The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) (5 page)

A new voice rang out. A thick, masculine bass, coming from somewhere down below pronounced: ‘Helia, my child, maybe you shouldn’t 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. I’ve got a visitor.’

‘Yes, we already know. We’re 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 he’d 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 girl’s 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 doesn’t yet have her own name,’ Heliona reported.

‘Hi! You play really well! I really liked it! And you’re 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, don’t 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: ‘I’m 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! You’re fantastic! Hey, can I come with you? Just a sec, your guy’ll give me a name and then I’ll 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, don’t call her anything but Younger One. Otherwise, she’ll immediately announce her name and shoot off somewhere, then we’ll have to search for her…’

She was interrupted by Hephaestus’s displeased voice: ‘You’ve outdone yourself this time, my girl. How many times do I have to tell you: be more careful with a summons. You can’t 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 I’ll come. And if by then you’ve 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 who’s 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… he’s 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 don’t 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 it’s time for her to…’ here she broke off abruptly and fell silent. Oleg pretended not to have noticed her slip of the tongue.

‘Well, what’s to be done?’ he shrugged. ‘I am who I am. I was born that way. I can’t become an elemental like you. So I’m 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? You’ve got a demon body! And by the way, it can probably prolong your life. You can become a demon way faster. And they’re more powerful if they’re high-ranking.’ Bewilderment was written on the girl’s face.

Oleg was just about to explain that demons, unlike magicians, didn’t really have positive associations for him and anyhow he didn’t really want to become a dark one, but Hephaestus’s bass voice interrupted him mid-word: ‘Younger One, come here! It’s 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: ‘It’s 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 Oleg’s 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.

‘We’ve found you a suitable world. Magic is developed, although the dark magic has been driven underground. There’s 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 you’ve become a demon you can easily converse in any language of the Universe. For instance, maybe you didn’t notice, but on principal my uncle only talks to humans in Ancient Greek, and my little cousin doesn’t know any human language at all.’

‘So?’ she went on, when Oleg had recovered from his shock. ‘Ready to go? The sorcerer who’s doing the invocation is obviously inexperienced: he’s 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 didn’t appeal to Oleg, even if the wizard was, as Heliona put it, a complete idiot. Till now, the largest of creatures to fall at Oleg’s hands were overfed cockroaches, and, in fact, Oleg wouldn’t mind if it stayed that way.

‘So he doesn’t get too big for his boots,’ Heliona’s answer was quite strange. But she gave the necessary clarification at once. ‘He’ll 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 I’ll already be in the circle of obedience. I don’t 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 you’ll be free. Squash the loser good and proper. After all, you’re 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. ‘He’s 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!’

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, I’ve done it! I’ve called forth a demon! Kreghist won’t 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 didn’t protest, but didn’t show any enthusiasm, either. She couldn’t 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 another’s 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 demon’s 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: ‘I’ll 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 wizard’s 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... It’s 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 hadn’t 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 who’d 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 he’d 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 wouldn’t 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 he’ll give in. Your Highness, you shall have your own demon!’

And now he understood full well all the wisdom of the salamander’s 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 Heliona’s second piece of advice: “Put out the candles at the corners of the pentagram, and you’re 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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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 wizard’s health didn’t 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 wizard’s neck in a deadly grip. All the while that “someone” was calling out in a thin, girlish voice: ‘No, please, don’t do it! It’s not his fault, it’s 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-the-student, 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? He’s still a just a kid after all! OK, so he made a mistake, but there’s 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 hadn’t remembered Heliona’s advice? How long before the pain knocked you unconscious and you’d become this “kid’s” slave for evermore? And where’s the guarantee that if you let him go, he won’t start it all over again once he’s had a good rest, but with better success this time, and make someone else his slave? Like Younger One—she’s going to start to roam around various worlds any time now, not caring a jot for anyone.’

At that thought, the demon Oleg’s fingers began closing by themselves, blocking the wizard’s 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, he’s 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 Oleg’s 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 girl’s 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 demon’s or another wizard’s 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 wizard’s 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 can’t 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 couldn’t 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 didn’t do anything stupid, like attacking him, he wouldn’t 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 – he’d quite often come across such spells in “his” Book.

‘Well, I’m waiting for an explanation.’ Oleg looked threateningly at the girl.

‘He’s 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 démarche to defend the wizard’s mental capacities. But the young princess’s next phrase gave all the clarification he needed.

‘Don’t put him in your collection. He may have made a mistake, but he’s not really that stupid. That is, in your collection you probably have the really, really stupid …. And he’s 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 he’d 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.