PART ONE.
Chapter One.
"The tears that fall from our eyes
will tell the earth about us,
let's hit the road, the tears will dry on the way;
tears bring no shame ,
and we wander this
sparkling, endless singing night."
KI Gałczyński
Blood. This blood. In the wilderness there is still only silence after silence. Taedium vitae. And death.
Death. This death. I don't hear you and you don't hear me. Three drops, three... like a dream.
Among the mists, a refuge, for a rally, lead us to the rocks. For death. For tears.
Red as... love, for love is life. Like a glass bridge... two at a time. Now I will win, I will move legends, in the glow of burnt magnesia... to the rhythm of dripping glass...
This life means death.
...in the rustle of the wind, the song of butterflies... roots dig into your back... three at a time... like a dream.
The first thing he felt was a pain in his back, then he heard the squawking of birds and the rustle of the wind. All his senses indicated that he was awake, even his eyesight. And the flickering bright yellow spots. And the taste… of yesterday's vile food. And his hearing…
Gabriel von Taabal, as usual, was muttering under his breath:
"Stone upon stone, rock upon rock, if not stone and rock, then mud.
" "What are you saying?" the wizard finally woke up.
"That there's nothing for us here. I'm tired of wandering among the rocks. You won't find any trees or bushes. No game will come here, only these, these birds, have been squawking since morning." The hunter was clearly irritated. "And those damned roots, sticking out everywhere from the rocks, from the rocks! From the very foundations of the mountain. So get up, let's go, we'll fill our bellies at noon. And tomorrow we'll sink our feet into fresh moss, jumping among the ferns. As if in a dream. In a nightmare forest, with thousands of trees." Tangled and writhing like a viper, flying like a bat, like a moth. Drop by drop, step by step. Pasr-ma.
The elf began to hop on one leg, doing somersaults. He leaped over his fallen companion. He ran and hummed songs, clearly pleased with the day ahead. His black hair waved in the morning sun and danced with the wind. And against the wind...
The wizard paid no attention to the foolish antics. He rose, straightened his black robe, and stood frozen. The red lining was caked with mud...
Time passed quickly, as they drew no attention to each other. This one busy, that one busy. And ten leagues away, in the nightmarish forest the elf had spoken of, a lemon butterfly stretched its wings on a green oak leaf, recently pupated. It was a pity our company didn't know about it.
***
"Why do you want to find the amaranth?
" "Because I promised Vasidi." By my love, by my honor, by the forest beetles, those who make dung," he smiled.
"But you don't believe in any God, much less in Vasidi."
"So what! But I promised, so I'll find it," von Taabal insisted. "The usual." The wizard didn't ask any more questions. Nothing new either.
They ate their first meal of the day. In the shadow of a black rock face. A small mountain stream carved the stones at the man's feet, many meters below. The wizard couldn't even see it, but he could hear it clearly, and told himself – a tiny stream. Besides, did it matter? A thick layer of fog obscured him anyway. The fog also obscured the sky.
He stepped away from the chasm, chewing a piece of dry meat. Disgusting food.
The weather had cleared. An archipelago of small rocky islands floated across the sky. Numerous birds perched on them and squawked, leering at the group.
Tiny clouds hid beneath the islands, unreachable by the sun's rays. They floated with them. The elf counted twenty rocks, from small ones the size of a troll to enormous ones soaring high in the air, larger than castles.
The earth shook slightly, almost imperceptibly. Everything stood still except the stream, its roar reaching here loud and clear.
"Oops, small problem, Gabriel."
The hunter guessed what was going on.
"Not three, not two. Let's run. To the nightmare forest, we still have time. Pasr-ma. We have time. Like a moth.
" "No!" We'll hide here. The mage tugged at the elf's hand.
They ran into a recess in the rock face. Silence... the birds fell silent. Then the flutter of wings, and again... silence.
The wizard pulled a jar from his backpack and threw it ahead of him. The glass vessel struck the rocks, rolled beside the stones, and with a glassy clatter, came to a quiet stop with the opening facing up.
A gust of wind from the small clouds beneath the islands blew vertically downward. The rocks shook. The jar bounced as jets of wind shot from the archipelago. They struck the ground and shook its foundations. The man and the elf approached the wall. Stones flew before them at tremendous speed, the wind blasting the rocks. They rumbled through the air before finally falling silent. The mage ran from the alcove and lifted the jar. Inside was a red liquid. The edges of the jar were melted, dripping glassy onto the mage's hands and onto the ground, tapping out a rhythm.
The archipelago soared in the sky, but now much higher, above the clouds.
When they continued, the sun was halfway through its daily journey.
They descended through the rocky recesses. The mountain wind blew mercilessly, whistling in their ears, clinging to their clothes, making the journey generally difficult.
