Kitabı oku: «Slave War», sayfa 2

Two soldiers entered.

– Take Big Tom to the dungeon. And don’t let him out until we find the boy.

***

The wolf followed in their footsteps, but did not dare to approach. Hunger pushed him forward, but attacking ten armed men was suicide. Travelers often saw green eyes sparkling in the reflection of the moon. The owl hummed his terrible lullaby.

We ate dried lamb with a crust of bread. A flask of water was passed around. After the slave dinners, this meal seemed like a feast. Louis was sent to fill a flask at a nearby stream. They did not dare to make a fire.

“The fire will be seen from afar,” Tam said. “We’ll have to get food tomorrow,” Tam said. “This won’t last us long.”

“I told you right away that I planned to set off on my own,” said Dorhand. “That’s why I took provisions for one person.”

They climbed onto the branches to sleep. The wolf lay down near one of the oak trees, waiting for one of the travelers to fall in their sleep.

– Dorkhand, drive him away! – said Lina. – I’m afraid of this wolf!

– Will he touch you on the branch? Come on sleep! Tomorrow there is a long difficult road ahead.

– Oh, if only we knew these lands better! – said Tam. “Then we could move at night to further break away from our pursuers.”

“No, we will not move at night,” said Dorhand. “It wasn’t enough for someone to break their leg.” Then it will be difficult.

As soon as dawn spilled crimson colors onto the gray skies, the travelers began to have breakfast to gain strength before the journey.

– Where is the wolf?

– Left to look for another victim.

They walked at a brisk pace, mostly in silence, only occasionally exchanging terse words. Curious dragonflies, huge dragonflies, flew up every now and then to inspect the uninvited guests. It smelled of myrtle and juniper. The hardworking woodpecker did not get tired of working, echoing his knocking sound around the area.

Tam stopped abruptly.

– Do you hear?

– What are you talking about? – asked Dorkhand.

“Quiet,” Tam put his ear to the damp ground. – People. On horseback. Try not to make noise or leave marks. Most likely, this is a pursuit of us.

– It’s good that they didn’t start a fire last night.

– Sooner or later we will have to light a fire. Supplies are running low. But eating raw meat is dangerous.

It didn’t take long for Tam’s words to be confirmed. As dusk fell on the age-old oak trees, the sound of hooves was heard.

– Fast! Take cover! – Dorkhand commanded.

In the twilight, from a distance one can discern the shine of the brand on the slave’s shoulder. Dorkhand himself felt the influence of the magic of the sign on his hand that Latrich left. It seems that whoever leads the movement of slaves has a portable source of power over the bearers of the brand, or the sorcerer himself has gone in search. It is unlikely! What could a squad of runaway slaves mean to a lord? Or does it still mean something?..

Dorhand did not have time to fully think this thought through. An emotionless voice sounded very close:

– I see them.

One of the slaves hit him on the shoulder, right in the place where the brand was red.

“What if we just peel the skin off this place? Maybe this will remove the spell cast by the sorcerer? – thought Dorkhand.

Tam cut off three heads of his pursuers with one blow. But several crossbow bolts hit his chest. He sank to the ground.

– No-no! – the boy shouted to the whole area. Tears flowed from the eyes. The last time he experienced this was three years ago, when bandits killed his father. Will your whole life be filled only with losses?

– Dorhand, I am very glad that I was with you these days!

He closed his eyes. Forever. Dorkhand grabbed the blade, with anger in his eyes, and tried to attack the nearest pursuer. But Murray, the head of the detachment, shook his head.

– You are surrounded. There is no use in resisting. Either you all die, or go back to the owner.

Murray dismounted his mare.

– On knees!

Dorhand felt his hand burn from the inside in the place where the brand glowed bluish. He could not resist someone else’s will. He knelt down, and with him other slaves, including those in the pursuing squad.

– That is great! – Murray laughed, and Dorhand clenched his fists. A tear ran down my cheek.

***

When the fugitives were brought in, Latrich was chewing ham, drinking wine from a crystal goblet. The castle stank of dampness, the walls were covered with black mold. Cold. The dim, flickering light of the torches barely chased away the darkness. The sorcerer laughed.

– They couldn’t escape far, as I see.

He began to pace around the room, looking into each of the fugitives’ eyes. For a while, only the sound of his steps broke the silence.

– Bring Tom.

Murray went to prison. Latrich looked into Dorhand’s eyes.

