it was mingled with a fair amount of embarrassment. If Oleg had not been able to see her face, which remained a pale and dull, he would have said that the girl was quite embarrassed and blushing. The next instant Oleg remembered that it was no simple girl next to him but a lich and no matter how she felt, she would never be able to blush or sweat, and he cursed himself mentally for his carelessness. Dont be surprised. This garden is all Leyas handiwork, Viss said without turning round. Did the apple really taste good? Oh yeah! Try one yourself! said Oleg, and cut himself short. An awkward silence reigned. Sorry, he mumbled. I forgot that such things are rather difficult for you. Mmm. Thats putting it mildly, Tobi smirked mirthlessly. Never mind, Ill take it as a compliment to my craftsmanship, the necromancer remarked just as mirthlessly. But how did you manage to plant all this here? And what for? Oleg reckoned it was better to change the subject and turned directly to the girl herself. Well, I am a druid after all or I was. When I was returned, Leya stressed that word, There were only rocks and ruins here. Death was everywhere in the ground, and on the ground. And in us, too, she added after a pause. I couldnt go on like that So I decided to try to grow something alive. Just before that Id written an essay on apple trees So it came in handy. And she paused again. If you like, you can gather some apples when you leave. Ill be pleased if at least someone can eat them. Theyll only rot otherwise. The girls voice was laden with aged languor. Ill be sure to take some, Oleg didnt know how he could help this beautiful young girl who had died long before he himself was born, so he simply repeated: Your apples are really very tasty. And an uncomfortable silence reigned once more. By that time they had reached the tower which had obviously once been the castles dungeon. The top had been destroyed, but the lower part was in good condition and was now covered in creeping plants. Please come in, said Viss, opening the heavy door. I expect you have a lot of questions. And Im also curious to know how things are in the outside world. Therefore Id like to invite you into my study first where we can talk in peace. Afterwards, I hope you wont refuse to play something. Music is, alas, one of the very few pleasures still available to us.

Without waiting for an answer, he headed towards the staircase. Oleg followed him. The necromancers study was interesting, and more-or-less how Oleg imagined the study of a medieval scholar. The desk was covered in various flasks, the walls lined with shelves loaded with heavy volumes. A skull perched on one of the shelves. It looked like a human skull except for the long, sharp fangs. A large, stuffed, lean dog covered in black scales could be seen in one corner. Oleg looked at it more closely. For some reason this creation seemed familiar to him. Do you find it interesting? Viss noticed his curiosity. Its one of the first models for the Guards. Not a particularly successful one, so thats why it stayed here. I worked on it and finally it resulted in the Guards, who you so successfully intercepted. If you are interested, then later I can show you the blueprints of the spells for creation and transformation which I used when I was creating them. First of all a simple hound was taken as the base, to which various characteristics of the marsh basilisk were added and Here he interrupted himself. Forgive me, a teachers habit. I got carried away. Its just that the Dark Hounds, as you call them, are one of my favourite masterpieces. It is probably the most successful experiment ever carried out at the confluence of necromancy, chimerology and the magic of life. I dont expect well be able to repeat anything like it since the union of light and dark magicians, so essential for creative activity, has become impossible since Oner perished and the Dark Citadel fell. I see, Oleg said thoughtfully. Listen, would you please explain something to me? I was told about you as though you were some dreadful legend, powerful dark magicians raised from the dead and gathering your forces to take revenge on your murderers descendants. Your abode arouses dread, everyone shakes at the mere mention of the liches of Oner, and some of my companions who are far from cowards were prepared to face almost certain death in ambushes set for us along the Orvalenian High Road rather than proceed through the Black Marshes. And why? All I see is a man who comes nowhere near the mark of a really powerful and fearsome lich yourself. And even you are more like a teacher whose class has suffered a calamity at the hands of fate and who is doing all he can to save them. The others are more like normal students, young and kind-hearted, not at all like those monsters the legends talk of! And really you look too alive, somehow. Im not talking about external appearances, though there is that, too. You can laugh and be happy. Leya has cultivated a splendid garden and got embarrassed when I complimented her on her skill. You are obviously saddened by the current state of affairs, and you are carrying out some kind of scientific research Oleg nodded towards the desk cluttered with instruments And whats more, it doesnt look as if youre inventing some sort of murderous shit. In short, you dont live up to the image they have of you in Fenrian and I would like to know the reason for that.

The reason? Why, I can tell you that. Its simply that up till now you have heard history from the mouths of the descendants of those who condemned us to this existence. But there is of course another side to the coin. Our side. Listen to how it looked for us, the Union of Free Magicians of Oner, as we called ourselves in those days. *** The Orchisites attacked out of the blue. The Forest Guard, protected by amulets and thus undetectable by magical means, stealthily slaughtered the watchmen stationed around the city. By morning the army of His Highness Villam the Second Kreghist was at the walls of Oner. The municipal guards barely had time to close the gates and citizens who hadnt managed to get inside the city fell into the hands of the ambushers. The soldiers fell on them with unbelievable ferocity. Neither women nor children were spared. We watched, helpless, while their swords rose and fell, their lances thrust in and out. Few had the courage or ability to fight back. In the end, nearly all were slaughtered, save those held for torture. Three of the magicians and two druids were immediately sacrificed along with Tarid, one of the citys best healers. They were lucky. The screams of the other captives coming from a small hillock clearly visible from the city walls could be heard for all the three days of the siege. Villams henchmen were experienced and did their best to carry out the command of their leader: Whatever you do, take your time. Make sure those pagans feel the full force of the Light-Bearers wrath. They treated the women they captured particularly horrendously. The magicians were powerless, they couldnt even remove their suffering for them as the victims had to put those same amulets on before they were tortured. Then the rest of their army came--wave after wave of infantry and heavy cavalry, followed by the great, rumbling catapults and trebuchets. They came marching in strict order, so many shining coats of mail, so many glittering helmets, so many waving banners and fluttering mantles. All followed by the grim magiciansso grim, so determined. A great host against our pitiful few, now without the massacred citizens, or the sacrificed magicians. All the while tortured screams rent the air. Then the storming began. Right from the outset it was clear that the city was doomed. There were not many warriors among the magicians in Oner at the time, only three in fact. Two Light ones Teodulf Flaming Guard and Vittor Blade of Light and one dark one, a retired warrior necromancer dabbling in research in the field of chimerology who had come to Oner with his students for a seminar Viss, Knight of Despair. Moreover, initially it was only the necromancer and some of his older students who were able to do any vaguely serious damage to the enemy. Teodulfs fireballs and Vittors bolts of lightning didnt bring any kind of harm down on the Orchisites, protected as they were from the direct use of force. But on the other hand the zombies raised by Viss obediently ripped the kings soldiers and the priestly

guards to shreds, paying no heed to the amulets. However, the light magicians soon adapted to this unusual situation and set about throwing rocks and opening up the earth under the feet of the attackers thereby evening out the score somewhat. The other magicians in the city belonged to strictly peaceful orders--Druids, healers, animal lords, and weather makers among the light magicians, and spiritualists, chimerologists and black sorcerers on the dark side. It goes without saying that they all took part in the battle, but you couldnt really compare their power to that of the warrior magicians. On the morning of the third day of the siege, despite all the efforts of the magicians and citizens, the armies of Fenrian breached the walls and entered Oner. As they came pouring through a violent battle was joined; twice our forces fighting like demons, threw them back. But nothing could stop them. While we made them pay for every foot of our ground that they gained, more and more of our defenders fell. Under the protection of a small section of the garrison, the women and children, along with the magicians, barricaded themselves into the citadel where the magicians began preparing a stable portal to Valensia. The menfolk, along with most of what was left of the garrison, kept up the battle in the city to slow down the oncoming army and win enough time to create the portal and transfer the people. They had almost succeeded. Using blood magic (Teodulf, Vittor and Sadir, an elderly Seli spiritualist willing sacrificed themselves) enabled them to fill an ancient accumulator with energy, enough to open the portal, but just at that moment Kreghists armies broke through the defences and came up to the walls. Viss and his students headed to the walls to bolster what was left of the garrison. The light healer Goran joined them with his young daughter Leya. She had recently finished the third course at the Faculty of Druids with flying colours and to celebrate her father had taken her with him to the seminar. A highly experienced healer can be very handy when there are wounded and Leya came, too; she categorically refused to be parted from her father and there was no time to convince her to change her mind. With the support of the necromancer and his students, the remaining garrison had sufficient strength to keep the army at a respectful distance. Kreghists engineers gathered their siege catapults and began to fire from afar, wary of coming too close to the tower. At last the magicians managed to open a portal in the upper room of the magical tower where the accumulator was, and the light magicians transported through it to Valensia to keep the exit channel open. The dark magicians stayed in the tower, sustaining the entry point; to suddenly burst in on Valensia without being accompanied by light magicians was too risky for them despite the truce. At first the flow through the portal was fragile, but then it became an ever-increasing human current. However, that didnt last long. By that time the besiegers had managed to drag a huge trebuchet onto the square near the gates and the first shot they fired from it had catastrophic consequences.

The projectile flew over the wall and struck the very roof of the magical tower with incredible force. Smashing it, the heavy boulder tumbled down breaking the crossbeams and maiming people. As it fell, it caught the ancient accumulator, shattering it with one blow and releasing all the energy locked within it. The magical tower of the Oner citadel blazed brighter than the sun for a second, and then disappeared in an explosion of incredible force. With it perished everyone who had not managed to get through to the portal dark magicians, women and most of the children. Only the light magicians and about five hundred children aged between five and twelve, who had managed to cross through the portal before the explosion were saved. And so we were left on our own, the necromancer continued his tale. At the moment when about half the citys population perished, there was a colossal expulsion of necroemanation which I partly managed to store. I decided then to use it to raise all those who had died in the city as zombies and unleash them against the kings army to at least partially avenge the childrens murder. But things turned out differently. After the magical tower exploded, we all fell into despair. We were filled with pain and hatred towards the aggressors. And then Goran suggested a plan. You have probably heard the legend of the fall of the state of Reir. The Elves drowned it as a punishment for the rape of one of their own at the hands of the crown prince of Reir. The broad outline of that ritual is known to many magicians as it is described in one of the Elfish books that has come down to us. But the page with the concluding section of the ritual is missing, so no human had ever dared to perform it. But we dared to! One way or another, none of us was planning to hand ourselves over to the Orchisites alive we had seen only too well how magicians died on the altar of the Light-Bearer. Incidentally, we never would have survived long enough to complete the spell. The accumulator no longer existed and we were forced to sacrifice each other during the ritual in order to charge the spell with enough energy. Everything worked. I was worried about Leya, she was young and hadnt gone through the necessary training in the Dark Citadel, where studying the rules governing ritual suicide is compulsory for students. But the girl managed. Shed seen the sacrificial altar of Orchis, too. It was my turn right after her. Goran went last. As a healer, he was the most alive among us and we knew he should be able to live long enough after the blow in his heart to complete the ritual. Before plunging the poignard into my own chest, prompted by some kind of premonition, I cast a simple spell over all of us, over those whod just died as well as over those who were still alive. It was a spell of non-decay and the regeneration of dead flesh, and I also cast a spell I had developed for binding the soul to the body. I devoted all the energy I had gathered as a result of the explosion in the magical tower to it. The result is what you see before you.

The next evening, I rose. In those days I wasnt the worst warrior necromancer of the Dark Empire and I had put all the necessary charms on myself. But even so, I was astounded. Usually a risen magician who has retained the major part of his magical powers becomes not much more than a dull doll with one fixed thought: vengeance on enemies. But nothing like that happened with me. The poignard wound healed and I looked almost alive. And it was then that I remembered the spell I had cast before I died. After that I raised all those I could. Unfortunately, as I was sacrificing myself, I had only cast the spell over the magicians, the warriors from the garrison became simple dull zombies. Nevertheless, I raised all the magicians. Fifty students of the fifth year who had been with me in my seminar: Ratek, who was only a pretender to the student gown; Goran, and Leya. As light magicians, it was particularly hard for them. Thanks to the spell for regenerating flesh, the wounds healed over and the non-decay allowed us to look almost alive, while the bound soul meant that we could think, feel emotions and dream; dream about the possibility of becoming alive again, even for just a split second, to feel the warmth of the sun and the caress of a woman. Or maybe the taste of Leyas apples, the necromancer added with a wry grin. Weve existed that way for fifty years now. The healer and I are busy with research, looking for the possibility to return at least a part of life back to us. Along the way we help my older students, the chimerologists who have seriously undertaken to ensure the safety of our abode, and who are always creating more and more new Guards. The younger ones patrol the grounds. Leya takes care of order and beauty in our abode, experimenting with various types of plants. She keeps us cheerful, jokes and smiles, forces us to take care of our appearance and cries quietly when she thinks no-ones watching. And thats our story. But now, however, my dear Arioch, its your turn. I must admit, Im very curious as to how you appeared in these parts, a human endowed with both an incredibly strong potential for the light magic of fire and talents for dark magic, too, and whats more the Transformed magic! Well, perhaps you, my dear Viss, would be so kind as to enlighten simple uneducated me, as to what is particularly surprising in my talents? Aha, simple and uneducated! But Ill explain. First of all, you simply reek of fire magic. To be honest, I didnt think a human could possess capabilities of such magnitude. Its more fitting for some sort of fire spirit, say an iphrite or even a young and weak Elemental. But that can still be explained. They say that once in a thousand years a magician of improbable power is born. But apart from the fire magic, I can sense dark magic in you, too. Admittedly, as yet I cant say whether you are a black sorcerer or a necromancer, its all masked by the stronger smell of fire, but thats not the point. That just doesnt happen! A human is only cap-

able of housing one side of the force. If we turn to the light, we cannot reach the shadow, for those sunk in the darkness the light is not visible. That is the first law of magic, which, until now, has been considered unbreakable. And here we have a living refutation! And as if that werent enough, your dark force bears clear traces of the transformation which a magicians force obtains when he has passed through death! That multiplies a dark magicians strength manyfold; I, for instance, am much stronger now than I was when alive, but no one obtains this willingly who wants to die? But you cant go through that alive. These capacities only appear after a personal encounter with Madame Death, or at least, that is what was thought till now. So, thats why you are refuting this supposition. You are, without a doubt, alive, unlike me and yet you, like me, carry the stamp of death - which, incidentally, would give you a very great advantage should you decide to take up dark magic. Actually, its already giving you an advantage: it was precisely because your power has been transformed in a similar way to ours that the Dark Hounds took you for one of us. Not to mention the fact that among your travelling companions you have the ruler of Fenrian, who hasnt yet gone through the coronation an empty ceremonial rite, by the way. So you can see for yourself, I am indeed very curious as to who you are. And where you appeared from. Oleg thought seriously. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he told Viss the story of his adventures. The dark magician somehow aroused intuitive trust, and Oleg had recently learned to trust his intuition. Moreover, he really needed a good advisor, and ideally, a guide. Viss listened to the story with great attention. He was particularly interested in how Oleg was killed by the thugs and his appearance in the world of Heliona. He often interrupted Oleg to quiz him, carefully examined the tear in his jacket, calculating where the blow had struck and thoroughly asked about Olegs feelings. After Oleg had told him about Helionas warning and gift, he smirked, muttering So thats where the fire comes from! When Oleg reached the point when she recommended he study dark magic, he muttered, Very wise, very wise, and then went back to listening carefully. Finally Oleg finished his tale. Well, what can I say, Viss drawled with obvious satisfaction. You are extremely lucky, young man. I wonder why that goddess took such an interest in you and why she invested such power in you? But Heliona says shes not a goddess, Oleg said in amazement. She can say what she likes. I can tell you that Im not a master of necromancy who died fifty years ago but a grey rabbit. And what do you think, after that Ill grow ears and get an unbearable urge to eat carrots?

That depends on how well Ive mastered the magic of transformation by then. So the urge might come upon you, Oleg countered. Take a walk! the magician exclaimed with obvious satisfaction. The magic of transformation doesnt work on the Undead. And that is precisely what I am now, an Undead. There are at least some advantages in my situation. I dont need to worry about any pranks the students might get up to. Viss made a mock serious face. I wouldnt count on that too much if I were you. I should warn you that I have a very vivid imagination And a very unhealthy one. I see, I see... and the necromancer laughed gaily. And as for Clear Flame, she may say she is not a goddess. She may even sincerely believe she is a simple Elemental. But as a magician who knows a bit about the magic of beings - and not just from hearsay - albeit from a rather different angle, the dark side, I can tell you that reading minds, let alone resurrecting the dead and giving them additional magical appearances is simply impossible for an Elemental. And in general, resurrecting the dead is an ability which belongs solely and exclusively to the gods. And even for them it demands an awful lot of energy. A willing sacrifice gladdens any god, of course, but if that were all there was to it, she wouldnt have resurrected you. She would have just organized a good afterlife for you at best. You can take my word for it, Ive studied this matter very carefully while I was looking into the possibility of resurrecting us! But I told you that anyone who finds themselves in that world by invitation is immediately given a new body. Why dont you try it? Ok, it may not be your body, but at least youll be alive. Thats all very well, but as you said yourself, by invitation! And unlike you, no-one has invited us, its a real stroke of luck, and Ill devote all my efforts to get that lucky strike! Oleg thought for a while. On the one hand, he didnt want to raise the lichs hopes, especially as he was far from sure that he could indeed help them. But on the other hand, he saw that they desperately needed at least the hope that there was a possibility they might become alive again. After thinking a little longer, Oleg made up his mind. I dont want to promise anything, but maybe I can help you a bit. Judging from some of Helionas remarks, that was definitely not the last time Ill be invited. If I find myself there again, I promise Ill mention your predicament. Maybe shell be inclined to help. I doubt it. The fact that she revived you is odd enough. As for reviving a whole group, like oursno, I doubt you can find a god crazy enough to get involved in that. But youve given me a good idea. Weve been hanging on to these dead bodies, trying to revive them. But sometimes its easier to build a new one than repair the old. We just need to create or grow ourselves new bodies, and then transfer our souls into them. Thats well within the powers of

Goran and myself. So please accept my sincere gratitude. It may not be soon, but the first real chance of life is ahead of us now! Were used to waiting. But we must go. I expect theyre fed up of waiting for us in the festival hall. I sent Ratek, he should have returned with your musical instrument. We all miss music terribly, as only Lir and Tobi play. And itll be interesting to hear some songs and something more besides. Leya doesnt have a bad voice, but after fifty years you begin to want to hear something new. Ratek had indeed already raced off and was back, holding the guitar in his outstretched hands like something of great value. Oleg looked around; the so-called festival hall was on the ground floor of the tower and had once, apparently, been used as a meeting room. The chairs and tables were still there, now blackened with time but still robust enough, it seemed. Choosing one which seemed less dusty, he moved it to a table and began tuning his guitar, thinking feverishly all the while what he could play to touch the hearts of this lot, standing nearby in a compact group. Take a seat, Oleg said, nodding at the chairs next to him. What are you standing around for? Thanks for your concern, the short, stocky lad with brown hair standing closest to Oleg smirked, showing his white teeth. But wed rather stand. We dont care whether we stand or sit. And whats more, unlike you, we wont have to wash our trousers. Settling himself more comfortably, Oleg strummed a few trial chords on the strings. At first the performance went badly. Oleg was tired and would far rather have slept than sung songs, especially sober. The liches had lost the habits of normal life and didnt think to put either food or even a drink on the table. How could he play like that? Nor was there any sign of the third factor which stimulated creative talent, namely the close proximity of pretty girls. It goes without saying that Leya was quite pretty (Ataletta had once commented that all female magicians were very beautiful since they could change their appearance as they pleased), but she had one very serious flaw which prevented him from seeing her as an object of sexual interest she was dead! There were no living girls present or guys either, for that matter--apart from Oleg himself. He rather half-heartedly played Blood Group by Viktor Tsoi and a few songs by Alia for which he received equally half-hearted applause. But Oleg gradually began to get angry. Hed gotten used to his music arousing widespread rapture and this indifferent calm on the part of the liches was getting on his nerves. But he realized that he couldnt blame it on his audiences lack of musical taste, but on the quality of the performance, and this made him even madder. Finally Oleg couldnt contain himself.

No, I cant go on like this! Im playing awfully and I can see that myself! Do you have anything to drink? Some alcohol was found. One of the passing merchant caravans had fallen prey to the Dark Hounds just beside the city itself. The practical Tobi, who, it seemed, fulfilled the role of manager in this little closed-off world, dragged its load into the citadels cellars and all this, judging from Visss raised eyebrows, unbeknown to his teacher. Why do we need reserves like that? After all, we cant get drunk or even taste the wine? Viss said bluntly. It makes your soul ache to see three crates of reserved Valensian Ruby go down to the marsh devils. Tobi explained. He watched with great envy as Oleg took the first sip right from the bottle and helped it down with a bite from an apple plucked straight from the tree. Having decided to leave the hall where hed made such an ugly fiasco, Oleg suggested they move into the garden. The wine was indeed splendid, and Olegs good mood gradually returned. And then an idea flashed through his mind. He had always played songs which were most suited to the situation he was in at the time. Now he bent this rule, albeit jokingly, so as not to awaken any unpleasant associations for his new audience. I should give it a go, Oleg decided and drawled the first song which entered his head: Dead Anarchist, about a short-sighted old magician who accidentally spills some magical elixir while wandering in a graveyard one night. Consequently, the dead awaken and wreak mayhem in the nearby village. The song was met with a cheer. That is, almost everyone liked it. Admittedly, the response was rather inadequate the liches just doubled up with laughter. The only ones not laughing were Leya and her father, who had finally come out of his study. But not even they could hide their smiles. When hed calmed down, Viss furnished the discouraged Oleg with the necessary explanation: From a professional point of view and here all of us, to a greater or lesser degree, are inevitably professionals in this matter - raising such a large number of zombies who, judging by how talkative they are, must be third or maybe even fourth level, looks like a highly improbable occurrence. Let alone some shoddy little wizard who cant even correct his own eyesight raising them by chance he stopped talking and giggled again. Finally, having laughed his fill, he asked curiously: Do you know any more songs about necromancy or the like? Yeah, quite a few! Though the style is a bit different A potpourri of songs by the group Aria was whirling in Olegs head; at one time theyd devoted quite a bit of attention to this subject. Go on! the liches cried out. Oleg looked around him. The moon had risen long ago and her pale light was illuminating the ruined castle. The trees were rustling. They were surrounded by the mysterious Black

Marshes where Dark Hounds, karongs and masses of other quite unpleasant Unclean roamed. Almost two dozen living dead were sitting primly nearby, listening attentively to his songs. In short, it was a most fitting situation for Aeias famous song, Zombie. And after a short introduction, Oleg began in an insinuating half-whisper: The moonlight destroys your earthly dream Midnight throws a bewitched metal His voice gathered strength. While singing the next line he flung out a mental invocation with a request for support and he was heard! The hound howls with a deceased soul The magnificent, sorrowful crying howl of the leader of the Dark Hounds ripped through the nights silence. The tombstones tumble down Here Oleg had to provide the effects himself. However, the strange mixture of projected thoughts, the magic of illusion and the fire landscape he created momentarily, enabled the liches around him to see for an instant the picture recreated in his mind: a graveyard at night and a half-decayed hand reaching up out of a collapsed tombstone. Oleg stopped for a second. He sensed something strange in himself and in the air. No longer trying to conjure up anything, Oleg clearly noticed that some sort of force was flowing out of him nevertheless and insinuously mingling with the words of the song and the sound of the guitar, catching the rhythm and lending the unfinished song new possibilities and meaning. Incidentally, that same force didnt let him pause for long and with a quick glance at the motionless eyes of his unusual audience, he went on: Zombie! Your murderer sleeps soundly but youll find him! Zombie! Prayers and holy lies wont save him. The moonlight is your master, its at your back. Only a bloody price will return your peace to you. The illusion continued. Now it seemed to Oleg as though invisible threads, sung by him, were streaming out into the distance, dived into the earth and, returning, heaped a leaden heaviness on him. The sense of this frightening, incredible weight pressing down not on his body but on his soul was growing stronger with every second. It was heavy. It was VERY

HEAVY! Unable to stop singing for even an instant and well aware that he would only be able to bear the weight pressing down on him for only a few seconds, the astounded Oleg did the only thing he was used to doing in dangerous situations: he turned to his demonic strength. It helped. No, the weight didnt lessen, it even increased. But now it was as though an invisible demon were standing next to him taking on himself the lions share of the load falling on Oleg. At last the song was over and the heaviness disappeared instantly. Oleg gave a sigh of relief and turned to Viss for an explanation. The latter was in a state of profound shock. Whats the matter? Oleg was surprised to find himself concerned. What if it had been some sort of attack and he wasnt the only one to have come under it? What if the others, including Viss, hadnt been able to withstand it? After all, they didnt have such a useful, and often simply life-saving, demonic form. While Oleg was carefully winding himself up, Viss came out of his stupor and looked Oleg over attentively as though seeing him for the first time. Giving a low whistle, he muttered to himself: And hes not even panting! I never thought I would witness such a thing, especially not in the dark tonality. Oleg, whod become very concerned, was elated. With a joyous cry of Viss, youre alive! he threw himself at the necromancer. Well no, actually, not for a long time. Visss composure, perfected after years of teaching, was enough to rouse the envy of a stone. Im fine. But why do you ask? Well, you didnt say anything and you looked weird And before that there was some kind of heaviness... I thought that, maybe, it was an attack Oleg was completely at a loss and looked around at Visss students who were still in a stupor. Look, you were in the same state as they are! And what is it, by the way? Nothing special, just an elevated state of amazement. One doesnt often get the chance to be present at such a rare event. What sort of event? And what was that heaviness? I havent a clue about whats going on! A simple event. The activation of a song-spell, which in and of itself is very rare. You dont find many such--hmm, how can I put it?--mentally underdeveloped people who are also endowed with magical powers, who would risk undertaking such a thing. And among those who would risk it, the number of those who survive makes up a very small percentage. And then although it had been calculated theoretically that song-spells were possible for both light and dark magicians alike, until now no single song was known in the dark tonality. Maybe because on the whole the dark magicians are wiser or, as the light magicians say, because the rules governing composition and most of the songs themselves came to humans from the elves who were very fond of such spells, and who were also organically incapable of dark magic.

Are you trying to say that my song acted like a spell? But why? And even if that is the case, whats so special about it? After all, magicians often use incantations. So whats the big deal, this was another one, albeit a bit unusual? And if it was an incantation, then who affected it? Ill answer one by one, in order: yes, your song acted as an incantation and like all songs, a very potent one. What is so special about it? You see, magic is largely art, not science. An incantation is just a word crutch, indispensable for a novice magician to invoke the indispensable combination of thoughts, images and moods, and he utters them to give his force the indispensable form. By the way, a powerful magician can easily do without incantations and creates the necessary conditions just by an effort of will. But that is by the by. All spells are checked many times and create precisely the effect which the person who says them expects. Song is another matter. The soul bursts which are invoked during singing cannot be controlled. One and the same song can evoke very different wishes in different people. They have one common characteristic they are all grandiose, magnificent. And therein lays the main danger. The magical song begins to bring them to life. And, like most incantations, it dredges up the power to do this from the very person who carried out the incantation. Whats more, whereas the majority of spells have escape-points where the magician performing them can stop safely if he feels that he has got into magic which is beyond his powers, theres nothing like that in a song, of course. When the singers magical energy is consumed, the song begins to kill the singer. And as for the result of your incantation take a look. Viss raised his arm and pointed to the gates. Oleg took a look and gasped. A wave of people was pouring through the castle gates. No, not people, but phantomsor skeletons? Not clear. Bare bones clearly shone through the shining deathly-pale light of something like bodies. Bony hands firmly grasped the rusty hilts of swords with ghostly blades. The column was headed by a tall skeleton with the lower part of his jaw missing and a broken forehead. On his chest swung little bits of rusted metal, though it was unclear how they were fixed there. That was if you didnt pay attention to the spectral shine. But if you looked at the ghostly glow around the skeleton, then it became obvious that this was a mighty warrior at the zenith of his power, clad in a warriors chainmail and with a long two-handed sword in his hands. Viss was looking searchingly at the procession, and suddenly whispered to Oleg. I know him. Its Eisenhard, the head of the Oner garrison. He and his soldiers, along with any citizens capable of fighting, stayed to cover the entrance to the citadel while we were creating the portal. I never thought I would meet him again. By that time, the one who had once been the brave head of the Oner garrison addressed Oleg. You couldnt call his address either speech or telepathy. It was more like machinations

of some strange kind, unlike anything else, with a virtual lack of emotional undercurrent. Olegs inner translator went off the scale. His head spun for an instant. He and the creatures he had invoked, former people, thought too differently to have the possibility of full communication. Nevertheless, after a short spell of dizziness, Oleg was able to understand, with difficulty, all that Eisenhard wanted to communicate to him: We slept (rested/were unfit for action/knew no desires). You woke us (gave us desire/forced us to act). Now we want to take revenge (punish/establish justice). Lead us, show us the way (send us), where the enemy is. Oleg didnt like this news one bit. Who do you call the enemy? he tried to convey to him. To his amazement, they understood him. The one (the ones) who killed (removed living bodies/interrupted existence) us. Our memory doesnt work well (fails/lets us down). You will show us the enemy (tell us who to punish/overcome in battle/command us). I see. But I have no time now. I have other business. Can you wait to take revenge? Oleg was afraid that these strange creatures, brought to life by his song, might sense a lie and so he avoided lying, even in trivial things. But it could be a long wait. A very long wait. Oleg was not about to send a party of Undead on people whose only crime was that at one time their ancestors had behaved themselves far from well when they took the city. Here (now/in the world of the living) we are eternal (long-term/can wait). Complete (finish/fulfil) all your business and return (come here again). We will be waiting (we will come as soon as you call/we will return at your first invocation). Shall we go (hide/become invisible/fall asleep for a short while) now? Yes, that would be best. Oleg hadnt dared to hope that this problem could be solved so easily. Had it ever come to pass that it was enough to say to the invoked evil force: Oops, so sorry. I made a little mistake. Actually I dont need your services at all just now and it would simply depart like a polite travelling salesman, leaving a business card as a keepsake? When you return (are ready/want) to lead us, come here again (return) and call out loud (shake the air/like a human) my name (title/meaning) which I used when alive. It was told (informed/made clear) by the one I befriended when alive. Tell him that I remember him (respect/greet). He will be glad. And we (I) shall depart (fall asleep/conceal ourselves) until the signal! And the army of zombies for that is what Oleg decided to call these creatures, for after all, that is what the ones invoked in the song were called went out of the gates and disappeared into the city.

