Chapter 10

Aaron, unable to tear himself away, looked at his best friend, who was dearer than his brother... and who had been dead for four years.

The man in the iron collar looked older than the Wend Aaron had buried, his face more scarred. In addition, his Vend could not hate anyone so that this feeling would burn out everyone else, leaving only a bitter void. This older one could do it.

A decision had to be made. But what? Aaron could free Wend, rip off that shameful collar... And then? A person who is so similar and at the same time unlike his friend is unlikely to be touched by gratitude, rather, he will repeat the attempt, because of which he ended up in the dungeon. The eyes of this Wend said: there will be no weapon - he will gnaw through the throat of the enemy with his teeth.

Order to take him upstairs to the master's chambers? Already there to tell the story of their friendship, their other life, to tell about your meeting with the demon? And expect a man who hates him to believe in such a tale? If he were Vend, Aaron would not have believed it.

For now, leave it as it is? To portray indifference and leave for a while? So be it, but before you find out what he caused such hatred.

Judging by the presence of Vend, the demon kept his word: Aron's relatives were alive here. But any person knows that demon gifts have a downside. Aron in his new life turned out to be a different, powerful and terrible person. Perhaps those whom he previously knew and loved have changed.

From the moment the servants entered his chamber, carrying breakfast, followed by a frightened page, Aaron had to play someone else's role, drawing inspiration only from the reaction of the viewer and his own common sense. Aaron wanted to ask a lot of questions, but was afraid to arouse the boy's suspicions. However, as the first interlocutor, Rien fit perfectly: so far he is poorly able to pretend, open and sincere. Aron would have asked the page many more questions, but as soon as he mentioned the dungeons, intuition intervened imperiously.

The inner voice helped Aron more than once, saved him from a stray arrow and a knife in the back, when he was a centurion, he even warned about unexpected checks by his superiors. Then the guards seriously called their commander Lucky.

When Teri and Rick appeared, the inner voice learned to keep not only Aron himself, but also people dear to him. Aron also sensed the danger emanating from the necromancer in advance, only he did not have time to return in time...

And here, as soon as Rien uttered the word "dungeons", Aaron realized: he must go down there. This is important, even more important than getting information about yourself. The cell where Wend was located seemed to beckoning to him. But Aaron had no idea who would be inside until the last moment.

“Or did the great magician forget about an old experiment?” Hatred mixed with disgust in Vend's voice. “I forgot how you decided to give the creatures of Chaos the inhabitants of several villages and see what happens? You yourself are a creature, Tongil, more vile than your accursed servants! Let it not be me, but another avenger will come, and you will die for a long time!

Aaron looked at his best friend - his former best friend - and could not utter a word.

He is a mage!

Mage, and, apparently, the Dark One!

The demon's gift made him one of the creatures he hated. That is why the local Tongil arbitrarily rules a part of the empire, that is why the local nobility is so afraid of him that they pay off with their own children.

"Wizards always die long," he whispered the old truth, as if in a dream. - A very long time, and you need to kill them correctly ...

Rien, who was a couple of steps away, made an indistinct plaintive sound, and even Wend's eyes flashed with surprise.

"It's true what they say: you're a madman," breathed his not-friend.

Aaron shuddered and seemed to wake up. No, he was not insane, but the whole world where the demon had thrown him.

Did your parents live in one of those villages? His own voice was muffled.

- Yes! Wend twitched as if in pain. "Damn you for that, Tongil!" Damn you for becoming such a monster!

- Became? - this word scratched the ear of Aaron. Haven't I always been?

- Is always? Wend chuckled. - Yes. But before you skillfully pretended to be a man.

Aaron nodded as if in agreement, but a storm raged in his soul, and he hardly knew what he was doing. The universe took off and began to dance, mockingly laughing, and he had to pretend that everything was in order, everything was as it should be. And do not betray yourself with a gesture or a look.

“I hope you are comfortable here?” Aaron's mouth twisted painfully. However, in poor lighting it could pass for a smile.

- Completely. The prisoner looked at him like he was a rabid animal. "Add your head on a platter and I'll be just happy."

