Chapter 16

Not the most pleasant farewell to the former best friend was superimposed on a sleepless night and accumulated tension. It was just that the ache in the temples could still be endured, but not along with the ensuing melancholy. An attempt to catch a day's sleep did not lead to anything good, and, having suffered a little, Aaron went to wander around the castle.

At his approach, the guards were drawn to the line, the servants froze in fright, and more often they tried to disappear into the nearest side passages, which made the magician's mood deteriorate even more. And his feet themselves carried him down into the dungeons.

It seemed quiet, calm, beautiful. On the walls, runes curled in gold, decorated with graceful squiggles - in the fashion of gray-haired times, even before the First Emperor. Such an archaic spelling was shown to Aron in childhood by his mother, and a wave of sadness stirred in his soul.

He stood for a few minutes in thought, running his fingers over the drawing of the nearest rune, then returned to the stairs. Without Mel, it seemed pointless to go around the cells, not to ask the prisoners themselves why they were in the dungeon. And it is better for ordinary guards not to know about the sudden forgetfulness of the master. But to inspect the laboratories of the Dark Magician, witnesses were just useless.

Again the descent into the darkness of the stairways, where human eyes are almost powerless. In their place, other feelings, previously peacefully sleeping, take their place. The legs know that there is a wide pothole in the step, and they easily cross the dangerous place. The ceiling drops sharply, and the body, before the mind has time to give the necessary order, bows in front of the stone lintel. The sense of smell acquires an unprecedented sensitivity, suggesting: ahead is a living being, but not a person. And then the eyes see the reflection of fire in the distance...

Aron froze, then shook his head, realizing that the elf was holding the yellow point of the torch. The very youngest son of the Prince of the Azure Valley, kidnapped by his predecessor to satisfy his dubious addictions.

***

Timal Dare-Ores with a sigh moved away from the doors of the last laboratory. Even with the help of amulets sent from home, it was not possible to get into any of them. It seems that the father overestimated the powers of his mages and underestimated Tongil. For the umpteenth time… Now we have to go through these terrible passages again, praying to Sunny not to run into any of the guards.

In the darkness, Timal sensed movement, turned sharply, peering into the gloom, and thought wistfully that it would be better for him to meet a dozen guards.

Tongil stood a few paces away, examining the youth with abstract interest, as if not a living creature of flesh and blood, but some magical formula to be deciphered. The elf knew this look well, more than once saw it directed at those who displeased the master, and remembered how the life of the poor fellows ended. It was necessary to somehow explain his presence near the magician's precious laboratories, but all pre-made excuses flew out of his head.

“I…” he muttered. - I just….

- Yes? The magician raised his eyebrows inquiringly, but did not wait for the continuation and shook his head reproachfully. “Did you really want to join the Dark Art?”

Timal swallowed hard, trying to find words, but could not squeeze out anything intelligible. He felt even worse than when he was first led into the magician's quarters. Then the teenager at least roughly knew what to expect. Now Timal had no ideas about himself.

“You must be wondering what the labs look like inside,” Tongil said softly. "Natural youthful curiosity, isn't it?" Of course, you didn't mean anything malicious. It's stupid to plot against the Dark Magician in his domain, and you're a smart boy. I'm right?

The magician's voice was enveloped in a sweet veil, but the meaning of the words slipped away, leaving only a poignant, incomprehensible feeling: you need to tell about something - and everything will be fine.

“I wanted to find,” Timal said quietly, “an artifact with a chimera.

He spoke and woke up. The bewitching magic subsided, leaving a growing horror - he said exactly what he should not have said in any case.

- Artifact with a chimera. How interesting,” the magician repeated in a normal voice, glanced at the locked door. Measurement. He stood like that for several seconds, not moving and looking into the emptiness in front of him, until the door, on which Timal had killed for more than an hour, began to open.

She did it herself, as if alive. Numerous locks and locks from the outer and inner sides departed with a wheeze and a rattle. And yet - this Timal felt with his as yet unopened erre - more layer after layer of spells were removed.

- I beg. Tongil made a broad gesture with his hand, inviting the elf to be the first to enter the opening. Let's look for the artifact together.

Timal gave the magician an incredulous look, but he looked serious. Enter Tongil's laboratory? Where they don’t come back ... Surely alive, for sure!

- No need! The young man shook his head convulsively. - Please do not!

“But you wanted to,” the mage was surprised. - Don't be shy, come on in.

