4

 

I woke up in a cold sweat. Above me, I saw my mother's worried face, smiling at me with relief.

"You always get into trouble. Did something tempt you, devil, to touch Magus's equipment? Oh, Father will grant you! You're welcome!" she threatened, but hugged me tightly and said, "You're lucky Mr. Magus guessed and rushed upstairs. Or you would never have woken up. He and Father sat over you all night until he lifted the spell from you. He said that if it had been someone else, not the innkeeper's son, he wouldn't have bothered at all. And he was as angry as hell at that. Then he asked if there was a witch living near us, or someone who could cast spells and spells." When Dad told him about the gusli player, he said he didn't have time and had to continue north.

I jumped up as if struck, got out of bed despite my mother's protests, and ran through the kitchen. I burst into the room, where Dad was aiming at me. I passed him, avoiding the rag. I ran out into the yard, heading for the sawmill. I heard Dad's furious voice behind me, cursing, "Oh, you little loafer, come back here right away! I hope a woodpecker pokes your eye out!"

I ran like I was on fire, bumping into people. I saw a plume of smoke rising in the forest. I slowed down before the sawmill, gasping for air; there was no lumberjack. I started running again. Gyrland, one of the lumberjacks, was running down the forest road in the opposite direction. "It's on fire! The gusli player's house is on fire!"

I felt a knot in my stomach and sped up, tripping over roots. I burst into a clearing where a dozen lumberjacks were bustling about battling the flames. I noticed they were pouring water on the trees around the witch's hut. Three more were drawing buckets of water from the stream. "Why aren't you extinguishing the hut?" I asked. To which one of them replied, "Stand back, kid, the hut will burn itself out, and no one will help Halla."

I stood there frozen, tears streaming down my cheeks. After about two hours, all that remained of the harp-player's hut were ash-burned logs. Almost all the villagers had gathered. Mother embraced me and led me home.

That evening, in my father's inn, everyone was discussing the fire.

"The witch must have been making up a spell," Blind said. To which old Olaf

replied, "No, she was casting a spell on someone, and it must have backfired."

"Or maybe a firecracker jumped out of her pot and set the herbs on fire.

" "One thing's for sure, she won't do any harm. She was just scaring the children.

She's more harm than good.

" Finally, Mayor Crambwell spoke up. "Leave the gusli player alone. May her soul rest in peace. Let's have a drink to that. For her last journey." He raised his tankard to his lips and drained it. The rest of the crowd followed, and Dad bought another round, earning him an ovation from the guests and a reprimand from his mother.

I sat quietly in the corner, staring at the logs in the fireplace. I thought about the recent events in the settlement. I seemed to be the only one who felt sorry for the gusli player. What had she told me in my dream? About balance, its disruption. About children of the night, the hunt. I was chosen, but for what? It was too much for me. I just wanted things to be as they were before. Quiet, peaceful. I felt the tension growing, as if nature were tightening its bowstring. I was afraid.

Suddenly, the clatter of hooves echoed outside, and despite the din in the room, the guests glanced at each other. The door to my father's inn opened. A rider stood in the threshold. I jumped on my stool.

He entered the room and looked at the gathered people with a penetrating gaze. His long black hair was tied back with a leather strap. A cloak of the same color, with a silver lily on the side, revealing a jangling chainmail shirt. In his hand he held a sword in an intricately crafted scabbard. Narrowed, dark eyes stared from his bearded face. "Who is the master of this place?" he asked. Papa slowly rose from the bench, staring at the newcomer with wide eyes.

"I am your lord. What do you need?

" "I am seeking a sorcerer, his name is Xenor."

Papa glanced anxiously at the mayor. He nodded, so Papa replied. "He was here, but he left. Far to the north, my lord." He nervously clutched a rag, churning it in his hands. Every now and then he glanced nervously at the mayor. The knight asked, focusing on Papa.

"Has he been gone long?

" "It'll be a week since he left, my lord," Papa lied. I sat hunched on

the stool, staring from my father to the newcomer. I couldn't understand why my father was protecting Magus. I decided to remain silent for now, but I had no doubt that this was the newcomer Halla had spoken of.