Gabriel von Taabal clutched a ball of spiderweb in his hand. He'd found her two hours ago, under one of the caminus roots, of which, incidentally, there were plenty here, as well as rocks. Despite the wizard's persistent pleas, he refused to leave her.
"This will hatch a family of tarantula spiders," he said. "And I'll be the father."
And he would indeed be the father, not of tarantulas, but of scorpions, which lay eggs in the spider cocoons of striped tigers. Unfortunately.
He would be the father of…
The wind blew again, this time with redoubled force. The elf braced himself against the wall and… released his family from his hand. The spider ball bounced off the rock. It flew under the wizard's feet and was carried by the wind into the chasm to the right. To a small stream. No longer shrouded in mist. Rushing and about twenty-three paces wide.
"May all the water evaporate," roared Gabriel. "May the sun go out, may this damn wind disappear, may…"
He stopped shouting as the wind died down, completely. And it grew darker.
The wizard smiled to himself and paled as the water in the stream began to bubble and steam.
"Pasr-ma," the hunter squeaked softly.
***
"Fortunately, it's only a temporary change in the weather," the man muttered. "But you'd better keep your mouth shut.
" "When we reach the nightmarish forest, you'll be the one to shut up in delight," the elf retorted. "Massive tree branches, yellow-green leaves, ferns, and toadstools. Besides, I won't argue with you. We're off."
Until von Taabal's last word, the local birds squawked the rest of the story. It was a shame it was in their own language, which he didn't understand.
The journey wasn't pleasant; the "temporary change in weather" proved to be temporary indeed. The wind was making itself felt again. The elf muttered under his breath. As usual.
His legs ached from walking over the uneven terrain.
The wizard adjusted his hand on his staff. He struck it against the stones. He breathed into the four twisting, twisted, and twisted wooden finials of the staff. He muttered something about carpets, stench, winter, and fertile soil. A little magic to make them go faster. Or rather, they flew a few centimeters above the ground. And the wind didn't bother them. And the path passed more quickly. And finally... it ended. It led to a high rock and that was it. There was no further passage, and a small stream flowed on the right.
"We're crossing to the other side. Me first, or you? Like a bat or a moth?
" The wizard dropped to the ground slightly, the elf surprised too.
"Simple magic is of no use here," the mage said slowly. He walked to the edge of the slope; a stream flowed a few meters below. He could see the path ahead.
"Mountain streams are dangerous, so we won't risk climbing down the rocks, swimming across, and emerging on the other side. My magic is of no use here either," he repeated. "I won't achieve anything with it.
" "So, like a bat or a moth? Like my wings," the elven hunter with black hair insisted. "Plain and simple." Thick leather armor, light green clothing, and a bow on his back gave him a majestic air. His muddy boots, however, were a different story.
The wizard paid him no attention. Finally, he said:
"Not with the flight of a bat or a moth, but with an ordinary gait.
And he stepped over the abyss, surprisingly not falling.
"A glass bridge," he smiled. "Follow me!
" "Into the nightmarish forest!" Gabriel echoed. "For dandelions, wolfberries, for...
" "Mint.
" "And for amaranth," the hunter added, "finally for amaranth, Vasidi lead the way." And he jumped toward the bridge...
...which disappeared.
Fortunately, the wizard was already on the other side.
von Taabal's quiet pasr-ma and a splash made him realize everything.
He jumped to the edge of the abyss, took off his backpack, quickly pulled out the rope, and threw it down, shouting,
"Catch!" He threw it all down.
And the elf gurgled, shouted pasr-ma, disappeared underwater, then reappeared. And now he was far enough away that the human couldn't help him. As usual.
The rope flowed behind the elf.
In the end, the wizard jumped in after him, happily taking the backpack.
End of chapter one.
Chapter two.
"Perhaps it's the strange bells ringing,
Perhaps it's the strange women chasing,
Perhaps through the ravines, through the chojars,
A terrible horse is rushing, a mad horse?"
J. Tuwim
A dicere verum came to me with a rident. Anyone who dares to claim to know what drives a wizard is lying. I'm not talking about an elf, because, of course... an elf is one thing anyway.
However, I will mention Karwi de Tmes in passing; he's an interesting personality.
Karwi told me long ago:
"There is no lesser evil. There is only a lesser good.
I will prove you wrong. Perhaps not in this chapter, perhaps not in this story, but I will prove it. Out loud et sine ira. Although I like silence.
" ***
When the sun's few rays began to reflect in the first raindrops, creating a fairy-tale rainbow, the demons of that same rainbow lamented the adversities of fate, soaking their feet in the lake. A chestnut in a shell bearing thirty-four thorny protrusions. A nearby tree, blown by a gust of wind caused by a passing crow, broke loose and fell onto a clover. Unfortunately, a rare one. Four-leaf clover.
At the same time, forty leagues away, Gabriel, sitting on the bank, was spitting water, unaware that his friend was floating upside down in a lake with a waterfall flowing into it. Their last journey.