Oleg turned back to the park, wiping sweat away. The conversation with the zombie had knocked him decidedly off balance. Gulping some wine straight from the bottle, Oleg turned to Viss who was waiting phlegmatically with his students who had begun to recover from their shock. So it looks as though I cant sing anymore. Will there always be some kind of foul play? Why do you call it foul play? Now youve brought to life a very good army. Of course, I wouldnt advise you to lead them into a civilized land, all kinds of light magicians would fall on them at once, but here in Fenrian such an army can do quite a lot. Zombies are not sensitive to the signs of Orchis. And as for singing Well, sing away, sing as much as you like, and whatever comes into your head. Only, when you sing, try to keep out of magic. Its not worth mixing them unless there is some dire need. However, in cases of severe trouble, I recommend you remember that you have this extremely potent weapon. Oh, and one other thing. I would advise you to be more careful with wine. Youre already on your second bottle. If you carry on like that, youll soon be as drunk as a skunk. Ah, wise Viss, you have seen through my cunning plan, Oleg cried jokingly and indeed he did feel a pleasant spinning sensation in his head. I do indeed intend to get pissed! Because I cant bear all these songs, sorcery, zombies, tales of fallen fortresses and so on with a sober head anymore! Viss smiled. How well I understand you! You wouldnt believe how often I have the same urge. Only alas, I cant satisfy it. But I can! And I will! Oleg took another swig from the bottle. By the way that, er, well, former commander-in-chief of the city garrison, he kind of said hello to you. In short, he remembers you, is waiting, and so on Although hang on, no, he didnt say anything about waiting for you. Oleg realized that in this case the word waiting sounded too hopeful. Well, anyhow, you get what I mean. And in Olegs minds eye he again saw the face of the soldier hed invoked and he hurriedly took another gulp to wash the vision away with wine. All of a sudden he felt something brush against his shoulder. His nerves were stretched to their limit and Oleg spun round abruptly, simultaneously jumping to one side. Curved dagger-like claws glistened in the moonlight he had involuntarily undergone a combat transformation. Leyas small, delicate figure, bathed in the silvery light of the moon, seemed especially vulnerable if you looked at it from the height of a demons stature and with clawed hands drawn ready to strike. Sorry Oleg was really very ashamed. What happened? he asked, removing the traces of his partial transformation and taking on full human form.

Nothing. I just wanted to ask you for a small favour. But what happened to you? Oleg grew even more embarrassed. Moreover, he remembered that hed only told Viss about his abilities, in private, and as a result, all the others were now goggling at this inexplicable and marvellous transformation. He had to think up some excuse. Nothing. Its just that I got too worked up today, didnt sleep enough, theres all kinds of zombies walking around, my nerves are frayed. Mmm. If you get like that when youre nervous, then what would you turn into if you got a real fright? Ask Viss, Ive told him my story. No, its none of my business really. Besides, I probably wont have time to hear the story to the end. And a dreamy, thoughtful smile played on Leyas lips as she spoke. It looked as though some sort of event was approaching which she was at once waiting eagerly for, but also feared slightly. Leya, please, dont. A desperate cry came from a dishevelled Ratek who jumped out onto the lawn. Oleg turned his gaze on the other students and their teacher; they were deliberately turning away, pretending that nothing was going on. It was clear that something was happening, most certainly, and that they didnt like that happening one bit; it was only that, alas, they couldnt do anything about it. Leya, maybe it would be better not to? An older man addressed her, his face almost totally covered in a grey spade-like beard. Viss says hes found a way Dad, weve already discussed it. And as for finding a way, he said that fifty years ago. Leya, please! Ratek, who had run up to her, began to plead. The girl didnt reply, just stroked his head in a motherly way. This time the lad didnt squirm, instead he hugged harder and buried his face in the folds of her scarf. The back of his head was shaking. Oleg guessed that he was crying and was taken aback: were the dead capable of crying? Whats going on, Leya? This scene made him very uneasy. I want you to help me interrupt my existence. What! Oleg thought hed misheard. I want to die properly, really, Leya repeated calmly, as though talking to a child. But I need the help of a living dark magician that can activate the darkh. What are you talking about? Oleg was completely lost now. It was Viss who spoke up instead of the girl. A darkh is a magical dagger given to every magician who successfully finishes the Dark Citadel. Its a multi-functional magical weapon which, among other things, gives the magician the power to grant peace to the Undead without causing them or as I should say now, us

any unnecessary pain. All the other methods are extremely painful as incineration is a compulsory part of them. Not only the body, but the bones, too. And we burn badly and for a long time. And we remain conscious and fully sentient until the skull and spine have burnt away. By the way, the sensation of pain is the only sensation we have retained after death, and it hasnt really lost its intensity either! But I dont have a darkh, Oleg was glad he had a good excuse to refuse Leyas request. Whatever they said, the thought that he would have to kill Leya was simply horrific. If they had asked him to finish off a dragon, steal a gem from the ring or crown of another black lord, in short, accomplish a heroic deed like the ones so often described in his beloved fantasy novels, then he would have been happy to oblige. He would have faced many things just to see the hopelessness and longing vanish from Leyas eyes, for although she studiously tried to hide them, they came through nonetheless. A pretty eighteen-year-old girl shouldnt look at you that way. It just wasnt right! Leyas simple request: kill me! held absolutely no danger for him personally, nevertheless, Oleg intended to worm his way out of it, get out of it any way he could, using all the tricks and skills at his disposal. I didnt study at the Dark Citadel, alas, Im not in possession of a darkh! Unfortunately, I cant help you. Never mind. It looked as though Leya had anticipated this. Viss has one. Luckily, he promised hed lend it to you, she added, frowning menacingly at Viss who was not hurrying to hand his mysterious darkh over to Oleg. He squirmed and wriggled like an eel in a frying pan. Well, of course, I would, gladly, seeing as I promised, but you see just recently I was doing an experiment and I somehow misplaced my darkh But dont worry, Ill find it in a month or so, or maybe a year But anyway, Ill definitely have found it by the time our guest decides to come back While he was saying this, Viss looked at Oleg and his meaning was clear: dont even think about coming this way again! Oleg gave a meaningful nod: got it, Im no fool. So you lost it. I expect you looked for it long and hard? Leya put her question in the kindest, most concerned tone of voice. But that tone was in sharp contrast to the gleam in her eye, and Viss grew visibly alarmed. Well, yes, I turned the whole lab upside down. Ive no idea where it could have got to. Well, would you like me to tell you? Just take a look at your belt! No, not there, on the left. Aha, right there. Surely you dont think that after fifty years of washing and darning your gown I havent discovered your little secrets? Do you take me for an utter fool, or what? The necromancer kept an embarrassed silence. Oleg turned the darkh, that dagger of discord, about in his hands. It was a long dagger lavishly decorated with precious stones,

with a flame-like blade plated in silver. He was feverishly thinking up his next excuse. I have no idea how to use it, he couldnt come up with anything better in his rush. Leya gave him a patronizing smile. Just hold it in your hands and direct all your strength to the blade. See how its started to glow? And now its very simple She strode swiftly over to Oleg, grabbed his hand and directed the point of the blade at her chest. But Oleg was faster. If ever there were long-jump championships where contestants had to jump backwards, then Oleg would have stood a good chance of winning a gold medal. He vaulteddont forget, backwardsover 9 feet and managed to throw the dagger away as he jumped, as well. It seems that the shock had a positive effect on his brain as he instantly came up with another reason to refuse, and he voiced it right away. And besides, Im not at all strong. Magically, I mean, he corrected himself at once when he caught Leyas disbelieving look as she measured the distance hed just jumped. Its true, its true, I wasted it all raising those poor zombies. Its all turned out rather awkwardly, Im very sorry Viss looked with dumb adoration at Oleg, so selflessly pouring himself out. Admiration glowed in the eyes of his students, and Goran even quietly applauded. But alas! We can resolve that, too! Youre strong enough for the ritual. After all, youve already made the blade glow, and that is more than enough. And after that, all my power will flow into you so you wont remain completely weak, she second guessed his next announcement; with a sweet smile, she handed him the blade. There was nothing Oleg could do but take it. But he made one more attempt nonetheless: And I cant simply refuse? You see, I dont want to kill you! Maybe, you can just go on living a while? I wouldnt say no to living. But unfortunately, I cant live. You wouldnt be killing me. Just laying me to rest, and thats something very different. And as for refusing Of course you can. But first of all theres something I want to show you. See this? She led Oleg through a secluded corner of the garden to a wood stack with hay piled up on all sides. Viss and the others followed them at a distance. The stack was carefully covered over to protect it from rain. There was something like a wooden platform on the top. I prepared this for myself. If you hadnt come, then I would have acted independently, using whatever means I could. And if you refuse to help me, Ill just revert to my original plan. But its so painful! Oleg was shocked. Yes, but Im very patient. Believe me, I have enough courage and stamina to go through with it. Just as I had enough then She fell silent. Oleg looked into the dark eyes of the girl who was still only eighteen, despite the last fifty years, and he believed her: yes, she would go through with it!

Very well, Oleg rolled the darkh around in his hands and then tucked in his belt with a decisive gesture. Ill help you. But first, I want to talk to you alone. Maybe Ill be able to convince you to change your mind after all. I doubt youll be able to convince me otherwise. Ive thought this over for too long. But as for talking to me, why not? Ive been waiting for fifty years and a few more hours of existence is a small price to pay for an easy exit. Come on, theres a small lawn here. Its very pretty, I used to come here sometimes to cry alone when I felt sad. Itll be nice for me to leave from there. The clearing was really very pretty. Surrounded by densely overgrown apple trees shining in the moonlight, it had a strange, mysterious air as though it had been transported from a medieval tale. An utterly romantic situation, Oleg thought, admiring the Roman profile and attractive figure of the girl sitting next to him. Night, the moon, stars, a lovely lady. But the pity of it is that its not kisses the lady needs from me but a dagger in her chest. Kisses would have been far better! What did you want to talk to me about? Leya broke the prolonged silence. Why? Why do you so desperately want to leave this world? What should I stay for? I want to live! I want to fall in love, to walk in the moonlight, to kiss under the trees. I want to feel warm arms embracing me and the love of someone close to me! And I want to get married and have children! I can still remember what it is to love and be loved. But now all of that is forever beyond my reach! So why should I drag out this existence? Why forever? After all, Viss says that he is capable of creating new bodies for you. And I believe him. Yes, he may be capable of that. But when? In ten or twenty years, at the very best! I cant wait any longer! My patience has been stretched beyond its limits and now each second, each instant of this existence causes me unbearable pain. I hate this curse, this dead body, this eternal, unmitigating torment of existing without a heartbeat, without breath, without dreams! The girls face was distorted by a grimace of pain, and Oleg, moved to his soul, suddenly embraced her and pressed her to him. Tucked into his shoulder, Leya cried bitterly. Stroking her head and whispering all kinds of comforting nonsense, Oleg thought intently. The word dream which the girl had used by chance opened a certain door and an idea dawned on Oleg. Seeing as she really could no longer bear such an existence, then the only thing to do, it seemed, was to grant her wish and lay the girl to rest. But, the word rest could be understood in different ways. You could take it to mean death, or you could take it to mean dreaming. Oleg definitely preferred the second version. A song by his favorite group came to

mind. It was a risk, but it was worth it. After all, if one of their songs had been able to raise a whole horde of utterly superfluous zombies, then why couldnt another song put one tired girl to sleep? And gently strumming the strings, Oleg began another of Arias songs, Paradise Lost. This time the heaviness was simply unbelievable. Even turning to his demonic strength as he usually did didnt particularly help. But he held on. This time he clearly understood what he was doing and what he wanted. And it worked! Oleg was gasping for breath. If last time the heaviness pouring down on him had felt like a heavy tombstone, then this time a whole mountain was lying on him. And not just lying but occasionally wriggling round, too, trying to get more comfortable. Well, thats it then, Oleg thought. Im done. Wonder where Ill end up? At Helionas again, or somewhere much hotter? Oho, something tells me that the angels and pretty goddesses arent receiving visitors today. But as for the office of Comrade Satan, there are rumours he wont deny anyone a nice warm place. Wonder if hell give me a discount, seeing as Im an unsuccessful relative? Such thoughts were whirling in Olegs head when Leyas quiet and somehow sleepy voice floated up to his ears. Thank you. Dont you have enough strength? Take mine. The next instant the girls warm warm? lips touched his own. It wasnt a kiss. Just a momentary joining of lips, Leyas short exhalation and a warm cloud of strength poured into Oleg enabling him to sing another verse. He completed another, after a quick glance at Leya quietly falling asleep, cosily curled up on the grass with her head in his lap. The wave of tenderness and joy at the fact that he had been able to help this girl gave Oleg the strength he needed. He only managed to croak through the last verse with a dry throat, careful not to let himself faint, thanks to sheer stubbornness. Well f you all! Im not going to kick the bucket! Sleep without dreams, Sleep without dreams, All hopes and dreams Once hed finished the song, Oleg simply sat there for a while, enjoying the unfamiliar, impossible lightness. His whole body was numb. Oleg looked down at his hand. It was shaking violently. Laughing silently, he wiped his damp face. A dark stain was left on his sleeve. No big deal, he muttered, wiping the blood streaming from his nose. Main thing is the result. Oleg turned his gaze to Leya who was breathing heavily in his lap. The girls chest moved in peaceful rhythm, a soft rosiness played on her cheeks and the vein pulsed in her neck. Unable to believe his eyes, Oleg grabbed her hand and tried to feel

her pulse. He didnt find it at first, but then it seemed to appear, and then vanished again. Oleg simply couldnt remember the right way to find it. Flying in the face of convention, he pressed his hand just under the girls left breast and joyously felt the regular beat of a heart. Thats right, Oleg thought. The dead cant sleep. So that means that my song had to bring the girl to life before it could put her to sleep. And that nearly put me in the grave! Dont think Ill be doing any more of that in a hurry. Viss was right, you can only pull stunts like that in really dire straits. But then again, to follow the argument, can you call this dire straits? Well, yes, I would say so, Oleg decided. Just not for me. While he was philosophizing mentally, the liches ran onto the clearing. Goran ran up first. Seeing his daughter lying on the grass, he threw himself at her. Oleg hurried to reassure him. Quietly. Shes fine. Shes just asleep, Just asleep! Visss voice came from somewhere behind his left shoulder. But we cant just sleep. The dead dont sleep! Its impossible! For an instant he fastened his eyes on the girl lying in Olegs lap. ButShes alive? How can that be possible? Well, Im not completely sureI sang a song. And now shes alivebut Im not so sure about me. Oleg was joking, but Viss didnt get his joke and looked at him with the same thorough, searching gaze he had just used on Leya. He looked Oleg over carefully for ten seconds or so after which he announced with obvious amazement in his voice: No. Its amazing, but you are alive, too! Really? Thanks for the good news. I had my doubts. The sarcasm in Olegs voice was enough for three people. OK then, take your sleeping beauty and help me get up. Since Im alive, Ill have to get up Ah, and Viss, take your wonderful little knife. Luckily, there was no need for it. Keep it, Viss replied, helping him up. Its not only useless for the Undead, but dangerous, too. And what if someone else takes it into their heads to interrupt this existence? It might come in mighty handy for you, though. Well, thanks, Oleg said mockingly, hanging the darkh onto his belt. While Oleg dragged himself back to the camp supported by Viss, he had a gay thought: Leya was really a Sleeping Beauty now. And whats more, she was in an old castle, in an inaccessible place and under secure guard. Sleeping and waiting for someone to bring her kingdom back to life Seems Ive unintentionally created a legend! The Road to Magic

Chapter Eight
The Road to Maidell. The End of the Journey. The remaining three days crossing the marshes from Oner to the Irinian border passed without adventure. And where could those adventures have come from, seeing as after the memorable event in the garden, the exhausted Oleg and his associates were taken under the protection of Viss and a couple of his best students. Besides, Oners guest of honour as the necromancer called him, was accompanied by three large packs of Dark Hounds just in case, who were thoroughly clearing the road of anything which might pose a threat. Oleg regained his strength quickly and by the second day was able to take on his demon form once again. By the end of the third day he tried to master a few simple spells under the guidance of the necromancer. While Oleg was training in magic, Clairene and Ataletta made a concerted effort to pump information out of Visss students who were accompanying them, curious as to what had happened in the city. At first they werent particularly successful but persistence won in the end and the girls dragged everything they wanted to know out of the liches. Noticing this mess rather too late, and having overheard some of their conversation, Viss hastily rode ahead with a most gloomy expression on his face. In response to Olegs question about why he was down, he said: I strictly forbade my students to get drawn into any conversation in general, and in particular, not to blab about us. So when I got closer, I had a strong urge to give them a good hiding. But when Id listened for a while, I realized I was deeply mistaken. I should give the lads medals for holding out so long. Your girls are capable of drawing even the dead into conversation! And without any necromancy! I noticed, Oleg said, hiding a smile. And so, exchanging jokes, they rode to the edge of the marshes. Viss halted by a stunted rowan. We cant go any further. The magical border of Irinia passes here. If the lads and I, or the dogs Oleg glanced at the broad scaly dogs peering out of the bushes Cross it, then a terrible wailing will break out in Irinia announcing a hoard of Undead raging from the marshes. Theyll send armies and magicians You dont need that, do you? Oleg hurried to reassure his new friend that on no account did they need that, after which they said their farewells and headed leisurely towards the border. Well wait here for a while just in case. Call us if you need us, Viss called after him. Oleg smiled. Such super-solicitude seemed rather funny to him. However, just thirty minutes later he fundamentally changed his opinion.

Soon after they crossed the Irinian border the Old High Road turned into a path and merged with another, far better-travelled road. And it was on this road that another unpleasant surprise was waiting for Oleg and his comrades. This time it was in the form of thirty unwashed faces, threatening the little party with a bizarre collection of implements for hacking and stabbing. The leader, stepping forward, suggested the travellers should rid themselves of all personal valuables, including their weapons, armour and horses, in exchange for the right to travel unhindered along their road. Oleg had grave doubts as to the likelihood of such an outcome: firstly, who needs live witnesses? And secondly, the leader was already eyeing Clairene and Ataletta with all-too obvious intent; clearly he had very definite plans for them. Luckily, there were no fools in Olegs party. No sooner had the leader uttered his speech than a blade gleamed in Olafs hand, Kendir took up his bow and drew his bowstring with one movement, an icy-white ball appeared in Clairenes hands and Oleg himself hurried to create a fire shield around himself and his companions, investing all his energy in it. What happened next confirmed the wisdom and foresight of this move. Magicians! Run! yelped the bandits. At first Oleg was glad. He still hadnt fully recovered and a skirmish with thirty not so badly armed bandits was definitely undesirable right now. Or more precisely, he would probably come out of it alive and may even have been able to slay the attackers its unlikely they would have been able to do anything to counter the capacities of his demonic body. But to simultaneously defend his companions from the many arrows and other projectiles most of the bandits were armed with - that, alas, was not within his powers. And so the panic which began to spread among them was definitely to Olegs liking. It would be much better for everyone if the bandits just ran off allowing them to continue on their way. Stand your ground! The leaders cry stopped the bandits in their tracks as they were preparing to run. It seemed that despite their fear of magicians, the bandits were much more afraid of their chieftain. These are no magicians! If they were, theyd have turned us to ash ages ago! The leader roared, agily using the body of a big bandit in a tattered tunic to shield himself from the ball of light Clairene threw at him. The latter screamed in agony after which an unpleasant smelling brown substance plopped to the ground. The leader hurried to hide himself in the crowd, continuing his performance from there. Charge! Let fly the arrows! The main thing is to break through the shield and then they wont be able to do anything. Wizards are usually wealthy and theyll pay handsomely at the slave market for a maid with magical powers. Fire! The leaders rhetoric hit the mark. A volley of arrows rained down on Olegs shield, instantly sucking out a third of his weakened energy reserves. With an evil grin, Oleg was on the point of completely dropping his shield and transforming into a demon, when an idea

came to himan idea that would allow him not only to kill the bandits but also to save the lives of his companions. Still maintaining the shield, he mentally sent out a call, accompanied by a mental image of what was going on. Were on our way. Notes of cold fury could be heard in Visss reply. Hold on for five minutes. Im sending the Hounds. Within three minutes, sixty running torpedoes showed up on the road. The crowd of brigands was hit heavily by the armored bodies of the hounds, sweeping them off their feet and onto the ground. A pathetic attempt at resistance was immediately suppressed. Apparently Viss had given an order to take the bandits alive, because the hounds didnt use their terrible fangs. Then one of the bandits, miraculously still on his feet, brandished a sword at one of the hounds. The hound, with a surprisingly quick move for such a massive beast, dodged the blade, and closed its sharp fangs on the bandits arm. One could hear the quiet crunch of bone; slowly, with obvious reluctance, the creature released the bloody stump from its jaws. Suddenly, one of the robbers, with the courage of despair, brandished a spit, fitted on the spear shaftthe usual tool of peasants. But his clumsy flapping was useless against a combat beast specially bred for fighting and destruction. With the wave of a paw, fragments of the spit flew in one direction, and the unconscious pike man in another. Within minutes the battle was finished. All members of the gang, most of them whole and intact, lay on the ground and did not dare to move. A Hound towered over each and every one of them. The remaining guards of Oner surrounded the ex-battlefield, carefully examining the situation with a view to discovering whether there were any more enemies. Many of the Hounds were giving the bandits entrusted to them a good sniff. Some of them were even licking the people lying in front of them, curious as to their taste. Ataletta was squeamishly wrinkling up her little nose. The strong fragrance of a public toilet hung in the air. But that was just the beginning. The icing on the cake came five minutes later when Viss rode out onto the clearing in the full vestments of a warrior necromancer of the Dark Citadel, clad in the armour and regalia of a Knight of Despair. There were more than a few terrifying legends in the lands of the local Oikumena about this elite guard of the Empire of the Dragon. And many of them were true. The necromancer and two of his students were riding tusked black monsters which very vaguely resembled ordinary horses. (As the necromancer explained later, ordinary horses cant even bear the sight of the Undead, let alone carry them on their backs.) In short, it was a most horrifying little picture and the acrid smell of urine wafted over the road again.

And what do we have here? Viss had obviously decided to go the whole hog in showing off his horrifickness. Some pesky little bandits have decided to rob my friends...and what shall we do with them? Though the question was rhetorical, Viss surveyed the field as though expecting an answer. Oleg supposed that Viss was merely planning to give them all a good old fright, so he joined in the show with pleasure. According to the customs of my homeland, bandits are customarily hung, he said, eyeing the prisoners attentively. A unanimous sigh of relief came from their side. Among other things, the Knights of Despair were renowned for their art of torture and excruciatingly painful punishments. On Visss placid face a smile appeared, no, it was more a hint at a disdainful smile, and the necromancers mindspeak rang in Olegs head: You wont get through to them with that, try and think up something more horrendous. I wonder what your imaginations like. Ah, more horrendous Oleg thought. Be my guest! But on the other hand, criminals are often given to scientific circles for various experiments. You were, I believe, recently expressing an interest in the degree of pain necessary to drive out the soul while retaining the physical shells capacity to support life? Oleg assiduously put on the air of a dry scholar. He wasnt too successful, but it certainly had an effect on the bandits. In my opinion, you now have enough biomass for your experiments. He waved his hand over the gang. At this point a desperate whisper could be heard from one of the bandits: Whats going to happen to us? Others prayed. Others begged for mercy. The gang leader joined in the discussion. And I thought you were human He didnt manage to finish what he was saying. One of the necromancers students, having heard his voice, gave a quiet cry and threw himself at the prisoner. For a moment he stood before him, examining his face, and then sent a mental image to Viss. Oleg was only able to snatch part of it; he was after all still a new boy in such matters. It is him They were the ones who and there was a visual image which Oleg didnt manage to intercept. But he didnt need to, anyway. The necromancers eyes filled with fury. He measured the cowering, foul-smelling leader with a look and then with marked politeness and respect turned to Oleg: So you want to torment them until we drag the soul out? Yes, I think that would be suitable. I promise I will invest all my skill to ensure he doesnt die too soon. But even should he die, I think my craftsmanship should be sufficient to furnish him with considerable discomfort in his dying moments. All this was said in such a tone that there could be no doubt that this was his deadly serious intent.