"And does a witch named Halla live here?

" "She lives here, sir... Or rather, she did. She cast spells, and one of them didn't work, and

so what? She burned to death that morning in her hut in the clearing. "

A shadow crossed the knight's face, and he now addressed everyone gathered.

"Listen, people, dark times are coming, and it's all the fault of Xenor,

a sorcerer from the far south. In his pride and greed, he awakened dark forces whose forces threaten the entire world. Don't protect him, and if he's hiding here, show me where he is. He must be captured while he still can," he said with a growing menace in his voice. I stood up, drawing attention. The knight looked at me expectantly. My voice quivered. "Sir Knight, Magus was here today. He killed Halla and Mother Dhorra!" I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"He has a room upstairs, and he keeps magical books and scripts there!"

At that moment, Father's eyes misted over, he staggered, and with a different voice, he spoke.

"I thought I had eliminated all your spies, but that's no use. I no longer

need to hide. The seals have been broken. Let the world know that the gates of Wanturia are open! You are a fool if you think you can stop me. I am the messenger of Zeth, the new God. Join me and you will be granted grace. No one can stop me now! I repeat my offer, join those who are for victory and you will preserve your life!

" "What kind of life are you offering me? Better to die in battle than be a slave to

your god!

" "Fool! You do not understand the power I have unleashed. Death will not be yours. Oh

no! You will suffer and see the triumph of the immortal Zeth! Take him!"

Suddenly, the people in the room, along with Mother and Father, rushed at the newcomer, who yanked his sword from its scabbard. The blade glowed with silver flame. The knight jumped back, covering himself with a sweeping movement of his cloak. He slashed the attacking Olaf with his sword from below. Blood sprayed onto the floor. Then he struck Papa over the head with the pommel, sending Papa reeling, knocking over the table with a crash. Unable to be surrounded, he charged Blind and the miller, chopping off the former's hand and sending the latter crashing into the tables. Blind howled and ran from the inn. The warrior leaped onto the bar and, with a lightning-fast kick, shattered the clay mugs, showering the attackers with a hail of shards. Two fishermen screamed, clutching their faces, blood spurting from between their fingers. He leaped gracefully, somersaulting over the mayor, Rhombus, and two woodcutters. He landed behind them, his back to the fireplace. With a single horizontal slash, he severed the woodcutter's head and slit Rhombus's throat, who fell onto his back, wheezing. The mayor and the other woodcutter retreated to the exit, glaring at the knight. The newcomer made a motion with his hand, uttering some words at the same time, to which they hissed and ran out into the yard with a shriek. Crouched in the corner, I watched in fear as my mother, wielding a cleaver, rushed at the knight with a shout. He spun around, avoiding the blow and getting behind my mother. He swung his sword. I screamed, not wanting him to kill her. He understood my fear and punched my mother between the eyes. She fell on her back, knocking over the staggering fishermen. One of them crashed into the fireplace, flames immediately engulfing his robes. He howled and ran out, scattering broken tables and benches. The other fell right in front of me. He growled and rose, ready to attack. I struck him in the back with all my might, shattering a stool. He fell forward and remained still. The newcomer stood panting in the middle of the room. The drawn sword was dripping with blood, which dripped onto the floor, forming a puddle there.

I jumped at my father, who was groaning and rising from the floor. The knight pulled me away despite my protests. My father staggered to his feet. Blood was flowing profusely from his broken nose. He swept his tearful eyes around the room and looked at the knight, asking in his own voice, "By the White Unicorn's wounds, were you the ones who caused such a mess here?

" "Father, Father!" I tore myself away from the stranger and clung to my father. "

You attacked him and he crushed you swiftly! But you weren't yourselves, Father. The Magus spoke through you and ordered him killed."

My father raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is that true?" he asked the knight.

"Unfortunately. The sorcerer has cast a spell on you. I will try to undo it, but

you must trust me."

I looked at my mother, who lay motionless. I pulled my father's hand, and we knelt beside her. Her pale face terrified me terribly.

"She's still ten." Father lifted her head from his knees. "She has a lump

as big as the back of a poppy head." He had blood on his hand, so I was frightened again. Seeing tears welling in my eyes, he said, "Don't whine, son. I'll save the poor thing."

