This is a fan translation of Wrong Time for Dragons (Не время для драконов) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy authors Sergei Lukyanenko and Nick Perumov.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 16
There were no longer any cheerful conversations with the young driver. Either he was offended at Telle's reproach or frightened by what had happened to Victor. By evening, when low gray walls appeared up ahead, Basil began to urge the horse on even more. The horse itself, sensing the coming rest, picked up the pace.
The small town was clearly divided into two parts.
The smaller part was behind the fortress wall, while the larger one—with poorer houses—stretched farther away, along the hilly ridge. The road curved, passing some distance from the wall.
"Once you enter the wall, there's the prince's castle," Basil said over his shoulder. "I shouldn't go there… yet… I'm going to the inn."
"We should go there too," Victor suggested.
"No, you need to present yourselves to the prince!" Basil turned. "I'm loyal to Earth, I know the customs! If you're going to the mages in Feros, then you have to bow to the vassals you meet on your way! Maybe you'll get something from it… they might help you with traveling arrangements or give you something…"
Victor glanced at Telle, who nodded.
"Well then, thanks you, my friend Basil," Victor said. "For the ride, for the milk."
"Earth is strong, you can thank it," Basil muttered. "Should I slow down the horse?"
They climbed down from the cart. Basil urged the horse on and picked up the book.
"You scared him with your Dragons, Telle."
"It's fine," the girl grimaced fastidiously. "He shouldn't spit at the Masters, if he doesn't have wings of his own. Let's go, I hope we can make it into town by nightfall."
Turning off the road, they headed straight for it. The walled part of the town turned out to be not as small as it had seemed, but it was somehow flattened, low, as if melted into the ground. Even the towers peeking out from behind the wall were ridiculously bloated, as if embarrassed at their height. But the landscape around them was pastoral: the meadows were covered in grass that looked to be carefully seeded; there were occasional trees, each of them strong, not a single dry or one bowed by the wind; even the hills were smoothed over.
"Why did you call me your brother?" Victor asked. "We don't even look alike."
"Why not? If I dye my hair, we might pass for relatives… The cover works, Victor. I'm manifesting Power, which happens a lot. You went to take me to the mages, which also makes sense. Both to keep the girl safe on the road and maybe to get a job with the mages too… No one is going to think anything of it."
"And if they demand to see your Power?"
"Then I'll show them," Telle laughed. "What, you think I can't find ore or water in the ground? Easy. It's simple enough for me to do anything that a self-taught girl can learn."
"And what about things a self-taught girl can't know?"
"If I try," Telle evaded the question. "Just keep your Power in check. Ritor must be going crazy now, probing the area…"
"Why is he chasing me so much?"
"He's chasing himself, Victor. He's cursed the day he became the Slayer. He thinks that the only thing that can save our world is a Dragon."
"You disagree?"
"Anything is possible."
"But he's right, isn't he? A Dragon really is coming?"
"Yes. And you have to be ready when it appears."
They finally reached the town. The began walking along the stone wall, to the gate where the last of the day's carts were entering. A dozen soldiers in dusty dark cloaks with swords on their sides and some with rifles on their backs were making snide comments at each cart.
A gray-bearded old man bringing an entire cart full of melons got an earful: did the old fool not know that the loyal vassals of Earth had plenty of fruits and vegetables of their own? They gave a handful of snide comments to a country bumpkin who was gaping at the mighty walls and the tough gate. A flock of girls in a covered wagon driven by an ugly old woman was told something salty and salacious. Then again, it was salacious only to Victor, as the girls replied with laughter, while the old woman responded with something nearly made the brave guards themselves blush. One rider, a very young man on a decrepit yellowish nag, got taken apart verbally: from the ridiculous hat to the ancient-looking sword. Fortunately, the kid was too busy looking at the towers rising from beyond the wall to hear the insults.
Finally it was Victor and Telle's turn.
"Where are you in such a hurry, girl?" Naturally, the idle soldiers' thoughts were moving in only one direction. "We're much more fun than your friend!"
Victor automatically gripped the hilt of his sword, which caused the guards to burst into laughter. But soldiers clearly had no plans to do anything more than make verbal suggestions, but they were ready to fight too.
"Don't you dare insult my sister!" Victor exclaimed, accepting Telle's game. "She's on her way to the mages in Feros, to master her Power!"
