The Favorite of the Gods" Chapter VI (pop.)

VI (I've already corrected some of it because I'm not satisfied with the quality and content - the XXX designation indicates where I stopped correcting)

He was sinking deeper and deeper... The abyss was swallowing him up. It was penetrating his screaming soul. With each endless second, he became Black. And she became him. And in him, she found her lover. Wrapped in her cool cloak, he quickly forgot who he was... In life... In life in another, now distant world. A nonexistent world... Oblivion... Bringing relief and freedom... Only if it weren't for that cold... So penetrating... And that Divine Black, seductive and tempting. He was forgetting... The memory of life was slipping away... The memories of life were fading... They were fading into nonexistence... Overwhelming, maliciously sweet and beloved... Nonexistence. Nothingness. The abyss...

But he hears a scream! That distant scream... A scream transforming into a command. Growing... Breathless... Not... human? Disturbing... Incomprehensible... Causing pain... Unbearable... Immortal! Immortal is this pain... How immortal is this voice... A voice... filled with pain... Pain... Inhuman... An order! Arise! Return!

So it returns... So it rises... By this order... It returns... The returning Pain... This Pain is divine... How divine is the Favorite...!

The servant girl ran at a run through the ancient corridors, remembering ancient times. She nimbly maneuvered between bustling footmen and patrolling guards. She dashed up the white marble stairs, carpeted with a woven burgundy and gold pattern. She turned left into a corridor illuminated by the afternoon sun streaming through large stained-glass windows. She narrowly avoided a dignitary emerging from an audience with the royal secretary. Sliding on the blue-and-white checkerboard marble floor, she passed the palace's audience chambers and reached the separate wing of the castle occupied by the queen. Her delicate shoes of expensive Zakhynta leather perfectly matched her pale green tunic, but they were hardly suited to the frantic running on such a surface. Helenna, a young elf recruited by Queen Ellamina from a poor northern village, was responsible for transmitting information within the palace, where, due to tradition, modern means of communication such as psionic thought amplifiers or cybernetic image transmitters had been omitted.

She ran as fast as she could, her blond braids, braided by her mother, flowing behind her as if alive. She braked at the last moment before a heavy oak door carved with ancient elven floral motifs. Two guards clad in specially shaped armor of blue titanium alloy stood there, blocking her path. Quickly, without a word, she produced a safe conduct signed by the Queen Mother herself, thrusting the transparent, inscribed plastic in front of the soldier's masked face. He nodded and cautiously opened the gate.

The girl entered. Five people stood at the large oval table in the center of the chamber, their eyes rising from the illuminated screen at the sound of the door opening. She knew them well. These were the highest dignitaries of the state. Besides Queen Ellamina, the Grand Duke of Eastmarch, Rolanthas the Grey, was present. To his right stood Count Johan Albrethville, the Queen's representative for military affairs. Further along, in an ornate blue polytitanium chainmail shirt, stood the youngest of the group, a Centurion of the Royal Legions, Cordian Silvershield, who owed his nickname and social advancement to his heroic attack on Lord Remanthilldros's air artillery positions, commanded by Hoonon the Cruel, a veteran of many fronts. The ogre in Setherinna's service had become renowned for exceptional brutality and cruelty towards prisoners and civilians during his campaigns. His trademark was a silver shield crafted by the masters of Kalhard. The last of those present was the Grand Duke of Westmarch – the aged Carl One-Armed.

The maid calmed her breathing, curtsied, and approached the queen. "He's better, my lady. He'll regain consciousness any moment now. "

The queen's face visibly reddened. She turned to her companions and said,

"Thank the gods! Gentlemen, we're saved! We have a chosen one!"

The dignitaries also received the news with obvious relief. Were it not for courtly etiquette, they would probably have been tempted to react more cheerfully than with a smile.

"Forgive me," the queen continued. "But now we must interrupt our meeting. I will go to the House of Healing immediately, and you," she turned to the maid, "run to the Semithe Cathedral and deliver this happy news to the Chief Druid."

***

The night was warm, which didn't quite suit Phyjhon, the white dragon native to the icy wastes of Etherwolh. Dragons of this species don't tolerate above-freezing temperatures well and almost never appear in the warmer regions of Setherinna. Today he had traveled many miles specifically to meet with Neldar for a secret council.

