The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) (7 page)

‘Really? Well, that’s 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 lad’s lengthening face and the princess’ widening eyes, Oleg understood he hadn’t undercharged. Hanging his head, Albert nodded, agreeing to the sum.

‘Splendid. You can go. When you bring the money, I’ll take the hair from your neck. But once again, I don’t recommend you do it yourself. My snakes have very strong poison. And really you should hurry – she’ll get hungry quite soon, and when she does, she’ll just bite a small chunk off your neck. It won’t 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 wasn’t about to admit he’d just thought up all those horrors to hurry the lad and his Pop along to bring him the ransom.

‘Oh, he’s 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, it’ll be a good lesson for your little wizard,’ Oleg responded. ‘If there’s 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. That’s what you should call me,’ Oleg reminded her. ‘I don’t think it would be wise to call me demon in front of people. And anyway, I’m of mixed blood and haven’t 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, let’s go. And on the way you can tell me about your world and this country. And about money, too, by the way. Otherwise I don’t know whether I’ve asked enough for the priest’s son.’

‘Oh, you asked enough all right! It’s the annual income of an average baron. They usually ask that sort of ransom in wartime for an important prisoner.’

‘I see. Now, let’s get back to other matters. What’s 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.

That’s 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 King’s 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 princess’s 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, didn’t 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 don’t want to draw his attention. He possesses magical powers and they say that any magician who’s strong enough has the capacity to hear when someone calls him by name. I don’t want to risk it. Sometimes I think it’s a real pity that a person with royal blood can’t 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 Ataletta’s 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 Fenrian’s richest families. An agile courtier, not a bad fencer, one of my uncle’s 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 lieutenant’s voice. ‘The Lord Chancellor is alarmed! I’ve 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.

Ataletta’s 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 Laed’s carefully pomaded head:

‘*** off and ***! Go *** yourself and your Lord Chancellor, and *** there. I’m the heir to the throne and if some *** with boiled brains decides he can order me about then he’s making a *** big mistake.’

Once she’d 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 Chancellor’s 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 Ataletta’s 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 all-powerful Lord Chancellor, he even let go of Ataletta’s 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, don’t 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 hadn’t explained, and Oleg wasn’t 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 officer’s 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 schoolboy’s geometry instrument – a triangle in a square – and waved it under Oleg’s nose. Oleg’s karate reflexes sprung into action and the lieutenant flew down the corridor while his gadget remained in Oleg’s 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.

‘What’s up with him?’ Oleg turned to Ataletta, who was smiling from ear to ear. ‘I can’t 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, you’re 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, it’s impossible to break it. “Defend your honour!” Since the cult of Orchis appeared in our kingdom along with the amulets, that’s the first time those words have been uttered! It’s clear he was shocked! And when the amulet didn’t have any effect on you even though it’s 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.’