Now there was a measure of respect on the faces of the guards. The one in charge, in a cloak embroidered with gold braid, nodded to the others, "Hey, Rames, take them to the prince's castle!"
"As you wish, Sergeant," a tall hook-nosed man with Greek or Bulgarian features bowed to Telle slightly. "The young lady has sensed Power within her?"
"Yes, I have!" Telle exclaimed in a perky voice.
The soldiers burst out laughing. Rames smiled covertly but retained a serious expression.
"Then I will be happy to serve as your escort… at least for now."
He gave Victor a sly wink. The implication was obvious: any civilian was supposed to be proud of such respect afforded to his sister.
They walked along the cobblestone streets towards the town center. Against Victor's expectations, the streets were fairly clean, and he didn't smell the stink that historians claimed was ever-present in medieval cities. Maybe the subjects of the Earth Clan had a normal sewer system. Or maybe magic served the same purpose here.
Picturing a magical toilet, Victor could only shake his head. He wouldn't be surprised if such a thing existed in the Middle World. When magic gained widespread use, it could be utilized in a variety of ways, not just for a higher purpose…
Then again, there didn't seem to be anything magical on the streets. People were walking, and there was nothing surprising about them. Except for them being a little curvier and thicker than in other towns. It seems Earth's vassals lived sated lives.
"Being a mage is not the worst thing in the world…" Rames spoke in a high, melodious voice. He had a slight but noticeable accent, suggesting that while he was fluent in the language, it wasn't his native tongue. Then again, not being a mage is also a worthy task. Especially for a young and pretty girl…"
Telle blushed and smiled with the simplicity of a naïve girl.
"Your best years will be spent studying in underground temples and dark caves…" Rames continued to reason. "The bleak mages, buried into learning the secrets of nature aren't even going to notice when a beautiful rose blossoms and start exuding its aroma in the ignominious darkness of the dungeons… And when the Power attained by such great privations grows strong enough, there will be no more use for it…"
"But I want to be a mage!" Telle exclaimed capriciously. "I want to be loved and feared! I want to speed down the road in a red open-top carriage, wearing a white dress and diamonds, with an elven boy standing behind me and brushing my hair!"
Rames sighed and glanced at Victor, "What do you say, eh?"
"Well, if the girl wants it, why not?"
"Why not…" the guard agreed. "It's good for the relatives too…"
Victor didn't answer the verbal jab. They reached the castle in silence. Gloomy, it was just as squat as the rest of the town. The castle looked deserted. Warm light could be seen in the few windows. The wrought dark metal gates were ajar, with motionless figures standing behind them.
"Your sister is lucky," Rames said. "Master Andrzej has arrived a few hours ago. A first-rank mage! He'll be able to see Power easily and tell you right away whether it's worth going all the way to Feros… All right then, happy to serve!"
Clicking his heels, Rames turned and began walking back down the street. Grabbing Telle by the hand, Victor stopped her, "Where are you going, you idiot? Why ask for trouble?"
Telle's chat with the guard had been so convincing that Victor was really starting to see her as an eccentric girl. A red carriage and an elven page… hah…
"Too late to change plans now!" Telle pulled her hand free. "Come on, let's go!"
Following Telle and cursing everything in the world, from falling out fuses to the damned Dragons, Victor entered the gate.
As it turned out, the entrance was also under guard. Except these guards had neater and cleaner uniforms, and all of them were tall like grenadiers, with well-fed faces.
"We've come to bow before the great prince!" Telle said loudly. "I'm on my way to Feros to start my education at the mage school, and I'd like to meet my future vassal!"
Victor's heart dropped from such arrogance. He thought he was going to have to forget his disguise and call upon his Power…
But either such behavior was typical of smug adepts of magic, or the guards preferred to avoid any magical quarrels.
"Enter," one of the guards offered, stepping aside.
Two brothers were driving the mail coach. Naturally, they weren't supposed to let anyone ride with them.
But could two mature men really have refused to pick up Loy Iver who'd been hitchhiking on the side of the road?
Unfortunately, they ended up getting nothing. Loy really wasn't in the mood.
Victor and Telle hadn't been waiting for her at the agreed upon place! Yes, she was late, but only by a quarter of an hour. And the tracks told her that the girl from the Unknown Clan had taken her ward away over three hours ago.
That little bitch!