The red dragon had assumed his natural form, proudly displaying his impressive bat wings. This was the custom of reptiles, so Phyjhon and Alesthar of the Blue Clan had also assumed this stance, obscuring much of the cloud-covered sky. They had met on a rise fifty miles from Setherinna's capital to discuss matters of national importance in peace and quiet, away from prying eyes and ears.

"Thank you for your quick arrival," Neldar began without further ado, "especially you, Phyjhon, I know how hard you are to endure this heat. If you'll allow me, I'll get straight to the point. Yesterday, Cyanth appeared and revealed the intentions of that madman Remanthilldros. His greed and lust for power clouded his mind. We all know what such ambitions led to centuries ago. The balance of power in Terranum is seriously threatened."

The remaining reptiles hissed in anger, their long, pointed tails sweeping the ground, stirring up clouds of dust. Neldar continued:

"Cyanth is to create twenty new necklaces, and in the future, thousands more for the entire army!

" "Madman!

" "We must stop this!" Alesthar interjected. "But not openly! We'll have a civil war.

" "Therefore, I have a plan that will—I hope—settle this without bloodshed. Listen...

"

At first, the pain returned. Physical pain. Systematically increasing and pulsating in all his limbs. Then his sight returned. Through his tearful eyes, he saw that he was on a rocky cliff suspended in a space shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow. It was as if the cliff itself were suspended in a void filled with color. He was naked. With difficulty, he rose to his knees. Around him, as he realized, there was no living soul. The sand-dusted surface of the cliff was flat, and at its center was... a Portal. Completely different from the one he had found himself within reach before... right! Before his death?! It hit him with the force of an explosion. He fell back to the ground and began to cry. He cried for everything he had attached himself to, for things he had lost and had yet to recognize. Despair flooded him like a sea, so that he forgot the pain. He couldn't forgive himself for the many things he had done and could never undo. He grieved for his loved ones, his family, his friends, his... Life. He had always made the most of it; you could say he loved life and everything it brought. Now he had lost it. And it was precisely this fact that caused him the greatest pain. His entire soul practically howled with grief. When consciousness finally returned, he looked around more closely. He couldn't remember how long he had been lying there, sobbing. He examined the portal, which someone had placed on a small stone platform. The portal stood out brown against the mosaic of countless colors, but it was inactive. He knew that for certain. He began to wonder what he was doing here. Who, or what, had brought him to this place. He stood up. He walked to the edge of the cliff and leaned out. Below, a multicolored abyss also yawned. He returned to the portal. Now he examined the frame more closely, decorated with intricate patterns of plants and flowers. On its crown, the creator's hand had carved an inscription in a language he didn't recognize. He touched the mirrored surface of the interior. It was smooth and cold. Definitely inactive. He thought.

"And what am I doing here?!" he shouted into the void. He hadn't expected an answer, so he sat up when he heard it.

"It's up to you.

" A woman's voice came from everywhere, or echoed in his head. "What the fuck?!" he blurted out.

"You weren't here without a reason...

" "Who are you? Who am I talking to?

" "I am Mother from the dawn of time. I am the Lady and Ruler. Good, Evil. Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. It is ME you call Terranum!"

He was stunned. His mouth fell open. He stammered a few times, and finally managed: "I'm sorry... But what am I doing here? And why am I here?"

"You are the one favored by the Elven Gods. You are the one who can undo the curse of the Evil One. You are the one who can stay or leave this place. This portal leads to various places – depending on your choice – you will be able to travel to a place in the afterlife, to the next dimension, where the souls of the dead live to commune with the Gods. You can also return to the world of the living, but for that you must meet a certain condition.

" "I want to return!" he exclaimed with joy. He didn't care what condition he had to meet. He had already decided. The voice laughed. But a moment later, he became serious.

"The balance has been disturbed. There is a threat that could destroy me and all living things! You must prevent this. With the help of the elves and other creatures of good will, you must restore balance!"

***

(XXX) He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a painting on the ceiling. It depicted elves – a man and a woman – in a blossoming orchard. The richness of the colors was breathtaking. The vivid green of the grass and leaves, the sun's rays filtering through them, and the incredible blue of the sky, flecked with white fluff of clouds. For a brief moment, the image came alive. Beautiful white clusters of flowers on the branches moved rhythmically to the rhythm of the spring breeze. The elf grabbed her companion's hand and led him into the trees. In a moment, the entire scene froze and was once again just a painting. He propped himself up slightly on one elbow, only to fall back onto the bed. A sharp, searing pain shot through his shoulder blade, momentarily darkening his vision. He glanced out the wide, spacious window, beyond which unfolded a breathtaking view of a forested mountain range. In the distance, a pink ribbon, resembling the aurora, gleamed against the blue sky.