– The struggle for freedom means someone’s death and blood, and most often not of enemies, but of relatives and friends. Sometimes, your own blood. And no romance or justice. I studied with Hallon from early childhood. Do you know him? One day I got tired of the taunts of a sorcerer, whom you may know as the King-Behind-the-Mountain. I also decided to run away, like you today. And he punished me severely, teaching me a lesson that I will not be able to forget for the rest of my life. He forced to kill the guard who missed the fugitives. I was seven years old then.

Tom was brought in. The big guy lost a fair amount of weight during the time Dorkhand was away. His face is bruised, a tooth is knocked out.

– Please, Latrich! I served you faithfully!

– Kill him! – said Latrich, and Dorhand, unable to resist the magic, headed towards the guard.

– Boy! Remember! I protected you! I gave you food that other slaves did not see.

Dorhand burst into tears. He loved this clumsy man with all his heart. But the enchanted brand will free the boy.

“Please don’t do this! I don’t want!”

“Kill him! Kill!”

A blow to the heart with a dagger – and warm scarlet blood poured into the boy’s hands. She splashed her face and shirt. Tom groaned and fell to the floor. So Dorkhand became a killer at the age of eleven.

– One day I will take revenge on you! – the boy whispered. – I will kill you, Latrich, I promise! And your magic won’t save you!

– No need for loud words. Every attempt you make to resist me will cost you dearly. Next time I’ll make you kill one of your friends. And maybe not just one. Do you want Lina dead? She’ll be next.

– Nooo! – Dorkhand shouted. – Please, not this!

The slaves did not move.

– Be a good girl. She will die next. She will pay for your disobedience if it happens again. I am stripping you of your name, Dorhand. From now on everyone will call you Namlis, the Nameless One!

Many hid their real names so that the sorcerers would not gain power over them. Only the best friends knew the true name. But to lose a name forever is a terrible shame even for a slave.

Most people over fifty begin to think about death. They sew clothes in which they will go on a long journey to a better world. Old people try to correct the mistakes of their youth so that nothing drags them down. But Dorkhand, at eleven years old, knew more about death than many mortals. First, the death of my father. No one closer to Linder appeared for the boy. Then the death of two friends on the same day. But should he give up? Will he be able to forgive himself if he gives up, unable to fight? Dorhand left a small scratch on his arm as a sign of yet another revenge plan.

The boy did not yet know what blow Fate was preparing for him.

Chapter 4. Revenge of the Nameless One

When you’re fifteen, the world seems full of color and perspective. You can handle everything. If you stretch out your hand, you can even grab a star, and, if you wish, the Moon. And then everything changes and becomes gray, meaningless and boring. And so on two hundred times a day. Love at this age is first, but until the grave, friendship is forever, although the closest person may be the first person you meet. Black and white, no shades. In five years, the attitude towards the world will change dramatically. Parents talk about this: “When you grow up, you will understand everything yourself.” Or maybe they do not become wiser, but simply resign themselves to the injustices of the world, unable to fight them? This is the easiest way: pretend that you understand everything, and throw yourself into the river and float with the flow.

But now Dorkhand woke up with thoughts about Lina and fell asleep. Even in his dreams she appeared to him, beautiful and naked. On these nights, he woke up earlier than expected, sweating, with rapid breathing. One fine evening she honored him with a kiss. Lina was an adult. You can’t hide your feelings from her, they are in full view. Girls always get older before boys. Such is their mysterious nature.

But she kissed not only Dorkhand. Very often, approaching the door, when Latrich called the girl to him, Dorkhand heard rapid breathing and moans. He knew now what it meant, but he couldn’t fix it. Lina is a concubine. One of several. In Beelzuvik, the law has long prohibited this kind of relationship, but will such laws soon come to Sartoll? “One day I will become a king, and I will fix everything.” The young man clenched his fists and beat them against the stone wall in order to somehow take out his anger. He is only a slave, Nameless. And Lord Latrich is also a powerful sorcerer. As soon as he snaps his fingers, Lina will die. Dorhand is ready to do anything to prevent this from happening.

Latrich now conducted experiments every day. The slaves died one after another, and new ones were brought from the Slave Market of Lorraine in their place. Latrich never left the castle again.

– The King-beyond-the-Mountain is preparing a campaign. We must be prepared for that moment,” Dorkhand once heard a snippet of conversation.

One day Dorkhand saw that Lina was taken out of the experiment room. Her eyes were closed, and there was dried blood on her chest.