Victor would've waited. And she'd have told him how easily she tricked his enemies. And maybe she'd have gotten what she wanted…
"Would the pretty lady want to have some wine with us?" The older brother decided to employ the old and trusted method. A huge four-liter bottle with hazy red wine appeared. Loy chuckled mentally.
"Why not?"
Squeezed on the coach box between two sweaty, excited men, she boldly downed half a glass of wine. The wine was warm, sweet, and fortified. The brothers exchanged excited glances and also took turns drinking from the bottle.
"I'm first," the older brother said, taking the bottle. His tone was so suggestive that Loy nearly punched him in the face.
"All right," the younger one agreed obediently.
"Want to have another?" Loy suggested.
The brothers glowed. They pictured the immediate future in the most colorful hues: the young girl would never be able to outdrink them, soon she was going to laugh dumbly and respond to their still joking embraces and kisses. And then the older brother would grab the drunk girl, help her move to the wagon with its many soft sacks with mail, parcels with dwarven and human newspapers, packages that had to be delivered to addresses all over Feros…
"You're not keeping up, guys!" Loy said in amazement.
The brothers picked up the pace. They could see that Loy was drinking for real. There was no way such a young girl could drink more wine than them!
The brothers held on for nearly an hour. Then they started to laugh, hug one another over the head of the bowing Loy, and sing loud songs. Loy carried each of them into the wagon, lay them down onto the cargo, and grabbed the reins herself. She was feeling a little dizzy from the drink.
"Move!" she shouted, and the whip whistled over the pair of black horses. Sorry, horsies, going to have to pick up the pace…
If the horses had been trained to take a saddle, Loy would've preferred to borrow one and chase down Victor while mounted. But it would've been foolish to go on a chase on a draft horse.
"Move!"
The mail coach, shaking and swaying, was speeding down the road. That little bitch Telle, what is she thinking? Wants to do everything on her own, without help? Would she have the skills to, well, how about the trick I pulled on the drivers?
The table stretched for about twenty meters and was packed with people. A guard with bright officer's stripes on his sleeve led Victor and Telle into the feast hall, searched the table with his eyes, then ordered something to the soldiers standing by the door. Two drunk guests were removed from the table, a strong-looking girl hurriedly removed their dirty dishes and wiped the dirty tablecloth with the hem of her skirt.
"Sit," the officer said tersely and headed for the head of the table.
The lighting was meager: fuming torches on the walls and candles on the table. Either Earth's vassals weren't friendly with the dwarves, were too far away from the railroad, or refused to make use of electricity for some ideological reasons.
But Victor finally felt himself in a truly medieval environment.
The guests—men, women, and even some children—were chewing loudly, consuming a multitude of dishes with the energy of a fat person who'd decided to cut their diet short. They were serving roasted boar, three huge dishes that only had bones remaining were still on the table. There were plenty of meat appetizers, sausages, pâtés, salads. There was no fish or poultry, and this gastronomical showing off from the Earth Clan made Victor smile. All this mess was being washed down with a great amount of wine: white, red, rosé.
The tapestries covering all the walls were also primarily showing feasts. Although there were a few canvases that portrayed golden wheat fields, large herds, and laughing girls picking fruit of incredible size: a grape the size of a child's fist and an apple the size of a soccer ball.
People were looking at Victor curiously, while Telle was barely afforded a glance. A thin prepubescent girl wasn't exactly up to this crowd's tastes.
Meanwhile, the guard reached the honored seats. That was where the masters of the feast were sitting: a heavyset elderly man, probably the town's prince, and a thin, balding, cloak-wrapped man.
Was this really the first-rank Earth mage?
No, it had to be the prince…
But the guard bent down to the elderly man's ear and started to whisper something to him. Shaking his head, the prince smiled slightly and raised his hand. The table immediately grew quiet, as full mouths shut and glasses lifted to lips froze in mid-air. A guttural sound rang out in the silence as someone managed to swallow a large chunk with great effort.
"We have guests," the prince said kindly. "A girl named Telle has felt the Power of Earth magic in her…"
The thin mage twitched his head in a birdlike manner and stared at Telle across the table.
"She's on her way to Feros but has honored us with a visit, deciding to look at her future vassals…"
Silence fell.
Victor felt a stream of cold sweat crawl down his spine.
But there weren't any indignant shouts or laughter that was no less dangerous yet.
"Pleased to meet a future colleague," the mage grated. "Come, girl."
