The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) (14 page)

‘She’s in there, you idiots! What are you waiting for? Break down the door!’ And the door was battered with renewed strength. Then Kreghist’s yelping squeals could be heard again: ‘What are you doing? You’ll be beating it till you’re 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.

‘That’s it then. Forgive me for dragging you into this. Now we shall both die together,’ came the princess’s 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 everything’s alright. I’ll make her happy now.’

‘What gave you the idea that we’re 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 there’s 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 wasn’t worth dragging the comedy out any longer.

‘Well, actually, not only one. You people are so unobservant! What don’t you like about that one? I don’t think anyone’s guarding it.’ Oleg nodded towards the window.

But the new queen didn’t get it.

‘What I don’t like about it is that I’m a person, not a bird! I can’t fly! My dear uncle would be most delighted if I used your “exit”. He wouldn’t even have to kill me…’

Oleg didn’t give the girl the chance to finish. She was getting hysterical again and he interrupted her very rudely. ‘Sure, people can’t 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 they’ve 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 that’s 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.

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 Boar’s 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 people’s 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!’ Clairene’s ringing voice cut the night’s darkness.

‘What do you mean? You don’t take more than two silver pieces for a semblance,’ A deep bass came in reply. Oleg recognized the voice of Olaf the Swordsman.

‘He wasn’t 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 he’s left the city. And that girl will be with him for sure, well disguised most likely. I’ll bet you an imperial coin!’

‘Agre...’ Olaf began, but just then Oleg, who didn’t 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.

‘She’s not real, right?’ she asked in a hopeful voice. ‘I mean, you put that semblance I taught you on someone? Such a beauty can’t 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 she’s still a princess for now. However, although her present appearance is illusory, my imagination’s 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! I’m 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 Gnome’s 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 afore-mentioned Baron Maidell, Ataletta’s godfather, from whom she hoped to receive assistance.

Bumping along in the uncomfortable saddle, Oleg closed his eyes, tired. He hadn’t 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 they’d set, then it was pride alone which kept the princess in her saddle. After three hours on the road, once they’d 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. ‘I’ve got two bits of news, one good and one bad. I’ll start with the good news: no-one is tailing us. I don’t know how you managed to get out of the palace, but however you did it, you didn’t leave any tracks so there’s 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. They’ve not found any yet, but it’s 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. He’ll personally lead that regiment himself and will search using all the magic within his reach.’

Everyone grew glum. That was really bad news.

‘What’s the official version of events?’ Oleg asked.

‘Oh, that’s 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 didn’t manage to finish. A roar of laughter was heard from Clairene, and Ataletta, who’d seemed to be dozing. When they’d 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 that’s preciously what forced Lord Kreghist’s hand, not letting him just proclaim himself king by-passing Ataletta. So the lie about the double didn’t 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.

‘I’m afraid I’ve 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. Let’s go up onto the high road and take a look at these mounted patrols. I have a little idea. After all, we don’t 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 they’d seen and looked for a suitable solution. Olaf’s 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 worst-case scenario; their tracks would be too easy to follow. And what’s more, they might not manage to kill all the soldiers. There were six men in the nearest patrol whereas in Oleg’s team there were only four warriors, counting himself, but not Ataletta.

Kendir came up with a slightly better variation, proposing to attract the patrol’s 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 wouldn’t even try to “turn” a horse “into” a fly. She wouldn’t 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 Oleg’s, 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 sergeant’s report on the absence of events or suspicious travellers, the patrol headed back to the barracks, relieved. Ataletta’s 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 didn’t dare declare a search for them, wary of elfish magic, so he turned his anger on the courtiers who hadn’t 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 didn’t 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 wide-tipped blunt arrows which hadn’t punctured his breastplate. Ataletta, who was finding the journey arduous, sat, eyes closed.