Like his dead friend, this Wend knew how to respond to caustic promptings, but there would be no joke insults with him, everything would be serious with him.

“You've got a taste, Wend. Not bad for a farmer's son. One of these days I'll drop in, talk, remember youth ...

The prisoner grinned at this evil.

As soon as he left the cell, Aron, unable to contain his anger, threw the torch away. It rolled across the floor and, angrily spitting sparks, went out. The guard behind Aaron, accustomed to doing everything in complete darkness, locked the door.

“Pick up that demon torch!” Aaron barked at the page, but the page just shook its head helplessly, and then took a step in the wrong direction. Only after a moment, Aaron remembered: few people had the innate ability to see in the dark, like his.

I didn't want to bend over. Aaron cast an evil glance at the torch, and an irritated thought “burn you!” - and something seemed to click in my head, connected and fell into place.

The torch flared up.

“Will there be orders for the prisoner, sir?” - The voice of the guard pulled Aaron out of the turmoil of thoughts.

“Yes,” he managed. Yes, feed him well.

- How to kill? the guard dared to joke.

Aaron shuddered, but immediately put on the almost slipped mask of someone else's role more tightly.

- Why - how? and smiled wryly.

***

The gentleman was silent all the way back, and this silence seemed unkind. Rien, whose heart was relieved when Tongil limited himself to visiting a new prisoner in the dungeon, tensed again and now wondered: would he live to see the next morning? Thoughts were confused from excitement, and when the magician on the last staircase asked about something, he simply did not hear.

“…Rien!” The page cringed in fear as the master patted him lightly on the cheek. “Rien, you really are tired if you don’t respond to questions. Tongil's voice sounded too solicitous to be anything but subtle mockery. “You will come to me in the evening, and now go and rest.

- In the evening? - When the master showed interest in someone, it was fraught, but Rien still hoped, really hoped that he would manage.

- Are you hard of hearing? Tongil's eyebrows rose questioningly, and Rien shook his head frantically.

Aaron sat in an armchair in his office and looked at the burning candle. There was nothing unusual about the candle, except for its out of place on a bright day... and the fact that he had lit it with magic. Just like a torch - a mental order.

Putting it out was also easy: the fire was gone before the thought took on verbal form.

Aaron sighed deeply and, pushing the cinder aside, leaned heavily on the table. But he was not allowed to indulge in gloomy thoughts for a long time - there was a thunder from outside, followed by a roar, full of anger and pain, which a human throat could not emit.

Running to the window, Aron threw it open and looked down. There, almost under the tower itself, stood three armed men, and around them a small tornado, about two human heights, revolved. So he approached one of the soldiers, and he cut obliquely. If the tornado is normal - a meaningless action. If the whirlwind is magical, and the weapon is enchanted, it could work ...

The whirlpool grew sharply, curved in the air and fell on people, swallowing them. There was complete silence for a moment, then a crack appeared in the ground, similar to a greedy mouth, ate the tornado with its captives with contented squelching and disappeared just as quickly.

Aaron looked at the newly green grass for almost a minute, then slammed the window. When looking at the tornado, his sense of danger was eloquently silent, but at the warriors...

Next killers? Mercenaries or avengers?

If yes, then this is the fourth time this summer - the local Aron Tongil is incredibly popular! This is how you have to try to gain such fame?

There was a loud knock on the door, but with a polite monotone. Then, after a pause, again.

— Enter! Aaron said irritably as he left the office. Now he didn't want to see anyone.

An elf stood in the doorway... or so it seemed to Aaron. But his gaze was already caught on the details of his appearance, which betrayed the uncleanness of its owner. The stranger seemed slender, lithe, and fine-boned enough to pass for an elf from a distance, but his face was too rigidly defined, his eyes too black and protruding to his temples, and there was no particular elven magic that accompanies this people from birth to death in erre.

It took Aaron less than a fraction of a second to realize he could see the erre. In his former life, he had to communicate a lot with wandering apprentices of magicians, sent to free bread for sins or lack of talent. And this communication allowed me to gain some knowledge.