Telle, imperturbably taking a sip of white wine, rose from the table. Victor also went with her.
"The young man may stay…" the mage said.
"I'm responsible for her!"
No more objections followed. Under the piercing gazes of a hundred pairs of eyes, they walked up to the prince and the mage.
Up close, the Earthen one looked repulsive. His eyes were cold and dead. His skin was yellowish-gray, like from constantly being in the darkness. It seemed strange that a member of a clan whose magic attracted such a lively, if a little animalistic, crowd managed to be so haggard.
"You may call me Master Andrzej, girl," the mage grated. His gaze peered at Telle, then he shook his head in disappointment, "I don't sense Power within you."
The hall sighed. And, with a sense of foreboding, Victor realized that all that would still happen: indignant shouts, laughter, and, say, flogging on the square in front of the castle.
And fury, the flaming fury of the Slayer twitched within him.
"I don't show off my Power!" Telle replied sharply.
"That is good," Andrzej agreed. "But you can show it to me. You must."
There was mockery in his voice. He didn't expect anything from the foolish and arrogant girl, this stooping, bald, squinting mage. He was simply following a ritual.
Telle raised her hand. Victor was able to see her fingers form a complex figure, and it was as if dust rose over her hand and momentarily enveloped the girl's figure.
The wall across from Telle shook. A heavy wave rolled over it, bulging out stones, causing dry lime to fall, and tearing down tapestries. A huge triangular shield fell to the floor with a dull thud.
Andrzej leapt to his feet.
The wave was fading. The stones were still shaking, and for a moment Victor thought that vague outlines of a monstrous, angular body could be seen through the wall… But Telle lowered her hand in exhaustion, and it was all over.
Only the wine that was pouring out of someone's dropped bottle was making gurgling sounds.
The Earth mage stared at Telle with burning eyes that had instantly lost its dusty plaque.
"Second rank at the very least…" he whispered. "Girl… who is your teacher?"
"No one!"
"You tried to summon the spirit of stone! Do you understand that?"
Telle lowered her gaze and picked at the floor with her toe, "I… I don't call him that… I call him Stony… I was bored at home, I was little and sat alone… everyone left, even Victor…"
She sounded as if she was about to start crying. The contrast with her former arrogance was striking, but, fortunately, everyone was far too shaken by the recent localized earthquake to notice.
"I pretended that a man was living in the wall, a stone man… and I started talking to him…"
The glowing Andrzej raised his hand, "Everyone, remember this moment! You're in the presence of a future great mage of the Earth Clan! And this is my discovery! Bow your heads!"
The crowd of eaters leaned down as one. Victor noticed that a tall, imposing bearded man managed to take a bite from a slice of ham and swallow it even in that position. A smile appeared on his face all on its own.
The mage noticed it.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Telle's brother. My name is Victor."
"Very well. You may go home."
Victor shook his head, "No. I need to make sure that my sister is in good hands."
The mage raised his head in indignation, "What? You don't believe me? I'm going to mentor her myself!"
"My parents told me," Victor roared, raising his voice, "not to leave my sister earlier than half a year."
Andrzej's face darkened, but his voice became calmer, "Your old folks are idiots, kid. Who's going to harm a mage?"
"Who knows?" Victor shrugged. "I don't know you mages well…"
The prince, who'd been watching all this with interest, laughed, "Nice! Look, Andrzej, at the high moral fiber on my lands! Where are you from, young man?"
Compared to the prince, Victor really could be considered a young man.
"Meektown," he stated. He had no idea where the name had come from.
But the prince understood it in his own way, "You don't look particularly meek… I guess I'm spoiling my people! Eh?"
"You are, milord…" Victor bowed his head.
"Sit there," the mage spat out, having clearly decided to treat him as an inevitable annoyance. "And you sit next to me! Telle…"
A pleased expression appeared on his face, "What else can you do?"
"Well, I cook well," Telle informed him hurriedly after sitting down in the seat next to his. "I've also been told I make good—"
"No!" Andrzej waved his hands. "I'm talking about magic!"
The people in the feast hall no longer cared about the girl with the makings of a great mage or even Andrzej. It seemed the prince really had been spoiling his subjects…
"Oh…" Telle answered in a slightly bored tone. "I can pull earthen juices out from underneath in order to raise useful plants and starve out the weeds. I can find water veins… ore too, a little…"
The mage was squinting, listening to Telle in complete admiration. With a sigh, Victor took a thick slice of meat from the closest dish and poured himself a full glass of wine.