– No! – the guy shouted. – Not this! She couldn’t die!

Latrich looked at him:

– You’re next, Namlis. Tomorrow you will take part in my research.

Dorhand tore the ring off the finger of the dead Lina. Her body will be thrown into the abyss, but at least something should remain as a memory.

– Darling! For what? Creator, why do I need all these deaths? I loved her more than anything in the world! She is my moon and my sun. How should I live? I hate it! I will turn Latrich into dust!

The young man was crying. The guards indifferently pulled him away from the body. And then they threw her through the window into the abyss. Dorhand clenched his fists, but restrained himself from hitting the guards. It shouldn’t attract attention. He must focus on revenge against the black sorcerer. He must not leave Lina unavenged. And Tom. And Tema.

Now nothing could stop his intentions. Friends tried to avoid him like a leper, afraid of being infected by his bad luck and that they would be next. But this is good: no one stopped Dorkhand from preparing.

There was a clear flaw in the code Latrich had put on the ring. Is the lord really so stupid in runology? Dorhand made a few changes and was enveloped in a barely noticeable bluish orb.

– Did I really do this? Did he make a ring in one evening that Latrich couldn’t take a whole decade to do?

Then Dorkhand tore off the skin from his shoulder with a dagger in the place where the brand flickered. He brought the torch to the bleeding wound. Dying from blood poisoning at a crucial moment is a stupid idea. But remaining with a brand on your shoulder is doubly stupid. When the pain went away, he realized that he was finally free.

But no one is born with a mark. Why then do some become slaves and others their masters? Life is too fleeting to waste precious moments serving someone. Let everyone work for themselves.

In the morning, Dorkhand was led into a huge hall decorated with tapestries.

– Pray to the gods, Namlis! Latrich said. – Today is probably your last day.

Blue lightning flashed from the sorcerer’s hands. But they were reflected from the magical sphere that was created by the ring that Dorhand painted with runes last night.

– Ring of immortality! – Latrich shouted. – I managed! After so much work I did it! Bring it to me!

Dorhand shook his head.

– It’s mine.

– How dare you, nameless slave? Submit to me!

Latrich expected the usual effect of the brand. But Dorkhand unrolled the cloth with which he covered the wound so as not to become infected.

– I’m no longer your slave.

– How dare you! Namlis, obey! Otherwise…

– Otherwise what? Will you kill me? So I’m immortal now. Or will you kill Lina again?

– Namlis…

– My name is Dorkhand. I am Prince Sartoll. I am the rightful king of these lands.

– Grab him! And bring a ring! – the sorcerer shouted. The slaves, shining with their brands, ran towards the young man, but a bluish sphere stopped them, not allowing them to complete what they started. Dorhand picked up two swords that the attackers had dropped and cut off Latrich’s hands with them. The sorcerer screamed. Confusion was visible on the faces of the slaves. They clenched and unclenched their fists uncertainly, their bodies belonged to them again.

– True magic is dead, Latrich. You are not a real sorcerer. Without rings you are nothing. Pathetic parody of a person! Cauterize its stumps so that it does not die prematurely. Death would be too easy a payment for him.

Dorhand lowered the iron rod into the flame, heating it up.

– Slave! – Latrich shouted. – How dare you! Stop him! – but the slaves did not want to listen to him, deprived of the rings of power. And then Dorhand left a mark on the shoulder of the recent owner of the castle. The young man took the rings from his severed hands and put them on his finger.

– And which of us is the slave now? – Dorhand grinned. – Jump on one leg. Latrich carried out his order.

– I’ll kill you! One day I will kill you! Slave! – Latrich hissed like a snake in the desert of Lorraine.

– Take him to the slave barracks. By the way, from today you are all free people. And Silerin will be the Capital of the fight against slavery.

The slaves shouted in unison:

– Hooray! Long live Dorhand.

They did not yet know what price they would have to pay in their struggle for freedom. Spit. The main thing is to live without chains and whips.

They knew the price of will.

“Give me the parchment,” said Dorhand. “I’ll write to my brother that I’m alive, that I’m heading to Lindell.” I think he will be glad to meet you.

Latrich laughed:

– Stupid idea. Nameless. Now power in the kingdom actually belongs to Councilor Langer. I paid him seven years ago to persuade Linder to travel across the desert. Do you think he will choose to admit this truth, or will he send an army to Silerin to defeat the rebel slaves? I think, most likely, he will call you an impostor so as not to admit the truth. Are you ready for war?