The door to his chamber hissed open. Three women entered. One of them was Queen Ellamina. He didn't recognize the others.

"We are very pleased to see you are recovering," she began. "As you can see, the gods are watching over you.

" "Oh, gods..." he hesitated. "I met them." Seeing the expressions on the women's faces, he added, "I was in the abyss, then in a place, somewhere beyond time. There I heard the voice of Terra, who spoke to me.

"The omnipresent Terra, the mother of all living things... There are many tales about her in the old tales.

" "There is much to do," he said, and tried to rise again, with the same result as before. The two women immediately rushed to his side.

"Don't rise! You are still weak, and the wound hasn't healed yet.

" "I have to..." he tried.

"No! Absolutely! You have a strong constitution, but you were in a coma for two weeks. No one would have gotten up after such a long time and with such injuries. You were on the brink of death! But the gods loved you...

" "How do you know that? Terra told me...

" "And what exactly did she say?" the queen asked.

"Well, that I'm the favorite of the elven gods!"

The women's eyes widened at the sound of these words. Silence fell for a moment. Then, lost in thought, the queen turned toward the simple, precisely crafted door. She stopped and whispered to herself, "The favorite of the gods..." Who would have guessed? And to Sienkiewicz, she said loudly,

"I haven't thanked you yet for saving my life. I'm doing it now, but we'll come back to it when you recover."

She left, leaving him in the company of the other women. The older of them, dressed in a wide linen habit, skillfully rolled him onto his side. Surprisingly, he felt no pain. Only when she was removing the dressing did he hiss, as the wound stung.

"It's healing quickly, but I forbid you from getting up yet."

She asked the maid, a young woman with long, braided hair, to bring water and new bandages. Without a word, she left the room, returning five minutes later with a plastic basin and dressings, placing them on a small, handy light-wooden cabinet by the bed. Michał surveyed the other furnishings in the small room. On the other side of the bed stood a large, massive, two-door wardrobe. A table with two wicker armchairs was placed against the opposite wall. The floor was covered in red marble, contrasting with the pale cream walls.

The woman finished dressing him, further immobilizing his arm with a tightly tied sling. Together, they adjusted the soft cushions and helped him sit up. He was surprised to find himself naked under the soft blanket, but he didn't share this discovery with the women. "Well," he thought, "I'll pee in the bed. Since I can't walk yet, I'll shit and piss under myself." He asked the woman about it.

"Just call, and Helena will bring what you need and help you.

" "Hmm... I'm a big man now and I'm a bit embarrassed...

" "But, young man, you're in the House of Healing! I'm the Chief Healer! We're all used to helping the sick and injured here. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

" "But I'd rather be alone...

" "Alone, alone! It's always the same. What's wrong with you peasants? From what I've noticed, humans aren't much different from elves."

He blushed and decided not to argue with the healer any further. Instead, he began to wonder what medical care was like in this world. Do they also use magic here, for example, during surgeries?

"

It took Sienkiewicz another two weeks to regain some form of mobility. His back ached, as did his shoulder, but he was no longer weakened by the effects of the Remathand poison. He could now walk freely in the park adjacent to the Healing House, which, he learned, was carved by ten gardeners. Their work was immediately apparent. The carefully mowed lawns, trimmed shrubs, ponds, fountains carved in white marble, and designated walking paths and gardens with dozens of colorful flowers, which bore no resemblance to those found on Earth, ideally aided the hospital's patients in their recovery.

