World Of The Fallen Dragon

1

The storm played out in earnest. Thunder shook the blackened skies, dazzling bridges between the clouds and the horizon flashed here and there in the form of broken lightning. Mighty thunderstorm wind spirits raged above and on the ground, swaying the crackling tree trunks.

The three travelers made their way along the neglected country road, ankle-deep in mud, resisting the blows of the wind. They moved on without much difficulty: after all, two of them did not feel cold or tired at all, and the third wrapped himself in a cocoon of a spell that gave him his own warm and dry microclimate. They were approaching the intersection of two roads.

There was a watchtower at the crossroads. Once it served the royal army, but now both the tower itself and the squat building from which it grew have turned into a roadside inn. The sign "Cemetery Yard" illuminated by a glass lantern testified to this.

- Let's go? the mage turned to his companions.

They only groaned softly in response.

First, the wizard walked around the hotel, looked around the backyard, counted the horses in the stable and the covered carts left behind the building. He noted that this place didn't exactly have a bad aura, but something unsettling was hovering around. The horses felt it too, they didn't neigh and didn't rear up, they didn't pound on the doors of the stalls with their hooves, but they were clearly worried, snoring heavily and fearfully.

And the wizard also noticed several protective spells cast on the well, on the door jambs and window shutters. Returning to the front door, he climbed to the threshold and flung it open.

The dining room was warm and well lit, but one could spare no oil for the lamps. It smelled good and delicious. Quite a few people were found at the tables, obviously trading and traveling, whom bad weather caught on their way. Even a few pilgrims wormed their way into the common company.

- Stay in the corner.

Silent fellow travelers obediently retreated to a corner and froze there. Going a little deeper into the hall, the magician turned around himself, looking around more carefully. He noted the wolf skull hanging over the door, the brass symbol of the Holy Bonfire on the wall, several oil lamps, the fairly clean floor and tables; almost unsmoky ceiling. In general, the institution turned out to be quite decent, although it fell short of the excellent tavern "Under the Crown".

The magician, giving everyone the opportunity to examine himself, slowly walked to the counter, behind which stood, apparently, a local owner. A tall, lean man with a sharp face and close-set eyes. His hair was ash-colored, a silver ruby ​​earring shone in his right ear, and the movements with which he rubbed the wooden mugs seemed excessively sparse and measured.

“My respects,” the man at the counter nodded, “what do you want?”

“Warm cinnamon wine, something to chew on, and, if possible, a place to sleep.”

“Just a minute, sir. Ashke, Freshke! Warm wine and lamb stew for the lord!

The tousled blond head of a pale-faced, cheeky guy poked out of the kitchen, nodded, and disappeared.

- Would you like a beer? “Oak barrel”, of course, I don’t offer booze, not for my clients, but there is a very good dark one from the breweries of Balakuland.

No thanks, just wine. And speaking of accommodation...

- But the beds are over, sorry.

"Then, if possible, I'll sleep here on the bench."

- As you wish, I will not take money for this ... sir?

— Char. Char Tobius.

"Char Tobius," nodded the host. I am Marin. Make yourself comfortable.

Tobius sat down at a long table away from the trinity of laborers talking to each other, waited for the order, ate with appetite, and moving to the farthest corner, began leafing through his book of spells. From time to time, he glanced around, noting which charms were placed on the chandelier wheel under the ceiling, which ones were on a wolf skull, and which ones were simply woven into the walls.

Gradually, the guests of the "Cemetery Yard" dispersed to the rooms they rented. The magician called his companions, they moved closer and, at his command, sat down on a bench nearby.

- Guard me.

Wrapped up in a dull gray cloak, with a bag placed under his head, the wizard fell asleep almost instantly.

He slept soundly, but at the same time he had an unpleasant dream. Darkness with burning eyes enveloped him and whispered into his ears, urging him to come to his senses. The Whisperer urged him to become the new bearer of his power, to bring it back to Valemar and rise through it. But Tobius invariably refused, trying to banish the cursed visions. He had gotten used to it since it started, but gradually weariness took its toll, and the Whisperer would not let go, no matter how far east the wizard went.