Erre was called the innate cocoon of the Force around the mage of any race. Previously, Aaron had no idea how one could see erre. Now it happened by itself, without the slightest effort on his part.

It must have been another proof of his own magicalness that Aaron squirmed, as the newcomer raised his un-elven black eyebrows in surprise and kindly asked:

“Before, these attempts only amused you. Something has changed?

Aaron looked at the stranger thoughtfully. The half-breed was not afraid of him - it became clear at once. Moreover, he behaved more like a friend, at least an ally, since Aaron doubted that the Dark Magician had real friends. The half-breed continued to look inquiringly, and the warrior shrugged vaguely.

Bad mood, that's all.

- So I thought! The black-haired man slammed the door shut, sat down in an armchair without invitation, then waved his hand to Aaron. - Sit down, otherwise you stand like a step-mother.

Aaron looked at the insolent man in amazement. The man's behavior didn't match the respectful fear that Aaron was getting used to, and he still couldn't decide how to react. How is it supposed to behave in such a situation as a powerful Dark Magician, who is able to make half the empire happy just by dying? The absurdity of what was happening made Aron chuckle.

The half-elf's sense of danger was silent at the appearance of the half-elf, as if the stranger could indeed be trusted.

Pushing out a chair with his foot, Aaron sat opposite the half-blood.

- That tell interesting?

— How do you like junior al-Korm? - He answered the question with a question.

- In terms of? Aron tilted his head to the side, continuing to study the unusual appearance of the black-haired man. He didn't seem to notice his attention.

“You won’t believe it, but for the last three months, as soon as I remembered about its existence, a veil immediately found a veil on my mind. If I met Rien in the castle, then I gave the first instruction that came to mind and after a couple of seconds I forgot about it. Yes, and you, sending the boy at my disposal, never once demanded him for personal services. The half-elf frowned, leaning forward. “Ar-Korm has the Dark Gift?”

Aaron couldn't help but blink in confusion. The Dark Gift - this frightened teenager? Although...

One day, a former student of the magician told him that magicians feel only their own, the Light Ones recognize the Light Ones, and the Dark Ones recognize the Dark Ones. Allegedly, this restriction was established in ancient times by the gods, so that the young, with the Gift not yet hatched, had a chance to survive. Their rules were allowed to kill only in a duel, others were considered fair game. But will Aaron be able to determine the magical abilities of the younger ar-Korm?

However, it is more important to decide how to deal with a sassy half-elf.

"I'll check tonight," Aaron said.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed anything for the whole day, then the boy is clearly a Light One,” the half-blood concluded. “It’s a pity if you have to get rid of him – this is not the time to quarrel with the ar-Korms.

“Or the boy may not have the Gift at all,” objected Aron, who had no intention of killing the page in order to preserve his unexpected and unwelcome reputation as a formidable Dark Magician.

“And you say that—the very embodiment of caution?” The half-elf laughed, but Aaron couldn't even squeeze out a wry smile.

"Aron, what's the matter?" The half-breed no longer smiled, his face darkened and therefore began to seem more human. - Are you mad at me? Should I start to fear for my life? The last question sounded like a joke, but it wasn't.

Aaron tensed, but the sense of danger was stubbornly silent, and he relaxed.

- Not. Aaron looked at the stranger as he might have looked at Wend from his former life. - No, it's not worth it.

Mea-tael, known among the Imperials as Mithril, to Mel's friends, plunged into the warm bath up to his chin and took a deep breath. Fragrant herbs added to the water not only relieved fatigue, but also contributed to the smooth flow of thoughts, made it possible to connect disparate threads of thoughts into a coherent pattern. And now Mea-tael was trying to understand what was happening to the only person he could call his friend here.

Aron's behavior today seemed strange, tense and nervous, he looked as if he saw Mea-tael for the first time, spoke harshly, as if with a stranger. And magic - it filled the entire space of the room, causing a aching pain in the bones of the half-elf, and did not pulsate around Aaron in the usual dense cocoon.

Could this behavior be related to the boy al-Korm? Mea-tael was poorly versed in the theory of the interaction of the magic of opposite poles. Intuition, however, a weak fragment of the Gift inherited from her mother, remained mysteriously silent.