Why was Telle doing all this? Why?
They'd been sneaking around, hiding from their enemies. Their lives were in danger. And then… this arrogant behavior and a show of magic. What was this stupid girl trying to achieve?
In the meantime, Telle finished listing off her talents and was now, lowering her gaze timidly, listening to Andrzej's approving comments.
"Just don't get too prideful," the mage suddenly cut off his speech. "I beg you, don't get prideful! There's still a lot of work ahead of you! Don't waste your Power!"
The previously silent prince now spoke too, "When you put together a new spell, don't use it right away. Think about it first. Let it sit there for maybe three years, or at least two. Mages are in a hurry as of late, trying to use speed and energy to take what others spend years of thoughtful work and great patience to achieve…"
Andrzej looked at the prince approvingly and nodded gently. It seemed it was his own thesis that he'd previously told the ruler.
"I'm going to teach you, girl…"
For some reason, he started Telle's education by pouring her a full glass of white wine.
Obviously, Victor recalled Telle easily sharing a bottle of wine with him. There, on the riverbank, after hearing about the massacre on the train… But now? In the enemy's lair?
Why?
Grimacing, Telle drank the wine and stared at Andrzej with glowing eyes.
"So delicious! Is it because of your magic?"
She was speaking nonsense…
Victor decided to let her do whatever she wanted. The serving girl once again brought fresh plates, silver ones this time rather than porcelain. A chunk of boar meat, smelling of smoke and seasoning, appeared as if from thin air.
At least he'd be able to eat normally!
He spent the next half-hour consuming the dishes placed on the generous table. He drank the light red wine as if it were water and could feel that he wasn't getting drunk in the least, enjoying the gastronomical delights to the fullest.
Telle seemed to be keeping pace…
Servant boys ran through the hall, replacing the burned-down candles and torches. A group of musicians with lutes, harps, and guitars appeared from somewhere. Strangely enough, this odd combination of instruments played well together. The song seemed a little boring, listing the Earthen ones' merits in helping to expel "winged bloodsuckers", while the lyrics were so vague that it could just as easily refer to dragons, vampires, or ordinary mosquitoes.
But no one was listening to the words. Under the moans of the harps and the guitar chords, the feasters were forced to raise their voices. Female laughter was on the rise. Some of the couples were spinning around in a dance.
Telle was also laughing in a high-pitched, quivering voice. She said something, tripping over the words, as if her tongue refused to obey. Victor turned.
The mage Andrzej was helping Telle stand up. The girl was swaying and laughing.
"Telle, it's time for you—" Victor began and broke off when his eyes ran into the Earthen one's infuriated gaze.
"Eat and drink your fill, dear guest!" the mage spoke through gritted teeth. "Find yourself a girlfriend among the servants. Be happy, your sister is under my patronage!"
Telle, hanging off the gaunt mage, looked at Victor with a clouded, unfocused gaze and said, "So much fun…"
He couldn't eat anymore. The wine had lost its taste. Victor was sitting there, poking at yet another new dish, an assortment of a dozen or so kinds of meat covered in a spicy sauce. Everyone around him was chomping, burping, laughing, exchanging stories.
The prince on his throne was looking on kindly at his subjects. He even graced Victor with a smile.
Telle squealed in a high-pitched voice.
Victor turned just in time to see the mage pull a playful hand away. He and Telle were dancing, slowly moving through the hall. More and more pairs were joining the dance, filling the available space. The mage threw a glance at Victor over Telle's shoulder and bared his teeth briefly.
Sit and don't move…
They were moving somewhere where it was dark.
Victor abruptly turned to the prince and met an understanding, indulgent gaze.
"Your lordship, my sister needs to go to sleep."
"The mage Andrzej will take care of her, young man. Don't worry."
The prince was very good-natured and benevolent.
"Prince, mages can overdo it… they aren't always able to recognize their might with the weak human strength. I don't think that Telle fully understands what's happening…"
The prince shook his head, "Young man, we all have our weaknesses. Great mages have a right for a small indulgence… from us mere mortals. Don't worry."
Victor glanced over his shoulder in desperation. The mage and Telle had already disappeared in the dark far corner. A strip of light flashed for a moment, indicating a door that had been opened and closed.
"Prince!"
"Feast!"