– I am ready to do anything to get rid of slavery in my lands.

“As I see, Namlis, you are two-faced,” said Latrich. “You want to make me your slave, but, nevertheless, you continue to convince everyone that you are fighting for freedom.”

– You will be the only slave in Seisil. You deserved it. And the rest will be free.

– Maybe you, who are in chains, also chose this fate yourself? Actions, mistakes, murders of friends, betrayals?

– Take the sorcerer away. I don’t want to see him next to me anymore.

Chapter 5. New order

A book is the best advisor. People make mistakes, and sometimes they just lie – there is nothing to hide. There are those who can hardly express the right thoughts, or prefer to talk about something that is not what they should be talking about, for fear of being punished for telling the truth or out of stupidity. And in books you can find long-forgotten secrets. The Truth is hidden in them.

“But people write books!” – you can say. The ancient sages believed that people write down thoughts in books that come from somewhere outside. True, true thoughts are those who are worthy. That is why they allowed selected wise men to write. Students must rewrite and make copies of someone else’s work. This was true until the printing press was invented.

Dust lay like a gray blanket on the shelves and books. The spider had long since finished its work, and the web covered the walls and ceiling with patterned lace. The candle barely dispersed the darkness. It smelled of dampness and paper. Dorhand again spent time in the library, trying to find something there that could help him in his fight. He found several manuscripts about the ancient Monianican order, whose monks devoted themselves to the fight against evil. The young man also read about a sorcerer who allegedly lives in the Litargian Forest.

There was a quiet knock. The door opened with a creak. A fair-haired man of about thirty with a scar on his face entered.

– Sorry, Dorhand! Am I distracting?

– Come in, Paris. Tell me, what’s new?

– Thirty more of Latrich’s minions were caught. Everyone is now in prison. What do you want to do with them? – asked Paris.

– Feed them. Give me good food and water,” Dorkhand replied.

– Did they care about us when we were slaves? We ate scraps and drank rotten water,” said Paris.

– The time for revenge will come. They are not to blame for Latrich’s actions.

– But not one of them stood up for us! – Paris clenched his fist.

– You’re right about that. But we cannot blame the soldiers for following orders. A good fighter is without a thought in his head, but he is ready to sacrifice his life, following the order of the commander,” Dorkhand said.

– So let them donate!

– Offer to join us. And the rest are in prison. I won’t stoop to Latrich’s level. If I find out that one of the prisoners is being beaten or humiliated, I will execute him.

They were silent for some time.

“Listen, Paris,” said Dorhand. – Do you think we are doing the right thing?

– What are you talking about, Namlis?

– Well, recruiting rebels. Killing, in the end, the servants of the slave traders. Maybe everything should take its course? Maybe if we don’t continue what we started, we will save many lives?

– One person has no right to force another to do anything. That’s why freedom exists. Moreover, life in chains is just existence. Not real life.

“I think you know how much blood will have to be shed to achieve your goal.” Do we have the right to pay such a price? Do we have the right to decide?

– How much blood was shed? Such exactly innocent blood. Did they have the right to put us in chains? And others. Why are slave traders better that they consider themselves entitled to take other people’s time? Has Latrich thought about the price that must be paid for his goal? We must bring freedom to our world. “I think so,” said Paris.

“You didn’t come to report to me about the fugitives, did you?” – Dorkhand asked.

– Our messenger to King Gutan, your brother, is dead. The other day they brought his head.

– A curse! – Dorhand hit the stone wall with his fist. – I wanted to fix everything peacefully!

“And I also brought news from the allies,” said Paris. – Starval himself came to visit you.

The slave revolt had been brewing for several decades. Dissatisfied with their fate, the slaves killed their owners and gathered in small camps. They robbed carts passing by and freed new slaves.

You can dissolve a lot of salt in a glass of water. At first it will simply disappear into the liquid, and then the solution will become cloudy. But in order for a crystal to begin to grow, a seed is needed that will shake the unstable system and lead to irreparable changes. Such a speck of dust on which the crystal of the spirit of freedom began to appear was the seizure of power by the slave Namlis in the province of Silerin.

Starval turned out to be a grey-bearded, bald old man. When Dorkhand came in, he was drinking beer from a roasted pheasant.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you, new owner of the castle, but after the journey I’m too hungry, so I asked your servants to cook this wonderful pheasant for me.”