Hey, Viss, I was just joking, Olegs mindspeak was underlined with a greenish flare of surprise. But I wasnt. For some time now, our patrols have been coming across unexpected surprises near the border with Irinia. A series of torn bodies which had once belonged to women and children floated before Olegs minds eye. We knew it wasnt the work of claws; no monster can tear so specifically and in such a targeted manner, or so cruelly. None except humans! At last, one of the patrols, headed by Vashek - a nod to the student standing beside the gang leader Managed to come across a victim who was still alive. A new image: the figure of a young girl, doubled up on a stake, moaning quietly from unbearable pain, all covered in wounds and burns. It wasnt possible to save her, and to be honest, it wasnt clear how shed managed to live until our patrol came, but at least we were able to read her consciousness. And this guy here was the main butcher. The next image was so awful that Oleg threw up. It was impossible to lie or even somehow distort information while in mindspeak, so Oleg was sure that he was seeing exactly what and how that poor girl had seen. For as long as she could still see Okay. I understand perfectly. But are you sure you have the expertise to deal with a situation like this? Otherwise I once read a book Oleg remembered a few snatches of Witchs Hammer, a medieval publication about the underlying causes for the appearance of witches, with recommendations regarding the most effective forms of torture. It seemed this was one of those rare of cases when the cruel knowledge of ancient butchers could prove useful in re-establishing justice. Dont worry, Ill be fine. Dont forget what sort of a reputation we have. In some things its only slightly exaggerated. By the way, talking of reputations, Id advise you to explain the reason for your behaviour to your companions without delay. Otherwise they might stop being your friends. Oleg turned around. It was true. Ataletta was looking at him with a frightened expression which reminded Oleg of the first few hours of their acquaintance. Clairenes livid gaze and the sideways glances of the hirelings, who were even putting their hands on their weapons, spoke volumes. Whats wrong? Oleg genuinely didnt understand such a change in their attitude to him. Youre handing humans over to be dealt with by the Undead, Clairene explained in a tense voice, not taking her eyes off him, Not even the cruellest of the Dark Ones behaved like that. Humans? I havent handed any humans over. And if youre talking about these, Oleg waved his hand at the bandits Well, these arent humans. Theyre unpeople. Take a look for yourself. And with those words he sent her the information hed received from Viss. Mind-

speak with Clairene didnt work nearly so well as it did with the necromancer and his students, belying the conjuresss magical weakness, but Oleg was able to transmit the main content nevertheless. I have handed unpeople over to the Undead. I hope you have nothing against that? he said again, while the conjuress poured the remains of her half-digested breakfast out onto the road. Absolutely nothing at all. Having got her breath back, she immediately became a fervent supporter of Olegs idea. Stand down, guys, she said, addressing the others. They really are unpeople. Ive just been shown extremely convincing evidence of that. Im sorry I doubted you, she said to Oleg, Unfortunately, such beasts She glared at the bandit chief Are sometimes all too able to disguise themselves as people. Another hour was spent tying up the captured bandits thoroughly and loading them onto the Dark Hounds. The latter were most displeased at such a burden but didnt dare to protest against a direct order from their Masters. They merely glowered at the trembling and whimpering bandits, obviously regretting that they had been taken alive and probably calculating how to correct this omission as deftly as possible. Then Viss and his students bade them a hurried farewell and set off on the return journey. As the necromancer had told them, the alarm had sounded in Irinia that the Undead had crossed the state border. It had reached the magician on watch and now the nearest large patrol was headed that way at maximum velocity. And indeed, after only two hours on the road, Olegs small party ran into a large patrol of armour-clad warriors in full battle gear under the leadership of two men in mantles. A quick glance at their auras was enough to ascertain that they were magicians. The party shot past the travellers at full speed but one of the magicians stopped for a moment to throw a searching glance at them, evidently scanning for objects belonging to the Undead. Not having found anything suspicious, he spurred his horse on and raced off to catch up with the galloping patrol. Oleg watched as they disappeared. Their border security is up to scratch, he said. Our friends from Oner only had to nip into their confines for a little while and bang, theres already a patrol, and one bolstered with magicians at that. Ataletta gave a tinkling laugh. How oddly you perceive it! In actual fact, everything is exactly the other way around. Its not a patrol bolstered by magicians, but as many as two magicians who have been granted a party of guards to see to their comfort. And such haste is easily explained. If you dont stop the rampaging Undead then they will run amok, slaughtering peasants, demolishing homes

and destroying crops. Slaughtered peasants and destroyed crops means lost profits. And profits are sacred in Irinia. Irinia is a country of merchants. Do you know what the very worst local curse is? No. What is it? Oleg asked curiously. That you may remain in the red! And Atalettas tinkling laugh filled the surroundings once more. In general, from the moment she had left the border with Fenrian the girl had been simply radiant with joy. Even the bandits attack, although it had given her a scare, hadnt spoiled the princesss joyful mood. Oleg decided to make the most of his companions new talkativeness and find out the fundamental characteristics of the country they were about to journey through. Four hours later, having listened with a show of exemplary attention to the whole genealogy of Baron Vatell, Atalettas godfathers western neighbour, Oleg established certain indisputable truths for himself: Firstly, the princess had had excellent teachers; Secondly, the princess was endowed with a magnificent memory; Thirdly, the princess of Fenrian was a true woman, in other words, extremely fond of chatting; And fourthly, he, Oleg Vladimirovich Davidov, acting demon in the world of Elltyan by the will of fate and Heliona, would never again quiz the above-mentioned princess, thereby ensuring the health of his good sense and protecting his ears. The hirelings, sniggering, watched his torment and were in no hurry to come to his rescue. No one wanted to become the next victim of Atalettas lectures. Luckily, after another hour on the road, the walls of the city Oleg now knew was called Mozes came into view. He also possessed the priceless knowledge of the number of inhabitants in the city, their average annual income, the level of taxation extracted from them, the genealogy of the current burgomeister, his partialities, his official annual income (his earnings from bribes increased the official figure almost fivefold) and masses of other information which had obviously cost no little effort on the part of the Fenrian spies. Olegs salvation came in the form of the city gatekeepers demanding the entry toll. To their delight Oleg paid without bargaining even though the price was obviously inflated. The salvation of his good sense, he reckoned, was worth it. They stayed at a tavern called The Wretched Cockerel, where Oleg was unpleasantly impressed by the high prices. The hirelings, however, assured him everything was in order. One gold piece per person per night, full board and lodging, was a crazy sum for Fenrian, all but economically and politically isolated and with no gold mines of its own, but a normal price

for a respectable hotel in a flourishing mercantile republic. Once hed had a tasty supper and a good nights sleep on a comfy bed with clean sheets, Oleg came to terms with the money hed paid out for such pleasures, and the next morning the small party set out once again. Now that there was no longer any need to hide from pursuers, they often stopped for a nap and to buy provisions in the clean and tidy towns and villages along the road. The role of leadership somehow transferred unnoticed to Kendir as he had been in Irinia more than once and knew his way around the local customs and dialects. It was he who talked with the tavern keepers and the many gate keepers always demanding tolls to walk or ride through the places they guarded. Kendir was assisted by Ataletta who had a very deep, if purely theoretical, knowledge of Irinia, and passed herself off as the daughter of one of the local oligarchs, and also by Oleg, who knew practically nothing but was endowed with a magically obtained superb understanding of the language. *** After a week of smooth travelling, they crossed the border between the commercial republic and the first of the Free Baronies. Everything changed at once. The broad highway where each stone was well-cared for disappeared. In its stead there was a narrow road full of potholes which had obviously last been repaired in the far distant past when Elves lived side by side with people and had as yet no idea of abandoning young Elltyan. Riding along, Oleg wished the ancient road was in a museum, and certainly not under the hooves of his steed. The horse was in complete agreement with his rider, preferring to proceed through the thick and silky grassy verges rather than on the crumbling mix of mud and stones which the Baronies called a road. The lively villages gave way to sullen hamlets whose inhabitants scowled, and reluctantly refused to sell provisions, citing their lords prohibition. In one such hamlet, constables rode in while Oleg was trying to buy food; a mean and cowardly group, little better than ruffians, they tried to arrest Olegs party. Greedily eyeing Olegs purse and Atalettas rich jewellery, the local village chiefacting as head of the garrison, judge and tax collector - declared they were under arrest for carrying weapons without the permission of our lord, his Grace Baron von Kristel. A few moments after this blatant attempt at legalized thievery, his deputy, together with the remnants of the garrison who had not fled, apologised long and humbly in front of the lord magicians and their guards while sullen peasants swept up what was left of the previous chief--Oleg had sent a fireball at him, enraged by his impudence. The remnants of the garrison three warriors who were too obese to make a quick retreat like their...less burdenedcompatriots nodded furiously, in complete agreement with their new boss.

In that hamlet, finally, the people agreed to sell them food. One of the merchants, as he nimbly measured out buckwheat grains, whispered to Oleg, Thank you. That village chief was a terrible brute. Youd do better to ride around our lords castle. He has a penchant for gold and they say that few of the wealthy travellers who spend the night in his castle leave there in the morning. Thanking his informant with a slight nod, Oleg refused the change. Once theyd ridden out of the hamlet, he shared his apprehension with his fellow travellers. Ataletta, speaking for all of them, said: Its a blatant violation of all the laws and international regulations of Oikumenas, and I hope it is not true. But my godfather said that one of the merchant caravans hed sent completely disappeared without a trace as it passed through Kristels barony. The baron put it down to bandits and I sincerely want to believe that that is exactly what happened. But nevertheless, it seems to me that we could bend the rules of etiquette a little and not inform the baron of our visit to his lands. Prettily put, said Oleg with a smile. Ive no burning desire to see the castle of this scoundrel. In other words, were unanimous well give this castle a wide berth. Unfortunately, they were not able to realize their plan completely. Apparently the man who had suddenly come to power as deputy after Oleg had reduced the previous chief to ashes had hastened to inform the baron of the unusual travellers. Still one days ride from the castle, Olegs group ran into a unit of the barons guards, fifty strong, headed by a dapper lieutenant. The lieutenant rode out to meet them, enquired as to their names and then introduced himself as Otto von Buervil. He had come, he announced most cordially, to invite them to visit the hospitable Baron von Kristel. He himself would accompany them, sheltering them from any possible bandit raids, which was why such a large unit of guards was necessary. Using no less polite phraseology, Oleg declined such a kind offer, citing lack of time as the reason. The lieutenant, positively dripping with apologies, informed them that the barons thirst for company was so great that he, Otto von Buervil, had received strict orders to bring the travellers before his Grace the baron and in order to please his baron, he would be prepared to insist, using his patrol as a persuasive argument. Having eyed the guards and noticed neither archers nor arbalesters, Oleg courteously announced that anyone who tried to force him to do anything risked spending the rest of his days in a bog hunting flies and mosquitoes and croaking loudly on rainy days. On hearing this, the lieutenant laughed derisively. Then he announced that turning a person into a frog, a toad or any other such small beast was not within the power of even the greatest elfin sorcerer Geduel. If the little whipper-snapper of a wizard standing in front of him considered himself to be more powerful, then let him try to turn the lieutenant of the barons guard, Otto von Buervil, into a frog, but should he fail, Oleg would suffer accordingly.

Oleg smiled then, and with a wave of his hand, turned him into a frog. The response was tremendous. It was as though the fifty guards, which only a minute earlier had been standing like a threatening wall behind their commander, was scattered by the wind. The terrified soldiers took flight at such a pace that several of them left their boots standing on the road. However, his own companions did not remain indifferent to Olegs deed. As soon as they had picked up their jaws, they hurled themselves at Oleg, demanding an explanation. Clairene was particularly angry, no doubt irked by the fact that a powerful magician had been riding beside them but all the while pretended not to know anything and tried to coax a poor charm-castors secrets out of her. Oleg burst out laughing, disclosing the secret of his conjuring trick. In fact all he had done was to paralyze the lieutenant with a simple little incantation which Viss had taught him, and then throw a semblance over him, using the very same spell Clairene had taught him. That is how the incredible transformation happened. Having discovered his secret, Clairene shook her head for a long time, saying and thats how legends are born and then asked him to teach her the incantation of paralysis and show her the sequence of adding it to the frog semblance, if possible transforming it into that of the much less energy-consuming billy goat. Oleg shared his science with pleasure. Clairene cast a sleep charm over the lieutenant, which should dissipate in a months time when the travellers would have long since left the confines of the barony. Under hypnosis, they filled the lieutenant with false memories of a life in the bog and the pleasant taste of passing mosquitoes, and also put a charm to keep predatory beasts away, thus, as the sleep she conjured up was much closer to anabiosis (i.e. suspended animation, please check your dictionary), the lieutenant was in no danger. Covering him with branches, they went on their way. Thanks to the fame of the menacing magician and his retinue, Olegs small party flew along, arousing the respect of the farmers and the total absence of trouble from those in power. Admiring the castle, to which they had been so insistently invited, from a distance, the harmonious company crossed the border of the Kristel barony and went on. Under the horses hooves lay the small Barony of Brice, the last one before the longawaited Barony of Maidell. Customs soon loomed into view, a log construction just off the verge and a massive plank on trestles blocking the road. Looks as though its time for the next fair here in Brice, Ataletta said worriedly. Could that pose a problem for us? No, it might just delay us a bit. Now hoards of people are going to be pouring in. Theyll be jams on the roads, we wont be able to pass by nor ride through

It was indeed crowded in front of customs. Olaf, who tried to jump the queue, was soundly sworn at, by both the farmers queuing in front of him and by the customs official himself, a tired man of about forty in a guards uniform with the baronys coat of arms. Well what did you do that for, Oleg said unkindly. It should be said that he had consumed an exaggerated amount of the local wine the evening before and now he had a bad headache, his mood hovering between really foul and better kill the lot of them. Let me handle this. And with these words he waved his hands a few times while muttering a spell. The next moment the sleepy silence of the late morning was broken by cries filled with horror: A monster! A shapeshifter! Help! Save yourselves! The queue ran off in different directions. Throwing down their goods and shoving each other, people fled in panic. The road emptied in less than a couple of minutes. What was that? Ataletta asked, bewildered. If Im not mistaken, Arioch used some sort of dark magic spell for calling horror, Clairene replied with a disapproving look at Oleg. Aha. A simple little illusion Viss taught me. Each of them thought that the person next to them had turned into a monster and was about to attack them. So the road is clear and we can go on. But why did you do it? The princesss voice was full of bitterness. They hadnt attacked us! And now youve frightened the farmers, theyve lost their wares and they might have trampled someone in the stampede. What did you do it for? I had to clear the road. It was beginning to dawn on Oleg that he hadnt acted at all nicely. Without answering, Ataletta spurred her horse on, quietly whispering as she rode past him: Youre a demon after all, and I was beginning to forget it. Perplexed, Oleg rode after her. He thought hard for some time about what the princess said. Then some other words came to him: ... if you assume your demonic form for long enough, and people believe that you are in fact a demon, then you will be one. He remembered a few episodes from his journey. The amazed look of the bandit gang leader and his whisper: And I thought you were human when he handed him over to the liches; the face of the village chief who had tried to arrest them and was instantly reduced to ash by the fireball; the cruel joke hed played on the lieutenant, and now todays incident with the farmers, whose only crime was getting in his way.

He remembered his former selfa kind-hearted student, lover of beer and pretty girls-and when he remembered that, he realized how little was left of him. Although beer and girls, now that was something very good no matter how your character changed. But still, how easily he killed now; and without experiencing any particular emotion whatsoever. Although no, he did feel. He brought all those incidents back to mind again. Yes. Its just that those feelings werent really anything like human ones. They were far more reminiscent of the sensations Heliona had called feelings of a true demon of the dark circle, the cruel glee at a wilfully harmed enemy and hatred towards those who dared to contradict him It all stemmed from there, Oleg suddenly realized with amazement. But when was it I changed? When did I start to think like a demon? Digging deeper into his memories, he found the answer to that question, too. After his visit to Oner, Oleg had stopped feeling repulsion at killing. Evidently, being in the skin of a demon for a long time and perhaps also the incredible stress hed been under when he sang the incantations had taken their toll. He should try to use his demonic body as rarely as possible, even partially. And he needed to watch his actions so as not to allow such outbursts as reducing the village chief to ashes. And get to Valensia as quickly as possible to study to be a magician. Otherwise he could become a demon and not even notice it! And there it was again: that kind of thought didnt arouse the same repulsion as before. Busy with his frightening thoughts, he paid no attention to Ataletta who had been riding next to him for some time, trying to attract his attention. She finally succeeded. Hey, Arioch! Look! What is it? Were coming to Brice. Theres a fair going on and it would be better for us to make a detour, unless of course you intend to chase away the whole town like you did those hapless villagers. Yeah, of course, well go round. Whats the problem? The problem is that were almost through the gates! Whats the matter with you? I was thinking. You know, I was really in the wrong to jump at those hapless farmers like that. Thank you for pointing it out to me. Youre always welcome, said the princess, dumbstruck. *** Well, youre almost home now, Oleg announced when they had ridden up to the border of the Maidell Barony. A small group of guards was coming towards them, evidently a border unit. To their menacing cry of Who goes there? Ataletta rode out in front.

It is I, Ataletta Kreghist, Princess of Fenrian, with my retinue. I am bound for Baron Maidell. I would ask you to accompany us and inform the baron. They were surrounded at once. One of the guards looked into the princesss face for a long time and then nodded: Its her, Captain, he said, turning to the commander. I saw the princess when I was in the barons retinue and he was visiting Velmint. Without replying, the captain trotted up to Ataletta. How can we serve you, Your Highness? he said. I have already said that I request you to accompany me to the castle and to send someone to let the baron know, she answered. Vinter! the captain shouted loudly. Go on, nip over to his Grace and tell him about Her Highnesss arrival. The rest of you, fall into guard formation! One of the guards turned his horse around and bounded back along the road at a gallop. The others, surrounding Olegs small party, set off. On their way to the castle they were met by the lord of the city himself. Baron Otto von Maidell, free baron and lord of the richest and most powerful of the Iron Baronies, good friend and agent of Freidrich IV and godfather to his daughter, was a tall, corpulent man who looked around forty. Ata, my dear, how did you manage to escape? was his first question after the customary greeting rituals. By a miracle, for which we must thank him, and she nodded towards Oleg. I thank you, lir, the baron said, carefully looking Oleg over. To whom do I owe the salvation of my goddaughter? And how may I reward him for his courage? My name is Arioch. I am a wandering minstrel and hunter of the Unclean, and you owe me nothing. But I would like to rest for a day or two before continuing on my way and I would be glad if you could recommend a good hotel. Not another word; my castle is at your disposal! I cannot allow the saviour of my friend and lords daughter to spend the night in some hotel! And that evening there was a feast. It seemed that the baron did genuinely love Ataletta and celebrated her arrival with great pomp and circumstance. Seated at the table for honoured guests, separated from the rest of the festival hall by a partition, Oleg thought hard. Once he had paid the hirelings, giving each of them a very handsome bonus on top of the agreed sum (they had earned it) he didnt have that much money left. And Oleg still wanted to get himself a better quality weapon thanks to the local market hed seen some very handsome examples. Besides, he would need to buy a good chainmail as he intended to continue to play the role of an Imperial Hunter. That would leave him with a few pennies, barely enough to get to the Empire of Trir. In order to get to Valensia where the

Academy was, he would have to cross a third of the empire, the largest state Oikumena. But making his calculations, Oleg cheered up. It was still more than a month to the Day of Students when the Academy selected its new students. That was ample time not only to get to Valensia but also to earn a fair bit, too. After all, he had in hand two professions which were very highly sought after in this world. Both minstrels and Hunters of the Unclean were treated with great respect in the empire and had a whole range of privileges. It was not without reason that Oleg supposed that he could shine in both professions. Tomorrow Ill buy a chainmail shirt, a bow and a handsome sword, Oleg decided. Here his musings were interrupted by someone lightly brushing his shoulder. Oleg turned round. Ataletta was standing in front of him. Can I have a word with you? Tiredness and slight tension could be heard in the princesss voice. Yes, of course. Have a seat. Oleg moved over, freeing the place next to him. Wont they miss you? No, they wont. Smirking, the girl sat down on the chair offered to her. Everyones already pretty drunk and no-one will notice anything. She fell silent. You know, youre an absolutely impossible person. I have the impression that etiquette is something you dont care for. You really hate it and try to break it any time you have the chance! And you cant say you dont know how to behave Sometimes you have splendid manners, but only once in a blue moon. At first I found it insulting, but then I realized that it was silly to be offended. Its just your style, isnt it? You guessed, Oleg didnt bother to explain that in fact he simply didnt know the local rules for good behaviour. Let them think he was an eccentric, there were worse things. But you didnt come to discuss my attitude to etiquette, did you? I just dont know how to begin Ataletta gave Oleg a searching look. Tell me, is what you told my godfather true? Are you leaving the day after tomorrow? Yes. Youre safe, I kept my promise. Now I have other things to do. I think Ive already told you I intend to go to Valensia and study to be a magician. I wanted to ask you to stay with me! Help me regain my throne! Now I shall gather an army. Sedition and crop failure are descending on Fenrian now, the curse of my forefather is a dreadful thing. Once I have regained my throne, I will reward you generously. Youll be second after me Oleg grinned. How quickly Ataletta had resumed her role as a powerful mistress! Youve already offered me that, he said quietly, interrupting the agitated girl. Do you remember? There, in the cellar, when Albert invoked me. I refused then, so why do you think

my position has changed now? I dont need any of your dukedoms or baronies, I dont need the power you can offer But you did agree to help me! Ataletta exclaimed, interrupting him. I felt sorry for you. I didnt want them to kill you. And then, I still havent received payment for my last bill, Oleg said, and immediately regretted it. The princess went flat in an instant. Yes, its true You did the impossible and saved me. What is your wish, O my lord? She tried to joke but Oleg could see the fear which took hold of the girl. He shook his head chidingly. Weve been together for quite a long time now, havent we? Surely you dont think I could demand something bad of you? Calm down, you dont owe me anything. Yes, and Im turning you down not because of any debts but because I have to hurry. I have to begin to study human magic otherwise Ill become a demon once and for all. Theyre accepting students at the Valensian Academy in six weeks but itll take me at least two weeks to get there providing, of course, your map is accurate. And I doubt very much that youll manage to raise an army in the intervening time, attack Fenrian, defeat your uncle and crown yourself. I see. Forgive me, I thought badly of you. Its just that I really hoped that you would join me. We could have really done with your help. She continued to look at Oleg with pleading eyes. Oleg sighed deeply. It seems you dont understand. What do you think would happen if I forgot about all my plans and instead of getting a place at the Academy I started to help a beautiful but overly insistent princess to regain the throne of her forefathers? The princess would be really happy and would be very-very grateful to you! Shed regain her throne, youd become a wealthy and important personage, after which youd go and study at the Academy? Ataletta suggested, innocently fluttering her eyelashes. If only! Oleg grinned. It seemed the princess kept strictly to the principle: never give up. A praiseworthy position in some regards, just not very appropriate in this case. In order for it to sink into this pretty little head that there was no point in trying to talk him into staying, Oleg decided to give her a detailed explanation of his reasons. Now listen to me. If I stay with you, then in the process of winning your throne for you I will undoubtedly have to take part in battles. Since as I havent mastered human magic, and Id be an abysmal warrior in my human body dont argue, the fight with Morron doesnt count, I used a partial transformation then like it or not, in the battles Id have to use my demonic capabilities. And that would lead to an increase in my demon side until it completely stifled my human side. After which I, so good and kind, would all but disappear and instead of me there would be an evil, capricious and power-hungry demon. Whats more, Id be virtually

invincible in the territory of Fenrian. Are you sure you want to receive such a present? Oh, and did I mention that that demon would also be very strong, both magically and physically? I see. It seemed that Ataletta had really been counting on persuading Oleg to go to war for her, and that this new situation was not at all in keeping with her plans. Having thought for a while, she brushed his arm again. And what if I wait? Itll take three or four years to prepare the warriors. And the course in the Academy is five years. Then you can join us. Your help would be very useful! Oleg looked at the princess. Seems I play some key role in her plans, he thought. And anyway, is it in my interest to meddle in the internal politics of Fenrian? No, I dont need that. While Oleg thought, Ataletta was nervously awaiting his reply. You know, Oleg said, having made up his mind, A lot can happen in five years. Your uncle might die, and then you wont need to fight anyone. You might meet a mighty magician and no longer need my help. Or some kind of duty might call me which wont allow me to come and help you. I dont think it would be wise for you to wait for me. The princess threw back her head and her eyes moistened suspiciously. I understand. Who am I to you? We met, you play a while, get my hopes up and then say farewell Nevertheless, despite all her readiness to spurt tears, Oleg was able to sense her insincerity and this only served to convince him all the more that he played some important role in some mysterious plan of hers. Ataletta, its not worth it. Let me give you a bit of good advice. First of all, never build all your plans around one single figure, especially if you arent in complete control of that figure. People really dont like it when you try to use them. Secondly, if youve already made such a mistake, and the figure refuses to play by your rules, never let the person you wanted to use sense that. Your insistency clearly shows what an important place you had reserved for me in your plans. You must never show that! And thirdly, you made a big mistake when you started to use not rational but emotional arguments after my first refusal. When I wasnt interested in your offers of power etc, you should have offered me something else, or at a pinch tried to threaten me with something, though that is pretty dangerous. But in any case you shouldnt have started crying. Tears are no argument in these matters. In fact, it can really irritate a lot of people. A man will willingly help a girl in trouble but few things can more surely kill any desire to help than the demand to give assistance. Remember that. Im giving you this advice from the heart, and this knowledge will really be useful to you. But it would be better to drop it all. Politics are a dirty game, not for pretty young girls. You may get so dirty there that even millennia will not make your name white again. I dont want to get mixed up in that mess myself, and I would advise you not to, either.

Ataletta listened attentively to Olegs monologue and then nodded. Of course, youre right. But I have no other choice. Youre the only one who can use magic immune to the amulets of Orchis. What should I do now? Live off my godfather until the well-respected Lord Chancellor decides to die of natural causes? What should I do? Tell me, since you are so wise! Her voice had burst into a shrill cry by the time she reached that last phrase. The more excited Ataletta became, the calmer Oleg became, outwardly. He looked at the girl in amazement, perplexed by such behaviour. He thought he had studied her personality quite well but such insistence was not at all like the Ataletta which he had imagined her to be. The demon inside Oleg was rising up in rage. He really didnt enjoy being coerced. Its like this, Oleg announced in a cold voice, with difficulty restraining an urge to transform himself. Ill answer in order. Calm down and stop making me angry. That is the main thing. Remember this: I dont owe you anything! What should you do? Change your tactics. Think up another plan. Find a way around. Or, if you are really so fixed on me, try to wait until Ive finished my studies and hire me, offering a worthy salary. But be aware that my tastes are unlikely to change much over the next five years so you should offer me something to really make it worth my while. And another thing. I said that I will release you from fulfilling my wish and that I wont demand anything of you. Although my opinion about you has changed significantly, I wont go back on my word. But know this: when you next hire me if, of course, you can I will demand a full payment, and in advance, too. As I see it, free help spoils people rotten, they start demanding more and more. I wont make that mistake again. You should reckon with that, if youre going to be making plans about me! With a curt nod he quickly strode out from behind the partition and, apologizing to the baron, headed for the bedroom hed been allocated, pleading tiredness from the journey. But sleep did not come. Oleg tossed and turned from side to side but couldnt fall asleep. An attempt at counting sheep didnt help. After ram number 68 gave him the famous American one-finger salute, and then wandered off in the direction of a blondish ewe with made-up eyes and carefully painted hooves, Oleg gave up. The muffled sounds of the feast floated up from downstairs. It sounded as though the party had reached the singing phase. Yelling their heads off, bloody minstrels. Stopping a man from sleeping, Oleg brooded. But he was lying to himself. It wasnt the drunken songs of the vassals of Maidell which kept him from slumber, not at all. He couldnt get that last conversation with Ataletta out of his head. He was oddly, irrationally, offended, as though he had somehow been tricked or betrayed. Why have I let her get to me like this? Tomorrow Ill do my shopping, the day after tomorrow Ill say So long and thats it! We wont see each other again. Just relax and stop mess-

ing around. So she turned out different from how youd imagined her. You should keep your imagination in check. He even wagged his finger, mentally. Its not the girls fault after all that she was born in the royal family and has been brought up thinking that her problems are the most important and that everyone is duty-bound to solve them and not their own. Maybe I should have been gentler somehow? But how? She wouldnt have understood anything gentlerEnough, I need to sleep. Enough about that princess. Sleep. Sleep! The noise of the drunkards subsided. Evidently, alcohol had finally claimed victory over the mighty bodies of Maidells knights, sending them into a deep sleep. But Oleg continued his battle with insomnia. The rams jumped over the gateover and overJust when hed begun to doze off There was a knock at the door. Come in. Oleg drew back the latch. Ataletta was standing in the doorway. She was dressed n the same white tunic-dress that she had been when they first met. Can I come in? Please do, Your Highness, Oleg bowed with affected politeness. To what do I owe this visit? Please, dont be like that The girl sighed sadly. I came to apologize. Apologize? Yes. I was wrong. Youve done so much for me. Its just that I forgot for an instant that youre not my vassal; Id started taking your help for granted. I can imagine what you must think. Please, forgive me! Well, if youre saying please, Oleg drawled as though thinking it over. Then I forgive you! He went on quickly and cheerily. Its good that you stopped by. I really was very offended. I couldnt even get to sleep. I think itll be easier now But Oleg couldnt finish what he was saying. Ataletta interrupted him. You know about falling asleep she lowered her eyes, and to his amazement Oleg realized the princess was embarrassed. But then, as though having conquered something inside herself, she raised her head and met his gaze. I was thinking, I wasnt only wrong in demanding you help me. After all, I did give my word to satisfy any wish. So what if you havent demanded anything! Promises should be kept So Ataletta didnt finish but, blushing even more, lightly brushed the silver clasp on her shoulder. The tunic slipped to her feet with a soft rustle. Did I guess? asked the naked girl, red with embarrassment. She was very beautiful. Her blonde locks which seemed to glow lent her face an unearthly touch. Her white skin and her perfectly proportioned body was illuminated by the light of the moon shining through the window. And only the dark maroon nipples smoothly rising in time to the girls jerky breath prevented him from imagining that she was a classic Greek statue.

For a few long seconds Oleg fought a pitiful battle with himself, relishing the splendid sight before him. You guessed, he whispered finally, wrapping her in his blanket. But I cant accept such a payment. It would be mean and unfair to you. Theres no need to do anything like that, if you dont want to do it yourself He didnt finish. With a ringing laugh Ataletta wriggled out from his arms. You dont mean you didnt realize? she said, throwing off the blanket. They told me men were sometimes a bit slow on the uptake, but I never thought it could be so bad! She ran her hand smoothly over Olegs body, pausing on his stomach for a moment, and then slipping lower. I want you! the girl whispered, leading him to the bed. Satisfied now? She really was a virgin, that young and passionate white princess. But Olegs skill was enough to take away her pain and here magic was almost irrelevant Later, towards morning when their strength finally faded and they were lying quietly side by side, Oleg remembered something and laughed. Whats up? Remember when wed just made the agreement that I would help you and you put the condition that you would fulfil any wish of mine so long as it didnt go against courtly honour or the interests of the country? Yes, something gleamed in your eyes for a second then. You know, something sly, just like now, she looked at Olegs hands, again sliding over her body, and then arched to meet his caresses. A thought flashed into my mind then. I thought it was a good joke and was even about to tell you, but then I looked at you and changed my mind. You were really worried then. But it turns out it wasnt a joke, but the genuine truth. And what was that joke-truth? Ataletta purred, pulling back a little to get her breath. That I didnt give a damn about your courtly honour, or your maidenly honour! But you kidnapped me! Disgraced the girl Mmm thats so nice. Do it again Talk held very little interest for Ataletta after that. In the morning, swaying, Oleg could barely dress. Ataletta stayed to sleep in his bed, announcing that she would be just fine without breakfast. Having had a bite to eat, Oleg leapt on his horse and headed off to the fair held in a small town at the foot of the castle. The weaponry fashioned by the masters of the Free Baronies was praised throughout all the Oikumenas. And the mysterious gnomes living under the Iron Mountains occasionally brought their handiwork here to sell, too.