He received meals three times a day. The excellent cuisine at the Healing House was by no means up to earthly standards. This, in fact, made Michał very happy. Once a day after dinner, he was visited by the kingdom's court magician—Lord Damien, an elderly man over four hundred years old, whose appearance perfectly matched the image of wizards from fantasy novels. He sported a long, snow-white beard, and his hair, the same color, was styled in two elaborate buns on the sides of his head. His exceptionally lively, radiant amber eyes, piercing Michał with every encounter, pierced him intently. At first, it bothered him greatly, but after a week, he grew accustomed. They talked for hours, exchanging information about their two separate worlds. The magician simultaneously probed Sienkiewicz's telepathic talent. One day, he told Michał that he possessed a great talent for magic. He had actually discovered it by accident. He was demonstrating a simple trick involving moving objects, and just for fun, he decided to teach it to Michał. To do this, he gently entered his mind and guided the journalist through the entire magical process. He was greatly surprised that when he stopped guiding Sienkiewicz and withdrew from his mind, the apple—the fruit they were using—continued to float a meter above the ground! When they finished, he asked the boy to repeat the exercise himself. To their surprise, it worked on the first try! Lord Damien decided to try teaching Michał more serious spells, as the boy seemed to possess a unique gift for absorbing magic and using spells intuitively.

Right now, Sienkiewicz was relaxing in the shade of an ancient oak tree, waiting for his mentor and playing with an apple, which he held up by sheer force of will, tracing figure eights in the air.

In the distance, he could see the center of Cahladias, the capital of the elven kingdom. Against the blue sky rose skyscrapers that bore no resemblance to those on Earth. Firstly, they were much taller; as Lord Damien had told him, they had been built relatively recently in the old, historic part of the metropolis, on the site where Northard Palace and its adjacent parks and gardens once stood. The skyscrapers were cylindrical, widening upwards. They were a blend of modernity in the form of glass-enclosed, spacious apartments constructed from a special material resembling concrete, and living plants, most often trees, which, with the help of magic (of course!), grow into the buildings, creating a stunning sight. The large cylindrical buildings were interwoven with thick, leafy branches. Next to them rose the pearly towers of the royal palace, rebuilt in the last century to accommodate certain modifications necessitated by technological advancements. The original historic character of the building had been preserved, but some of the interiors had been altered and remodeled.

On the other side of the skyscrapers, the tower of the temple of Semithe, the goddess of fertility, rose like a giant hand reaching into the sky.

And it was from that direction that the mage was approaching along the cobbled path. He wore a turquoise cloth, girded across his chest with a silver sash. Without even trying to greet her, he immediately said,

"We'll have to postpone our studies." He rubbed his gray beard, which today was braided into three even braids. "Things are getting complicated. Lord Remanthilldros is gathering troops on the kingdom's borders. The queen is calling for you; when the dragons attack, she wants you with her."

They were assembled in half an hour. Before he knew it, Sienkiewicz was sitting in a strange vehicle resembling a cross between a carriage and an escape pod—the kind used on long-distance ships. As Lord Damien explained, the vehicles were called mobiles and were powered by solar energy. The driver was a young elf dressed in a neat, well-tailored blue uniform.

As Michael noticed, the mobile accelerated to about 80 km/h and moved quickly along the main highway leading to the palace. They joined a stream of similar vehicles that the capital's residents used to travel around the metropolis.

After about ten minutes, they turned left onto a red-marked street leading directly to the queen's palace.

***

Queen Ellamina wore a black dress embroidered with silver flowers today. A small, jeweled dagger was attached to her waist. This time, the maid had plaited a silver ribbon into her hair, the ends of which, tipped with two bows, hung at hip level.

They were in the library, which, as the mage explained, was the queen's favorite room. A hologram hovered above the table, showing the positions of the elven forces, marked with blue dots and black dots representing Remanthilldros's forces. The sight wasn't encouraging. There were significantly more black dots.

"...Fortunately, we have a larger force concentrated here, which, if the force field is broken, will be able to hold off the Lord's ground forces for some time. But if reinforcements don't arrive soon, we'll have to retreat. Moreover, if the dragons attack from the air, without mages, nothing will prevent our defeat."

Rolanthas the Gray was presenting a detailed report on preparations for defending the kingdom's borders. "Transferring Dabersburgh's troops and his axe guard," continued the Grand Duke of Eastmarch, "who are most effective against dragons, will take three or four days."

"In short, we won't have time," the queen interjected dryly. Rolanthas nodded.

"Our spies report that an urgent Dragon Council has been convened in Etherin." The queen only just noticed Michael and the Magus, who were keeping to themselves. "It's clear they didn't call it for fun. The spies also received information, which our intelligence is currently verifying, about a planned attempt to seize the Portal in Lord Michael's world. That's why I invited our guest to participate in this meeting.