Victor leapt to his feet, his heavy oaken chair falling right at the feet of the dancers. The people stared at him in confusion.
"Do you not value your life?" the prince asked. "I'm not going to defend such stupid subjects."
"Are you going to stop them from defending their honor?"
The prince spread his hands, "If their honor pushes them towards death… Calm down. The girl knew what she was doing. That's something I was able to read in her eyes."
Victor started to wordlessly move between the dancers.
"Let him pass," the prince commanded quietly and wearily. "It's his own choice…"
Indeed, why should the prince mar his reputation by killing the brother of a future mage? It was best to have another mage deal with him…
The people were stopping and parting in front of him. Strangely enough, the eyes of many held understanding and compassion. So they'd recognized what was happening.
Was this chewing, sniffling, drinking mass actually capable of understanding him?
A middle-aged man in dark-crimson clothes, a mail breastplate, and a sword at his belt didn't get out of his way. He placed his hand on the hilt of the sword and pulled it out halfway.
What?
Victor felt blind fury start to gather strength inside him.
The Slayer's main weapon…
"Your sword is a pitiful piece of iron," the crimson knight said quietly. "Take mine."
The fury fell away, melting in confusion after running into the knight's firm gaze.
"I know what word and honor are. Take the sword."
"Thank you," Victor shook his head. "My blade will be enough."
Forward, into the dark corners of the noisy hall, to a locked door. What sort of a door was it, where did it lead, what could the castle's owners have anticipated, what amenities could they have afforded the feasters? Whatever was behind the door, it couldn't be either broken through with a shoulder, opened with hands, or cut through with a sword. Thick boards lined with iron strips, seemingly for decoration, but why were there old, darkened chips in the wood, why were the iron strips dented? As if someone had already stood at this door, pounding it in helpless fury, chopped at with a sword…
Dancers were stomping behind him, seemingly moving to the music but not looking away, unwilling to miss even a moment of the show.
A weak yelp came from behind the door, or had he imagined it? The weak, strangled yelp of someone with a hand over their mouth…
And the crimson hatred of the one living in Victor's soul once again flared with blinding flame. Brushing away the binds carefully placed by Loy, tearing the obedient Power out from the depths.
He waved his hand, and the tapestries on the walls fluttered; narrow stained glass windows rang plaintively and shattered; candles and torches blinked in their death thrones, dishes flew off the tables, when the obedient Air came to its Master's call. Clenched in a tight invisible fist, it flew through the hall, paused for a moment, directed by Victor's will. Then it struck the door.
Wood splinters mixed with shards of metal sprayed and fell to the floor. The aerial ram moved away and wrapped Victor in a boiling blanket.
A passage opened into a small windowless room. Three torches were burning on the walls, reflecting in the mirrored ceiling. A huge bed took up the entire space with no other furnishings. A large wooden tub with water on a colorful rug that covered the floor, scattered clothes. The naked and unbearably ridiculous-looking mage Andrzej was looming over Telle, pressing her to the bed, tearing off the girl's skirt. Above the waist, Telle was already undressed and was now just weekly resisting, trying to defend the last of her modesty.
"What?" the mage howled, turning to the sound. He was too busy educating the young female mage to notice how the door had been knocked out. "Peasant!"
Releasing Telle, he waved his hands in a brief gesture, like he was waving off an annoying fly.
The ceiling shook, lumps of stone began falling on Victor. His airy shell howled when the two waves of magic clashed.
The stones, crushed into powder, fell onto the floor like piles of sand.
The people in the hall were already screaming. They were the first to realize that it wasn't a typical killing that was happening.
"Get him!" the prince's voice, suddenly powerful and imperious, pierced through the disconnected yells.
The last thing he wanted was a blow in the back. Victor was no longer in control of himself, the fury was ringing, his body was filled with a shudder. Grind into dust! Tear down the castle to the foundation, to the stinking dungeons!
He didn't see—no one could see through walls—he just knew that the sky over the town was filled with thrashing, roaring storm clouds, that windows were being blown out in homes and broken crops were bending, that the flashing lightning was making it as light as day. The sated vassals of Earth were hiding in basements and praying to their mage patrons.
Into dust!
Completely!
"You're a mage!" Andrzej howled. "You… you…"
Fanning his fingers, he was hurriedly whispering some spells. A heavy underground hum swept through the castle. The floor shook. The walls were bulging, as if strange creatures were crawling inside the stone.