Tobius woke up from the fact that someone was squeezing his hand with an iron vise. Opening his eyes, he saw his fingers in Lauchalganda's teeth. A bouncing ball of black matter, flexible and elastic like rubber, equipped with a wide toothy mouth and cat teeth, loosened its grip.

"Rrrrr," he growled warningly.

Tobius looked up and saw two men enter the Graveyard Court dining room in the dim morning light. They were dressed in wet travel cloaks with deep hoods. One bobbed its head against the lintel and appeared as broad-shouldered as a Harandi troll; the other was slightly taller than a goblin and had the same stooped posture. The strangers cautiously walked through the hall, not suspecting that they were being followed, and disappeared into the kitchen. Thobius rose gently, stretched, took his wand from his belt ring, and followed, after having ordered his companions to wait.

There was no one in the kitchen. Creeping past the cold hearth, he noticed a half-open door in another wall, behind it was a staircase to the cool stone cellar sack. Not risking creating luminous moths, so as not to reveal himself, the wizard crossed the cellar in the dark and found the next door. It led to yet another staircase, this time wide, winding, leading far up. Thobius realized that he was at the base of the tower that dominated the inn. Shifting his grip more comfortably, he began to rise. There were glimmers of light far above.

Having risen to the penultimate step, the magician stood next to the open hatch, from which light and voices penetrated.

“…So it will be better for everyone if you volunteer to follow us.”

- What if I refuse?

We will use force.

The voice that urged "to go voluntarily" was inexpressive and calm. The second voice also sounded calm, and it belonged to the owner of the Cemetery Yard.

- As expected.

“Please, char Maren, let's do without unnecessary fuss.

I have a lot of guests...

“We will ask them to get up early and leave in all humility. I think they will fit in. Get ready.

Tobius returned the wand to his belt and climbed through the hatch.

- On what charge do you, good brothers, want to take the chara with you? he asked, lowering his greeting.

A huge monk stood against the far wall and looked around while a small monk talked to the owner. He sat at a wide table littered with scrolls and books. All three turned to the intruder. The little monk deigned to throw back his hood over his shoulders and looked at Tobius with unpleasantly round, motionless eyes, like those of an owl, frightening, boring gaze into the very soul. His thin face showed nothing, but a silent question slipped through his posture.

“Char Tobius, mage of Riven Academy,” Tobius introduced himself. “Specialization is gray magic. I am here by chance. He was heading through Karebekland to the capital along the Royal Route, but in the lands of Enverigen, for some reason, he had to go down the Palefat to the town of Tumne and continue along the Terna road. After wandering a bit in the Highbordan wilderness, he was stopped by a military barrage. I had to make a big detour, I almost got lost and ended up here, in the very south of Riven. Got shelter in this establishment last night. And now I repeat the question: what crime do you intend to accuse this magician of?

The nun cocked his head to one side, which immediately reminded Tobius of Brother Mark. His huge brother watched the wizard closely, but, fortunately, not hostile.

“The Holy Officium is not obliged to let anyone in on the secret of the investigation,” the little one finally answered. “And your presence here, enchantment Tobius, is undesirable.

The young wizard quietly swallowed the lump in his throat. Getting into trouble with the agents of the Investigation was not part of his plan, but it was too late to pretend to be dumb and submissive.

“Are you mistaken… brother?” Holy father?

— Brother Olveh.

“You are mistaken, brother Olveh! I see a medallion hanging on the wall, symbolizing the position of this wizard in the ranks of the graduates of the Academy. Any of his accusations are the business of the Riven Academy and all the magicians of the kingdom. You cannot make arbitrariness.

“Interference in the affairs of the Church is fraught, enchantment Tobius.