However, he finally spotted him. He quickly pulled the fainted wizard to the shore. The wizard woke up instantly and spat a fountain of water.
When he regained consciousness and stopped coughing, he looked at the elf. Von Taabal stood nearby, his back to him, facing the mighty oaks, covered in a thick layer of moss. The trees formed a nightmarish forest.
Clouds meandered strangely across the sky, shadowing the ground. Gabriel, in indescribable joy, had run into the trees some time ago. The sandals flew toward the man, missing their target. Apparently, they had walked barefoot, as if by God, softly, easily, and pleasantly.
Wild cries of songs, pasr-ma, and other sounds came from the depths of the forest.
The magician wasn't concerned. He went to wash his shoes.
A backpack floated on the lake's surface, and on the backpack, like a sailor on a ship, a staff. A double clap overhead, words about time, parchments, and carvings allowed the magician to pleasantly and pleasantly bring his equipment to shore. It turned out that the elven bow and quiver of arrows were also there, gliding from the waterfall down the lake.
After restoring himself to a relative state of order, he set out for the nightmarish forest, marking his path with water trails.
***
"I'll find amaranth here!" "The hunter shouted, growing increasingly furious; he clearly wasn't finding it. "I'll find the amaranth here! I'll send all the beetles and bats to search. Pasr-ma. For the amaranth!"
He drew his bow, notched an arrow, and shot.
The magician jumped as something whistled past his ear. He turned his head. Gabriel only smiled and pointed ahead. The magician followed his gaze. In a huge beech tree, an arrow was dripping with the blood of a dead cuckoo.
"I'll find it, but first I'll eat something," von Taabal said cheerfully.
"The arrow passed under the left wing and pierced a lung," the magician remarked on the elf's stupidity and began stripping the cuckoo of its feathers.
***
The trees bowed, not at all to the gusts of wind. The old birch tree under which Gabriel rested creaked as if the deus animarum itself were within it. A magpie had built a nest in a dwarf oak nearby, now glaring at the wizard. The magician sprawled on the ground as if he were at home. He rubbed his belly full of cuckoo meat and fruit, not cuckoo fruit.
Gabriel von Taabal, as usual, muttered under his breath:
"Tree upon tree, thickets upon thickets, and if not trees and thickets, then moss. This is a nightmare forest, not this one. There's no amaranth here. We must go to the charming marshes, where there are bubbles, leeches, toadstools. We'll jump, run. Listen to the songs of the marsh birds, catch flies"—here the elf clapped his hands in front of his face. "And find amaranth. Let's move on."
The hunter leaped over the wizard and took off running. Where? Only he knew. Besides, he didn't get anywhere. This wasn't a phantasmagoria; the trees were truly bowing of their own accord. They were already surrounding von Taabal.
The wizard reacted quickly. He jumped to his feet and drew his staff.
Fire, embers, and a crater were the few words the elf heard. Instead, he saw a huge flash and his companion lying on the ground, his robes ablaze. The spell had clearly failed.
"Amaranth, yes. Two more drops of Urtica dioica essence and a Spilosoma lubricipeda larva. Mix and pour.
"Bgraaa!" the wizard uttered. Apparently, the potion had restored all his senses.
"Don't scream." The smiling face of an elf appeared just above his head. "Look who I met."
The hunter stepped aside. Behind Gabriel stood a man. White robes, white hair. His eyes were lost under bushy eyebrows. One looked up, the other to the left. In short, the man squinted at the mage.
"I am a druid, my wizard," he screeched. "I rule the forests, I control the weather, I control all the animals!" he shouted, clearly overly concerned with his role. "And it was I who helped you. You were burned.
" "Thank you for telling me, but it's time for me to go." The wizard stood up, mastering the pain. "Gabriel, we're going to the swamps."
"So we're going to the swamps, there are frogs, vipers, we'll meet dragonflies, we'll find—
" "And I mended your clothes," the druid interrupted the elf.
The man looked at his black robe and stood frozen. Below the knees was a burnt hole, sewn shut with white cloth...
As the company said goodbye to the absurd druid, the druid said goodbye to his wizard and his elf. At the same time, in the charming marshes, two dragonflies were copulating. The sun was sinking below the horizon, tinting the sky from crimson to orange. Clouds were drifting across the sky. And they were crying for the world, and sometimes I cry for it too.
***
The wizard walked furiously. Gabriel von Taabal clutched his stomach.
His staff lit their path.
The sun had set some time ago. The path through the nightmarish forest led straight to the charming marshes. Stars twinkled overhead. The journey wasn't arduous; it seemed the trees were moving aside on their own.
And so they walked for a while. The elf grumbled about a stomach ache. He complained about the amaranth potion the druid had given him. He complained until the staff flickered and went out.
It became incredibly dark and gloomy.