Something monstrously powerful was about to appear. That first-rank mage really was strong. Potentially probably far stronger than Ritor or Torn…
Sobbing, Telle was curled up on the bed and hurriedly putting on her torn white blouse.
"I'm ordering you to get him!" the prince once again commanded behind him. There was the sound of pounding feet, as soldiers ran through the hall, pulling out their swords and raising their muskets. With a cold lack of feeling, Victor realized that he was going to start killing.
Truly killing.
In a way that would make all his previous fights look like a pitiful parody. Like a schoolyard scuffle compared to the Battle of Stalingrad.
"No, prince!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Victor saw the knight in crimson bare his sword, a long and gleaming strip of black steel.
"He has a right to demand combat, prince! Andrzej knew what he was doing!"
Next to the knight—no it couldn't be, what did this gluttonous, greasy crowd care about him?—but more and more feasters were standing next to him. Exposed swords gleamed, and a thick row of people now separated Victor from the guards that were frozen in indecision.
The blinding, bloody fury slumped and disappeared with a plaintive soundless yell.
At that moment, anyone would have been able to do anything to him. Bring him down with even the weakest spell. Cut him down with a sword, kick him. Victor stood there, swaying, realizing with amazement that the bloodthirsty madness was gone.
Meanwhile, the Earth mage was still weaving his spell. The ground was shaking, terrified over what was about to be born. The stone of the walls was exuding droplets of blood. Hazy shadows could be seen in the air.
Andrzej kept on weaving an unending chain of spells…
Victor stepped forward, picked the tub off the floor, and, feeling suddenly extremely bored, placed it onto the mage's head.
Swaying, the mage sat down on the floor. The underground hum disappeared, failing to turn into a deadly earthquake, the walls were no longer shaking. Only the anticipation of Power that was mighty and streaming from the very roots of the earth still remained…
Victor spread his arms, absorbing the dropped might. From the cold glaciers atop mountains to the hot magma underground… The vast calm fields and the deadly run of rockfall… The hardness of granite, the glint of diamond, the generosity of fertile soil…
The mage was sitting in a puddle, weakly moving his thin hands, clearly confused about what had happened. Where had all that gathered power gone?..
Telle got up from the bed and calmly put on her blouse. Her face was no longer covered in ears. On the contrary, it was triumphant and pleased. There was no trace left of the recent intoxication. Had she been drunk in the first place?
"Shall we go, Victor?" she asked, rounding Andrzej. "There's nothing for us to do here."
All right. Later. All the lecturing and explanations could wait.
They walked through the silent row of knights. Victor's eyes met the man in crimson, who raised his sword in salute.
"I won't forget what you did," Victor said.
The knight smiled weakly, "Your sword is still poor…"
"You can come with us."
Shaking his head, the knight sheathed his sword.
"My place is here, milord."
The prince was still sitting at the head of the table. It seemed that what had happened didn't bother him in the least. Maybe he found some pleasure in mage fights.
"Thanks for the food," Victor said.
"And the wine," Telle added. "It was delicious."
People were parting in front of them. The guards, throwing glances at the prince, stepped away to the walls, and some of the feasters were already refilling their glasses. Servants rushed into the small bedroom where the Earth mage was still rolling around in the puddle.
Then the doors of the hall opened. A guard appeared, smiling stupidly and looking a little woozy, holding a young woman by the hand, "Lady Loy Iver…"
The head of the Cat Clan pushed her escort away and swept the room with her narrowed eyes. She nodded to Victor, "Into the courtyard, now!"
"It's fine, Loy." Victor wasn't surprised at her appearance. Telle had been right, the female mage wasn't someone they could easily lose.
"Ritor sensed you, you idiot! Do you have any idea what sort of power you were summoning?"
Grabbing Victor and Telle with her hands, Loy dragged them down the stairs. Swearing on the way and glancing at the guards with such angry looks that they scattered in an instant.
"I borrowed a carriage… with good horses. The prince's stablemen are readying them now. We need to hurry, Victor!"
"Why are you so angry, Loy?" Telle exclaimed, trying to stuff her torn shirt in to the skirt.
"Such is life!" Loy answered fervently. "Don't worry, I'm not upset at you…"
She paused for a moment, took Telle by the chin, and peered into her eyes.
"Clever girl," she said in approval. "You really are a clever girl."