But Oleg wasnt in luck that day. There hadnt been a supply from the Iron Mountains for a long time and he had to content himself with human handiwork. A good strong chainmail to be worn under outer garments cost less than hed thought. Having checked his finances, Oleg realized he could treat himself to expensive and good quality weaponry. The next item on his list was a sword. After a long search Oleg managed to hunt out something more or less suitable. It was another espadon which looked a bit similar to the one he already had only this one was forged from steel of a much higher quality. Moreover, the blade was silver-plated which gave it an advantage in a battle with the Unclean. Strolling among the stalls selling bows and counting the rest of his money, Oleg regretfully put off buying one till later. Instead, he purchased a few throwing knives and with that, considered his equipment complete. Coming back to the castle in time for lunch, the first thing Oleg did was to take a look at Ataletta, sitting at the head of the table and tucking in to the main course with great gusto. The girl, or to be more precise, the young woman now, had become indescribably more beautiful. The fine wrinkles which had begun to appear on her forehead had vanished without a trace, washed away by the recent intimacies. Her eyes were filled with a cheerful, healthy light. The middle-aged baron and his wife sitting next to her were feasting their eyes on their charge. Laughing at something the baron said, Ataletta raised her eyes from her plate and noticed Oleg, standing stock-still in the doorway. Smiling, she indicated the seat next to her with a wave of her hand. After lunch, having slept well and bursting with joy and energy, the princess dragged Oleg off to look at the park near the castle. The park was lovely. Oleg particularly liked the winding shady avenues with little arbours hidden in their depths, just right for kisses. In the breaks between the latter they chatted about all kinds of nonsense, trying to steer clear of the most painful subject: everything was ready and Oleg would leave for Valensia the next morning. On the way he planned to earn some money in the incredibly profitable and extremely perilous profession of Hunter of the Unclean. Ahead of her, the princess had a complex web of cunning politics and a desperate battle for her throne. And it was impossible to say which of them was in more danger: the poisons and daggers of the Fenrian aristocracy were worthy competition for the fangs and claws of the imperial Unclean. Both of them knew this full well, engrossed in kissing in the shady groves of the ancient park. Was that why those last kisses of a peaceful life were so sweet? Who knows? Oleg was the first to broach the forbidden subject. In six weeks, if everything goes well, Ill be studying at the Valensian Academy. You could write and tell me how youre getting on. I might be able to help.

Ataletta looked at him with unexpected sobriety and, slipping off his knee, sat down next to him. This needs to be discussed seriously, and sitting in that position would have been constantly distracted, she explained. As for your wish; ok, Ill write. But you must understand If our correspondence falls into the wrong hands, it could cause a lot of harm, informing my enemies of our plans. Though I suppose we could encode the letters. Deal. I hope you know a good code. Yes, I do. Ill give you the key to it. Later. And she sat herself on his knee again On the morning of the next day Oleg didnt want to leave the castle. He wanted to lie there some more, embracing the dear, warm girl pressing herself to him, and not go anywherehe could help her regain her kingdom, get a cosy little place where they could live happily ever after In order to force himself to get up and out of bed, he had to remind himself that such a fairytale was, alas, not for him. If he delayed receiving a magicians education, then being forced to constantly use his demonic strength instead of his magical powers, he would gradually turn into a demon. And its unlikely that it would have been so pleasant for Ataletta to share her bed with a scaly, clawed demon. Although, who knows He remembered their first kiss in the watch tower of Kreghist castle. Then, as you may remember, he was in fact in his demon form. And all these thoughts forced him to crawl out from under the blankets. The princess was still sleeping and Oleg decided not to wake her. He quickly had some breakfast, loaded his things onto his horse and was just about to set off when Ataletta appeared in the doorway. When she noticed him, she cried out joyfully: I made it! and flung herself around his neck, unabashed by the presence of many servants. For some time she just cried, showering him with admonishments for not waking her. Farewell, farewell, my demon. Oleg gently moved her to one side and kissed her tearful eyes. Not farewell but until we meet again, he corrected her firmly. Ill come back and deal with all your uncle-usurpers and anyone else who treats you badly. Ill learn how to be a magician and Ill return! Do you believe me, sweetie? Yes, Ataletta smiled through her tears. Here, take this. She held a well-sealed envelope out to Oleg. Its the key to the code for our letters. You remember, we talked about it yesterday? You almost forgot it. Thank you, darling. Till we meet again! Till we meet again, my demon! Ataletta cried out, and then quietly whispered. I really hope youll come back, Arioch. Really! At least, I have done all in my power to ensure that

But Oleg was already out of earshot. The Road to Magic

Chapter Nine
Imperial Hunter Phew its hot, thought Oleg lolling around on his uncomfortable saddle, and checked the reserves in his flask again. Unfortunately, there was no water there. A week had passed since he had left the Maidell barony and bid a warm farewell to Ataletta. He had crossed into the Trir Empire, leaving the Free Baronies behind him. The road was flanked by endless fields broken occasionally by small wooded copses. The countryside was pretty enough of course, but it had begun to get on his nerves. Oleg sighed sadly and put the empty flask back in its place. There was no sign of any springs or streams crossing the road, and the nearest hamlet where he could refill the flask was at least four hours ride away. For the umpteenth time he began to think over a tempting thought: to abandon this lazy animal to the winds of fate here he angrily scowled at his horse yet again, and it gave him an equally angry glare in return and go to Valensia under his own steam, with the help of a demons swift wings. And for the umpteenth time he regretfully put aside the idea. Arriving in the state of light magicians in the form of a demon wasnt the most pleasant form of suicide. Who knows what kind of protective curses guarded the border. And anyway, he had to straighten out his finances. A Hunter of the Uncleans labour was well paid in the Trir Empire, as Oleg had already discovered, having done away with the minor vampire which had been pestering the inhabitants of one of the villages he had ridden into two days ago. There, carefully examining the decapitated head of the hapless beast, the village elder issued him a Certificate of an Imperial Hunter, a document Oleg was investing not a little hope in. In general, when Oleg had first heard mention of the Hunters of the Unclean, a very precise image had appeared in his heada warrior-warlock with a silver sword over his shoulder, free-spirited, not dependant on anyone, destroyer of monsters. In reality everything turned out to be much more interesting. Yes, a silver or more precisely, a silvered sword did come into it. There it was, over his shoulder. But as for witchery The Institute for Hunters of the Unclean was founded in the Empire at the time of the last magical war. When it became clear that the armies of the Dark Empire could not hold out against the Union of the Light Forces, the magicians of the Dark Citadel had hurled a curse of filth at Trir, the most powerful and active participant in the war (not counting Valensia). As far as Oleg could tell, it was something like the magical version of a nuclear weapon. The Empire was plagued by epidemics of hitherto unknown diseases. The dead rose up out of the graveyards and fell upon innocent folk. A huge quantity of various Unclean and Undead sprung up, starting with primitive minor vampires and werewolves and ending with Supreme Vampires, fully sentient cre-

ations, the oldest of which was only slightly less powerful than the warrior magicians. The epidemics were pacified thanks to the help of the Light Academy, although the marauding Undead continued to diminish the population in the Trir Empire. And then a solution was found. The Emperor announced that a Guild of Hunters of the Unclean would be founded. Entering the guild was easy it was enough to show a government official the head or other vital organ of a killed Unclean. The Hunters were not subject to taxation and they enjoyed the same privileges as the courtiers which were very high indeed in Trir. Moreover, if a sufficient number of personal victories was proven, the Hunter could apply for a hereditary title. These applications were almost always accepted and consequently, any Hunter could become one of the highest aristocrats of the Empire. The drop of tar in this barrel of honey was the very high death rate among Hunters. To live out the year, killing at least one Unclean a month, was a feat achieved by only a very few. Nevertheless, the combination of a high salary with good perks was so attractive that it called forth an impressive stream of adventurers of all kinds from neighbouring lands, who quickly replenished the natural decline of native adventure seekers. In the period leading up to the end of the war, the Hunters managed to quite considerably deplete the ranks of the local Unclean, but it was still a very long way to their total destruction. And it was precisely into that turbid stream that Oleg had decided to jump to get the necessary local documents and to earn the means to maintain the high standard of living he was now accustomed to. Not without reason did he think that the local Unclean would be no match for him. Are you fed up with Vampires? Do the howls of werewolves stop you sleeping? Are there zombies running amok in your town? Is the ghost of your beloved mother-in-law spitting into your porridge? Then turn to us! Demon and Co. will solve all your problems! That was more or less the light-hearted advertising slogan which flashed through Olegs head when the village chief stuck the heavy, enchanted seal on his Certificate. Lost in his memories, Oleg didnt notice that he was approaching the next village. His musings were interrupted by a loud cry: A Hunter! A Hunter is riding to us! People started appearing from their huts and the joy on their faces clearly indicated that there was work for him here. Without stopping, he rode up to the elders little house. The village chief, a sprightly man of fifty, walked sedately out of his porch. Peace to you, Oleg greeted him. My name is Arioch. I am a Hunter. It seems that you have work for me. Well find you some work all right! Come on in now, Hunter. Well have a bite to eat of what the gods have sent us, and then well talk. They call me Nezhdan. Hey, Friska, set the table. Dont you see, we have a guest, he called into the hut.

The village chiefs home turned out to be surprisingly cosy. The gods had evidently blessed his family. At least the meal sent by them was ample and tasty. After they had eaten, stealthily glancing at the door, the head of the house fished out a large bottle of cloudy liquid, and began to get down to business: Some kind of beastie has come upon us, it has. Looks just like a wolf, it does, but its all white and as big as a calf. Need to deal with it, we do Oleg mentally leafed through the Imperial Classification of Unclean. Hed studied it thoroughly over the last few days. It contained the names and descriptions of various types of Unclean and Undead residing within the confines of the Empire, the level of danger they posed as well as the best ways to destroy them and the standard price for the head of each Unclean which corresponded directly to the level of danger it posed. There were quite a few wolf-like beasts in the Classification. Almost all of them, however, belonged to level four or five. Level five were the virtually harmless and included, for instance, bogies, who were fond of meeting tipsy guys on their way home from the pub and gnawing off their superfluous body parts. As bogie saliva has strong pain-killing and bloodclotting effects, many only discovered their loss once they had returned home. The brave folk generally dealt with such creations themselves without involving a hired hunter. Level four were the reasonably dangerous, the group to which various types of werewolves belonged. This, too, would not be cause for such a warm welcome. So then what could this wolf be? Maybe a It was a most unpleasant guess, but it demanded immediate verification. While Oleg was thinking, the village chief went on describing the deeds of the monster terrorizing the village. and last month it took Martyanikha, it did. Swallowed her down nice and easy, it did, the skunk. Mind you, it werent such a terrible loss, she was a dreadfully scandalous wifey, she was. Already a-hopin itd poison itself on her, we was. But no. Last week it went out ahunting again, it did, and ripped Frols head right off his shoulders. A fine miller he was. So you be so kind and punish the beast! It dont give us no peace at all. Its gone so far that a fella cant even go down to the tavern of an evening... Oleg finally broke his outpouring: How much will you pay? The village chief squirmed, breathed heavily and began complaining about the poor harvest and greedy birds whod pecked the grain to bits, and offered two hundred and thirty gold pieces. Oleg feigned surprised: Seems as though that werewolf has really got to you. Youre offering thirty more than the Classification recommends. This is the first time Ive seen such a generous village! Ill take it! With a look of complete decisiveness, Oleg stood up. Its not so

difficult to slay a werewolf. You just need to find its lair. Its not a shapeshifter after all. For one of them, yeah Theres no point in picking a fight with a shapeshifter for less than three hundred. After all, unlike werewolves, they dwell among people, have a humans brain. But as for a werewolf, well, I can trail one of them very quickly by its tracks. They dont know how to conceal them. The village chief, who had at first smiled gleefully, grew gloomy by the end of Olegs monologue and, having counted out another seventy coins, added them to his fee. There, he grunted. In reply to Olegs perplexed look, he muttered, trying hard to turn away, Saw the tracks, we did. Led to the village, they did. Its a shapeshifter. A big un. Oleg swore foully. The last phrase, when used of a representative of the Unclean, meant not its age or its build, but that it had at least one Hunter under its belt. Another quizzical look, and the chief grew even gloomier and growled unwillingly: We had a Hunter here already. Bout two weeks ago. Arrived in the evening he did, stayed in the tavern In the mornin all that was left of im was his sword and his torn chainmail. An a bloodstain on the floor And did the shapeshifter stay here even after that? Didnt run away, didnt move off? He should know that sooner or later hell be cleaned out! He stayed, he did. Just as though somats keepin im ere. Well, thats understandable. Your shapeshifter wants to meet Hunters on his own terms. Then Ill probably stay in the tavern, too, for now. Prepare a welcome for him And you tell your fellow villagers that they shouldnt go out tomorrow. Ill search for the shapeshifter among them. Let them gather in the square at dawn. If someone doesnt show up, then that means hes the shapeshifter. Tell everyone that. Having taken a room at the tavern, the first thing Oleg did was to put protective spells on the door and window. It would have been just fine if the shapeshifter decided to repeat his trick of attacking a sleeping Hunter. In the morning he could just hand over the burnt carcass to the village chief, take his money and go calmly on his way. But alas. Having slept well all night, Oleg was woken at dawn by a polite knock at his door. It was the tavern keepers wife, informing him that all the villagers had gathered on the main square and were waiting for him. Oleg quickly got his things together and walked to the square which was already teaming with people, cursing the shapeshifter whod caused all this mess, and the fool of a Hunter who couldnt find it by himself, without gathering a crowd, and the gods, whod sent a fine drizzle making the business in the square a non-too-pleasant undertaking. Entering the square, Oleg ordered the village chief to get the people in line. He secretly grew his scales and increased his muscles, drew his sword preparing himself for battle and walked through the ranks, carefully examining the auras of the people standing in front of him.

Suddenly he grew wary. The young woman standing next to him had a human aura, without doubt. But there was something not right about it. He took a closer look. So. A young woman. Twenty to twenty-three years old. Virtually healthy, only relatively recently, about a year ago, she broke her arm. Everythings healed well, but a trace is left in her aura. What else? Pregnant. The child is about two months old. She was unhappy until recently, the aura had clear signs of frequent tears, but now shes radiating with joy. But what was it that made him wary? The chief, following Oleg, decided to give him an explanation. Thats Mariska, Frols widow, that is. Dont be lookin look at her, she aint it. If she were a shapeshifter, shed have killed Frol long ago, she would. Though he were a good miller, he were a no good husband. Get awful drunk, he would, always beating her. Broke her arm last year, he did. She went a month and a half in a splint. But everythin heals straightaway with a shapeshifter now dont it? It aint her, it aint No, its not her Oleg looked again at the girls aura very carefully and all of a sudden he realized what it was that had made him wary. Shes not a shapeshifter. But her future chi Oleg didnt manage to finish his sentence. A terrible spasm rocked the body of a peasant standing not far away. In a flash, a huge white wolf threw itself at him, ripping his clothes with its claws. The strong blow from its paw ripped his jacket and the chainmail under it, tearing him away from the girl. His muscles flexed and, rejoicing in the resilience of his demonic scales, Oleg jumped back on his feet, shielding himself with his sword in case the shapeshifter pounced again. But it was in no hurry to attack. The shapeshifter was standing in front of the girl, rolling its blood-filled eyes and growling menacingly, like a real wolf, protecting its prey or its lair with pups. That did away with the last doubts. Oleg looked around. The flying feet of the last, least fleet-footed peasant flashed into an alleyway. Only he, the shapeshifter and the woman tensed in fear were left on the square. Sorry, Oleg said. He felt embarrassed. When I agreed to this assignment I didnt know about this. But now its too late. Well have to fight, although, you could easily run away. I dont know how to follow tracks. At least, not when I dont want to. In any case, I promise, she has nothing to fear from me. The wolf nodded, as though in agreement, and then slowly began to circle Oleg, heading towards the village. Oleg kept a watchful eye on it. Suddenly the wolf growled and leapt at him, aiming at his throat. With a short pirouette to turn away from the terrible claws, Oleg waved his sword. Plated with silver, the finely sharpened blade went deep into its chest, between the ribs. With a howl, the wolf fell to the ground. The sharp claws scrabbled on the cobbles, slowly turning into human hands. The shapeshifter was consumed in its death

throes. Suddenly Oleg heard a quiet whisper: Have pity the child. Dont kill it whispered the shapeshifter. I said I wouldnt harm her! I dont pick fights with pregnant women, no matter whose their children might be. If you hadnt attacked, I wouldnt have touched you, either! Wed have made it look as if I had captured you, then you could have run away and that would have been it. Why did you attack? I had to try You knew about her I decided not to risk it People are slow I would have done it Youre not a human!... I only realized when I hit you Try to help her Have pi The shapeshifter didnt manage to say the last word. The transformation was complete, and the naked body of a man of thirty was spread in front of Oleg, his chest run through with a sword. The body shuddered weakly for the last time, a little stream of dark blood flowed from the mouth and the shapeshifter lay still. Oleg looked around. The peasants had fled during the shapeshifters attack and now they were sitting behind their fences in the nearby yards. The most heroic among them had bravely watched what had been happening on the square through a crack in the shutters. The village chief was desperately tugging at his trousers which had caught on the fence as he had tried to scramble over, sticking his considerable backside out. Mariska was sobbing bitterly not far off. Oleg went over to her: Dont cry. Otherwise the villagers may suspect something. He was a good man, even though he was a shapeshifter. But you can cry at home. And another thing, when you give birth, make sure there is someone at your side whos reliable even if theyre not experienced. Someone who knows what form the child will take. And teach him to hide himself when hes young. Dont let him transform himself in front of people. Do you need any money? No. Go away! Murderer! I offered to end it peacefully. But I know you cant understand that now. Dont worry. Ill go. But youd do better not to stay here, either. And dont go up to the body. Theyre watching us and they might suspect you. Go away! Oleg watched the girl, stumbling and hiding her face as she moved towards the gates of the square. And then he went over to the village chief hanging on the fence. Hearing steps behind him, he twitched desperately. A crack rang out and, leaving a considerable scrap of his trousers on the fence, and Nezhdan tumbled down. Without wasting time to see what was approaching him, he scrambled swiftly up a tall apple tree growing in the garden. Oleg couldnt help but laugh. Where are you going, venerable chief? he called. Nezhdan jerked frantically, almost breaking the branch he was sitting on, and finally turned around. On seeing Oleg, he gave a

huge sigh of relief. Ah, its you, Hunter! And where is it? He pulled a ghastly face which evidently was meant to indicate the shapeshifter. In the square. Have you killed it? The village chief began to calm down, but didnt let go of the trunk of his apple tree. Yes, yes, I killed it, Oleg reassured him, and called out loudly: Hey, you can come out now. Your shapeshifters dead! The people looked cautiously out from behind the doors and seeing Oleg standing there calmly, they came out onto the square. Some of them were already looking at the body of the shapeshifter, cautiously poking it with their feet. Why, its Vadek, one of them recognized the dead man. A hired man from outside the village. Frol hired him last year. He was a quiet, peaceful chap. No-one would have thought it! Oleg walked away from the fence. Burn the body, he ordered. Oh, and someone help our venerable Nezhdan, he added glancing at the creaking apple tree. All eyes turned on the village chief. Under the gaze of his fellow villagers he wriggled vigorously on his branch, trying to hide the tear in his trousers. The first laugh rang out. The chief jerked, trying to get down. The branch couldnt withstand his efforts and broke with a great swish. The laughter turned to guffaws. With a loud and very unprintable noise the chief landed in a patch of nettles which was growing under the apple tree. Some of the villagers, unable to stand up for laughing, collapsed right onto the cobbles. The chiefs flow of unprintable words turned into a long and extremely heated speech in which particular attention was paid to the fragile tree with brittle branches, the cursed shapeshifter and the nettles, as well as to the idiotic villagers and their extremely perverted sexual relations with one another and with him, the venerable village chief Nezhdan The latter had a clear hint at homosexuality and the chief was always in the active position. By the end of his speech more than half the villagers were rolling around in fits of laughter. Oleg decided to raise the temperature a little more and uttered with an imperturbable expression on his face: Venerable Nezhdan has already made his own way down, with a little help from the law of gravity, and as such the former order is annulled. Now, would someone help him crawl out of the nettles. At that the laughter infected even the most stoical. In the afternoon Oleg set off along the main road once again. His newly-earned three hundred gold pieces jingled in his purse and a record that he had killed a shapeshifter had appeared in his Hunters Certificate, so he was one step further to achieving one of his goals

imperial nobility. If he obtained that, it might considerably ease his time at the Academy of magicians, since the majority of magicians were from the gentry and Oleg suspected that relations between students without a good family line and their more aristocratic fellow-students and maybe even the teachers, too might be less than the best. He certainly didnt want to turn the whole five-year course into one long uninterrupted battle with everyone, so for that he had to collect enough dead Unclean over the next month to hand in an application to the relevant imperial office. There was virtually no bureaucracy in the Empire, so such matters, which were under the direct patronage of the Emperor himself, should not take long at all. The main thing was to collect enough monsters. Despite all this reasoning, Oleg was not too happy about the second record in his Certificate. If anything, quite the opposite. Although it was a very weighty record shapeshifters were considered dangerous opponents it was the first time Oleg had killed an intelligent being, not to save his own life or that of his friends, but simply for money. And whats more, right in front of the woman the shapeshifter was defending. Olegs conscience suddenly woke up and tried to interrogate him. He had already prepared himself for a long moral lecture when suddenly the resilient scales of a demon rose up to meet Consciences sharp claws. He attacked by himself! I gave him the chance to leave in peace! But Conscience didnt give in. It made another attempt to penetrate his shield. He attacked because he was defending his beloved. With your careless words you could have given their secret away and then they would have killed her! What else could he have done? You killed him, and then afterwards you offered money to the woman carrying his child. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. And a reply came to Olegs mind; a complete and all-embracing answer. It was a reply that would explain not only his action but also the fact that, although he was admittedly feeling a certain amount of discomfort, he was nevertheless not torturing himself too much over it I am a demon! I defended my life! And if some shapeshifter tries to attack me again, I will kill it again, even if a whole harem of pregnant females is waiting for it! And now, shut up! Im hungry! Oleg was really starving. Tucking in heartily to the cheese and sausage sandwiches hed bought in the village and washing them down with some light local wine from his flask he continued pondering whether there was much of a human left in him. He came to the conclusion that, after he had lost the ability to feel pangs of conscience, there was really very little. But oddly enough, he didnt experience any particular disappointment. Was it the imperceptible and gradual transformation of ethical norms, or the fact that, had he remained a human sticking strictly to the commandment thou shalt not kill, he would have been dead many times over? It didnt matter. The main thing was that, thinking over Helionas warning about the pos-

sibility of becoming a demon, Oleg no longer felt his former fear and repulsion. Whats more, such thoughts didnt in any way diminish his resolve to enter the Academy and to finally become a magician. The Road to Magic

Chapter Ten
Imperial Prince Oleg had been riding through the Trir Empire for three weeks. In that short time hed managed to complete over twenty commissions, more than the required number of killed Unclean. Now the magically made copy of his Certificate filled with entries of the monsters hed killed was making its arduous journey in the innards of the Imperial Office while Oleg himself set off with hurried steps towards Volgrad, the Imperial town closest to Valensia. That was where the session of the committee for conferring titles was to be held. The sun had already passed its zenith and was relentlessly dipping toward sunset when Oleg rode up to the next fork in the imperial high road. A small settlement could be seen not far off and Oleg fell to thinking. He would be able to ride another ten miles before sundown but in that case he would most likely have to spend the night in the open. On the other hand, stopping at this little village would mean that his journey would be over for the day. He didnt just want to waste time idly. There were only three weeks left until the start of the Academys entrance exams and his personal account of slain unclean was almost complete well, he could add two or three werewolves to round things off - and that is why a delay on the road to Volgrad was undesirable. Finally, his mind made up, he spurred his stallion on. What the heck, he still had some money. And the chance to sit in a cosy inn with a mug of beer and food cooked over an open fire was too good to pass up. Whats more, his ribs were constantly griping that despite all its faults, a soft mattress on a bed in an inn was way better than bare, hard earth. Fortunately, his demonic scales were impervious not only to those unclean creatures who inhabited various gullies and impasses but also to those more earthly six-legged ones who multiplied in the local bedcovers and went by the name of bed bugs. I wonder, do they have good beer in the local inn? Oleg mused as he bobbed up and down regularly on the back of his four-hoofed, one horse powered land rover, contentedly watching the tilled fields floating by on either side of the road. I hope so... If push comes to shove, and the inn keeper tries to pushes some crap under my nose, Ill smash his face in. As God is holy, Ill beat the hell out of him! At this point he interrupted his high-brow musings and took a good look at a woman who was coming towards him. She was not very tall - Oleg reckoned she wouldnt even come up to his chest rather pale, with an unremarkable face, but she was so wonderfully formed that just one look at her was enough to make Oleg remember with great regret that it was a long, long time since he had left Maidell since he had had the chance of close contact with the

fairer sex. Alas. Travelling through Trir, not halting anywhere for long, he had not had time for any even slightly prolonged courtship and as for availing himself of the services of the bar maids, well, simple, basic squeamishness kept him in check. Looking at the proudly held, elegant head, the crowning mane of long, fair hair freely flowing considerably lower than the slim waist emphasized by a graceful pinafore dress, he bitterly regretted not being able to stay in this village for more than twenty-four hours. Once hed ridden up to the girl he decided to call out to her seeing as she didnt seem at all shy of strangers. To all appearances, the local baron rigorously fulfilled his aristocratic duty to protect his peasants. Greetings, O beautiful stranger, he began, using deliberately refined language, well aware that this formula coupled with his appearance as an Imperial Hunter - in other words, a nobleman - would have the best possible effect on a village beauty. Pray tell a lost traveller, what is this village I see before me? With the highest assent of the universe, the said settlement was so built that it bears a sad name, for Tearful is it called. Oleg froze, dumbstruck such an answer was in the best traditions of refined language of a distinguished lady in the highest circles of the Trir Empire, and certainly not from those of some simple peasant girl! Might it please you to know anything else, Lir Knight? I would gladly help a nobleman, though hurry I must, for tis my wish to be home by sundown. No, I thank you, Lady, Oleg replied, automatically switching into an equally refined register. There is but one matter irking my soul it would please me to know the name of the splendid lady whom I met on my way to the Abode of Tears. Might it be you have, perchance, strayed from your path? Might you require, perchance, some assistance to reach your dwelling? On taking a closer look Oleg realised that the lady approaching him was no peasant. The bare feet of the lone beauty coming towards him had fooled him. What peasant wench could afford to wear a pinafore dress of real spiders silk, worth two or three whole hamlets like the one in front of him? And those elegant hands which had obviously never held anything heavier than an embroidery needle could in no way belong to a lady of lowly birth. Looks as though Ive somehow run into a mournful lady from the highest echelons of the aristocracy, Oleg thought. Pity... Such a beauty and completely crazy... what normal girl would start addressing the first hunter she met in high language? I hope her retinue, or whoever is meant to be keeping an eye out for her, is not far away. My name is... but is it really important? Though you may call me Korrie.

And she suddenly broke off her speech and finished very simply: And theres no need to take me anywhere. I live close by. She waved her hand in the direction of a small river flowing nearby actually it was more like a creek, its bank thickly overgrown with rushes. Hesitating slightly, the girl raised her eyes and Oleg barely holding back a gasp of wonder literally drowned in her bottomless, unbelievably, impossibly blue eyes, just like the surface of the sea, still and glassy as a mirror. Come by this evening, she said, averting her gaze, and suddenly stepped abruptly to one side, almost instantly hiding herself in the high wheat. Hey, but where? Oleg called after her but there was no reply. The wind gently ruffled the wheat and if Oleg had not just seen with his own eyes how the girl had walked into it, he could have sworn that there was nothing larger than a cat or a mouse in that field. Is she crawling off on all fours or what? he wondered as he rode up to the edge of the village. Ah to hell with it! Oleg dropped the puzzle of this enigmatic, crazy girl as he rode up to the edge of the hamlet. No matter how lovely her external appearance was, no matter how intense and alluring the look in her mysterious eyes, a cold beer and a warm bed were much more appealing to the weary traveller. Is there at least one decent inn in this stone age camp? Oleg asked a dirty-faced little lad as he ran by. That there is! he called out cheerily. You need to go to Uncle Grivs. Thats his place, there, and he pointed with a wave of his hand. Are you sure its decent? Surely, surely, confirmed the lad cheerily. Its the most decent, and the most indecent, for there is no other! Tis the only one we have. Smiling at this reasoning, Oleg tossed the home-spun philosopher a copper and turned his horse towards Uncle Grivs inn. To his surprise, the inn was indeed not bad. At least, judging from the careful way he handled the fighting stallion, the stable boy who took Thunder was experienced enough and the four copper coins he asked for oats for the horse was a perfectly normal and acceptable price. Whats more, as became apparent a little later, the inn keepers beer was not bad at all, and the pork stew was hot simply fantastic! Relaxed, Oleg unhurriedly sipped another mug of beer, savouring it as he thought over a most difficult dilemma: should he go up to his room straight away once this blessed liquid finished, or let another one or two mugs in? On the one hand, the beer was good and a chance like this - the chance for a hunter to really relax was a rare commodity in his nomadic life. Oleg knew himself pretty well and

could suppose with some certainty that if he said: just one more now then the matter would most certainly not end with just one and that meant getting up tomorrow would be delayed and difficult. Which, taking into account his all too meager funds, would be most a most sorry occurrence. And anyway, a hangover is not a pleasant thing at all. It was at that very moment that a delicate little cough resounded near his table. Looking up Oleg saw a stumpy little man who was clearly beyond middle age, shuffling from one foot to the other and screwing a simple hat in his hands. You, er, your honour, wouldnt happen to be a hunter, would you? he asked once he was sure he had Olegs attention. The very same, Oleg nodded, putting down his unfinished beer mug with a heavy sigh and silently rejoicing that he hadnt managed to get himself seriously drunk already. It looked as though there might be work for him in this village and engaging in hunting monsters in a drunken state well, that was by far not the best form of suicide. Well, have a seat, honourable... he paused. Terpin. The village chief I am, the man replied promptly. I have business for you, honourable hunter... Sad business... My name is Arioch, Oleg introduced himself with a slight nod of the head. How can I help you? Theres a korrigan among us, the chief hung his head sadly. There you are. Five hundred gold pieces. Its all Ive managed to collect. Alas, our village is not a wealthy one. A korrigan? said Oleg, amazed, throwing himself back in his chair. But they were all exterminated long ago! And indeed, those river maidens or spidery widows as the local peasants called them, a type of unclean living in the creeks of Trir and making men fall in love with them with usually fatal consequences had been considered destroyed more than a decade ago. Exterminated, aye, exterminated they may be, but theres one resides here... May Hel take her! the chief cursed. Well, will you take it? and he pushed the purse over to Oleg who was thinking it over seriously. On the one hand, his hunters account was almost full and there was no need at all to risk taking on such a dangerous opponent as a korrigan. The couple of fog beings he had destroyed last week were quite enough to arouse the Committee for Nobilitys respect, so he could easily manage without taking any risks. He only needed to destroy two or three lower vampires or werewolves on the way to Volgrad. On the other hand, the sum the village chief was offering was very tempting and besides, one of the last if not THE last korrigan would look very good on his resume. Admittedly, there was another sticking point here. Korrigans belonged to the so-called intelligent unclean and Oleg had had no desire to hunt them down.