The most interesting question is: did the change in the magician's behavior endanger Mea-tael's life? The half-elf considered the man who saved him several times as his friend, but Aaron could not determine how he felt about him.

***

Aaron stared with distaste for a few moments at a small book bound in black leather. Then, reluctantly, he opened it.

"Water Element at the fifth intersection of the Alt-thark sphere," read the headline drawn in large runes. On the next page it was reported: “Enamel of Water, unlike a true elemental, does not distinguish the wearer by the color of the Gift, therefore the conditions for its summoning are different from the standard ones. For a magician who has reached the level of Ktash, sliding in the Darkness is replaced by ... "

Aaron slammed the book shut and stared gloomily at five more similar volumes lying innocently on the edge of the table. He could read the classic runes as well as the Nordic ones, and he could even make out the flourishes of the Sand People, but it didn't help when understandable words were combined into incomprehensible phrases using furious terms.

It was his pale-skinned double from the mirror that went through many years from a disenfranchised student to a powerful Dark Magician. Aron, on the other hand, spent his youth on polishing the ability to kill with honest steel. And now, in order to survive and find Teri and his son, he had to become a magician. Although Aron inherited the Gift from the former Tongil, no skills were attached to it.

Feeling annoyed, Aaron gathered up his books and returned to the bookcase. Maybe there is still something more understandable, something that can help him?

Without much hope, Aron flipped through a few more volumes: "Secret Ashi-tuun and the enamel of Fire", "Salia Tiarskaya in her seventh immersion teaches ...", "Ashun level for working with the Threads of the fourth intersection ...".

Here is another book, but instead of a colorfully designed title, there is a blank page. One, two, three.... Aaron blinked in confusion, mechanically ran his palm over the paper. For some reason, she seemed very warm, as if heated from the inside.

Why would the old Tongil keep a blank on the shelf? Means...

The desire to see what is written on these pages has increased. Aron felt how an invisible wave flowed from him to the book and merged with the warmth of the pages...

On the book, open in the middle, at the top of the page, neat whorls of northern runes emerged and formed into words written in his own handwriting:

"Day of the tiger moon of Leden, year 11908.

Today it was possible to open the fifth sphere of Alt-Tark. I had to suffer, but five days of a full fast were worth it - now Water obeys me almost at the level of Fire. The discovery of the Tiarian about the blindness of the enamels turned out to be invaluable ... "

Aaron skimmed the page, searching for non-magical phrases. They were found two paragraphs below.

“Mea-tael regained consciousness for a few minutes and this time recognized me. The wounds are healing well, now it is clear that he will survive. The hounds sent by Mea-tael's father, I knocked off the trail and drowned in the Ris marshes - for some time this will be enough.

If there were no other elven half-breeds in the castle, then the black-haired guest was Mea-tael. The diary of the former Tongil is a real salvation...

The dusk of late summer crept up imperceptibly, the eyes had to be strained. In the end, it caused an outburst of annoyance, and the light returned, steady and bright...

A timid knock on the door made Aaron look up from his book. Yes, because he ordered Rien to come in the evening. Executive. But Aron, immersed in the life of his double, no longer wanted to ask the page about anything.

Aaron left the office and, succumbing to an unexpected idea, waved his hand, mentally ordering the door to swing open. It really opened up. The young man standing on the threshold made a movement, as if he wanted to bow, and just froze, staring somewhere behind Aaron's back.

Aaron turned around - a ball hung in the air a couple of steps behind him at the level of his head. As if woven from the sun's rays, it filled the entire room with an even light.

***

Rien looked in shock at the clot of pure light, hovering in impossible proximity to the most terrible mage of the empire, and could only whisper:

- Can't be. Can not...

- Share your thoughts? Tongil's voice pulled the young man out of his daze, the magician's hand pulled him forward. The door closed behind him.

- Come on?

Ryan shook his head, unable to say anything. Tongil grinned wryly and pushed him into a chair.

- Get yourself together and explain your behavior.

