The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) (21 page)

‘Leya, please, don’t.’ 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 didn’t like that happening one bit; it was only that, alas, they couldn’t 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 he’s found a way…’

‘Dad, we’ve 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 didn’t reply, just stroked his head in a motherly way. This time the lad didn’t 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?

‘What’s going on, Leya?’ This scene made him very uneasy.

‘I want you to help me interrupt my existence.’

‘What!’ Oleg thought he’d 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. It’s 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 hasn’t really lost its intensity either!’

‘But I don’t have a darkh,’ Oleg was glad he had a good excuse to refuse Leya’s 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 Leya’s eyes, for although she studiously tried to hide them, they came through nonetheless. A pretty eighteen-year-old girl shouldn’t look at you that way. It just wasn’t right!

Leya’s 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 didn’t study at the Dark Citadel, alas, I’m not in possession of a darkh! Unfortunately, I can’t help you.’

‘Never mind.’ It looked as though Leya had anticipated this. ‘Viss has one. Luckily, he promised he’d 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 don’t worry, I’ll find it in a month or so, or maybe a year… But anyway, I’ll 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:
don’t even think about coming this way again!
Oleg gave a meaningful nod:
got it, I’m 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. I’ve 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 don’t think that after fifty years of washing and darning your gown I haven’t 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 couldn’t 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 it’s started to glow? And now it’s 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 vaulted—don’t forget, backwards—over 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, I’m not at all strong. Magically, I mean,’ he corrected himself at once when he caught Leya’s disbelieving look as she measured the distance he’d just jumped.

‘It’s true, it’s true, I wasted it all raising those poor zombies. It’s all turned out rather awkwardly, I’m 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! You’re strong enough for the ritual. After all, you’ve already made the blade glow, and that is more than enough. And after that, all my power will flow into you so you won’t 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 can’t simply refuse? You see, I don’t want to kill you! Maybe, you can just go on living a while?’

‘I wouldn’t say no to living. But unfortunately, I can’t
live
. You wouldn’t be killing me. Just laying me to rest, and that’s something very different. And as for refusing… Of course you can. But first of all there’s 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 hadn’t come, then I would have acted independently, using whatever means I could. And if you refuse to help me, I’ll just revert to my original plan.’

‘But it’s so painful!’ Oleg was shocked.

‘Yes, but I’m 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. ‘I’ll help you. But first, I want to talk to you alone. Maybe I’ll be able to convince you to change your mind after all.’

‘I doubt you’ll be able to convince me otherwise. I’ve thought this over for too long. But as for talking to me, why not? I’ve been waiting for fifty years and a few more hours of existence is a small price to pay for an easy exit. Come on, there’s a small lawn here. It’s very pretty, I used to come here sometimes to cry alone when I felt sad. It’ll 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 it’s 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 can’t 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 girl’s 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 couldn’t another song put one tired girl to sleep? And gently strumming the strings, Oleg began another of Aria’s songs, “Paradise Lost”.

This time the heaviness was simply unbelievable. Even turning to his demonic strength as he usually did didn’t 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, that’s it then,’ Oleg thought. ‘I’m done.’ Wonder where I’ll end up? At Heliona’s again, or somewhere much hotter? Oho, something tells me that the angels and pretty goddesses aren’t receiving visitors today. But as for the office of Comrade Satan, there are rumours he won’t deny anyone a nice warm place. Wonder if he’ll give me a discount, seeing as I’m an unsuccessful relative?’

Such thoughts were whirling in Oleg’s head when Leya’s quiet and somehow sleepy voice floated up to his ears.

‘Thank you. Don’t you have enough strength? Take mine.’ The next instant the girl’s warm –
warm
? – lips touched his own. It wasn’t a kiss. Just a momentary joining of lips, Leya’s 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! I’m not going to kick the bucket!’

 

Sleep without dreams,

Sleep without dreams,

All hopes and dreams
…

Once he’d 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 girl’s 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 didn’t find it at first, but then it seemed to appear, and then vanished again. Oleg simply couldn’t remember the right way to find it. Flying in the face of convention, he pressed his hand just under the girl’s left breast and joyously felt the regular beat of a heart.

‘That’s right,’ Oleg thought. ‘The dead can’t 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! Don’t think I’ll 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. She’s fine. She’s just asleep,’

‘Just asleep!’ Viss’s voice came from somewhere behind his left shoulder. ‘But we can’t “just sleep”. The dead don’t sleep! It’s impossible!’