Meanwhile, the knight barricaded the entrance with benches. He turned to us, saying, "Innkeeper, time is pressing, the spell must be broken." Father placed his mother's jacket under his head. He stood up and said, "May the devil's breath not stifle my will. Do what you must, knight."

He took bones and feathers from a bag hanging from his belt. He told Father to sit on a bench. He took a burnt stick from the fireplace and drew a six-pointed star on the floor in front of Father, the same as the one I found in Dhorra's house. He knelt before Papa, closed his eyes, and recited something quietly, gently turning the bones in his hands. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and touched Papa's forehead with his right hand, reciting incantations all the while. Papa's body shuddered with shivers, rocking back and forth. Suddenly, he tensed, groaned, and sagged, lowering his arms as if the life had drained from him. The newcomer released the bones into the center of the drawn circle. He took the feathers and, drawing circles over the bones, touched Papa's forehead again. Papa tensed again, shuddered, and with a cry opened his eyes. The knight stepped back, gathering the bones, and Papa looked around in fear.

"May the brightest lightning strike me!" he cursed. "I was an instrument

of evil darkness, how I long to blossom! Thank you, Sir Knight, for saving me, poor thing." He looked at me and pointed at his mother.

"Unfortunately, I can't help her until she regains consciousness,"

the knight's father forestalled the question. "For now, we need to tie her up, because it's unknown whether Xenor will want to use her."

Papa brought straps from the kitchen and tightly bound Mother's hands and feet. He also bandaged her head, wrapping the herbs in a bandage. Then he treated her swollen nose with a wet cloth. He ordered me to bring wine and herring from the pantry. Then we carried out the bodies of the dead. Finally, the three of us sat down at the table. After we had eaten, Papa broke the silence. "What do they call you, knight? I am Klaus and this is my son Mitch." He introduced us.

"My name is Khail Walverde. I come from Indhirland, an island in

the Cantine Sea. I am a paladin of the Templar Order of the White Lily, guarding the secrets Xenor stole from our university's library. I pursue him through all the lands of Lhydia. Ever since we learned that Khalim the Traveler had fallen into the hands of the rulers of Ashyria, we have been secretly monitoring his movements. He disappeared from our sight several years ago." He came to Terra disguised, beguiled us, and secretly studied old books that spoke of the place where the body of Asthar—the lord of darkness—was buried. Unfortunately, he deceived me with his skillful use of magic. He covered his tracks like a seasoned burglar. He always eluded me, and now I failed to prevent him from opening the Gates of Wantoria, which are open to the demons of hell. Your witch, Halla, was the guardian of these lands, quietly maintaining the Gates. She had worked for our Order for many years; it was unfortunate that Xenor defeated her. His power grows with each defeated opponent. I fear I cannot stop him now.

"And Dhorra?" I asked. "Was she also one of your agents?

" "No. Dhorra was a member of the Church of the minor goddess Friza. Her power

derived solely from the forces of nature, which are too weak against sorcerous magic." They rejected any power other than theirs. That's why they're not kind to us either, because we use higher magic.

We had to stay up that night with Mother. And Khail (he allowed me to call him by his first name) was studying books in a room upstairs. I warned him about the staff guarding Magus's belongings, but Father said the mage had taken it with him. In the morning, he called me upstairs.

His face was tired, as gray as the dawn outside. He ordered me to pack the mage's belongings as quickly as possible. He was very nervous. When we got downstairs, he asked Father if he had a wagon and horses.

"No, Mom, but the mayor has one."

He ordered us to pack our belongings, as we had to flee, as the forces Xenor had summoned were approaching. We hastily packed what we could. Khail, meanwhile, removed the barricade and cautiously went out to look for the wagon. The inhabitants were nowhere to be seen. When I asked if it was possible to disenchant them, he replied that he didn't have that much power and that gathering it would take too long. He brought a wagon drawn by two horses to the inn. The animals snorted restlessly. An ominous silence reigned in the area. We carried Mother out and placed her on the wagon. We loaded the belongings and equipment taken from the house. The knight ordered the wizard's belongings to be placed next to the box, where Father sat, his face swollen and shifting restlessly. I took a seat next to Mother, who was breathing unevenly. Walverde whistled long and a saddled black steed emerged from the trees. He ran up to the knight and placed his head on his shoulder. Khail patted him on the neck, strapped his sword to his saddle, and mounted his horse.