Weighing all these arguments, Oleg happened to glance into Terpins eyes and was struck by the anguish they held. Were there many victims? he asked rather unexpectedly. I buried my son last week, Terpin answered hoarsely, turning his eyes away. The korrigan? The very same...! She was his bride. We were planning the wedding but he went out of the yard one evening, thought the cow was mooing kind of funny, and he only came back the next morning... fell under the Song, he did.... his eyes were crazed, he obviously werent himself... he was consumed in three days... So will you take this job? the chief asked persistently, looking at Oleg searchingly. Ill take it! Oleg said decisively, taking the purse. Hey, inn keeper! A ginger beer! Ill go this evening, he said in reply to the chiefs silent question, sipping the refreshing drink from his mug and straining to remember everything he knew about korrigans. And indeed, not that much was known about them at all. Korrigans - splendid maidens of the creeks - had lived in Trir since ancient times. They appeared as incredibly beautiful and attractive women, especially at night. They had been considered one of the best matches for the highest nobility and not a few offspring of well-known families had spent their nights by creeks where a korrigan had been noticed in the hopes that the beautiful stream maiden might turn her attention on them. But alas, the curse sent on Trir had hit them, too. The korrigan turned from splendid, loving maidens and wives into devilish darkness. Since then, the Song of Love which the stream maidens sang had become the Song of Death, bewitching men and luring them into the singers dwelling. The night which had formerly been the harbinger of a joyous wedding turned into the night of death. Once youd known the caress of a korrigan it was impossible to survive. And the bones of the hapless husbands were fashioned into wonderful arbours on the river banks into which, on moonlit nights, the korrigan would sit and entice new victims. And there was more. If, either from fright or from love of their own girl or bride, anyone summoned up the strength to refuse the love of the she-spiders that is what the country folk called the transformed korrigan then not three days would pass before that man died as though consumed by an invisible fire. As luck would have it, the korrigan themselves were rather vulnerable. You could kill them with ordinary steel, let alone with silvered weapons. Or enchanted ones. However, victory over a korrigan in close combat was far from easy and many bones which had formerly belonged to Hunters of the Unclean now served as building materials for the graceful arbours on the river banks.

*** Twilight fell unnoticed. With a sigh, Oleg looked his sword over for the last time, ran his fingers over the blade, tested the point, yelped, licked the scratch and thrust his trusty blade into the scabbard. It was time to begin the hunt. Going beyond the village fence he made his way down to the creek and slowly strolled by the flowing water. He didnt have to wait long. It was as though the mysterious twinklings of moonlight suddenly blinked, transforming into previously unnoticed shades, as though the rushes rustled with a slightly different sound, the murmuring of the brook suddenly mingled with a most intricate and tender melody, and Oleg heard the wordless and compelling song of the korrigan. The korrigans arbour appeared unexpectedly. One minute, nothing, the next, there it was: a lowish, graceful construction on the bank of the stream could be seen in the moonlight. The high arrows of the rushes cast shadows of the slightly yellowed bones and, through the mesmerizing motifs of the music, Oleg understood that they were the bones of those who had come before him. But that was not important. Not at all important, for coming towards him was the most ravishing woman he had ever seen. Like a fiery arrow the image of Heliona flashed in his mind and the bewitching charms chaining him loosened their grip slightly; he recognized the girl he had met on the way to the village. Except that now in the moons light, no-one would dare call her face unremarkable. You came to me, knight, she whispered, holding her hand out to him and new strength flowed into her song. I came, said Oleg submissively, unable to tear himself away from her bewitching gaze. The burgeoning idea to draw his sword melted under the influence of the song and the music. Here, this night, under this moonlight, the very idea of baring his coarse blade of cold iron seemed sacrilege. Lets go, Korrie took him by his powerless, lowered hand which could not even brush the swords hilt and led him into the arbour... Come with me, this night we shall dance together! The dance was wonderful. But...something was not right. That song, it was somehow not real and the love and the passion which Oleg felt in every movement his partner made in that fairytale dance seemed ever more strange to him, a clumsy fake, a crude bait for naive simpletons. Anger burned in his soul ever more strongly, the black fire of protest demons cannot be puppets! That is how his sensations might have been put into words had he got around to expressing himself. Nevertheless, it was too early to interrupt that song just yet....Still too early...And his sword continued to rest peacefully in its sheath. The kiss was sweet. Then tender lips slipped lower, a light, anything but strong pain pricked his neck and suddenly there was a wild cry. Starting away from him the girl rubbed

her face desperately as though trying to wipe off a burning acid. Except that there was no acid, only the thick, black, blood of a demon bubbling on whitened lips. Lips? Really? The delicate skin was changing. What had looked like a wonderful maiden only seconds earlier was transforming into something incomprehensible, and in no way attractive. Sharp pincers stuck out of the mouth which was now opening wide in a distinctly inhuman way, becoming an incredibly wide gash. Terribly long, hairy spiders legs lifted up the body which had still not completely lost its human contours and a cold glint gleamed in the multifaceted eyes. But the music could still be heard, only now Oleg mentally intercepted the melody, taking control of it. And evidently there was power in that song, in that magic, as the black blood glistening on the pincers ignited with a bright fire, and with a faint little cry not at all befitting a monster, the spider recoiled. Recoiled and with an unexpected leap, suddenly threw herself at Oleg. Dodging easily, Oleg completed an instantaneous transformation and the long claws of a demon slashed the soft belly, and the venomous pincers of his opponent merely brushed powerlessly against resilient demon scales. But the korrigan had no intention of giving up. One low whistle a summons and the rustle of hordes of little feet forced Oleg to be cautious. Spiders came crawling out from everywhere. From the eye sockets of the old, bleached skulls decorating the arbour, from the thick rushes, from the cracks between the bones... Well, the evenings full of languor no longer! the demon smirked, and baring his sharp fangs, he shook his head. Thin snakes, formerly his hair, fell to the ground and slithered purposefully towards the massing insects, hissing evilly and swivelling their cold eyes. Snakes against spiders. Dont you find it symbolic, my dear? I wonder who will win? Ill bet on my snakes! Oleg announced to his opponent with evil glee, drawing his sword and keeping a cautious watch on the spiders every move as she retreated. So, time for the second round? And with a brief flap of his wings he attacked, dissolving in a whirlwind of blows. Eh, people, people, announced Oleg thirty seconds later examining his sword, having leapt to one side to get his breath back. Why do you forge such flimsy weapons? he sighed sadly. The robust shell which covered all the upper part of the spiders body was more than a match for the sharpness of his sword and now the once fearsome weapon could at best serve as a cudgel. What are you doing, you bitch? Having given the korrigan a reproachful look, Oleg tossed the weapon which had failed him down the bank and ducked abruptly, avoiding the sticky threads which had been spun out in his direction. Can you even imagine how much the sharpener will overcharge me for getting such a ruined blade back into shape? A short wave

of his activated darkh and his opponent was left without half her left foot-finger. Judging from the furious hiss which rang out, the aforementioned loss was most grievous for the korrigan. Well, whats to be done? Oleg queried in a deliberately melancholy tone, tossing the magic dagger bathed in dark fire from hand to hand and carefully following the spiders every move as she pulled back once more. There, there, dont get huffy now, my dear. Cest la vie. A sharp movement of his left hand and the creature, mesmerized by the constantly gleaming dagger, was unable to turn aside from a smallish but extremely hot fireball which burnt a hole of considerable dimensions in the shell on her chest. A sharp pain in his left leg suddenly reminded Oleg that he had more than one opponent. A huge spider the size of a soup bowl had latched onto his left leg a little higher than his Achilles tendon and inserted its pincers between the scales protecting his skin. The demons claw terminated the life of that spider swiftly, but the korrigan noticed his distraction and made the very most of the chance given her. No, she did not attack Oleg. Evidently she had soberly weighed up the balance of power: she fled. Eight legs flashed, merging in movement and a gigantic living torpedo hurtled to the exit, covering Oleg in a wave of musky scent and mercilessly trampling her own servants, desperately battling with the demonic little snakes. Hey, where are you off to? was all Oleg managed to say, watching as a yellowish slime oozed out from the four deep wounds his claws had left in her belly. He spread out his broad wings and threw himself into the chase. In general spiders run fast, and when they are afraid of something they can even run very fast. However, even the swiftest overland race cannot compare to the speed of even a relatively slow flight. And Oleg was flying anything but slowly. Whats more, making the most of his elevated position he was actively hurling tiny fireballs at the fleeing korrigan, literally showering the poor spider with fire. Oleg, on high, could calmly finish off his opponent without any danger of receiving reciprocal blows himself. Victory was in his grasp. However, it only seemed like that. The korrigan, now convinced that there was no chance of outrunning Oleg in the open, decided upon a counter attack. A long, whitish thread hit the demon in his chest and stuck there. Before Oleg could wipe it off with his dagger, a strong tug literally jerked him back to earth. No sooner had he straightened up than the spiders long leg straightened out and struck him in the stomach. The long talon at the end of the spiders paw couldnt penetrate his protective scales, but nevertheless the force of the blow was such that Oleg rolled in somersaults on the grass, crumpling his half-spread wings.

Without hesitating for a second the korrigan attacked again. The venomous pincers opened wide, the multifaceted eyes gleamed grandly gleamed and dulled. The long blade of the activated darkh, blazing with darkness, penetrated the head-heart of the gigantic insect, wounding her fatally. Picking himself up with a sigh, Oleg shook his wings, checking whether they were fit for duty, after which he turned his gaze on his dying enemy. The form of the gigantic spider paled and melted away and under his very gaze, dimly at first, but then ever more clearly, the contours of a beautiful young girl with a horrendous wound in her chest began to emerge. The blackened, burnt off lips moved with great effort and a quiet whisper reached Oleg: It was a good dance, demon... What a pity that we were dancing against one another and not together... Perchance, if it had not been for our curse, ours might have been a different fate. She fell silent. The magical spells laid on the dagger at its creation were doing their job but the mighty body of the unclean was fighting even now. She was still breathing. How did your song end? Oleg asked unexpectedly, surprising even himself. Oh, that means you did fall under its spell after all. Well then, listen! And try to understand. I really did love... I understand, Oleg answered gravely. Loved. And killed. A spider. Yes... Korrie tried to smile but quickly aborted the attempt. It hurts. A solemn smile flickered over the burnt off lips of the dying korrigan and the next instant the blade of the magical dagger gleamed in the moonlight, ending her suffering. Mmm... So ends the fairytale, Oleg murmured softly, taking on his human form again and looking around for the sword he had tossed away at the beginning of the battle. Picking it up, he sighed once more and slowly set off in the direction of the village. His bruised stomach was hurting badly, his neck was aching where hed first been bitten, the leg the small spider had bitten was aching badly and had swollen up, and Oleg was glad that the venom had a much weaker effect on demons than on humans. Moreover, he was nagged by the thought of what the korrigan must have been before the curse falling on Trir had warped them. How beautiful and clever must they have been if even traces of this were still noticeable after their transformation into evil unclean? Oleg walked into the inn dragging his feet, throwing a tired: Your jobs been done to the village chief anxiously awaiting his return. With heavy, slightly limping steps, he went up to his room. Time was getting tight. The exams were due to start in ten days and Oleg urged his horse on. Although the entrance exams to check the candidates capacities should last around fifteen days, Oleg wanted to be there at the beginning just in case.

He had completed his task; soon he should receive the nobility he desired. His personal account commanded respect. It was mainly made up of zombies, werewolves and minor vampires, although there were also kikimora (a class of female Unclean), a couple of fogbeasts and, of course, the Korrigan. He had earned over two thousand imperial gold coins killing monsters, and if he watched his purse that should be ample for his first year of study. But now time was short and so he had turned down very profitable offers on several occasions. However, after his meeting with the Korrigan, Oleg accepted a job hunting a werewolf. Used to easy victory, he underestimated his opponent and the werewolf got his jaws on his left arm. Oleg managed to strike it with his sword and kill it but the scales on his arms were much thinner than on the rest of his body and could not offer him complete protection. The monsters jaws had broken his arm, and the scales stabbed by its fangs left deep wounds. Fortunately this took place not far from a town where there was a magician-healer, and Oleg had enough money to make use of his help. Admittedly, after thoroughly cleaning his wounds and applying a magical bandage, the magician quizzed him for a long time about the chainmail able to withstand the bite of a werewolf, for that is how Oleg had described the somewhat unorthodox nature of his wound. Thus apart from lack of time, Oleg had another very good reason to avoid meeting the Undead. The magical splint fixed his arm pretty well, enabling him to use it almost as a healthy one, but it was extremely painful. And if in battle his opponent managed to land a blow on his damaged arm No, it was better to avoid battles for now. And anyhow, he didnt have much time It was with precisely these thoughts that Oleg, having stopped for the night at a village bar, noticed a sign: Hunter urgently required. Preferably with magical talents. Object: an unclassified Undead. Salary for removing it: very high. Apply at the Bel Castle. For further information, enquire at the inn-keeper. With a snort, Oleg turned away from the wall and enquired of the inn-keeper: A mug of your best beer and something to eat. Do you have a room? Yes, my lord, The inn-keeper quickly eyed up Olegs garments, sword and the fat purse on his belt and decided to suck up to a wealthy client. Ill send the maid. Shell tidy upstairs. Todays menu is roast ram ribs, a hot roast, pork chops, pea soup or cabbage ragu. Give me the chops. A double portion. Im starving. Im on my way. And the inn-keeper did indeed scurry off at top speed. Soon Olegs meal was on the table. Once hed had a bite, Oleg noticed that the inn-keeper was not serving his other guests - of which by the way, there were none too many but was still standing by his table.

What do you want? Oleg asked rather rudely. His arm was hurting again, the chops were slightly overdone and his mood, which had dropped to ground level, quickly picked up a spade and began to dig itself deeper. Oleg had no desire whatsoever to hear the local gossip. The inn-keeper, however, in contrast to his custom, was in no hurry to move from his position and enquired politely, if rather insistently: Was your interest aroused by the advertisement? Would you like me to send someone to the castle to inform them of your arrival? Oleg shook his head. No. I wont be doing any hunting here. Pray why not? The Duchess is offering a tidy sum. How much? Curiosity had always been one of Olegs weak points. Two and a half thousand gold pieces. Oleg whistled in amazement, interested despite himself. Greed and caution were locked in a deadly battle in his soul. And who do I have to bump off for such a sum? The Lord of Darkness? A risen necromancer? A bony dragon? Whats hiding behind such a general phrase as unclassified Undead? That, my lord, you had better ask at the castle. Although, according to the rumours, its a vampire. And seeing the bewilderment on Olegs face (vampires were included in the Classification and although battles with them were dangerous, they were not menacing enough to offer two and a half thousand gold pieces), he added. A Supreme Vampire. That explained everything. Supreme Vampires, unlike ordinary vampires, were immune to the suns rays. While silver weapons were able to cause them painful wounds, they were on the whole not fatal as they were for other Undead, including normal vampires. They required only a short nap at sunrise and at sunset, which made sticking an aspen stake into them much more difficult. Whats more, they were able to take on the form of fog and put themselves into their own portraits or precious stones for a short time. They could, of course, do the same things which normal vampires could do like: influence the consciousness of people and some animals; fly; transform into a rat, wolf, cat or bat; possess great speed and strength. All but immune to physical actions, Supremes were dangerous opponents even for a magician. Engaging with one in battle was one of the various forms of suicide available to a Hunter. In fact it was for this reason that they were not included in the Classification of the Unclean. To be more precise, they had been included, but in the section For Magicians Only. For all other readers there was a short description of their combat techniques, distinguishing features and some useful advice. The main piece of advice was a note written in bold: Under no circumstances whatsoever except in cases of absolute dire need is it recommended to engage these creatures in battle.

Even though he remembered this, Oleg still thought over the possibility of capturing it. He didnt consider himself an ordinary Hunter and he wanted to try out his powers in a serious and dangerous matter. However, his arm was still hurting, and caution got the upper hand. And so, my lord? Will you come to the castle? I dont have anything else to do, Oleg muttered, trying with all his might to overcome the howls of his own greed. Is the room ready? Im leaving tomorrow. I need to get some rest, so please let me sleep late. Its ready, my lord. The inn-keeper was a poor actor; he was clearly disappointed. Strange, Oleg thought as he went out. Why is he so insistent? Its highly unlikely he knows anything about my capacities, and for an ordinary hunter a contest with a Supreme Vampire is certain death. The journey had worn him out, and a full stomach and beer were not conducive to prolonged reasoning, so Oleg went upstairs to his room. Once there he locked the door and transformed himself, as usual. For some time Oleg had gotten into the habit of partly or fully transforming into his demon form. When he went to bed, he tried to transform completely, if it was possible. What was the reason? Recently his human body seemed weak to him, ungainly and vulnerable. He was fully aware of the dangers of such thoughts and sometimes deliberately maintained a fully human image for a long time, but the next werewolf appeared, with whom it was too dangerous to fight if he remained human; or if he fell asleep in an inn as a human, he would wake up from bed bug bites; or if at night he couldnt see the road very well What could be more tempting than an easy solution to practically any problem? Whatever it was, once hed taken a look at the bed made up for him by the inn-keeper, Oleg demonized himself, preferring the risk of an unalterable transformation to the danger of being drunk dry by the army of bed bugs in the ancient mattress. In the morning Oleg was woken up by a resolute knock at the door. It was already quite late, the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing. Whos there? he growled. I told you not to wake me! Please forgive me, my lord, the inn keepers voice was trembling. There is a messenger here for you from Duchess Bel. Oleg cursed mentally. The trembling in the inn-keepers voice, a big chap who had given the impression of being anything but a coward, could only mean one thing. Without noticing it, he had mixed a solid dose of infrasound into his voice. It wasnt the first time it had happened, and Oleg really didnt like it. He preferred to give people a fright only when he needed to and not just when he was in a bad mood. Anyway, whats done is done.

Im coming, Oleg called, changing his image to human. He washed and dressed quickly, then went downstairs. A young man who looked about eighteen was waiting for him. He was wearing an extremely lavish pages uniform. As soon as he noticed Oleg, he quickly rushed over and gave a humble bow. Good morning, lir. Allow me to introduce myself. Im Andjei Dazhan, personal page to her Grace the Duchess Katina Bel. I am here on her behalf. Her Grace has invited you for breakfast. Oleg smiled. He had slept well, his arm hurt much less, and his mood picked up. I thank you for such a kind invitation. I would be glad to pay my respects to her Grace. However, allow me to inquire, is there not perchance some mistake? I do not have the honour of being acquainted with the Duchess. Perhaps you are confusing me with someone else? You are lir Arioch, who came to the Empire from the Free Baronies one month ago and who registered your Hunters certificate in Witches Span? Yes, I am. Then, in that case, there is no mistake. Nonetheless, I still am not quite clear as to what I have done to earn such an invitation. And how could her Grace know that I was staying here? At this question the inn-keeper bustled into the kitchen. Unfortunately, her Grace is not in the habit of sharing her plans with me. Perhaps, it would be better for you to ask her about this in person? Good idea. Oleg smiled broadly. After you. A lavish carriage stood by the door of the inn. It seemed as though the Duchess was very rich and took care to show it. Luxury reigned inside the carriage, too. Throwing himself into the soft, velvet-clad seat, Oleg relaxed. The rhythmic rocking induced sleepiness, and he was just about to doze off when the carriage stopped. We have arrived. Please, lir. And the page flung open the door. Duchess Bel turned out to be a lady of fifty whose face and figure had retained traces of her former beauty; she looked young for her years. I welcome you to my castle, lir. And I am glad to be in the presence of your gracious Duchess. Forgive me, however, for I am somewhat perplexed. To what do I owe your invitation? The Duchess looked at him attentively. To one most unfortunate circumstance. I desperately need your help. However, as I see it, there is no point in holding an important conversation on an empty stomach. Please come in and sit down.

She did not have to ask Oleg a second time; all the more so since the smell coming from the dining room was so appetizing that there was no chance whatsoever of resistance. Breakfast passed in silence. After forty minutes Oleg turned away from yet another course. The meal would have amply satisfied even the most exacting gourmet. Leaning back in his chair he fixed the Duchess with an attentive gaze indicating that he had eaten his fill and ready for an important conversation. The woman, who had not eaten a crumb the whole time, gave a heavy sigh. Im all ears, Oleg prompted her gently. I dont even know where to begin. Did you see my notice, down there in the inn? Yes, Oleg said, tensing up. And what do you think of it? The sum you are offering is very attractive. However, I was told that by unclassified Undead you mean a Supreme Vampire. Is that right? Yes. In that case, you could offer ten thousand. But the dead have no need of money. Tell me something, do you have a grudge against all Hunters, or is it only me who has gained your enmity? Why do you think that I harbour enmity towards Hunters in general or towards you in particular? As I see it, your offer of killing a Supreme Vampire fully confirms my supposition. After all, that is a job for a warrior magician, not at all for a simple Hunter. You are almost correct. You are unaware of one very important circumstance. I offered two and a half thousand because that is precisely the sum I can raise now without serious damage to my affairs. And as for Hunters, well, in general, I am perfectly indifferent to your fate. I need to save my son! The only way to save a chosen is to free him from the Vampire which chose him before the next full moon! And the only method I know of for freeing someone from those beasts is to destroy them! She almost screeched those last words right into Olegs face. And hence I need a Hunter, the Duchess, suddenly calm again, continued in a completely dignified voice. Mm. Well, your Grace, I can, of course, sympathize with your feelings, but perhaps you would be so kind as to explain things with a few more details and a little less expressiveness? Certainly. Not far from this village there is an outpost of the Dark Empire. In the past, the armies of the Union of Light Forces didnt bother to destroy it--it would have cost them a lot of time and energy--and they contented themselves with chasing the enemy out. Soon after the army withdrew, an Unclean built its lair there. Not all that long ago, new inhabitants settled

there. The Black Tower became the residence of vampires. I, of course, at once hired a band of experienced Hunters. For some time they fought the creatures in the village, and then made up their minds to stage a raid on the tower. Only two of them returned. They told us that they had managed to destroy the vampires, but that their sovereign was in fact a Supreme. When they confronted the beast, they realized they had nothing to combat it with, so they employed a battle manoeuvre named hasty retreat. Nevertheless, only three of them managed to leave the tower. Throwing themselves into the sunlight, they thought they were out of danger. This mistake cost them the life of one more of their band. Luckily, during the day and in the sunlight, a Supremes powers are severely limited, so the last two managed to escape. The next night the Supreme Vampire took revenge for her foster children. Both the hunters who had survived were found completely drained of blood in their beds, and the seal of a vampire was found on my son. Evidently the beast had decided to have a backup plan, turning him into its own image. I have called a warrior-magician, but he will not be here until next month at the earliest. And there is only one week left until the full moon! It is still possible to save my son, but we need to hurry! You said that you have your own magician? Why doesnt he deal with this? Yes, I have. Mead-Beard is a healer and an astrologer. He wanted to go himself, but a Supreme Vampire would take him in one bite. Whats more, in three days time the old man will turn three hundred and fifty, and he probably wont even be able to send a simple fireball. But, applying his astrological methods, he foretold the arrival of a Hunter in our village who would stand a chance of conquering the she-vampire and returning my son to me. Which, by the way, is very possible. Thank you for the delicious breakfast and interesting tale. It was very enthralling. I hope you soon find this hunter, and Oleg got up, preparing to take his leave. Sit down, the Duchess said, unruffled. You have repugnant manners. Where did you learn them? I think it is quite clear that my magician was referring to none other than yourself. When the inn-keeper informed me that a Hunter was staying with him and gave your name, I took it upon myself to check your duty record through my channels. I have some small skill in mindspeak, so I heard of your victories almost first-hand. And in particular, that you succeeded in eliminating two fog-beasts, and these beasts, as is well known, are completely invulnerable to ordinary weapons, which means that you possess magic. Consequently, if anyone stands a chance of winning a battle with the Vampire, it is you. What is more, you do not shrink from battles with even the most dangerous adversaries if good money is offered. What I am offering is, I believe, perfectly sufficient. The only thing left to ascertain is why you do not wish to help me. To which family do you belong? Is there perhaps some family hostility

between us? Oleg gave a burst of genuine laughter. Well, thats a good one! You do have a vivid imagination! No, there is no family hostility, and nor could there be. And there are several reasons for me turning down your offer. Firstly, Im in a hurry. Secondly, I have already earned enough money to carry out my plans, and I see no point in taking such a risk just for the sake of stuffing my purse even more. Thirdly, there is this matter - and he pointed to his left arm Which all but does away with any chance of victory for me in any combat with a more or less serious opponent. The Duchess looked crestfallen. Now it is my turn to repeat your request for explanations. While I can, in general, understand your first two reasons, the point of the third somehow escapes me. I believe you mentioned that you have certain magical talents. Take a look at my arm with true sight, or let your magician do it, and then explain the meaning of what he sees. I want you to be sure that at present even a feeble minor vampire would present a serious threat for me. In response to Olegs passionate speech, the Duchess silently jerked the bell cord and gave an order to the servant who came running. An ancient man with a long grey beard and white mantle soon entered the hall, the spitting image of good wizards in fairy tales. Good morning, my lady, he addressed the Duchess. You called for me? Yes, venerable Mead-Beard. Could you perhaps take a look at this young mans arm? It seems there is something wrong with it. Oleg greeted the magician and held out his arm. The old man examined it carefully for a few minutes. Then he turned to the Duchess. My Lady, as far as I can ascertain, this arm is perfectly fine. Katina Bels eyes blazed with a certain surprised triumph, but the magician continued: The magical splint is of very high quality, clearly the work of a graduate from one of our faculties. The bone is healing well, with virtually no complications, which is quite amazing in view of the fact that the break was a very complicated one. How long ago did you receive this injury? He turned unexpectedly to Oleg. Four days ago. A werewolf, damn him! Its a good thing that my chainmail held out. Impressive. You have remarkable regeneration. The bone has already begun to knit together. Are you bothered by nagging pains? Unfortunately, yes, sometimes, Oleg replied briefly and turned to the Duchess. So you understand now? No matter how much I might wish to help you, I would not stand a chance. One blow to my arm and I would faint from pain. And Vampires, especially Supreme ones, are particularly sensitive to such things. But you probably know that. So

Oleg didnt manage to finish. Are those your only objections? Yes. Fine. Then Ill answer them one by one. Firstly, you said you were in a hurry. Removing vampires doesnt take long. All the preliminary reconnaissance has already been done, I have a map of the locality and a plan of the Black Tower. You only need to go and destroy the fiend! Sounds simple if you put it like that, Oleg couldnt restrain himself. Dont interrupt. After that you will receive my best horses and, may I take the liberty of assuring you, Bel horses are praised far beyond the borders of the Empire. Furthermore, if you consider it necessary, you may inform me of your destination and I can organize relays. Secondly, you said you were not in need of money. But you are surely in need of something? And she gave Oleg a questioning look. Yes. I need a noble title. And fast, within the next ten days. In fact, that is one of the reasons why I need to hurry to Volgrad. The committee for conferring nobility in accordance with the Emperors edict On Hunters is to be held there. The Duchess bit her lip. And when is the session? In ten days time. Dont rush. Think about it: the committees session and the interrogation of witnesses will take at least one day. That is the best case scenario. Then the decision will be sent by messenger to the capital to be signed by the Emperor. The Emperor is unlikely to sign it at once that very rarely happens. Normally papers not requiring an urgent decision can lie around with his secretary for a very long time, so your promotion to a nobleman will occur only at the end of the month, at the absolute earliest. In other words, in twenty-three days time. And that is only if you agree to a titled gentry, a title not furnished with lands or an estate but only with a name. If you want to receive even a small estate then you will have to wait not less than a year. What are you suggesting? Im not sure. Ill have to think. How strict is your time limit of ten days? Very strict. If I dont manage it within ten days, then Ill have to give up the whole enterprise of nobility and go without it. I see. If we make an agreement, I will think about this. After all, I could talk to the Emperor directly. I dont think he would deny me a small request. And there are other possibilities, too And as for your arm Mead-Beard, can you carry out the great cure?