"Here I am, behind me!" the mage said. "Let's find a clearing, sit down, I'll fix everything in a moment.
" "I can't see you.
" "Follow my voice. Follow my—" - thud. "Watch out for the roots!"
thud.
"You've climbed inside me. Get down. Give me your hand. Let's go.
" "I found a clearing. Pasr-ma. We'll stop here."
They sat down, and something crunched under the elf's butt.
"A forest beetle," he squeaked.
"The one with the dung?
" - Pasr-ma.
The first drops of rain fell on his black hair.
It was raining in earnest. The hunter's stomach ache overcame him, and he regurgitated his entire meal.
Finally, they had achieved something. The mage commanded the staff to shine again. This time, a little fainter.
Rain poured from the sky in torrents. The pale light of the magic staff didn't provide much, but it was still something.
It was light enough for von Taabal to see what was growing in the clearing. Amaranth. Amaranth everywhere. He recognized it immediately. The same plant the druid used to make magical potions. Potions that caused stomach ache. This was too much for one elf.
Almost none of the flowers survived; he trampled them all in his frenzy. He fired his bow. Although not much, it helped. He gathered them into a pile and poured them out… but he pocketed one, the smallest one. The mage seemed about to say something, but then he became strangely concerned.
"Amaranth, amaranth!" he shouted. "Where's the amaranth? Pasr-ma. Get out, shoo. Shoo. Pasr-ma."
A powerful flash and thunder drowned out his cries. The wizard jumped to his feet, shaking.
"Boo, boom, storm!" his teeth chattered. "Help, boom, boom, thunder, we're running!" He's running away...
More flashes of lightning and thunder didn't let him finish, and needlessly, anyway. The wizard fainted. Few people know how afraid people are of storms.
***
"Get up, look at this dance. The rain dances with the moon." The aquamarine-haired man waved his arms excitedly. "Like spiders on the wall in a crypt. Look, or I'll have to use catachresis. "
The wizard regained consciousness. He looked up at the sky.
"It's oreads," he said. "Not rain, it's not raining anymore. I think."
He sat down on a root. The clearing, illuminated by a bright green light, was bathed in a fluffy mist. Two orange eyes were also bathed in it. The pile of amaranth disappeared.
The elf flinched when he noticed something staring at him. First a muzzle appeared, then the rest, slowly... a monstrosity.
The wizard held his staff at the ready. The hunter was ready to shoot at any moment.
Orange eyes blinked every few seconds. A figure sat on the creature's back. Black robes fluttered in the gentle breeze. The elf released an arrow. The string twang, then a whistle.
"Don't you dare again."
The rider on the enormous dog finally appeared in all his glory.
He rode slowly toward the party. The mage could have uttered a spell of immobilization at any moment. But he didn't, he didn't have time. He couldn't. He couldn't move, blink, open his mouth, breathe. His companion neither.
The nightmarish dog and its master stood before them.
"An elven hunter and a human priest. An incompetent hunter and a foolish priest. Did wolfspawn send you here? No. Gargoyles? No either. Then there's nothing for you here. Go home, children. Only death awaits you here, remember—death."
The rider rode around the clearing and disappeared into the forest. The grotesque howl carried away on the wind. They didn't even know how much he'd learned about them.
They could breathe again.
"Pasr-ma," the elf shouted. "If I find the amaranth. If I find it," and he wagged a finger in the direction where the rider had departed. "Now let's go to sleep, for tomorrow we'll go to the lovely marshes. After..."
"Shut up," the wizard couldn't bear it anymore. "Go to sleep."
End of chapter two.
Chapter three.
"The sky is cut with a golden sickle,
the magic ponds glisten in the depths
, the night shadows
buzz, the herbaceous grasses dance."
J. Tuwim
Mint wasn't valued solely for its fragrant oils, used in medicine. Spiritists and wizards are virtuosos in its preparation. The roots of this plant are used in exorcisms, sacrifices, conjurations, illusions, and the arcane arts of magic.
Crushed mint, powdered, and mixed with the juice of Chamomilla recutita provided quite an aphrodisiac. Anyway, it's not important, our wizard didn't find any mint in the forest. Because unfortunately... it wasn't there.
***
When they woke up, it was morning. The quick meal prepared by the elf gave them strength. A sip of water refreshed them perfectly. A moment later, they were on their feet.
The forest thinned. The ground became increasingly muddy. When they smelled the stench of rotten plants, they were sure that the lovely marshes were just around the corner.
And indeed, they were, and they were.
First, they sank knee-deep in mud. Then the wizard lost one shoe. And the arrow hunter had only one left.
The stench was unbearable. Mosquitoes attacked fiercely, and dragonflies larger than hawks flew overhead.
Gabriel didn't mind; he jumped as fast as he could, shouting "pasr-ma," searching for amaranth. He didn't find it.