You are the Dark Mage! The incongruity of what was happening made Rien jump to his feet, but Tongil's warning look brought Rien back to his place.

“Dark magician,” Rien repeated a little quieter. “The True Light should incinerate you,” his voice dropped to almost a whisper at the last words.

Tongil turned to the evenly glowing orb and beckoned to him. A clot of light obediently fell on the open palm.

Have you seen these babies before? - The master, as if caressing a kitten, brought the ball to his very face, allowing the edge of the radiant creature to slide over his cheek. After such a touch, half of the Dark One's face should have turned into a gaping ulcer, but nothing like that happened, except that the unnatural pallor of the magician was replaced by a healthy blush.

- Saw? Tongil repeated.

- Yes, once ... long ago ... - Rien looked at the ball in shock.

“Tell me,” said the master.

“I was seven years old then,” Rien replied, but his thoughts hardly half followed his words. “Grand Mage Alaric Nerkas came to visit my father…

“My venerable predecessor?” Tongil said.

- Yes, sir. Rien flashed a memory of how Nerkas had ceased to be the Great Mage, having become a dead mage, and the former fear, temporarily supplanted by amazement, returned.

- Don't worry. Tongil waved his free hand indulgently. “I know that your family has always served the Light Ones. I'm interested in the details. So?

“Mr. Nerkas has created several balls of True Light. All the time he was staying with us, they guarded him - they flew in front, illuminated the path, watched the rear ... When, on a hunt, a hired killer fired a poisoned arrow at the magician, one ball burned it in the air, and the other flew up to the man and burned his.

- Alive, naturally? Tongil cocked his head to one side, scrutinizing Rien. He, unable to stand it, averted his eyes, staring at his feet.

- Yes, sir.

- It's funny. Catch!

Rien tossed his head; the clot of light no longer sat on the palm of the magician, but quickly floated forward. Here the ball stopped at the elbow from Rien's face and hung, swaying slightly.

Don't be afraid, reach out your hand. Tongil's voice sounded insinuating, as if the master were coaxing a frightened animal. Swallowing, Rien raised his hand, palm up, as a magician did, and the ball landed on her.

- Aghh! With an inarticulate scream, Rien threw the ball away from him. Pain! Born in the hand, it covered the whole body, and Rien sank to the floor. Perhaps he was screaming again... Until a stream of icy water poured over his head, bringing him back to reality.

Show me your hand! a familiar voice barked in his ear, and the magician grabbed the wrist of his wounded hand with a jerk.

"And was it worth yelling like that?" Tongil asked in a calm tone. - Not even a burn.

In disbelief, Rien straightened up and squinted at his hand. The palm was still sore, but did not look injured, only the skin seemed pinker than usual.

- What was it? his voice broke. - Why?!

Tongil chuckled and rose to his feet.

“Just a little experiment, boy, nothing lethal. The pain will go away in a couple of hours.

The magician turned to the window, melted by the thrown ball, assessing the damage done to the colored mosaic, but did not comment on it.

Still sitting on the floor, Rien brushed away the wet bangs sticking to his forehead with his healthy hand, shivered: the water got behind the scruff of the neck and chilled his back. Maybe he'll get cold now? Will he lie in his little room, wrap himself in warm blankets despite the summer, drink the warm broth brought by caring maids, and by the time he recovers, Tongil will forget about him?

The thought was naive and the young man parted with it with regret. First of all, Rien has never been ill with anything. Secondly, the master hadn't even thought about letting him go yet, and even this mention of the experiment...

Usually the victims of Tongil's experiments were either criminals or unlucky servants who had done something wrong. Why on earth did the Dark One change his habits? Or was it Rien who fell into the hands of the magician at the wrong time? For example, when did he study the effects of a new spell? It's better to hope so than to think that he was written off to be sent to the dungeons. Rien did not want to die, and even in such a terrible way.

Tongil, meanwhile, gave him a careful look and shook his head.

- Go to your place, boy.

This short phrase instantly restored Rien's strength, even made him forget about the pain. He hurriedly jumped to his feet, bowed, and almost ran towards the door.