I think I still have enough left in me, the magician replied. Oleg shuddered slightly. The great cure was a spell at the limit of even the mightiest of healers capacity. The person receiving the benefit of this spell was instantly cured of all his wounds and diseases, spiritual, physical and magical--even old age was included in this all. Moreover, this spell was able to revive someone who had recently died, provided not more than five minutes had passed since the moment of death and the brain was unharmed. But the price exacted for such a spell was of course no less great; it not only drained virtually all the magicians strength, consuming a gigantic amount of energy, but also considerably aged whoever pronounced it, burning up a few years of his life in one blow. Overall, to heal a broken arm with the aid of the great cure was a terrible waste. Dont you have anything more .suitable? After all, Im not dying. I just need to fix my arm. Against his will, Oleg was drawn into the Duchesss thoughts. Yes of course I do. Its just that for some reason many dream of the great cure and nothing else. But if it is necessary to save Kolin, then why not pull out all the stops? the old man answered calmly. Kolin? Oleg glanced at the Duchess. Young Duke Kolin Bel, his hostess explained. My son and sole heir. Oleg fell to thinking. Having an influential Imperial family in his debt was very attractive. This would be a great help to his plans. And whats more, if he were completely healthy his chances of dealing with even a Supreme Vampire were not bad at all. And the salary offered by the Duchess would come in very handy. Having thought for a short while, he made up his mind. OK, its like this then. You mend my arm as fast and as well as possible. Independent of the outcome of the undertaking after all, I might lose the battle you will provide me with the full, high quality and swift healing of all the wounds I sustain as well as horse relays until I reach Volgrad, to make up for lost time. If I succeed, you will pay me one thousand gold pieces you can never have too much money and use all the means at your disposal to obtain nobility for me, even a titular one (I dont particularly need an estate) as quickly as possible, in not more than ten days. I am prepared to take this risk under such conditions. I accept. I give you my word on as the Duchess of Bel that I will meet all your conditions, the Duchess answered simply. You could have asked for more. After all, I offered two and a half thousand. You will need to organize my nobility. That will cost money, too. So I think that one thousand will be enough. As you say. And now it would be wise for you to go with venerable Mead-Beard so that he can take care of your arm.

The healing didnt take long and after only one hour Oleg gave a blissful sigh, limbering up his arm, now freed from the splint. Another hour and a half were spent gathering what he needed, so it was not until around midday that Oleg was able to set out for the she-vampires lair. He was accompanied by five horsemen to show him the road and assist in him any possible way, as the Duchess put it. In actual fact the Duchess, it seemed, was worried he might run off on the way. With these thoughts in mind, Oleg grinned. Surely Lady Bel could not be so irrational as to think that five of her blockheads would be able to stop a man supposedly capable of fighting a Supreme Vampire? Be that as it may, the Duchesss guards turned out to be quite pleasant and interesting companions. In two hours of fast riding the horses from the Bel stables were indeed above all praise Oleg managed to find out loads of local jokes and gossip and hear a few bits of light-hearted advice as to the best way to tackle a she-vampire mainly based on using a natural, exclusively male, weapon. However, the closer they got to the Black Tower, the quieter they became. A deathly silence reigned near the black building which stuck up from the fields like the shard of a rotten tooth. No birds sang, the chirruping of crickets was not to be heard. Oleg remembered the lively castle of the Undead, surrounded by its beautiful garden and full of mournful dignity. There was nothing like that here, nor anywhere in the vicinity. As they got closer to the stumpy building, which was badly ruined and not black but a disgusting darkbrown hue, even the lush meadow grass grew thin and dried. How on earth can the she-vampire and your young duke be here? This isnt a tower, its just a heap of stones. Oleg turned to his companions. It would be hard for even one person to hide here. How could a whole nest of vampires have fit in here? Underground, one of his companions answered briefly. Dark fortresses dont grow upwards, but down into the depths, another added. With your permission, well wait for you here, on the grass the head of the group turned to Oleg, ingratiatingly. Yes, Oleg said curtly. For some minutes now a strange warmth had been bothering him. It came from the darkh which Viss had given him. Oleg had always taken it with him when he went hunting, highly valuing its abilities in destroying various types of Undead. It was irreplaceable in battles with various zombies or minor vampires, and Oleg was hoping the dagger would prove no less effective against the Vampire. No sooner had Oleg entered the half-collapsed entrance, than the darkh blazed with a particularly strong heat. Oleg unsheathed the blade. Bright waves of light, a soft pastel colour, were rolling down the curved, flame-like blade.

Ah, the dagger and the tower were created by one and the same people, Oleg thought. Following intuition more than logical reasoning, he directed all his energy into the dagger, just as Leya had taught him. The next moment the blade of the darkh grew black, and a deep bass voice resounded in Olegs ears: I welcome you onto the territory of the Third Outpost, O Knight! Are you ready to take leadership of the outpost? I had given up hope that one of you would show up, Sovereign, he added in a less formal tone. Who are you? Oleg spun round, trying to locate the speaker and cautiously clasping his dagger. In the tight dimness of the corridors it was a better weapon by far than his long sword. Forgive me, Sovereign, the voice of the speaker shook for a second. Im the wardenspirit of the Third Outpost, the Black Tower. I took complete control of the building entrusted to me in accordance with the last order of the military commander of the Outpost, Tara DeathCaster. In accordance with her instructions, from the moment you confirm your rank, I will deliver my complete obedience to you. What is your order, Knight of Despair? For ease of communication, I would ask you to tell me your name. When you address me, you can use my functional name, Outpost, or you may invent any other which suits you. By this time Oleg had already worked out precisely who it was he was dealing with. It seemed that the Dark Magicians were masters of cybernetics or some magical equivalent of that science and had equipped their fortress with a certain variety of artificial intelligence which, to all appearances, was none other than Olegs new acquaintance. Whats more, this AI obviously counted Oleg as one of the commanders. It seemed, then, that the Dark Magicians darkh was not simply a weapon but also something like an identity card or, more likely, a definition of rank, seeing as Outpost hadnt called him Viss but had only used the necromancers title. You can call me Arioch. What is the state of the tower? Briefly! Briefly? The letter f And dont think that the word is fine. It looked as though this Outpost had a sense of humour. Admittedly, with a barrack-like twist. But on the other hand, what other kind of sense of humour could an army tower have? Oleg couldnt keep back his smile: And in more detail? In more detail? With pleasure: all the above-ground construction is eighty percent in ruins. Externally active spells: zero point zero zero. Internal traps deactivated due to insufficient energy resources. Repair work impossible due to insufficient energy resources. Structural integrity of the underground structure has been breached I dont have enough energy to power up the strengthening spells. I am only functioning at half capacity, on emergency reserves, and am not even able to kick out the impudent Undead that has built its lair on the second storey underground because of insufficient energy resources. It would be most desirable if I could be recharged, Sovereign.

The information about the Undead on the second floor was of great interest to Oleg. Do you mean that, if given energy, youd be able to get rid of the Undead? Yes, no problem. Internal magical booby-traps: seventy-three percent remaining. I had to switch them off. And it wouldnt take long to repair the other twenty-seven percent, either. If I had the strength, Id have dealt with them easily. That idea really appealed to Oleg. Well, how can I recharge you? Please come into the spell room, Outpost livened up remarkably. Where? Follow the ball of light, Sovereign, the warden-spirit said, getting his bearings at once. A smallish ball of flickering ghostly glow appeared in the air. The corridor slopped gently downwards and Oleg had to climb over stony rubble which had fallen from the ruined ceiling. He occasionally came across human bones, dumb witnesses to the grim battle which had been waged here in days gone by. Going down a long and rather wobbly staircase, Oleg came out into a small hall. The battle which had taken place here had been particularly frenzied. The stone walls bore many traces of lightning. In some places the stone had simply been melted, it seemed, by blows from fireballs. On the wall in one corner Oleg noticed a miraculously preserved, magnificent bas-relief depicting a furious warrior brandishing his sword. The sword, placed in the stone hands of the bas-relief moulded on the wall in some unfathomable way, glowed with a bright white light. Oleg went cautiously closer, wanting to take a better look at such an unusual piece of artwork. Well, whatever else you may say, you cant say these dark ones have no taste, Oleg thought to himself, examining the pedestal of the relief. You could send it off to the Hermitage Museum straight away! And then his glance fell on the hilt of the sword, and Oleg gasped. What he was looking at wasnt a bas-relief at all. Piercing the heavy confinement of the stone trap, the hilt of the glowing sword was firmly grasped by the bony fingers of a human skeleton. As though it had noticed Olegs curiosity, the sphere floated closer and the now familiar bass rang in his ears: The third line of the outposts defence passed this way. Just at the moment when the Light forces managed to break through, their strength had been sapped to such an extent that they didnt even bother to send a unit to bury the fallen and gather military artefacts. What you are admiring is the result of a stationary booby trap, a so-called stone quagmire which one of the leading storm troopers fell into. Oleg reached forward. The blade had taken his fancy and he intended to take it from the hand of the deceased light magician. Why should such an excellent weapon go to waste? A sword like this could come in very handy. Although against vampires Oleg didnt manage to

finish his thought. At the very instant his hand brushed the hilt of the sword which had taken his fancy, Outposts desperate cry rang out: Dont touch it! But it was too late. The bony fingers of the dead magician loosened, as though tired from grasping the sword for so long, and fell to the littered floor with a booming bang, while the sword smoothly slipped into Olegs outstretched hand. The hilt was oddly warm, as though it had been grasped not by the cold bones of a skeleton but by the hand of a living person. It had a simple cross-shaped hand guard with a transparent stone similar to a diamond fixed in the centre. The blade was long, thin and straight, and blazed with a vivid white light. It didnt seem so out of the ordinary, but Oleg suddenly felt a strange, absolutely irrational joy, as though he were meeting an old friend. Why did you have to yell like that? Oleg asked, addressing the quivering sphere of light suspended nearby. Forgive me, Sovereign. A guilty note could be heard in the familiar bass. But I have heard that the blades of Spiritual Fire burn anyone who touches them without the permission of their owners. How were you able to take it? Wary admiration could be heard in the voice of the guardian-spirit. What do you mean, how? Very simple, I got permission. Oleg answered jokingly, with a nod at the wall. But Outpost took his announcement seriously. You are a great necromancer, my Sovereign. I shall be happy to serve under your leadership. Meanwhile Olegs attention was distracted by changes taking place in the sword. The blade slowly dulled, losing its blinding white glow. Finally, it went out altogether, revealing the fine blade, which was forged from a strange white metal. However, that didnt last for long. A stream of joyful ginger flames snaked down from the hilt along the blade alternating with stripes of primordial darkness. Soon the whole sword was covered in fire. The ginger colour of the flames, mingling with the darkness, turned blood red. The sword has accepted you, the familiar bass said. Curious. Judging from its reaction, you dont have only dark magic in you And what of it? Oleg grew wary. The last thing he needed was for this spirit to see him as an enemy. Responding to his feeling, the sword heated up slightly. The flames flickered with doubled speed. It was as though the blade were showing it was ready for the battle. Nothing, Sovereign, the voice answered, somewhat perplexed. Its just that I had heard that this was impossible. It is very curious to come across such a phenomenon. Well, lead on. Oleg glanced at the sword in his hands. Having understood that fighting was not expected, it had extinguished itself, amazing him once again. The previously snowwhite metal of the blade had now gone red and became covered in a very fine net of black en-

gravings. Without thinking, Oleg thrust the sword in his belt. Just then another idea flashed through Olegs mind: Listen, he said, addressing his guide. You said that all internal traps are now under your command. Can you deactivate this one? and he pointed at the magician encased in the wall. I could do with the scabbard, too, you see. I was able to do so; earlier, before my energy ran out. Now, alas...But once Ive been recharged, no problem. Admittedly, that trap is badly damaged but I think I can do it. Incidentally, Sovereign, how do you intend to charge me? You dont have any slaves with you whom you can sacrifice, and judging from the magical background, you dont have a recharging crystal accumulator, either. Arent there other ways to recharge you? There are. There is a directional crystal-transformer in the spell room which enables my magical current to equalize with the energy of the commander. It was installed to ensure maximum co-ordination during battle, but it could be used to transfer energy. However, the magical strength of one person, even you, my Sovereign, despite the fact that your aura abounds with energy, would be too little for my system to function normally. Besides, I wouldnt recommend you deplete your energy level that way. And what do you suggest, then? Oleg liked the honesty of this ancient intellect. Shortly before the Light ones attacked, I was configured with the Dark Citadels latest invention, an altar of power. It allows me to draw magical energy not only from living beings sacrificed there but also from magical objects placed on it, too. During that battle many of the most varied and extremely potent artefacts were used, and after the death of their owners, they were simply left here. If you have a good look around, you might be able to find something suitable. The idea of rummaging around in the dust which had once been human bodies brought on a sharp bout of squeamishness. However, Oleg overcame this and set about his archaeological dig. The result was three poignards charged with murderous spells. The blades of two of them seemed to be made of sharpened, opaque obsidian while the third radiated with the gentle glow of amber. Olegs bounty also included an ebony helmet which spread an aura of hate and fear from all sides, as well as a smallish, walnut-sized sky-blue topaz attached who knows how - to a fine silver chain; Oleg could find neither a gadget nor a little hole on the stone through which the chain could be thread. The stone gave off an amazingly kind and cosy glow and Oleg decided he would only feed it to the tower in the very worst case scenario. Having gathered all this up, he followed his ghostly guide along the dark, half-ruined corridor, moved a flagstone aside following the instructions of the spirit, and, going through the secret entrance, he came out into a spiral staircase leading deep into the earth.

Are you sure this is the way? Oleg looked into the gaping hole of the old stairwell with grave doubts. Its the shortest way to the fifth underground level. And besides, it is the only way to get there avoiding the second floor where the unclassified Undead, a vampire I believe, has established itself. Your innards have been honoured with the residence of a Supreme She-Vampire, just in case youre interested. Oho. The Citadel completed that experiment, then? When they were building me it was all still at the research stage. Though its true that right before the war we received blueprints of it, but at the time it was considered a failed project. Well, they completed it, and with great success. So much success in fact that Im now obliged to hunt down one of these blueprints which has run amok. Really? But as far as I remember, that model was designed as wrecker and hunter of magicians. Youre taking a big risk if you attack it all on your own. Well, its necessary. Besides, someone said that after hed been recharged, he would be capable of dealing with any Undead. I didnt know it was a Supreme. Although I can probably still deal with it. Outposts uncertainty was somehow not at all to Olegs liking. Well, can you deal with it or not? I dont know, the warden-spirit admitted dolefully. My documentation doesnt provide me with a detailed description of their fighting and defence characteristics it was top secret information. But what information I have is rather striking. There are a lot of traps on the second floor although they are not activated due to lack of energy resources. But they are all aimed at people and magicians. There wasnt anything that targeted the Undead why should we protect ourselves against our own slaves and set traps for them? OK. Well, well get ourselves to the spell room, charge you up a bit and then well see how you can help, Oleg said, going down the stairs as fast as he could. Oh, I can help in many ways. Even if I cant bring it down independently, then together well be able to deal with it relatively easily. It just so happens that I have quite a few powerful decelerators on the second tier. While its caught in the time webs youll be able to take it with your bare hands. There used to be a special trap there intended not to kill but to capture magicians. Take it as a prisoner? What for? And anyhow, is it even possible? After all, youd only need to weaken your control for a second and itd turn into fog and disappear. And youd be lucky if it didnt strike you in the back while it was about it. No, I intend to destroy it!

As you wish, Sovereign. Only, you are probably not aware that every Undead of the Dark Citadel was fitted with absolute loyalty to one whom they gave the Oath of Blazing Blood. Whats that? Another idea from our black sorcerers. Its odd you havent heard of it. The oath utterly chains any Undead. If there is any attempt at treachery, the Vampire who gave the oath will burn up. And it seems to me that a servant like a Supreme Vampire could be very useful to you. And if you dont need it, maybe you could leave it here with me, Outpost drawled dreamily. It could feed me with energy, hasten my recovery, clear the rubble... Thats enough of dreaming. Well divide unhatched chickens or rather, the uncaptured she-vampire later. Now our task is to recharge a certain warden-spirit. Where is your spell room? While they were talking Oleg had gone down the seemingly never-ending staircase and was now in a smallish round room with many corridors leading off it. Take the one furthest to the left, right to the end. The sphere of transparent light acting as Olegs guide shuddered and bristled, as though from cold, and after diminishing its glow a bit, darted into the dark passageway hung with the remains of rotting curtains. Whats wrong with you? Outpost kept silent for a while, and then announced reluctantly: Energy. Theres hardly any left. Before you came I slept, but now I am working at full output, Ive switched on the vocal interface, the scanners, the guide The reserves are running low I see. I hadnt realized you were in such bad shape. Enough chatting, then, lead on while your crystals still have not run down completely. The guide was flickering unevenly and Oleg strode after it quickly, sometimes breaking into a run. He certainly didnt want to lose such a useful assistant just because of his own slowness. Soon he reached metal doors, the whole surface of which was covered in runes. Looking at them, Oleg was amazed to recognize a few familiar signs signalling protection from magical forces. But the majority of signs were completely unfamiliar to him. And now what? By the way, I cant squeeze through a key hole. And there isnt a keyhole here anyway, he added giving the heavy door a gentle kick. Hold on Outposts voice was fraught with tension. The little fire which had until now served as the guide flickered and went out. The creak of opening doors rang out loudly in the deep darkness. Oleg lit a small but bright fireball above his shoulder and stepped into the passage opening up before him. The spell chamber of the Black Tower was a long, narrow hall and the whole floor was engraved with geometric figures. At one end of the hall, on a fragile metal stand was a greenish, round stone about the size of a babys head. Fragments of armour were lying beneath it, to-

gether with an evilly-grinning skull. At the other end hung a huge slab of black granite, to all appearances the experimental altar he sought. Go up to the lead stone and put your hands around it. The warden-spirits voice grew slow and drawn out. Its the big green stone on the left hand side of the hall. Oleg quickly strode over to the stone and put his hands on it. The next instant, his consciousness merged with the Tower. He became a military construction of the Empire of Dark, the Third Outpost, the Black Tower. The knowledge of all its nooks and crannies, the complete information regarding its condition, its weapons, the damage it had sustained, its capabilities and problems poured into him. The latter had the upper hand. The victors had not bothered to waste their time and strength on destroying the outpost for good reasons. Having demolished the above-ground energy receptors, they hadnt bothered to destroy the underground levels, condemning the tower and its spirit to a slow and tortuously long demolition at the hands of time and insufficient energy resources. At the moment when Oleg arrived, the tower was on its last legs. Now aware of this sad story, Oleg wasted no time. He thrust some of his own energy into the towers accumulators. It was but a drop in the ocean, but it was enough for the wardenspirits artificial intelligence to function and to activate the sacrificial altar, after which Oleg switched himself off. The lighting in the hall clearly improved. A whitish sphere bobbed in front of Oleg, a larger and brighter version of his previous guide. Go on, show me how to use your sacrificial altar, Oleg muttered watching the contortions of the small ball of fire. Please step this way, my lord, and the sphere shot off to the stone block. Oleg walked over to the broad slab of black marble with a pentagram etched onto its surface. Place the artefacts on the slab one by one in the centre of the pentagram. Oleg used one of the black poignards for the first experiment. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the lines of the pentagram began to glow dimly and the poignard was enveloped in an opaque bluish haze. Three minutes went by, then the haze dissipated. All that was left where the menacing, enchanted weapon had been was a little heap of fine dust, its form mimicking that of the poignard. Light appeared in the room. The ceiling glowed softly. More, Outpost asked. Over the next ten minutes Oleg fed the helmet and all the remaining poignards to the sacrificial altar. The length of time the magic haze held them varied and seemed to depend on the amount of magic contained in each object. After the last dagger had scattered into dust,

and the sacramental cry of More! had run out once more, Oleg asked: Whats the condition of your energy reserves now? Outpost answered at once: Energy levels of emergency storage have been fully restored. The deconservation of the main energo-crystal feeder is completed and its charging has begun. At the present moment, the main crystal has been charged up to three percent. I request that the charging continue. With a sigh, Oleg pulled out the topaz. I only have this left. By the way, you couldnt tell me what it is exactly, could you? The spirit of the tower let out a sigh of admiration. We are fortunate, my Sovereign. This is a small portable energo-crystal, a very rare and highly prized talisman. And most importantly it is full of energy! This time the haze glimmered for more than a quarter of an hour. When it finally dissipated, Oleg discovered to his amazement the same topaz lying on the stone altar just as it had before, though admittedly, considerably smaller in size. Previously the size of a walnut, it was now no larger than a pea. The main crystal has been charged to thirty-seven percent, Outpost reported without waiting to be asked. I did my best to download the energy as carefully as possible from the crystal so as not to damage it, and I didnt take all of it. It might come in handy for you, Sovereign. Well done, Oleg praised him, hanging the crystal around his neck. Maybe you can tell me how to use it, too? It can accumulate the energy naturally scattered from the aura of the one carrying it and liberate that energy according to its masters wishes, Outpost answered obligingly. Its previous master, most likely an air magician, must have gathered energy for a long time to charge this crystal so strongly. OK, well get to grips with the crystal later. Now its time to deal with the she-vampire. I hope that now youve got enough strength to help me in the battle? Yes, ample. By the way, you can check for yourself. The guiding light sphere, almost imperceptible against the bright lighting, bounced over to the lead stone. So its true, Oleg thought out loud. Theres nothing better than studying the field of battle in advance. Going over to the crystal, he immersed himself in studying the second underground tier. The she-vampire was in the former commanders quarters. Or more precisely, the bedroom. The room had been carefully tidied, in marked contrast to the disarray which reigned in the other parts of the tower and gave it a rather wild impression. In places where it was impossible to hide the ravages of time using simple means, thin layers of mist could be seen

that was precisely how the magical eye perceived a vampires illusion. A lavishly arranged coffin stood in one corner with a black band tied around it lengthways. The black band was decorated with little ribbons. The lid had been moved to one side and Oleg could assure himself that its previous inhabitant was no longer there. The she-vampire herself was not far away. The Supreme Vampire which had struck such terror into the hearts of those living at Bel castle and kidnapped the young duke turned out to be a small, graceful, black-haired girl with very white skin and nice curves who looked about twenty-five. Flying in the face of tradition, which demanded Vampires should sleep in coffins, she was lying comfortably spread-eagled on the large, soft bed, evidently a left-over from the previous tenants bedroom. The kidnapped duke could be seen next to her. Judging from the satisfied smile on his lips, he was not overly suffering from his captivity. If anything, quite the opposite. Studying the situation the couple lying on the bed were dressed like Adam and Eve and the tenderness with which the dreamy-eyed, sixteen-year-old Kolin Bel embraced his kidnapper, any attempt to free him from this she-vampire would be met with the strongest opposition from the hapless victim. When hed seen this picture, Oleg fell to thinking. Hed been contracted to drag the prey from the hands of an evil and capricious Vampire, and not a happy lover from the bed of his beloved woman. Oleg was on the point of calmly turning away and leaving the tower, without disturbing the couple, when Kolin decided to change his position. As a result, his head bent forwards slightly and Oleg could see his neckand the two deep little wounds on the young dukes main artery. The Duchess had not been lying. The lad was indeed in need of saving. Even if it had to be done against his will. Oleg took out the map of the traps on the second underground level. There were no snares in the bedroom itself. Commander Tara categorically refused to have any military spells in her rooms. She was convinced she was strong enough to deal with any problem which might arise in her boudoir, Outpost prompted obligingly. Then maybe we should call her and let her deal with this, Oleg suggested jokingly. Outpost, however, took his suggestion absolutely seriously. I wouldnt recommend it. She was, of course, a rather powerful magician, but its unlikely that her spirit would be able to hold out against a Supreme Vampire. Whats more, many Vampires have necromantic talents. In that case, there is a risk the spirit might be recommandeered and Tara, alive or dead, is still my commander. OK, youve convinced me, I wont invoke her. But what shall we do? Are you completely powerless to help?

Why no, Knight. Take a look at this. All you need to do is to lure her into the corridor and lead her in between these two panels. I have a potent decelerator there. I can guarantee that the bonds it generates are well able to hold a Supreme Vampire temporarily. Well, then, thats how well go about it. Do you have a shortcut to the second level? Madame Commanders private lift has already been activated. Please step this way. Oleg tore himself away from the leading crystal. In the left corner of the spell room a smallish square on the floor was shining weakly and was, to all appearances, the lift. As he made his way towards it, Oleg thought carefully about which of his two swords he should take with him. On the one hand, his own silver-plated, two-handed sword had a fair amount of battle experience, was convenient and thanks to its long blade, gave him a considerable advantage in terms of distance. Furthermore, and most importantly, Oleg had already got used to it, had learnt to sense the sword and that was hugely significant and could often save a warriors life. On the other hand, the sword of the light magician, or the blade of Spiritual Fire as the towers Artificial Intelligence called it, possessed magical properties which, undoubtedly, would be come in very handy against an Undead immune to ordinary arms. Plus it was much lighter than his two-handed one, and its smaller size meant that he could wield it more freely in the tight corridors. Having weighed all this up, Oleg unfastened the scabbard with his twohanded sword from his back and laid it on the floor near the lift. Theres no point in loading myself with an unnecessary weapon before a heavy battle, he decided. And besides, its unlikely that anyone will be able to steal it. Then Oleg demonized fully and cast a semblance over himself making him appear as himself, only in human form. That would allow him to utilize all the advantages of his demon form, but without the danger of casual witnesses, in this case, the young duke. As for the Unclean, confronting a mere human she would always tend to react carelessly, thereby giving him another advantage. When all these preparations were complete, Oleg admired the flaming blade of his sword once more and stepped onto the shining square on the floor. Lift activated, Outposts whisper of warning rustled in his ears, and Oleg found himself on the second underground level. Straight down the corridor he could see the door into the rooms which had once been the quarters of the towers commander, and were now the lair of a Supreme Vampire. With a sigh, Oleg gripped his sword more comfortably, drew his darkh with his left hand, intending to use it like a dagger, and thus prepared, set off in the direction of the commanders chambers. ***

Vereene couldnt sleep. Usually she liked to nap during the day if possible. But this time sleep slipped away. She would either fall into short spells of oblivion saturated with nightmares and with much more terrifying memories, or would wake up once more in bed, in the embrace of young Duke Bel. It felt as though a strangers glance was boring into her back, full of danger and menace. For the century and a half of her existence, first as a simple Vampire (and they were not simple Vampires) and then as a Supreme Vampire, Vereene had grown accustomed to paying heed to such phenomena. Perhaps, that is what had enabled her to live such a long life and even survive the fall of the Dark Citadel, whose magicians endowed her with new capacities. The last time she had sensed something similar was just before the Hunters attacked her lair. Then she had initially ignored the warning of her subconscious, and had been cruelly punished for it. The Hunters had slaughtered the Young Ones, exploiting the wakeless daysleep of Vampires. Flying into a frenzied rage, she had taken revenge on the Hunters for the death of her slaves, many of whom she had created herself. Nevertheless, revenge, even the keenest revenge, was incapable of returning the dead. Having begun to reconstruct her lair, Vereene decided not to let the same mistake happen again and not to create ordinary vampires. No, now her subjects, her children, would only be Supreme ones, the pinnacle of the necromantic skills of the Dark Citadel. It wouldnt be as easy to slaughter them as it had been last time. And what if it took much more time and energy to create one Supreme than it did to create as many as thirty simple vampires? She had plenty of time and it wasnt difficult to renew her energy, the human settlement was right nearby The Vampiress looked tenderly at her first chosen one. Strange though it might seem, after all the years since the fall of the Dark Citadel, this was the first time she had made up her mind to create something in her own image. Maybe he had himself played no small part in her decision. The young duke had noticed her when, sated, she had been dancing in the moonlight. When she stopped dancing, Kolin had come up and talked to her. Despite her age, somewhere deep down in her soul Vereene had always remained that twenty-five year old girl she had been when she had been converted. She had been impressed by the youths courage and unconcealed admiration, and she had been so impressed that when Kolin, or to be more precise, now simply Koly, had spoken of seeing each other, she had agreed. At first she had been astounded at her lack of judgement and at the desperate courage of the young duke. And it was only on their third meeting, when Kolin had warned her that she should be more careful in the evenings since there was a lair of vampires not far from the village, that she realized that he did not suspect her true nature. But by then that no longer mattered to her.