"Apparently...
" "Apparently what?" shouted the elf. "Amaranth has always grown in marshes! Follow me! Like a moth. I'll find it. I'll find it!" "Pasr-ma."
Gabriel began to run, the human following him, as fast as he could run in one shoe.
Ignoring the road, the elf ran as fast as he could, finally tripping and falling.
"A reptile grabbed me," he moaned. "Not a sprite, one, two. Pasr-ma," a loud splash was heard, and another. When the wizard reached the bushes, he saw the elf. He was breaking calamus, twisting and turning. On him lay the body of a dead snake. The smile on Gabriel's grimy face told the man that all was well.
It turned out the black-haired man wasn't so helpless. He stabbed the reptile with his dagger, faster than the animal could react. A commendable feat. The mage smiled to himself and ate the meat, roasted over the magic fire. The elf had taken it into his head to have a scarf made of leather. Finally, he cut it into pieces and tied it with thick spiderweb threads, abundant in the swamps. A new outfit, perfect for a mage.
A black, burnt robe patched with white fabric. The snake boot. Now the wizard looked terrifying… or ridiculous.
***
So they moved on, the elf's emotions subsiding. He calmed down. He just muttered something under his breath, as usual.
The sight of where they had arrived astonished them.
In the middle of the swamps was a small island. Fresh, tall, green grass covered it tightly. Beyond the grass was a clearing and a few trees. Something was flying between the trees. Something squeaked. Something flickered, something strange.
Chanting echoed in the air, quieter than silence. And yet palpable. They sang:
Two races, two each.
The music of the trees, the music smoulders.
Into the tiny poppy, the deer fleas.
Two races, two each.
Grosom rain, crosslight.
Two races, two each.
Finally, the singing stopped. Everything flying gathered together. They squeaked, rustled, and disappeared behind the trees.
The company climbed slowly onto the island. The elf was first to make his way through the waist-high grass. The wizard was second.
"Slowly and carefully," the mage muttered. "And calmly."
- And quietly.
***
The echo of the words fluttered in my head. Small wings fluttered, shimmering with the luminous glow of the reflected sun. They shimmered with colors.
Many marsh fires. Nymphs.
I don't hear you,
you don't hear me.
In the wilderness, there's only
silence after silence.
Millions of delicate voices sang monotonously...
In the manner of butterflies,
To die at the sign.
Cruel prophet,
Even silence is missing!
...they fell silent, beautifully, fabulously, and suddenly.
END OF PART ONE.
The nymphs sang of loneliness, of death, and of a silence that sounded melodic. Their voices blended into a single harmony. They depicted an imaginary world, empty and powerless. Hated by the beings living in it. There were no gardens there. The only one, the last, was beyond it. In the abyss of all things. A garden accessible only through a great iron gate. If anyone ever crossed it, they never returned. Their dispassionate howls could be heard on the other side. Then, on the garden walls, rivulets of slowly flowing blood appeared, thick and viscous. Time had long been forgotten here; it was irrelevant to this existence. The fifth element was reaping its harvest here. The essence of life was ending, remaining in the inviolable garden of souls.
The rusalkas sang about it.
PART TWO.
"Protect, O Lord, the frail green of my soul
From trampling and dead incineration,
So that amidst the life of the Last Supper
I may feel its balsamic, fresh aroma."
L. Staff
A purple-flaming sphere rose into the sky. Frozen in time, it vibrated, illuminating everything to the horizon. The screeches of gargoyles greeted their first day. The sanctuary shook to its foundations. Black stones arranged in circles burst into flame. The dirty red of the flames sparked. The scent in the air brought to mind the scent of roasted lavender, enhanced by cymene.
***
- Why have the nymphs fallen silent, wizard, why?
The mage stood motionless, grinning ominously.
The wings of the forest fireflies froze. Their eyes stared blankly at the party as a purple wave of light flooded the islet.
"Give me the amaranth," the man said commandingly. "Give me the amaranth, elf."
Gabriel immediately turned serious.
"Pasr-ma, if only I had it. First I must find it, I must find the amaranth. I promised Vasidi...
" "Stop fooling around, idiot. Take the flower from your pocket and hand it to me obediently. Then get out, so I don't see you again. "
The elf grew even more confused.
"Pasr-ma, pasr-ma, pasr-ma," he shouted. "If I find it, I'll give it to you. Pasr-ma, pasr-ma. Like a moth, amaranth, one two. Pasr-m..."
He didn't finish. A powerful flash of bright red light blinded him. Time stopped for a moment. And then he let the surrounding landscape burst into flames.
"Omnis homo mendax, mendax," the mage rasped in a throaty voice.
The trees burned, the elf writhed on the ground in convulsions and spasms. He roared in pain, his voice sharp as a knife. Nymphs with burned wings fell to the ground all at once. Thousands of tiny corpses littered the island. Fiery tongues ravaged the area. Trees hissed under their influence, finally crumbling, parched to the core. Then everything ended.