“Riven Academy will know what happened as soon as you try to break the agreements, brother. A vote of protest will be put forward to the Holy Officium, and a magical tribunal will be held in the Ordersee, to which you will be forced to deliver this magician, accompanied by three masters. Until then, by law, this wizard will remain in his home, and no one has the right to force him to move. If you do not have direct evidence incriminating him of involvement in a particular crime. In this case, you can make a fire even here.

Tobius took a breath and tried to smile as peacefully as possible.

“I am an expert on magical law in Riven, as well as on its provisions common to all of Westerreich.

The monks were not impressed by his short speech - it was too obvious that Tobius was trying to appear more menacing than he really was. The tall cleric smiled almost as good-naturedly as the magician himself, the stooping short man remained indifferent.

“We'll be back tomorrow morning, char Maren.

And they just left. No threats, no goodbyes, nothing. Tobius went up to the window and tried to look from above - what did the good brothers come with?

“Wow, they really are on that creepy van!” Magovozka…

“Thank you, char Tobius.

“Yes, yes,” said the gray wizard, “not at all. Why didn't you defend yourself?

- How?

“You don't have to be an expert in magical law to fend off radical clerics.

- Not in my case.

“Even if you are a necromancer, char Maren, and you are a necromancer, as far as I understand, you are entitled to the protection of the Academy. As long as you don't break the law. You didn't commit a crime, did you?

Tobius looked around the necromancer's laboratory. A spacious room at the top of the tower, under the very roof, large windows, many cabinets, books, magical devices of varying value, racks with ingredients, a stuffed black crow sitting on a perch ... funny candles in the form of human spines. Each wax vertebra had a number, and as it burned, time could be read.

So did you commit a crime or not?

“Are you asking if I practice summoning dead souls and create husks?” No, I don't.

- Fine. Because it is against the laws of the kingdom, the Lord-Blacksmith and humanity…

"Are you hungry, char Thobius?" Marin interrupted him.

Soon the necromancer was already standing at the kindled hearth and frying pieces of meat, herbs, and vegetables in beaten eggs. Tobius perched on a stool at the door to the dining room and watched his skillful movements.

“So, what made the good brothers of Peter disturb your privacy, char Maren?”

“That big one is a Johnite, I think,” the owner corrected, shifting the food onto an earthenware plate. - Bon appetit.

- But still?

The necromancer dried his hands with a towel and sat down beside him.

“They are looking for some, let’s say, swindler. Do you know that people have begun to disappear in the cities and towns of Highbordan? Mostly children. Someone or something is stealing them. In a dream.

— A monster? Daemon? Witch?

- If i knew! - Maren jerked his head with a crunch, first in one direction, then in the other. — I lead a calm, quiet life in an ideal place, at the crossroads of almost abandoned roads, almost on the outskirts of inhabited lands. Travelers are rare here, because this place is far from the trade routes, but through the guests I learn about what is happening in the outside world. Recently, there have been a lot more people, and they do not disdain my "Cemetery Yard", although I tried to make this place as less attractive as possible. Travelers are now more afraid of spending the night outdoors than ever.

Tobius chewed and, nodding, showed that he was listening carefully.

“Mutilated remains were found on the roads three times. And this work was not a beast, but a man. Perhaps the travelers are embellishing, but I have heard too often that the internal organs of the villains were laid out in a row, and the bodily tissues were opened carefully, like a surgeon. Some parts were missing.

- Too strange details flow from mouth to ear among ordinary wanderers. Tobius licked his lips. “Most likely, these are tales invented by some overly inspired storyteller from malnutrition in some seedy tavern.

- I hope you're right.

“Er… won’t I sound too arrogant if I ask for more?”

Marin raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You have a strong stomach, Charm Tobius. Torn people don't scare you?

- They're scared. But I have to control myself. Just like you.

- I need a job...

- Me too. Even without being a necromancer, one should be prepared to meet all sorts of filth. And I have met so many different things! So when was the Royal Route closed?

- A week and a half.

- The reason?