"Let's go!" he ordered. I glanced back at my father's inn.

I had a feeling I was seeing it for the last time. We set off along the road that led southwest to Indswijk. We passed houses whose windows showed no sign of movement. However, I felt someone was watching us. I shared my concerns with Khail. He replied that we were indeed being watched, pointing to the line of trees ahead. We left Longend, leaving behind all memories of that place.

At the edge of the forest, where the road curved like a ribbon along the wall of trees, we saw people. They stood there armed with pitchforks, rakes, and axes. Men, women, and children.

"Get the horses going, let them go as fast as they can," the rider ordered. "And if anyone tries to stop you, run them down!" "He said, and urged his mount on, drawing his sword. The runes glowed silver. He struck them like an eagle upon its prey. He slashed with his sword, leaving silver streaks in the air. They tried to reach him, but he prevented them, anticipating their every move. The sword whistled overhead. They fell screaming beneath its flames, but they continued to attack. The cart crashed into the men, the horses trampling them with their hooves, and the wheels bounced over their bodies. They tried to stop us, slashing and wounding the horses. We rode out onto the clear road, when the mayor, or rather what had once been the mayor, clung to the rear and hung there. I screamed, grabbing the cleaver my father had brought with him.

"You can run, but I'll find you! Because there's no safe

haven left! You'll feel my breath on your necks." There is no salvation for those pursued by Zeth's wrath! Remember, chosen one, remember!

I slashed the mayor's fingers with my cleaver. He fell from the wagon and staggered along the road, raising a cloud of dust. A passing rider severed his head, which flew out, leaving a trail of blood in the air for a moment.

We slowed a bit. Khail caught up with us, his steed snorting excitedly.

Matula stirred, jerked, and opened her misty eyes. I jumped back in terror, and she spoke.

"You are cursed! From now on, all the Children of Darkness, wherever you

hide, will pursue you until I catch you! And then we will settle the score!"

Khail uttered a spell, and Matula fell silent, collapsing onto the hay. She had fallen into a deep sleep, but her eyelids were fluttering. She must have been dreaming. I looked across the road at the settlement. I was speechless! My face must have been pale, because Khail stopped my father, and we stopped.

Above the houses of Longend, a Dragon, huge as a cloud, soared! It circled the settlement, and on its back sat Xenor, holding a staff that radiated a purple glow. From the distance, a terrible laugh could be heard. We set off. As we moved further away and the settlement faded from view, the dragon became blurry, out of focus, and everything around him was obscured by a thickening darkness.

"That's what I feared," Khail said quietly. "He has forced

the Ice Dragon, Yendhor, into obedience. The last guardian of Asthar's tomb. He is very powerful indeed." He lowered his head. He seemed dejected and resigned. He closed his eyes and began to recite a prayer. I sensed the tension again, similar to the one I had felt during supper. He remained like that for a brief moment, then opened his eyes and looked around as if unsure where he was. He quickly recovered and gave the order to continue.

"Xenor is very dangerous, and combined with Yendhor's strength, he is nearly invincible. We must go to CHARLESDAM. I have friends among the dwarves who have already fought against him. There we will discuss what to do next."

Even I knew the legend of Yendhor. My mother told it to me when I was a child. He was the most powerful creature in the lands, freezing all living things with his breath. He forced people to obey with the force of his will. Even magicians and sorcerers could not oppose him. Asthar, the Lord of Darkness, rode Yendhor in ancient times. Only the Archangel Centnor, sent by the gods, defeated and killed Asthar and imprisoned the dragon in the far north, which from then on guarded the tomb of his former ally.

Now Xenor had enlisted him for his own purposes, which did not bode well. Thus, a time of misery and icy doom was approaching. And I was inextricably entangled in a story whose continuation I will tell you another time.