An unnaturally purple sky allowed the clouds to drift by. The purple illuminated everything and, like a thick sheet, hid the sun. Not a single ray could penetrate.
The mage approached the hunter's body. He knelt and pulled an intact amaranth flower from his pocket. A tiny flower. He spat in the elf's face.
"Amaranth, you idiot, that's amaranth. At least you'd know about plants if you're looking for one," he said, completely unrhetorically. Then he stood up and walked towards the flowing purple.
Wizard, servant of gargoyles, Karwim de Tmes.
End of chapter three.
Chapter four.
"The rain rings against the windowpanes, the autumn rain rings.
And the same, steady, unchanging splashes.
Raindrops fall and beat against my window...
A glassy moan... a glassy cry... and the windowpanes get wet in the fog
And a drowsy glow seeps into the gray light...
The rain rings against the windowpanes, the autumn rain rings..."
L. Staff
I counted to one hundred, slowly. Before I could finish, the rain began to fall. Slowly at first, rhythmically. It vibrated perceptibly to the rhythm of the music; it was amusing. Before a moment passed, the beats intensified. They doubled in frequency and, in anger, began to laugh. If the music was amusing, laughter never was...
***
The night had never dragged on so long. It was a pity it would drag on until it did.
The black cloak billowed in the rain. Water soaked the ground. The enormous dog's paws sank into the mud. The rider adjusted his sleeve. He leaned closer to his mount's neck. With quiet words, he urged him on even faster. Trees creaked, surrounding him on all sides. Finally, they began to thin. And the sun peeked over the horizon.
Rain continued to fall in the nightmarish forest.
The rider ordered the dog to slow down. The mascara obeyed obediently.
***
"I rode as fast as I could. Wolves surround the forests to the north. Gargoyles are performing their rituals in an old sanctuary. Something's afoot. And an elf and a human in the middle of the forest. A strange company.
" "They're going to the swamps. They're harmless, they do more harm to themselves than to others. The wizard barely got burned. And the elf looks like a fool to me," the cross-eyed druid paused. "Besides, they probably won't get far." The swamps will soon drive them away; they'll return here without fail.
"A wizard? That's impossible. I checked, there's no trace of magic in them. Are you sure it's a wizard? I thought it was an ordinary priest.
" "Yes, I saw it with my own eyes, after all, I am the lord of the forest, the lord of the animals." The druid's emotions overcame him. "He wanted to cast a fireball. Unfortunately, he directed it at himself. He almost burned, as I've already said.
" "I don't like it. Hmm... If he were inexperienced, he wouldn't have been able to hide his magic from me. So he must be worth something. But why didn't such a simple spell work?
" "That's not for me to ask. You yourself said something was up, Ankril. Go and check it out then.
" "I will," Ankril muttered thoughtfully. "I will."
The rain continued to fall.
***
Ankril braced himself on the animal's neck. The rain lashed its face like a whip. It seemed as if it would never stop falling. The sun couldn't penetrate the gray clouds. Trees flickered before his eyes, the road leading straight to the swamps. The dog rider hoped to meet the wizard and the elf again. However, he dreaded this encounter.
Finally, the rain was stopping. The last drops left marks. The stench of the swamps grew stronger with each passing second. Ankril stopped the dog; besides the stench, something hung in the air. He looked up at the sky. The sun was slowly moving west. In the west, above the trees, he saw a shimmering ball that flickered and exploded purple. Suddenly, the sun went out over the world, and a monotonous color reigned everywhere. "Damn all these gargoyles, let them slither in their sanctuaries. They've got a hankering for some magical trick," Ankril thought, and urged the dog towards the swamps
.
Karwim de Tmes cursed under his breath. The land was slowly becoming drier, but it still stank of swamps. The wizard clutched amaranth in his hand. He believed it could double the power of magic. At least that was the legend, and the wizard always said he would make that legend come true. Only one thought troubled him. Why the hell did a stupid elf need amaranth? Who didn't even know what the plant looked like. No matter. Now it was time to get to the sanctuary as quickly as possible, and then, come what may.
If the wizard had known that anything would truly happen, he wouldn't have thought his last words.
***
Ankril rode the beast around the island. Grass, bushes, and trees, reduced to piles of ash, breathed thin wisps of smoke. The corpses of nymphs, completely dried and burned, crunched under the dog's paws. In the center lay the corpse of an elf. Ankril rode up to them. He stood on his feet, crouched, and surveyed the terrain. He tried to deduce the sequence of events. The air vibrated. He rose quickly. A short figure was walking toward him from the plains. A barrel strapped to its back rocked majestically from side to side. The stranger stopped. He spotted a huge dog and its owner. Unafraid, he walked slowly toward them.