– Not servants. Comrades.

– Sorry. I come from a wealthy family, so I’m used to servants in castles. Starval,” the old man extended his hand. Dorhand shook it.

– And what are you doing among the rebels, Starval from a rich family?

“This is an old story,” Starval thought for a minute. – Past life. Namlis, rumors about you and your actions are spreading. Your messenger arrived recently. At first I didn’t attach much importance to it. Everyone in our camp is hiding from the law, we live by robbery. In general, we are living well, but we don’t know hard times. And your proposals to go to the Capital with an army of slaves were initially treated as a joke. But lately the guards have become angrier and are pursuing further. Namlis, you shouldn’t have stirred up a hornet’s nest. I would run away like everyone else, and that would be the end of it. And you are causing trouble. The advisers from Lindell will soon send an army against us. And then no one will be happy! We have been hiding from the law for a long time! But the guards didn’t need us. And now, because of your stupid ideas, all the fugitives will suffer. Stop before it’s too late.

– You are even more slaves than those in shackles! You can’t hide forever! We must fight for freedom! – Dorhand clenched his fists. He had slept poorly the last night: Lina’s eyes appeared in a dream at the moment before her death. He dreamed of looking into the eyes of the traitor Langer, who shackled him.

“You are not the first who is ready to lay down his life for the sake of freedom,” Starval raised his voice. – How are you better than them, the previous ones? Eh, Namlis?

– I’m no better than them. But I can end the suffering of the slaves. Unlike many before me, I am the Crown Prince.

– Namlis, aren’t you taking on too much?

– My real name is Dorkhand. Have you heard of this?

Starval opened his mouth in surprise. And then he got down on his knees.

– Your Majesty, forgive me, I didn’t know! Your face reminds me of your father. But how should I know? It has long been said that you and Linder are dead. But how? How did you become a slave?

– I’m not a slave anymore! Come with me, and one day everyone will be equal in Sartoll. Get up from your knees, Starval. This is no longer necessary. Join the slave army, Starval. I know that you think first of all about profit, and not about someone’s fate.

– But, Your Majesty, I…

– Do not interrupt. So, I will give you lands when I get to Lindell.

“You have awakened memories of old battles in my heart.” I thought they were buried too deep in my heart.

– Get up, Starval! I want to build a state of equals, in which no one will need to kneel. I’ll ask you one thing. For the time being, not a single living soul should know that I am a king. Call me Namlis. I will go with you to the Lithargian Forest. Your camp, if I’m not mistaken, is somewhere not far from it?

– Yes, but I wouldn’t recommend going there. They say he is cursed. The souls of the dead have not rested; they wander at night, taking away unwitting travelers. And ghouls. And people who turn into wolves. Not a single living soul returned from there.

– Where did the rumors come from then, since no one returned? The forest holds many secrets. Some of them I still have to figure out.

Dorhand looked at the writing of mysterious runes on the iron ring, which he had taken from the sorcerer. What kind of secrets do these runes keep?

Chapter 6. The Mystery of the Lithargian Forest

Sometimes it gets cool in the summer. Whether after a hail storm, or just a north wind blowing. Dogs then shake out of habit or curl up, but people are more cunning, they don’t show their noses in public. But among the age-old oaks and elms of the Lithargian Forest it is rarely warm. Maybe the dense crowns of the trees are too high, and through them it is difficult for the sun’s ray to reach the damp earth, or maybe this place is truly cursed.

It smelled of myrtle and dampness. Strekkili, huge dragonflies, often rose in fear from the briar bushes. Oak trees are covered with a thick layer of greenish moss. Dark and gloomy. Dorkhand, who had parted with Starval the day before, was now making his way among the impenetrable bushes on his own. Starval offered to send a small detachment with him, but Namlis flatly refused. Dorhand did not want to advertise the power of the magic ring for the time being.

Dorhand crossed his arms over his chest to protect himself from the biting cold wind.

“Here to pick mushrooms,” thought Namlis.

And the memories came flooding back with pictures and sounds. His father often took him to the forest himself, not entrusting important matters to servants.

“Learn to protect yourself, son, then problems will bounce off you like water from an oil-soaked frying pan. The forest is an enemy for many, but for those who know how to communicate with it, it can become a true ally.”

Dorhand picked a bunch of scarlet berries and threw them into his mouth. He grimaced – sour. One of the strekkils fluttered up. A branch cracked. Dorhand turned around. Behind him stood a terrible creature with pale skin, huge bloody fangs and small scarlet eyes. It gave off a terrible stench and roared.