Kolin took her for an enchantress, a fairy, an elfin girl who had come to him by chance. He adored her, genuinely admiring her dances in the moons rays, her shining eyes and other things which were completely natural to a Supreme Vampire. She didnt disappoint him. It was amazing how easily a Vampires charms could match the descriptions of the enchantment of elves found in fairytales and legends if he wanted them to. And then there was the hunt, decreed by Kolins mother, the Duchess Katina Bel, and the ashes of Vereenes foster children lying in the coffins which had burned from within. Helpless during their day sleep, they had not even managed to defend themselves! Vereene remembered well the pain and rage which had taken hold of her then. She had destroyed the Hunters and she was about to pay a courtesy call to the Duchess when the idea came to her; she could avenge herself much more gracefully and cruelly while also allowing her to keep Kolin by her side for ever, as he had now become an important part of her life. If she had killed Katina Bel, the head of one of the most prestigious aristocratic families in the Empire, she would have had to flee the Empire at once the Emperor would never have forgiven such a deed and would have hired the best magicians to kill her. And Kolin would hardly have wanted to love the woman who had killed his mother. Though it seemed strange, it was precisely that line of reasoning which proved decisive. Instead of the night time attack she had planned on the Duchesss residence, Vereene went down a different path. At their next tryst, she informed her young beloved that it was time for her to leave and they would not be able to see each other again, after which she inquired: would he like to go with her and become just like her? The young Duke didnt hesitate. By that time his infatuation with her had reached such a level that he would have plucked the moon from the heavens for her, and now this To become a wonderful, fairytale being and to be by the side of his beloved for ever she got the dukes agreement in an instant. A few problems arouse in the initial stages of their relationship when Vereene was no longer able to conceal her true nature. However, the young duke quickly came to terms with his lot, although he did become exceedingly sad and thoughtful. To dispel this sorrow, Vereene decided to try and share her bed with him. Since the days when she had been a simple Vampire she had well understood that there is no greater pleasure for creatures of the night than the taste of the blood of their next victim, so this step was merely a matter of simple compassion. However, to her surprise, she liked it! As it turned out, many of the limitations of simple Undead dont apply to the Supreme. Now she was angry with herself for not having made up her mind to do this long ago thus depriving herself of such pleasure for so many years. But everything was still ahead of her

Kolin was happy, too. Vereene only regretted that this conversion was gradually sapping away his strength, but that was quite normal and she hoped, once he became a Supreme Vampire, he would regain his abilities once again. Her day sleep had become shorter because of that, too most of the time she was engaged in other, far more pleasurable, activities. Waking from yet another nightmare, Vereene decided to check the safety of her residence. The warning charms on the entrance to that floor were buzzing with a peaceful hum no-one had crossed the invisible line she had drawn. Usually that was enough to reassure her (it was almost impossible to cheat the warning charms of a Supreme Vampire, the head of the Dark Citadel had told her, but now her subconsciousness fixed on the word almost). The gods look after those who look after themselves, the Vampiress thought, flowing over the floor as thick fog so as not to disturb Kolin. With a slight effort of will, a vetangur formed in her hands. It was the magical weapon of the Supreme Vampires inseparably woven into their nature by the best spell-makers of the Dark Citadel. This time Vereene lent it the form of a straight, light, one-handed sword which she had learned to use in the days when she served the Dark Empire. And so naked, armed with the black sword in her hand, Vereene glided to the door. All of a sudden, it burst open by itself. There was a stranger standing on the threshold! Without thinking she whacked the impudent magician (for who else could this stranger be who had invisibly penetrated all her protective charms and was armed with a sword of the soul?) with her vetangur, aiming for his neck. No magician, not even the most potent, could survive with a lopped off head! For a second Vereene rejoiced - the Hunter would clearly not be quick enough to block her blow with his weapon and it was impossible to stop a vetangur with magic. It will be my swiftest victory in a duel with a magician was the thought that flashed through her head. *** When he opened the door, Oleg was flabbergasted. In the doorway stood a naked girl with a sword in her hands. For a split second, he froze. That proved to be a mistake which almost cost him his life. With a loud hiss, the she-vampire hacked at him with her sword. Oleg was saved by the semblance he had cast over himself. In his demon form he was considerably taller than he was as a human, and the blow which was designed to cut off his head landed in his chest, where his scales were particularly thick and sturdy. The she-vampires blade turned out to be anything but a simple one and the blow was dealt with unfeminine force. It threw him back and two drops of dense, sticky blood appeared from the stab in his chest. The black sword was able to penetrate scales which had withstood even a direct hit by an arbalest bolt at close range!

The wound turned out to be light, more of a scratch than a real wound, and Oleg was able to defend himself. But that was all he was able to do. The whirlwind of blows raining down on him didnt give him even the slightest chance to counterattack. Oleg had won his previous battles mainly because of the strength and swiftness of a demon, but the Supreme Vampire was no less a match for him in either strength or swiftness, and considerably outstripped him in swordsmanship. The none-too-great fencing skills which Oleg had obtained at the Tolkien Fanatic gatherings were barely enough to block the strongest and most dangerous blows as he constantly retreated. The brunt of the others was taken by his natural protection, the blessed armour of a demon, saving his life for the umpteenth time. But it was precisely now that its strength turned out to be insufficient. The she-vampires blows, albeit with great difficulty, did penetrate Olegs scales, and his shoulders and torso were covered in a great number of scratches. The wounds were not deep but had Oleg been in human form, he would long since have lost the ability to fight, weakened from loss of blood. Happily, it was a much thicker and more viscose liquid which flowed through his demon veins and it somehow did not abandon its natural habitat so easily; it was exactly this which gave him the ability to continue the battle. Despite the extremely complicated situation, Oleg did not retreat helter-skelter, but, keeping to the initial plan, kept leading the she-vampire who was distracted by the battle towards the panels Outpost had shown him. The thought flashed through his mind that he was most fortunate to have met this spirit. Without his help, Oleg wouldnt have stood any chance whatsoever of victory. The she-vampire gracefully ducked the fireballs he threw at her, her black sword slashed his hastily-erected fire shield to pieces, and he simply didnt have time for any other more complicated spells. In short, by the time the duelling couple passed between the panels pointed out by the warden-spirit, Olegs situation was most pitiful. However, as soon as the she-vampire had taken a step into the small unremarkable section of flooring between the two wall panels covered with flowery mosaics concealing the trap, everything changed, as if by magic. It was precisely by magic! The ancient charms of the founders of the Black Tower who had stuffed it with various booby traps swung into action and the she-vampires movements began to decelerate. Soon she was completely unable to move. She still made an attempt at transformation, her body shuddered, losing its outline, and she tried to melt into mist and seep out, but the time bonds held her firm, and the she-vampire once again created her body, glaring at Oleg with horror and hatred. He walked closer and looked for a while at the beautiful girl paralyzed by the effects of the ancient charm. He really didnt like either of the two alternatives facing him enslave or kill but he could see no other possibilities. This graceful figure was too dangerous an adversary

and should she manage to break free The deep cuts covering his body in just a few minutes of the short-lived, fierce battle were a blatant hint at the sad fate which would await him in that case. Oleg sighed, getting his breath back and preparing himself for what he now had to do. He had absolutely no idea how to turn a vampire, let alone a Supreme one, into a loyal servant, therefore his opponent had to die. Weighing the darkh in his hands, the only weapon capable of killing her without torture, Oleg pointed it at her. At that moment he was repulsive even to himself. It was one thing to kill a dangerous opponent in the heat of the battle, when it was a matter of life and death, but it was quite another matter to kill a defenceless and beautiful naked girl bound both hand and foot. Rationally Oleg understood that this was all a perilous illusion, that no matter who she looked like, you could certainly not call his adversary defenceless, nor indeed was it a girl, but an old and very dangerous Undead who had taken on an attractive form. If Outpost had not helped, Oleg would most likely now be dead. He had made a deal with the Duchess after all, and was obliged to free the young duke, and if he didnt kill this she-vampire, then he would be unlikely to succeed. He found a thousand important and very logical reasons, but a very simple and strict rule kept ringing like a bell in his head: you cannot kill the defenceless, especially not a woman! Oleg sensed that, were he to break this taboo, just as he had broken so many of his own principles since he arrived in this world, then something very important, something in the very foundations of his human personality, would die, and so, as he grew closer to his frozen opponent, he moved more and more slowly and his steps became shorter and shorter. Yet he was still drawing closer. His common sense clearly showed him the rather sad alternative: he should quickly save himself by any means possible from the dangers presented by this shevampire, or he would have exactly the same length of time to live as it would take this girl standing before him to break free from the chains of the old spell. And something told Oleg that it wouldnt take her all that long to free herself. He didnt rate his chances of victory in a one-to-one battle too highly. With a heavy sigh he raised the darkh, aiming to penetrate the heart without causing unnecessary suffering. Just then, his captive spoke for the first time. Have mercy, the she-vampires tone was dry and calm. It seemed as though she had already come to terms with her approaching death and now, asking for mercy, she was just carrying out a boring and unpleasant duty, without expecting any reaction whatsoever to her words. Dont kill me, apart from willpower, amazement could be heard in her voice when she saw how Oleg stopped in his tracks at her words.

Do I have any choice? Oleg asked a little sadly. Nevertheless, hope flickered in his soul: what if he could get by without killing her? She had not expected such a question, it seemed. The spell generating the trap evidently allowed some harmless movement on the part of its captive as the girls face took on a bewildered expression. Her next phrase was pronounced in that gentle, respectful tone usually used to talk to those who are soft in the head: You could leave me here. Not kill me. But then, unable to contain herself, she added in an evil whisper: But surely you came here for my head? No, Oleg grinned. I have absolutely no need for your head. I came here for the young duke, and you just got in my way. While they had been talking Oleg had managed to get his feelings in order, and now he was fully capable of killing the she-vampire. But he continued the conversation nevertheless. And as for leaving you here, I think I am not unduly mistaken when I say that the first thing you would do when you got free would be to kill me. And the second thing would be to take Kolin. That doesnt suit me. The she-vampire, having sensed a real possibility of saving her life, said, I can swear not to touch you The oath of a vampire. Oleg interrupted her. There are many legends in the world about your capriciousness. Surely you dont think I am as naive as all that? Although I have heard that there is an oath your kind cannot break. If you swore me the Oath of Blazing Blood, then I might leave you among the living. Aha, thats what all this is leading to! Hatred and scorn could be heard in the girls voice. Do you really think I would buy my own life at the price of freedom, become the obedient slave of a Light magician? No. And that is why I was about to kill you straight away, but you asked for mercy, so I laid out the alternatives. As far as I understand, this proposal is not to your liking. Pity. But one last question: why do you think Im a Light magician? Oleg waved the darkh to demonstrate, holding the dagger right up to the she-vampires face so that she could get a good look at the magical weapon of the necromancer. What does it matter who can lay their hands on the regalia of a Knight of Despair? They say that after the fall of the Dark Citadel you could even buy them at the market. Anyone can get hold of a dagger. But a blade like yours only glows in the hands of a Light one. Those blades of the Spirit of Fire which belonged to the dark ones were black swords! And now kill me, victor. She pursed her treacherously shaking lips. If you say so. An odd, cold indifference had been taking hold of Oleg more and more as their conversation went on. If she wants me to kill her, then kill her it is, he thought. I should have struck immediately and not got involved in any soul-saving conversations. It would have

been easier for her, too, she wouldnt have got false hopes up, and I wouldnt have wasted my time. And so he didnt restrain himself but activated the darkh, and with the rhetorical question (indicating the magical glow lightening up the weapon): And can anyone do this, too? he swiftly struck out, aiming below her left breast. But no matter how swift his movement was, the she-vampire still managed to cry out Stop! With a huge effort, Oleg managed to stop the movement of the blade at the very last minute. The sharp tip froze literally millimetres from the girls body. Only a dark magician can activate a darkh. I dont know why your sword of the Spirit is glowing, but it doesnt matter. I couldnt have served a light magician, I would have died the moment I took the oath, and a very painful death it would have been, but I can bow to a dark one. I agree to your terms. Then swear the oath! It was as though a stone were lifted from Olegs soul. Nevertheless, taking common sense precautions, he connected telepathically with Outpost asking him to describe the oath-taking procedure. It turned out to be very interesting, and there were two variations. The first was only uttered by the Undead, and after uttering it the Vampire would become a will-less slave in his masters hands, obliged to dully carry out his commands. But there was a second possibility, too, rarely used, whereby once the vampire had sworn his oath, the dark magician who had tamed him uttered an oath, too. In this case their relationship was more reminiscent of that between a signor and a vassal, although it was still called magical slavery. This enabled the magician to hear at a long distance, to help the vampire which had fallen under his power, to use him with maximum efficiency by precisely evaluating all his capabilities, and if necessary, to increase his own magical energy thereby allowing the vampire to go for a long time without needing blood. In comparison with the first type of agreement, this one gave the vampire a considerable amount of freedom of will, and also a certain degree of safety as the magician took upon himself the responsibility of protecting his vassal. Moreover, the connection established between them was so close that should the younger partner perish, this would cause the magician very strong pain, like that when an arm is amputated. It is not surprising that dark magicians, preferring freedom and independence from everyone, no matter who, only rarely made use of the second version. But it was precisely this one that interested Oleg. The she-vampire asked him his real name, and aware of the necessity of this, Oleg told her, and she began: I, Vereene del Nagall, swear on the blazing blood of Darkness my allegiance to the dark magician Oleg Vladi-miro-vich (she pronounced his patronymic with obviously difficulty, syllable by syllable) Davidov, to carry out all his commands and to defend him from any danger. May I burn in the fire of my own blood if I break this oath. As she pro-

nounced the oath, her voice grew quieter and so she all but whispered the concluding words. Teardrops fell from the girls eyes. Nevertheless, it was the correct text and with the magical sight of a demon, Oleg saw that as she pronounced the oath a blazing thread twined around the aura of the Supreme She-Vampire standing before him and then stretched out towards him. Had Oleg wanted to, this thread could tighten, causing his slave excruciating agony, or burst into flame, reducing her to ashes. As soon as she had finished, Outpost switched off the trap at once, saving energy. Still crying, Vereene fell on her knees and covered her face with her hands. Her black sword, which she had mastered so well, disappeared, as though sucked into the hand of its mistress, her long black hair spread over the dirty floor and the girl continued to bewail her love and her freedom, from which she had so suddenly been separated. Oleg didnt delay. He felt very embarrassed and very sorry for the girl, so he didnt draw things out but began: I, Oleg Davidov, accept the oath of Vereene del Nagall and I in my turn swear not to abuse this power I have received, not to cause harm to the life of the said Vereene nor harm her physical or psychological health without dire need, but to help and defend her should she need it. May the blazing blood of Darkness be witness and keeper of my oath! He deliberately changed the standard text of the oath to show the girl that he did not intend to abuse her subordinate position. Nevertheless, all the necessary words were in their rightful places, the dark force was present in the pronouncement of the oath, and the oath worked just as Outpost had described. The thread linking Vereenes and Olegs auras changed. Now it was not so suitable for commanding and causing pain, but instead it facilitated far broader communication, enabling them to exchange emotions and if desired, even exchange thoughts. And the first thing Oleg used this new link between them for was to show the girl his intentions for her future, to reassure her. The tears did indeed cease at once. While Oleg had been pronouncing his part of the oath, Vereene had been staring at him in astonishment, recognizing yet another sharp turn in her fortunes. When Oleg pronounced his declaration of intent she had burst into uncontrollable, almost hysterical laughter. Such unbelievable luck! The only thing worse than a bastard for a boss is a kind little fool! He wants to let me loose on the border, and will only forbid me to kill! And what should I do, starve to death?! Im a Vampiress, not a cow! I cant eat grass! And I bet you wont agree to feed me on your little powers Hes off to the light magicians. To look after people! You should have finished me off straight away! Or did you want to torture me a bit first? She all but shrieked the last words.

It seemed as though the girl had gone hysterical, which was not at all what Oleg had expected from her. It somehow didnt fit his image of a hundred and fifty-year-old Supreme SheVampire which had gone through the horrifying Magical Wars and sent countless people to their graves. Nevertheless, once again life had shown Oleg that the range of its possibilities was way larger than any imagination. Vereenes hysterics were in the best traditions of Italian cinema. Besides, now that the heat of the battle had passed, Olegs wounds were hurting badly and he noticed that the blood which was still gradually seeping out had already soaked his shirt and was dripping onto the floor. The semblance still covered him so Vereene couldnt see the wounds she had inflicted and. whats more, demons blood, it seemed was not suitable for Vampires otherwise she would have already sensed the smell. Oleg realized he had to hurry to Castle Bel, to be treated by experienced hands and that he mustnt take on his human form, otherwise he risked fatal loss of blood before he could get help. Maintaining a semblance capable of hiding the considerable size difference between his demonic and human forms was not such an easy matter. And to cap it all, Oleg heard the bed creaking. Kolin had woken up and was walking towards the door with the intention of finding Vereene. Keep quiet! Oleg whispered furiously, underlining his order with a yank on the thread that linked them. Quiet! The girl froze half way through a word, not moving and, it seemed, not even breathing. In the ensuing silence the footfalls of the young duke were particularly audible as he approached the bedroom door. Tshaas t?khkh??! Oleg all but spat out the verbal component of a potent sleep spell. He had not wanted to resort to this charm as the spell was effective for six hours, and during that time it would be impossible to wake the spell-bound. Oleg didnt know the counter-spell, so he would have to carry the young duke himself, which, of course, he was not at all keen to do. But it was far less desirable for Oleg that someone should find out that he had left the shevampire alive. And so that is why Kolin had to be put to sleep. And now, you, he turned to Vereene. Ive changed my mind. I believe I need a slave girl: to look after the horses, wash, sew, tidy up, warm my bed. And when I enter the Academy, I will have someone on whom I can carry out experiments. So no freedom for you. Pick up your lover and follow me. After all, why should I carry him when I have a slave girl to hand, he muttered to himself, but loud enough for Vereene to hear every word. All of a sudden Vereene gave a snort and smiled. Had any other girl smiled that smile, you could have said it was pleasant, obliging, or maybe even a tad cunning or coquettish, but this smile looked quite different on Vereene. Undoubtedly, it was due to the needle-like fang peeping out from the corner of her blood-filled lips and the curious hungry look in her reddish eyes as though she were weighing Oleg up for a possible career development as a cutlet or a rare

beef steak. Ah, now thats better, Sovereign! she said in all seriousness. Now you are far more worthy to be my master than that snotty lad who was about to free me just a few moments ago, frightened by a maidens tears. I had decided I wouldnt be able to get any deeds worthy of a dark magician out of you. Remember this! A Magician of Darkness acts only in accordance with his own interests! And as for tears Well, you can call forth tears. By the way, when I was serving the Dark Empire we were all bound by similar oaths. And there was nothing so particularly dreadful about it. For a vampire and all the more so as they are artificially created by the scientist of the Dark Citadel there is no higher duty or blessing than subordinate service to the deeds of Darkness under the guidance of a potent magician. And you are potent and perfidious; I have first-hand experience of that. In general, vampires are used to slavery. First of all, they are obliged to obey their creator, then when they grow up and tear themselves away from their parents care, they are under the command of the Master of their lair, and it is only a very few who become Masters themselves with a certain amount of freedom. And so, to finish this philosophizing, maybe you are not aware of this, but now I cannot leave you for more than two or three days, unless of course I get a sudden urge to turn up my toes. And so, and she smiled again, Your loyal slave is ready to fulfil your every command, my lord and sovereign. Only, I wont be able to warm your bed: Im an Undead after all and my body temperature is not high enough. OK. Well talk about the bed later. But now get dressed, take your beloved and follow me to the exit. To hear is to obey, O my terrible lord. A little while longer and you will become a true slave master. The Vampiresss answer sounded as though she had been friends with Oleg for a good many years. Having pondered for a bit, Oleg came to the conclusion that this was due to the empathic channel which had appeared between them. It was, of course, a two-way channel as that was the only way to explain such an unusual phenomenon. Admittedly, there was another way to look at the rare impudence of the newly subordinated slave girl, but it was highly improbable: judging from what he had managed to glean about the Dark Empire, individuals with overly high levels of impudence had no chance of surviving on its territory. Five minutes later when Oleg, limping, had made his way to the magical portal through which he had come, all doubts about the existence of a two-way channel were dispelled once and for all. Vereene had managed to get dressed. In one arm the Vampiress was carefully carrying Kolin, tenderly wrapped in a black ladies cloak (no doubt her own), and in the other she held a wide sheet. Laying the young lad down next Oleg, who had stopped to get his breath, she addressed him: We need to bandage you up, Sovereign. I dont know how you

manage to look completely unscathed, though its my guess you are probably using some sort of high-energy semblance which I cannot detect. I know that I wounded you, and whats more, you are leaving blood stains with every step you take. We need to bandage you up urgently otherwise you risk bleeding to death. Indeed: because of his active movements, the edges of the wounds had parted and the blood, which had previously almost dried, now dripped out in large, viscous drops through the soaked shirt which stuck to his body. There was evidently some sort of magic contained in Vereenes weapon which hindered blood clotting--usually when Oleg was in his demon form his blood coagulated almost before it had flowed out. Such a prolonged and profuse loss of blood from wounds which were not so large or deep was an unusual and absolutely abnormal state of affairs for him. Having pondered all this, Oleg reckoned that the person who had inflicted these wounds on him should have at least some idea as to how they should be healed, and he threw off his semblance. On seeing his demonic form, the Vampiress whistled and gave a respectful nod of the head. Now I understand why I wasnt able to chop off his head with my first blow, she muttered to herself, after which she busied herself carefully examining, feeling and even sniffing the gashes she had inflicted. Finally, having found the object of her search, she bent over a wound and carefully ran her tongue over it. Oleg felt a slight stinging sensation and then an incredible sense of relief. The deep cut in his chest left from Vereenes first blow suddenly stopped hurting. The blood which had initially been flowing copiously had now stopped and was beginning to clot. How did you do that? he asked the she-vampire who was frowning and assiduously spitting something out. It seemed that it was not merely a few spoonfuls of Olegs blood that had found their way into her mouth but at least a half kilo of hot chilli pepper. Ugh! What is it you have in your veins? I almost burnt my throat! You could have at least warned me, Sovereign! Well how was I supposed to know what you were about to do? And by the way, what did you do? Ive never heard that Vampires were good healers. But the wound doesnt hurt anymore and the blood is starting to clot. Very simple. My vetangur isnt just a weapon. Each time it strikes a blow, it leaves a tiny particle, a shard of the blade, in the wound, and that prevents the blood from coagulating and the wound from knitting together. I removed it just now, and the rest is thanks to your own constitution. The lack of pain is due to my saliva. It contains a substance which acts as a pain killer so that my victims dont suffer. When its effect wears off, the wound will start to hurt again. Vereene sniffed at the next wound. Having found the shards, she tried to get them out

with her fingers, not wanting to risk her lips. She didnt have much success. Oleg gritted his teeth, cursed the devils granny, Vereenes mother, all the intimate parts of the local gods (especially Orchis the Light Bearer, which roused a sneaky giggle from Vereene), but bore it. It was the Vampiress who gave up first. With a doomed sigh and muttering, she bent over the wound. There followed once again the licking, stinging, the frowning face and the long ritual spitting out. When Vereene bent over the third wound, Oleg noticed bitter regret in her eyes. Why did I go and agree to such a life? a fragment of her thought flew to him. It would have been better if youd killed me. The thought gave off a distinct smell of irony. But aloud, Vereene asked: Cant you do something? My jaws have cramps. Her tone, full of hopelessness, clearly showed that she was not counting on a positive answer. After all, who could change the characteristics of their own blood at will? And that is why Olegs answer knocked her off guard. Well, I suppose I could try. Only then you wouldnt have to carry just Kolin to the exit, but me, too. I dont have much strength in my human form. Id carry you through the whole Empire! the Vampiress cried out in joy and amazement. Just relieve me from the obligation of tasting this shit which you call your blood. The transformation into Olegs human form was carried out, but not without difficulty. Having completed it, Oleg sat down, leaning against the wall, feeling nauseous and dizzy. Meanwhile, Vereene completed her cure. This time she didnt spit, quite the opposite; she carefully licked each wound, trying not to waste a single drop of blood. Oleg didnt protest. The pain abated and by the time the Vampiress had finished bandaging him, he had almost managed to get his dizziness under control. Nevertheless, he didnt protest when she easily picked him up in her arms and carried him to the exit. I can go by myself, Oleg uttered lamely. Theres no need to carry me. Keep quiet. Thinks hes strong enough! Dont forget about our connection! I can feel that its an achievement for you to even move your tongue. Dont worry. Ill change my form and calmly make my way to the exit. .. Aha. So hell change his form, will he? Youd better lay still, Shapeshifter. You still have enough strength left in you, maybe, to change your form. But how are you going to cast the semblance? And keep it on along the way? Even if you lose consciousness? Are you planning to show yourself to your companions like that - green, covered in scales and with claws? Are you always so prudent? Oleg didnt reply. He felt comfortable, he even dozed off for a while or lost consciousness.

It was Vereenes insistent voice that brought him round as she cautiously patted his cheeks. Master! Sovereign! Wake up, you miserable idiot! Oh, Ive gone and got mixed up with some loony! The short rest had done Oleg good. Looking round, he realized they were almost at the entrance. Next to him lay Kolin, slumbering serenely, and Vereene was standing there, obviously nervous. OK then, its like this, he said, slowly taking the bull by the horns. Ill take this sleeper on my back and slowly crawl to the way out of the tower. Dont contradict me; Ill manage to crawl ten meters somehow. People are waiting for me there, theyll help me. You stay here. Dont worry, Ill come for you in one day, two at most, Ill just recover a bit, and even if I cant come myself, then you come to me, Ill be in his mothers castle. He nodded in the direction of Kolin. Meanwhile, search the tower. The warden-spirit will help you do you hear, Outpost? Gather up all the artefacts and charge him up well. Hell tell you how. If you get hungry, then dont use anyone from the Bel lands as food. Fly further away; the best would be to go to some town where its not so easily noticed. And try not to kill. Its possible, I believe, for Supremes to feed without killing. I wont be able to. Not if I fly far away, I wont. The nearest big town is Volgrad, but its more than forty versts away. If I fly, having changed into a bat itll take three hours. After such expenditure of energy I wont be able to contain myself. Ill drink my victim dry. As a matter of fact, that is why Ive been using the nearest village to save energy, and also I was able to leave many of my victims alive. OK. Then do it this way. When you set off to hunt, dress in a revealing way and fasten a nice fat purse on your belt. As soon as you land in town, walk around in an alleyway till someone attacks you. Then bon apptit! Only, dont leave any witnesses. And once youve finished your meal, slit your victims throat so that the body will be recorded as death by natural causes. Got it? Vereene nodded, looking at Oleg in astonishment. Brilliant, she whispered. No-one will bother to look for a murderer of criminals. A marvellous idea! Did you think it up yourself? Is that how you hunt? I read it in a book, Oleg replied. And as for hunting, I dont need human blood. Now, lets get on with it. The Vampiress melted into the depths of the passage. Oleg, groaning, picked up the body of the young duke and, holding onto the wall, staggered out of the tower. Right by the very exit itself Outposts quiet whisper reached him: Thank you, the warden-spirit rustled.

Youre welcome, Oleg mumbled in reply, took two more steps and then collapsed exhausted onto the ground. He heard the alarmed cries of the guards whod accompanied him, the lieutenants ominous shout: To the healer, quick! and then he lost consciousness once more. *** Oleg came round to an unbearable stench. He was lying on a soft, comfortable bed, and the confident and indomitable Mead-Beard was leaning over him. The magician-healer took the phial the source of an extremely strong smell of ammonium chloride - from under his patients nose and, looking somewhere above Olegs head, said: He has come round, your Grace. There was a rustling of skirts and the Duchess came into Olegs field of vision. How are you feeling, Hunter? Genuine concern could be heard in her voice. Oleg did a quick inventory of his body parts and determined with amazement that he had a full count. Not only was that count all present, but it was in full working order, too! Admittedly, Oleg still felt a slight weakness, but it was even pleasant, somehow. Not as good as Id like to be but not as bad as I could be, he answered. However, they didnt understand his humour. The Duchess looked askance at the magician, who slowly ran a light hand over his patients body, after which he flopped wearily into an armchair. Oleg sensed a sharp influx of energy. He at once had the urge to run somewhere, to do something All the symptoms of an energy overflow, he coldly ascertained in himself. I could have managed fine without an energy spike, he said hurriedly. I feel great! Splendid. In that case, if Mead-Beard is also of the opinion that you have a clean bill of health, you can get dressed and have some lunch. I will wait for you in my study. We have business to complete. The Duchess gave a polite smile and left the room. Oleg jumped up at once and threw on his clothes. He was absolutely starving! Just then servants came into the room carrying trays of food. The sheer quantity of victuals they were bringing would have been enough to feed Gargantua himself! At a loss, Oleg looked over at Mead-Beard. The old magician answered him with a jaunty wink. Is all this for me? Oleg drawled longingly, examining the endless number of dishes, plates, bowls, saucers and jugs. For you, for you, kind, old father Mead-Beard nodded amiably. You need to gather your strength now, eat more There was a note of irony in his voice, so subtle that Oleg couldnt for the life of him make out whether the old wizard was teasing him or was indeed genuinely concerned for his health.