As the stranger stepped onto the island, Ankril recognized who it was. It was a gnome, round glasses perched on his crooked nose.
"You're almost as good as my fireworks, sir," he squawked. "Except mine make huge holes in the ground. Huge.
" "It's not my work," Ankril said, looking at the gnome carefully. "Besides, it was magic that caused the damage, not gunpowder.
" "Magic, you say, and from a distance, it looked like dwarven gunpowder. But if you say magic, I won't argue." But look at this." The gnome pulled the barrel off his back, opened it, and pulled out a small bag, placed it on the ground, then dropped a small ball from his pocket into it. "Let's move aside."
Ankril whistled and stepped back, the dog following him. The gnome stood to the side, watching intently. He clapped his hands and covered his ears with his fingers.
The bag began to hiss. Then it jumped, finally exploding in a greenish-blue fountain of sparks that, instead of falling to the ground, rose into the purple sky, slowly fading away like burning chalk.
"You see," the gnome said. "It's just gunpowder, but it looks like magic.
" "But this area didn't burn from gunpowder, but from magic.
" "Hmm... maybe that's true. Then there's nothing for me here. I thought...
Never mind. But do you know why the sky is purple? It never was.
" "It's magic too. There's a gargoyle sanctuary on the plains. It's their doing."
"Ahha," the gnome said, drawing out the words too much. He adjusted his glasses on his nose. He slung the barrel over his shoulder and extended his hand to Ankril. "Gassad Fanaman, at your service, Mr. Ankril. When do we leave for the sanctuary?"
Ankril burst out laughing.
"You're no longer in engineering?
" "I was, last century. Do you happen to know how the druid Kkaadrix is doing?
" "I've just returned from him. No news. So how will you help me with the gargoyles?
" "As I said. But don't tell me you didn't recognize me?
" "I recognized me, from the very beginning.
" "Sure."
The rain began to fall... purple.
And it continued to fall until they left the swamps. Gassad, riding behind on the dog, whistled softly, soaked. Ankril lay down on the animal's neck. "So it was a wizard after all," he thought. "Gargoyle spawn. It's obvious, this island is his doing. Now he's gone to the sanctuary. He'll lose the will to do magic again, forever."
"For eternity," he repeated aloud.
"What do you mean forever?" Fanaman squawked. "The sky can't be purple forever." For a day, a week, maybe a year. But not forever.
"Maybe not," Ankril muttered grimly. "Maybe not."
Evening was slowly approaching. Despite the strange hue of the sky, which itself gave off a glow, one could tell. It had darkened… and turned even more purple.
They skirted a small hill on the left. They slowly made their way into the heart of the plains. The sand crunched under the dog's paws; it was exceptionally dry here. Finally, a circle of rocks came into view, and within it were three stacked stones. The largest lay on two smaller ones supporting it on either side. They rode up to it. The gnome jumped from his mount to his feet. The wooden barrel rocked on his back. Ankril slowly stood on the ground and approached the stacked stones.
"Vasidi followers are everywhere," Gassad croaked. "Look here, what flower is that?" He pointed under the stones.
"It's amaranth; it only grows in the forests."
"Druids brought him here?
" "I don't think so. But I think I know who. Last day I met someone looking for him. But he's dead…
End of chapter four.
Chapter five.
"There were two sisters, Night and Death,
Death the greater, and Night the lesser.
Night was beautiful as a dream, and Death...
Death was even more beautiful."
KI Gałczyński
On the wizard's horizon, relics of the Vasidi faith appeared. Three enormous stone blocks, once arranged by her followers. Ominous clouds rolled across the purple sky. A black shape rose and fell, somewhere above them. Finally, it flew down and began circling the area. Karwim looked up, sat on the ground, and waited.
Before him, a gargoyle landed slowly, flapping its wings and breaking the wind. The black creature lifted its head gloomily and gurgled.
"Mount me, Karwim de Tmes. I will take you to the sanctuary. To the valley where shadow merges with purple. Your presence here is a testament to the discovery you have made. What do you bring with you to strengthen our forces?
" "A jar of Wind Liquid and amaranth," the mage smiled, holding out a small flower.
"You arrive just in time. The Wind Liquid will certainly be useful; it's important that you have it with you. But why amaranth? We don't plant flowers.
" "Fool, not to plant, but to strengthen the power of magic. Don't you know what the legends say?
" "I know what they say, and I know they lie... do you admit you believed it? We've known for years that the story of amaranth was made up. This weed is of no use to us."
The mage paled and pondered for a moment. He didn't know what to do... hungry for power, he killed Gabriel to take the flower, which he can now only place on his grave.
"No, I didn't believe in the legends. Take me to the Vasidi shrine.
" "Why?
" "Take me," I said.