– Human! It’s been a long time since I’ve drunk human blood. Delicacy!

Dorhand backed away, and the monster looked sideways at him and gave chase. But then a huge wolf jumped out from behind one of the trees and interrupted the monster’s flight. The wolf grabbed the creature by the throat.

– This is my prey! – the monster screamed.

“We warned your tribe of ghouls,” the wolf said in a human voice, “These are our lands!” They belong to werewolves! Don’t come here! This man is my prey!

– I found him first! He is mine!

– Get away, across the river!

The ghoul scratched the wolf’s belly, and he responded by grabbing his throat and tearing off his head. The creature roared before it died. And then the nearby oak trees were doused with blood. The werewolf howled.

The wolf turned his head to Dorkhand and clicked his teeth. His eyes filled with hellish fire.

– Food! – he growled. The wolf overtook Namlis in a couple of leaps, but, hitting an invisible barrier created by a magic ring, he fell to the ground. Growling a couple of times and making several scratches with his claws on the damp ground, the wolf again rushed at Dorhand. And again he hit the invisible barrier.

– And you are not as simple as you seem at first glance. What did you forget in our forest, sorcerer?

– I need to talk to your leader.

The wolf began to change before our eyes, acquiring human features. After some time, a short, hairy man of about forty wearing a wolf skin cape stood on all fours in front of Dorkhand.

“You shouldn’t have come to our lands,” he said, standing on two legs. – We don’t like guests. I alone could not cope with your spell, but with the whole tribe we will tear you apart.

– It is unlikely.

– What is your name?

– Call me Namlis.

– Wow, Nameless. Don’t trust me? You’re doing the right thing, Namlis! If I found out your real name, I immediately subjugated you to my will. The magic in our family has not yet faded.

A whole group of ghouls came out from behind the trees.

– He killed Kurt! That wolf trash killed Kurt!

– What have you forgotten in the lands of the werewolves? Why did you come here? – he turned into a wolf again and howled, and his howl echoed through the forest.

– Kill him!

Several ghouls attacked the wolf. He bit into the throat of one of them, but the other four tore him to pieces. More wolves appeared from behind the oak tree.

– We warned you, enemies: you should not cross the river. But you disobeyed,” the largest of the wolves flashed his eyes ominously. – Do you want war? Well, we are ready to destroy your filthy family to the roots.

– Well, brothers, let’s teach the shaggy ones some good manners?

– Stop! – one of the pale-skinned men shouted, coming forward.

“Wow, Laybon himself decided to come for a visit,” said the leader of the wolves.

– You know, Valukh, that we would not violate the borders if there was no good reason for it.

– I recognize ghouls. They will start a fight themselves, and then run into the bushes when they smell something burning.

One of the ghouls rushed forward, but Labon held him back with his paw.

– He called us. You know who I’m talking about, right?

“The sorcerer is in the house on the hill,” Valukh whispered.

– He is. I heard his call several moons ago. This has not happened for several centuries. It seems that the day he spoke of at the Conversion has arrived. The Great War is coming, and he is gathering our army.

Valukh acquired human form. He looks about fifty years old. Others of his tribe followed his example.

“If it were up to me, I would immediately turn the spellweaver into dust.”

– For the sake of this, I myself would team up with the wolves. But this is not yet in our power. We are slaves to his will, and who knows how long this will last.

– Be guests in my forests, ghouls. One day the time will come to forget hostility in order to unite against a common enemy.

Walukh sniffed.

– Human! There’s a man here!

Several dozen pairs of eyes stared at Dorhand. One of them rushed towards the young man, but could not cross the invisible barrier created by the magic ring.

– Sorcerer! What have you forgotten in our forests?

– I’m looking for a sorcerer who lives on the hill.

– Why do you need him? – asked Labon.

– Tell me about him. Why do your tribes listen to him?

“I was a man,” Labon said. “I was running from the soldiers when I met this sorcerer. Most of my wounds were fatal, but I hoped to hold out for another three days in order to have time to tell my people about the approaching enemy. The sorcerer seemed to be able to read minds. He offered to save a life. And I, a fool, agreed. When I woke up in the morning, I realized that I could not look at the sunlight. And there was also a thirst for blood. I tried to see the sorcerer to deal with him, but the entrance to his house was closed to me. I think liberation will come to me only with death.