Having sat down at the table, he ran his eyes over the gourmets paradise once more, and then he tumbled to it! Would you perchance do me the honour of sharing this food with me? Ah, yes, that I shall, young man, that I shall. Only, dont you worry too much about me. After all, it was you who lost a lot of blood, not me. So you go ahead and tuck in, itll do you good! Oleg sighed and, having managed to wait until Mead-Beard sat down at the table, he hurled himself at the food. At first the only sound in the room was the clatter of spoon against plate and the crunch of munched bones. Then, when Oleg was sufficiently satisfied, he decided to slake his hunger for information, too. How long was I out? he asked Mead-Beard. The guards brought you and Kolin yesterday, soon after sunset. You were unconscious. There were no particularly serious wounds, just cuts, but they were quite long and deep so that is why you lost a lot of blood. I sealed them and then gave you some blood-creating potions and fed you with energy. Your head might spin for two or three days, then your body will regain its equilibrium and youll be fit as a fiddle. And how is Kolin? Oleg knew that everything should be alright with the young Duke as he had put the sleep spell on him, but it would have looked suspicious had he not asked. To his surprise, Mead-Beard grew gloomy. Ah, well, that ones not so simple, the wizard answered evasively, causing all sorts of most unpleasant thoughts to come to Olegs mind. Whats wrong with him? When I dragged him out of the tower he was alive and seemed OK. He was just sleeping, as though under a spell. I thought you would have already woken him. Oh, thats fine. We didnt even need to wake him up. Koly came round the very same night, all by himself. Now he has a problem of quite another order. You see, it seems he was genuinely in love with the she-vampire and now hes in acute depression. I would never have thought such a thing were possible! But I hope hell come to his senses soon. After all, the wedding is in just two months, so he has time to calm down and accept his fate. I hope you destroyed her? Mead-Beard asked him with sudden concern. Otherwise, dont you know, these Supreme Vampires are terribly tenacious creations Dont you worry, she will never trouble you again, Oleg avoided giving a direct answer. But what were you saying about a wedding? Is Kolin getting married? And who is the bride? After all, hes still quite young.

Why, what are you saying? Hell soon be seventeen! Its just the right age. As for the bride, shes the young viscountess Nadena Borly, daughter and heir of Count Andjei Borly. A splendid partner! They have been betrothed since childhood. Oleg remembered a young girl he had glimpsed as he rode through the Borly estate. Theyd told him she was the Counts heir, and he had realized that he had to get out of the castle in haste. Viscountess Borly was, possibly, a splendid partner for the young duke of Bel, but no-one could call her a splendid woman, not even the most impudent and honey-tongued of flatterers. Although, Oleg corrected himself at once, That depends where. She would probably have won first place in a beauty contest on the island of Samoa where the natives think that there should be a lot of beauty, and the bigger, the better. But here But shell crush him! Oleg let out a cry from the heart when he pictured this splendid partner frolicking around on Kolins rather slender little body. Kolin has already put that argument forward, when he asked Mistress Katina to postpone the marriage, the old man smiled slyly into his whiskers. I suspect that the Duchesss uncompromising attitude in matters relating to the wedding has some role to play in his depression. Oleg wiped his lips and got up from the table. Thank you very much for your pleasant and informative conversation. Would you be so kind as to tell me, how I can get to the Duchesss study without happening by chance upon the young duke? I suspect he may be under some considerable confusion regarding my deeds, and I believe it would be better for me to avoid his company for the time being. Your reasoning is most sound, young man! Most sound! On the contrary, however - Kolin very much wants to see you, he insisted on expressing his gratitude to you. Nevertheless, I also believe its not a good idea for you to meet him just yet. And the Duchesss study is situated in the northern wing of the castle, so have no fear, you will not happen across the young duke. But I would not advise you to walk in the southern wing. No, not at all. I thank you, Oleg bowed and, calling a servant, asked to be led to the Duchesss study. Katina Bel received him seated on a large velvet-covered armchair, more like a throne than a normal chair. When Oleg entered, she tore herself away from the documents on the table in front of her, and, having ordered the servant to see to it that no one disturbed them, she asked Oleg to be seated. How are you feeling? she asked. Slightly taken aback, Oleg replied: Well, thank you. Nothing hurts? the Duchess continued her interrogation. Your scars arent bothering you? Why no, everything is perfectly fine. Such concern for his welfare surprised Oleg.

Excellent. That means that I have fully met the terms of that point of our agreement. Now, moving on. Starlet, my best mare, last years winner of the Imperial Horse Race, is waiting for you in the stables. Should it be necessary, on your arrival in Volgrad you can look up my agent and a relay will be organized at once, to any corner of the Empire. You will not need a relay before you get to Volgrad as it is merely a short stroll for Starlet. Oleg whistled. It was forty versts to Volgrad, or, counting in units Oleg was familiar with, more than twenty-six miles. And that was just an easy stroll? Then this horse was indeed something out of the ordinary! Ignoring his reaction, the Duchess opened a drawer in the table and pulled out an extremely weighty bag its sheer size simply wouldnt let you call it a purse. There is exactly one thousand here, she handed it over to Oleg. Please go ahead and count it. That wont be necessary. Oleg had studied the customs of Trir nobility well. Had he taken it into his head to do a recount, it would have been a weighty insult. And anyway, the proud and powerful Duchess didnt look like someone who would cheat. Not at all! Excellent. And now the most important point. After your return, I got in touch with my contacts. Unfortunately, the general opinion is that it is absolutely impossible for even a most worthy Hunter to obtain nobility in the course of the next nine days. I even contacted the Emperor, but they explained to me most politely that His Majesty would not hold an unscheduled audience for the sake of one Hunter who is in a hurry. So theres no chance, then? Oleg asked, trying to make his voice sound as measured as possible. That is not what I said. You see, I have, so it seems, found a way to get around the law according to which one can only become a member of the nobility with the Emperors agreement. Moreover, you would not merely be a nobleman, but also a representative of one of the most important families of the Empire. However, you must swear not to use the privileges you would receive to harm the Bel family in general or, in particular, my son, as the sole legal heir. I swear, Oleg agreed. The ring on the Duchesss finger flashed. Accepted! the Duchess proclaimed without hiding her pleasure, after which she tugged the bell pull to call the lackey. Invite the notary and the witnesses, she commanded. The servant girl nodded and disappeared behind the door. A middle-aged man soon appeared in the room. Magical sparks glistened; he was apparently none other than the notary. The two others were evidently vassals of the Duchess. One of them was Andjei Dazhan whom Oleg already knew, the other was a man of thirty-five in dark clothes without any jewels or decorations, with a cold and haughty face. There followed a short ritual of introductions as

a result of which Oleg found out that he had the chance to enjoy the doubtful honour of meeting the notary Mar Orletz and Baronet Olmet Kryazhan. As their acquaintance was a matter of business, and as he was already acquainted with Andjei who also, incidentally, turned out to be a Baronet - the procedure was kept to a minimum. After a half hour of bowing and exchanging mutual pleasantries, thus assured of each others multilateral highest respect, they were able to move on to the heart of the matter. Gentlemen, the Duchess said, when they had finally completed the required ceremony, I would like you to witness my decision to adopt the Hunter present here, known by the name of Arioch, as my younger son with no rights of inheritance. She put her signature on one of the pieces of paper lying in front of them which was decorated with a large official stamp, and beckoned over the notary, who attentively looked it over before scratching his signature on it. The procedure was repeated by all those present, after which the document came to Oleg. And now I would ask you to authorize new documents for Arioch of Bel, which I give to him by my rights as the head of the region, in the name of the Emperor. A new sheet of paper did the rounds of those present and stopped at Oleg. Certificate of nobility, and titular sheet. Two more pieces of paper remained with Oleg after a short trip around those present. Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all. The Duchess stood up from the table. The gentlemen took the hint and after a hurried goodbye, left the study. With a long sigh, Katina sat down in her place once again. And that is all, my son. Now you are not only a nobleman of the Empire but a titled individual, admittedly, without the right to inherit the family estates. Incidentally, I dont think it would be particularly difficult for you to earn your own estate. Are you satisfied? Yes, I am most grateful, Oleg said. Looking at her tired face, he suddenly clearly realized what it had cost Katrina to make this decision. It is much more than I had reckoned with. I promise I shall not disgrace your family. Our family. You are a Bel now, too, and dont forget it. Never forget it! The Duchesss voice gained volume and strength. I promise! Well, thats fine then, Madame Bel sighed, transforming from a powerful Duchess into a tired woman again. And now might I know, as my maternal right, and here she laughed why you so urgently needed to become a nobleman, and where it is you are hurrying off to? Why of course, Mother. Its no secret. I am preparing to enter the Valensian Academy and I needed nobility only so as not to be the black sheep among the others attending that institution. After all, as far as I know, most of both the students and the professors are from the aristocracy.

Once shed heard this, the Duchess burst out laughing. Please forgive me, but that is indeed funny. Firstly, as far as I know, and my informants have never let me down thus far, within the confines of the Academy class distinctions are strictly forbidden. And secondly, you have fallen out of the frying pan into the fire. True enough, there are not so many representatives of the lower classes, the children of farmers or artisans, in the Academy. But there are some. And as for an Imperial Prince and that is how you should be addressed beyond the borders of the Empire; you are only a disinherited young duke within its confines that will really be a first! It is, unfortunately, very rare for high level magical powers to appear in members of the Trir aristocracy. We are more warriors than magicians. So you cannot escape your place as a black sheep. If, of course, you manage to get in. There is always very high competition and strict selection criteria to get into the Academy. Ill manage, Oleg replied. No matter what else, he was sure of his own powers. Well, good luck with your exams, then. The Duchess was serious. When are you planning to leave? The sooner the better. Probably todayright now, in fact. The sooner I leave these walls the less chance there is that I will run into my elder brother. Something tells me that I may not survive his gratitude for my saving him and returning him to his bride. Oleg couldnt help a bit of sarcasm. By the way, I really hope you wont try to choose a bride for me, too. He suddenly became serious. I give you my word, no good will come of it. Whatever has got into you? Of course I wont. Dont worry, you are not an heir. The choice of your lifes companion is your own personal affair. Thank you, you have greatly reassured me, Oleg said, smiling again, and headed towards the door. He stopped in the doorway. Goodbye, your Grace, please say hello to Kolin for me and assure him I wish him only the best of luckhell need it. And with those words he walked out of the door. Goodbye, the Duchess said after him. She mumbled to herself. Whats he getting at? Maybe I really should postpone the wedding? Kolin did seem suspiciously serious today when he talked of suicide. Ill have to think all this over very thoroughly! Before leaving the castle Oleg paid a visit to the Duchesss jeweller. The old man turned out to be very easy to deal with and Oleg obtained a ring with a pretty sizeable ruby for twenty gold coins, even though he did pay a few imperials over the market price. Then, looking around warily and using all his Hunters experience in moving undetected, Oleg made his way to the stables which were located in the southern wing of the castle. Starlet, already saddled and bridled, was waiting for him. She was a shortish but extremely graceful mare with a raven-coloured coat and a white mark on her forehead which was no doubt what gave her her name. Thunder, Olegs own stallion, burdened with Olegs

goods and chattels, was standing nearby. He had, evidently, been allotted the role of beast of burden. Oleg ruffled their manes fondly, then jumped into the saddle and gently touched Starlets sides with his heels. Having ridden out of the castle, he headed towards the ruined Black Tower. Before setting out on his way to the Academy he would be well advised to pick Vereene up and think of a way to bring her right into the heart of the land of Light magicians. For this, he was counting on the Supreme Vampires ability to transmit themselves into precious stones. Thinking this idea over, Oleg was admiring the play of the suns rays on his ruby ring. It looked as though he would have to feed Vereene on his own magical energy. Busy with such thoughts, Oleg missed the moment when the ruined above-ground part of the Black Tower appeared over the horizon. Starlet really was above all praise. The journey which had taken over two hours last time was now reduced to forty minutes! And the horse wasnt even sweating! Stopping fifty metres from the entrance, Oleg tied his horse to a puny birch tree and, having cast a protection spell over her, plunged inside the castle. The Vampiress packed quickly. To all appearances, she was used to travelling. Oleg was really concerned she would ask him to drag her coffin along, seeing as according to many legends that was a vampires most vital possession. But luckily, it was not necessary. Vereene only grabbed a long black hooded cape of tightly-woven material, a mask without eyeholes, and gloves. As the girl explained briefly, those were vital protective equipment from the rays of the rising or setting sun, which were dangerous for her. My travelling coffin, she joked. When Oleg told her all that had happened in the Bel castle, she wouldnt believe him at first. He had to show her his documents. Once shed studied them carefully, Vereene shook her head in disbelief. Well, my head was worth a lot to her... Taken into the family, the title of an Imperial Prince, gold prize winner of the Imperial Horse Race, and a thousand gold pieces to boot... A reason to be proud! I would say this is the very biggest reward a hunter has ever received since the very inception of hunters! Now I understand why you decided to attack me, she said, handing back the papers. Not an Imperial Prince but a non-inheriting young duke, Oleg corrected her. Theres a considerable difference. Within the confines of the Empire, yes. However, beyond its borders, in accordance with the Irinian agreement, all individuals belonging to the senate families of the Empire are afforded the title and honours of a full prince. A special name was even invented for them: Imperial Prince.

Not having much clue about the subtleties of Elltyans politics, Oleg decided it was best to stop the argument but wondered to himself: While within the Empire Im just a non-inheriting young duke, albeit from a very important family, beyond its confines Im a full-fledged prince? Its crazy, in my opinion. But Im not against it, he came to his final conclusion. As if youd be against it, Master Imperial Prince! Vereene teased gaily, as she finished saddling his stallion. Jumping into the saddle, she called out: Catch me if you can, master! She pushed him gently on the shoulder and, laughing, spurred the horse on. Oleg leapt onto Starlet and began the chase. He quickly caught Vereene, though at first he was quite unable to tag her she wriggled around, dropped under her galloping horses belly, jumped off swiftly and ran a few steps holding on to the saddle and then leapt back on, displaying all kinds of circus tricks which just wouldnt let her be touched. At last, Oleg managed to grab hold of her by the very end of her long black hair, and gave it a gentle tug. Oooh, you! Well then hold on! and Vereene spun her steed round in mock rage. I give in, I give in! Oleg put his hands up. Let me catch my breath! You know, the girl said when hed got his breath back, Thats the first time Ive done something like that in all the years of my existence. And it was quite enjoyable! Unbelievable! It must be your influence. You are really young, after all... And whats so unbelievable about it all? Its fun! And by the way, you really know how to ride a horse. Will you teach me? Of course. Stunt riding and fencing are the first things well study. You need to be trained and trained! Otherwise you sit in the saddle like a cow on a fence and you dont know how to hold a sword in your hand! I could do better with a sword when I was a child. Aha, aha, so you chased Supreme Vampires round the courtyard with a court sword and sent Shapeshifters flying, did you?! Oleg declared. There werent any Supreme Vampires in those days, Vereene said in all seriousness. They were only made one hundred and fourteen years after my birth. And you? Oleg blurted out without thinking. I was just a simple girl from the Nagall clan back then, Verka the Amazon as my brothers used to tease me. A simple girl? You can fence, you can perform fantastic horse-riding acrobatics and you understand international relations. Thats a rather odd collection of talents for a simple girl. But how did you become a Supreme Vampire back then if there werent any? Or are you trying to tell me that they turned you into a Vampire when you were one hundred and fourteen years old? If so, then congratulations are due. Youre in great shape for your age! Well, not a completely simple girl, of course. If you are so fond of titles Countess del Nagall at your service. Although admittedly our countdom and the estates of our neighbours

are now the Scorched Lands. And from the whole of our clan, I am the only one left alive and that under suspended sentence. As for the rest, you almost guessed correctly. By the way, thank you for the compliment. I was one hundred and fourteen when I became a Supreme Vampire. But by then Id already been feeding solely on liquid foods for eighty-nine years, as I was a simple vampire. And I switched to that regime soon after my twenty-fourth birthday. I see. So how old are you then? Well, generally you dont ask a lady that question. However, if you really want to know... Oleg hurried to assure her he was burning with curiosity. Im... and here she made a dramatic pause and then said solemnly: Twenty-four! Fibber, Oleg remarked. No, its true. At least, twenty-four in human terms. But in vampire terms whats the point in counting? Time slipped by unnoticed as they were talking. The walls of Volgrad were already visible in the distance when Oleg remembered the problem facing them. Tell me, is it true that you can incarnate into a precious stone? Yes. Could you incarnate into this if necessary? Oleg showed her the ring he had bought in the castle. I could, Vereene answered once shed examined the ruby. And then she got alarmed: I hope youre not about to chase me into that stone? Its a really unpleasant state to be in. I might have to, Oleg replied. When we enter Valensia Ill have to hide you somehow. Otherwise you and me too, by the way would have problems. They say that light magicians are somehow none too fond of vampires, strangely enough. You can pretend to be a human in Valensia, Ill feed you with my magical energy, but we somehow have to get through the checks at the border on the way in. So youll have to ride inside the stone... When Oleg had finished, Vereene burst out laughing. Tell me, where did you get all that from? she asked him between fits of laughter. As if youd dropped from the moon! You cant go about not knowing the basic legal codes of the country youre intending to enter. Listen. In Valensia they have a very timid attitude to personal property. And that is precisely what I am now--your personal property, slave girl Vereene, which any person capable of seeing an aura will easily confirm. De jure I only count as the property of the Imperial Prince Arioch of Bel, and as such I can remain at the side of the above-mentioned prince, with absolutely no need to hide, wherever it pleases him to go, be it within the confines of the Light Academy or at senate meetings. So dont you worry. The worst thing which might happen is that the customs officials could ask you to forbid me from

drinking human blood within Valensias borders. And even that is unlikely. Now youre such a big cheese that no-one will bother you about such trifles. Trifles? Oleg asked incredulously. In the eyes of the customs officials, yes. But if you get enraged by their importunity, you might file a case of disrespect and that, in the eyes of the customs officials, is far from trifling, as it would lead to colossal problems for them personally. Whats more, I have no intentions of feeding on serfs. I really liked the last rapist. You could say Ive developed a taste for them! And with these words Vereene licked her lips significantly. And robbers are really not so bad, either young, strong bodies with good blood! Well, Im happy for you, Oleg smiled. The sun was already sliding down towards the horizon and Vereene threw on her protective gown as they rode into Volgrad. They had to spend the night in an inn, in one room, due to lack of available lodgings. A lot of people had arrived in town, and, as Oleg was told, they were all bound for Valensia: in honour of the Academy entrance exams a grandiose tournament was being held, an archery competition and other shows, as they would be called on Earth. To Olegs amazement, Vereene didnt go out to feed in the evening but lay down peacefully on the bed. In answer to his amazed smile, she innocently shrugged her shoulders. I dont feel like it. Im full. I stuffed myself last night. It was a big gang. So I ate like a python. Nearly burst. I see. Oleg rolled over onto his side and quietly fell asleep. They crossed the Empires border around noon of the next day. As Vereene had predicted, there were no problems. In fact, no sooner had the customs officials seen Olegs papers than the customs checks were over and done with. After that, standing to attention, the captain asked but one question: To the Academy, my Lord? and having received a confirmative reply, he hurried to open the gates himself. They didnt pay any attention to Vereene at all, as though Olegs off-hand remark: Shes with me had made her invisible. After another five days of swift riding they reached Valensias capital city Antis, where the famous Academy of Light Powers was located. Having arrived at the Academy and registered as a university entrant, Oleg gave a sigh of relief. It was still two days until the exams. Hed made it! Soon, perhaps, hed be able to think about how to return to his own world, though, strangely, it didnt seem as important as it did at first. Now, he had a seemingly limitless set of options before him. For a split second he pondered over the fact that he was about to become a student once again, although he wouldnt be studying philology now, and then gave a broad grin. He liked being a student! All the more so seeing as he wouldnt be studying romano-germanic languages but light and dark magic. So it certainly wouldnt be boring.

He was sure of that. The Road to Magic Epilogue A tall man climbed onto the platform against the wooden walls of the huge hall. His hair was utterly grey, the hands which firmly grasped his magical staff and his face, too, were covered in wrinkles. Age is associated with weakness and this was a word that could in no way be associated with Milord Rector Elias Alfrani, who for over three hundred and some years had been head of the Academy. It was not even a matter of the sparing, precise movements of the man approaching the podium which gave him the air of not merely a good but an excellent fencer, nor was it in the firm and severe look shining from his eyes gone colourless with time it was simply that anyone who had the good fortune of talking with this exceptional person instantly felt the gigantic, simply incredible force that surrounded him. Milord Rector was the most potent magician at the Academy, and had been for a long very long time. Coming onto the podium, Milord Elias threw a glance over those present the entrants, their parents, servants and family members. Then he began his speech. It was not so different from hundreds of other speeches which he had given as rector, and while his lips were automatically going through the required words; announcing the names of the lucky ones who had been accepted; the faculties they would be studying in, and the names of the teachers who would lead them in their studies, his brain was busy thinking over the report he was planning to give today at the meeting of the Academys council. The Rector was very troubled by the increasing magical activity in the world, especially the growth in the dark sector. Of course, he understood that having destroyed the Dark Citadel they had condemned the world to serve as a receptacle of the dark force, and consequently, the unavoidable strengthening of all remaining dark magicians and the appearance of new ones. After all, it was especially to avoid such a situation that he had made a move to open a Faculty of Dark Magic in the Academy. He had put up with the jokes and mockery, the witticisms about the darkening of the light and the murmurings of the Deacon. And all that to weaken, or ideally completely avoid, this situation. And what had come of it all? In its fifteen years of existence, barely half the number of students had graduated from the Dark Faculty as had graduated from Faculty of Earth. People were simply afraid to study there. And as for the graduates... Not one of them could be compared with even the weakest of the magicians of the Dark Citadel in terms of power. And now the result was staring him in the face. For the last two years, sensing a tension in the magical currents, Milord Rector had sent out scouts with the orders to monitor unusual and potentially dangerous incidents. Now, it

seemed, his hunch was beginning to come true. Dark magician had appeared in the Baronies, able to turn people into animals. The Rector only had to think about how much energy one had to possess, about how complicated it was to weave such spells, and he developed a nervous tick. Admittedly, it seemed that the spells were not complete, the effects only temporary, but if the magician was willing to waste so much might just to punish some over-impudent lieutenant, then that was frightening. What would he be capable of in battle? Elias had himself examined the memory of the fool of a lieutenant... what was his name? Ah yes, von Buervil... and what he saw had given him quite a scare: the magician, whose face was not visible the lieutenant had devoted all his attention to the magicians pretty companion had turned him into a frog without the slightest effort, without reciting a long incantation but just with one offhand gesture! Such might and concentration were simply frightening! Elias himself could ignite a forest, dry up a medium-sized river or bring down a castle with a similar gesture, but for anything more complicated even he would have to resort to using either a spell or meditative contemplation. And that all took time. But in von Buervils case it was accomplished all at once! And amidst all that, the lieutenant somehow gave off the stench of dark enchantments! But that wasnt all. The nomads of Shem had organized a raid on the Iron Mountains and the border of Trir. The gnomes had deflected their attack but nevertheless the Imperialists had been stung. Now the Emperor was preparing a punitive expedition, planning to drown the steppes in blood. The odd thing was that this was the first time in twenty years that the nomads had taken such nonsense into their heads the Emperor of Trirs reaction to such things was unambiguous and easy to predict. And their leader was some Black Prophet! In Fenrian, that state of the crazy fanatics of Orchis the Murder Magician, which was rotten to the core, elves had appeared. Elves, who had not so much as put their nose outside their enchanted forests for five hundred years! A couple had come, the male even masquerading as a human. Theyd sung a couple of songs, bewitched all the courtiers, killed a courtier-murderer and vanished without a trace, leaving the current governor of Fenrian a mocking letter. It was just like them appear, stir everyone up and then disappear with the help of their Starry Way. Absolutely crazy creatures! You could go to them, ask them what was meant by their actions, Starborn Prince Aloar would be glad to see an old friend. But as for an answer, theyd offer you tea and even invite you to admire their dances under the moonlight Elias had studied all the ins and outs of Elfish etiquettebut thats all youd get. So it would be better to try and figure it out yourself and not waste precious time on a trip to the Golden Forest. However, it was clear that something extraordinary had taken place!

And to cap it all, the residents of the Oner marshes had crossed the border with Irinia! They hadnt touched anyone, only captured Jollyboy Frakhrs band and gone back home. I wonder what hed done to annoy them so much? Judging from the information his agent had brought, this act of the Oner Undead had turned out to be a great service to the Irinian government. But joking aside, it was the first time the Undead had taken people. And whats more, they hadnt killed them on the spot but dragged them back to their lair for some unknown reason! He didnt give a damn about Jollyboy, of course theyd taken him and thank the gods - but were this to be repeated he would have to send a fair party of warrior magicians to deal with what was happening, and there were hardly enough of them to go round as it was! In general, he was overwhelmed with concerns. The elderly magician shook his head and focussed his attention on his speech, which was drawing to the final stage. And to conclude. As you know, from time to time we come across some amazing people in our midst, people who have received the gift of not one but several elements. It is customary for such unique individuals to have the right to choose for themselves the Faculty for their main studies, not neglecting of course the development of the other sides of their gifts. In accordance with our rules, although they will study alongside other students, they will be following their own programme specially put together for each one of them. Today I am pleased to present to you three such students. Ariola Gobei. Possesses inclination towards the elements Earth and Fire. She has chosen to study in the Department of Healing of the Earth Faculty. Laressa Ariola, please, come to me. At these words a delicate, dark-haired girl of fifteen stood up in the back rows of the hall. Blushing desperately under the gaze of the hundreds of people present, she made her way to the Rectors podium. Although I can well understand and share your aspiration to heal, I should nevertheless draw your attention to the fact that sometimes a sore which has not been scorched in time can kill thousands of people. You wish to heal, and I have nothing against that, but I would also remind you of your obligation to follow a course on the warrior magic of fire. Knowing your lack of desire to study such things, I would like to warn you that I myself shall examine you in this subject, and you will not leave the walls of our Academy until you can keep it up for at least five minutes! At these words of the Rector many of the students glanced at the poor girl, doomed to the fate of an eternal student. She herself also hung her head and wrinkled her nose, to all appearances fully sharing the opinion of the majority. This did not go unnoticed by the Rector. And there is no need to cry, my beauty. Believe me, this is well within your capacity. You simply need to develop it. And we shall help you.

Franko Vassini, he went on. Elements Air and Water. Element chosen Water. On his own personal request he will also study weather control in the Faculty of Air. I fully support your choice, young man! A slightly plump young man with brown hair and lavish clothing went up to the podium and stood next to Ariola. Arioch Bel. Elements Fire and ... here the announcer left a dramatic pause, Dark magic! A rustle of surprise ran through the hall. Pushing his way to the tribune with difficulty, Oleg met the careful and studious eyes of the Rector and his future classmates. Chosen element Fire. However, this time, after a thorough examination of your capacities, I am obliged to break with our traditions a little. In keeping with your wishes, you will study warrior magic in the Faculty of Fire; however, for your more general studies I will use my authority to direct you to the Dark Faculty. At least for the first year. Remember, you mustnt bury your talent in the ground! You will also do the coursework for the Magic of Darkness. And that is all. I congratulate our new entrants and wish you may all successfully graduate from our Academy. For all matters regarding accommodation please see the Deans Office of your chosen Faculty. *** Oleg was standing on the doorstep of the smallish detached house he and Vereene would share. His first goal had been achieved! He had become a student at the Academy of Light Powers. In five years time he would be a fully-fledged magician. But even now, before he had started his studies, he could do more than a little. Remembering his first faltering attempts at magic in the world of Earth, he smiled, pulled out last the last of his cigarettes, which had survived by some miracle. Lighting it with a fireball he invoked with a slight effort of will, he inhaled blissfully. Life was wonderful! Then he remembered the conversation he had had in the corridor of the Academy just after he had passed the entrance exams with flying colours, and called out to Vereene who was bustling about the household chores the Vampiress turned out to be remarkably competent domestically. Im going down to the pub now, to get to know my classmates. Do you want to come with me? What the hell for? the girl called back. By the way, just for your information, wine has no effect on vampires. And its no fun for me to watch your drunk faces on an empty stomach. So you go yourself. Itll be my turn to drink after sundown! Well, suit yourself. Then come and join us once youve had a bite. Well be in The Drunken Studiouso Oleg called out, and quickly ran down the steps. He had but one thought in his head: Seems as though the funs just beginning!

End of Book One