Karwim gripped his staff tightly and mounted the gargoyle's back, which soared into the air. It covered the distance separating them from the Vasidi stone shrine and sat on the ground. The mage jumped off its back. He pulled a small amaranth flower from his pocket. The withered plant the elf had been searching for. He placed it under the stones.
"And now to the sanctuary."
The earth beneath them melted and flowed eastward. In the distance, an unnatural red glow glowed on the horizon. The wind whipped clouds levitating high in the sky. The wizard looked toward the distant mountains, looming on the horizon. Above them, an archipelago of rocky islands floated in the air, and at their feet, the dark green forest thicket spread.
They descended. The glow grew with each passing moment. They were getting closer, and now Karwim could see luminous, dirty-red circles. The air was filled with the scent of roasted lavender, enhanced by cymene.
***
"We're getting closer," the gnome squawked.
They rode up a small hill and looked down. The valley, illuminated by the dead world of flames, was shrouded in a jagged layer of fog. A structure of black stone, half-sunken in the earth, absorbed the light. Black shapes flew above it, slicing the sky with bat-like wings. A gurgling sound drifted through the air.
"Lots of them," Ankril muttered. "But that's okay, we'll manage. Gassad, prepare some gunpowder, just not too much.
" "Sure," the gnome dismounted, pulled down the barrel, pulled out a canvas bag, and set to work.
Ankril whispered something in the creature's ear as he dismounted. The creature leaped into the darkness and disappeared behind the rocks. Heading towards the swamps,
Fanaman mixed various types of gunpowder, poured them into bags, and tied them with a strap. Finally, he put everything into his barrel. He sealed it tightly, poured something from a waterskin, and placed it on the ground.
Ankril whispered an incantation under his breath. An orange flammberg suddenly appeared in his hand. A wavy sword, with a wide blade and a long crossguard.
"Twenty-one gargoyles and one mage. Probably the one we're looking for. Eight creatures sit in the sanctuary, five flying in the sky. Seven are performing rituals around the circles. One is talking to the wizard.
" "You surprise me."
Ankril sat down on the ground.
"I don't see anything strange in this," he said.
The gnome rolled the barrel to the edge and pushed it. The barrel rolled down the hill, bouncing on the stones. Finally, it slowly rolled down and stopped, drawing the attention of the gargoyles. Several of them approached.
"What's going on?" the wizard said. "Stand back.
" "Don't order us," one of the gargoyles said.
"Well, don't order them," Ankril shouted, descending the hill. Behind him, a gnome trotted.
"Who are you, scum?" Karwim retorted.
The gargoyles suddenly leaped into the air.
The gnome and the man descended. The sanctuary towered above them. The grotesque shapes of the doorways and windows breathed emptiness into the interior.
"A beautiful building," Gassad said with a smile.
The air was filled with the scent of roasted lavender, enhanced by cymene.
***
"Don't ask who I am. We know each other, you foolish priest. Oh, I was right. You're not a priest, you're a wizard. But the adjective still fits you, foolish. I won't mention that you killed a friend. Or that you joined those grubs. You see, now they've abandoned you, flying through the air and eavesdropping on our conversation... I never understood them, why they needed that purple sky.
" "Where did you leave your pet?" the mage sneered. "You traded it for a gnome?"
Ankril lifted his flammberg. Karwim tightened his grip on his staff.
"Gassad, roll that barrel closer to the sanctuary."
Suddenly the gargoyles fell silent, the silence becoming incredibly melodic. Then thirteen stone blocks fell, shattering on the ground.
"Your turn," Ankril muttered, and looked the mage in the eye.
The mage jumped back and raised his staff. A green sphere flew from the top of the staff, straight at the man. Ankril dodged quickly and muttered under his breath. Bright pink rays shot up from the ground around him, forming a circle.
Karwim spun his staff in a figure eight in the air. Silvery sparks rolled across the ground towards Ankril. He jumped up and levitated above the ground. He slashed his flammberg at his opponent's face. The mage dodged the blow and swung his staff, which burst into flames. The weapons clashed. The mage turned to strike the back of his opponent's head, but Ankril blocked himself with his swords and counterattacked himself.
"You're making a mistake," roared de Tmes. "Killing me, you become evil. You become who you fight.
" "It's the lesser evil, wizard.
" "It's your business, but this time you won't kill me."
Karwim slammed his staff on the ground and knelt. Black fog enveloped him. And when it dissipated, he was gone.
Ankril took a deep breath. Gassad was walking toward him. The barrel lay beneath the sanctuary window.
"Let's get out of here. Everything's about to explode.
" ***
"Will the sky stay like this forever?
" "Until I find it, yes. But purple is pretty too.
" "It doesn't suit the scent of lavender.
" "A matter of taste.
" "And where do you want to look for it?
" "I don't know, a little bit of everything.
" "And amaranth?
" "Those are just legends.
" "Pasr-ma. "
End of chapter five.
END OF PART TWO."
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