“No,” Timal breathed. - Not! And then, unexpectedly even for himself, he threw the torch at Tongil and rushed past him to the stairs.

He may have taken five steps, perhaps six, but then something that looked like a noose squeezed his throat painfully, invisible ropes snaked around his arms and legs, and the teenager fell to the stone floor, twisting like a caterpillar swaddled by a spider.

The torch went out, not even a red ember was preserved, the darkness seemed impenetrable, but, straining his ears, the young man caught the slight rustle of Tongil's steps - for a pure-blooded man, the magician always moved too quietly. Then strong arms lifted the teenager off the floor, threw him over his shoulder. Steps—eight, nine—and Timal was back on the floor.

The torch lit up. Reflected in its light, the runes on the walls and ceiling of the lab shimmered like gold.

***

Aaron went around the room in a circle, deciding to manually set fire to all the wicks of the lamps for a change, then turned to the elf bound by the Shadows.

- Calmed down?

The one who did not take his frightened gaze off him shuddered and nodded.

Aaron glanced at the door, and it closed with a soft click. Now you can chat without fear of a sudden escape of the interlocutor.

Obeying the mental command of Aron, the Shadows holding the elf disappeared.

- Get up, - he ordered, and when the young man jumped to his feet, he added: - I wanted to find an artifact with a chimera - look for it.

- Why? he asked in a weak voice.

Aaron grunted, and then, as if an invisible demon pushed him, grinned and answered:

Everyone should have the right to a last wish. If you really need this item...

The elf didn't even turn pale, but turned green, but not for long. Then the boy stubbornly raised his chin, determination appeared in his eyes, and Aaron staggered from the magic blow ...

The blow was not strong - magic shields worked, which until that moment he had no idea about. But this miserable attack woke something in him. For a fraction of a moment, Aaron saw the erre elfen—an unfolding cocoon of magic. I saw it and instinctively struck at its very core...

The Upper Steppe is always beautiful, always green, the blue sky always shines above it. There are no droughts in the Upper Steppe, no dust storms and no poisonous winter winds. They don't die in the Upper Steppe.

…Temira stood at the top of the hill, aiming at something with her favorite bow. Mea-tael recognized it right away - made of acer wood, tendons, horn plates, covered with a thin layer of skillfully painted bark ... Many years ago, the eldest daughter of the leader accepted this bow as a gift on her coming of age. He, broken in half, was placed on Temira's funeral pyre...

- Finally! The nomad lowered her weapon and ran lightly down to the foot of the hill where the half-elf stood. "I thought you weren't coming this time either."

"Am I dead too?" her son asked uncertainly, trying to understand how and when it happened and why he does not remember anything like that.

- Nonsense! Temira stamped her foot in annoyance. “You just sleep, but you sleep lightly, openly, so I managed to call you.

Mea-tael frowned, not quite understanding his mother's words, but just in case he decided to remember and ask a knowledgeable person later.

“Look…” Her hand touched his, her hand as warm as a living person's. - Look, follow the flight. It is important.

Temira again raised her bow, pointing it to the heavens, put an arrow on a stretched bowstring. She flew - higher and higher ... And then the world turned upside down, and Mea-tael and Temira were no longer standing on green grass, but in the air, and there was no support under their feet, only blue sky around. Far below lay the Great Steppe of the world of the living.

The half-elf's eyes were as sharp as ever. From a height of tens of thousands of paces, he could distinguish how young grass bends under the gusts of wind, how a hare trembles in a shelter, how foxes slink along his trail. He saw a running herd of wild horses, and farther, at the very horizon, a camp of nomads.

“Follow the flight,” Temira reminded, and the obedient son looked for the arrow. Just in time - before his eyes, her wooden body was dressed in flesh, covered with feathers, became a blue-winged wing, of which thousands fly in the steppe. And rushed further east, many times faster than any bird is capable of.

Here is the station itself. Tuura. Not enemies of Mea-tael's native tribe, but not friends either. Not even allies.

Mom, what should I see?

Temira did not answer, frowning at the yurt that stood at the very edge, around which the bird created by her magic flew in circles.

Where is that girl again? the woman muttered. - It is worth being distracted, as she has already caught a trace!

The bird stopped its senseless circling and darted off somewhere to the side, into the empty steppe, until the figure of a small steppe horse, on which the children of nomads ride, appeared in front.

The reins of the horse were carefully tied to a peg driven into the ground, and a little further the young mistress herself was discovered. A girl of about ten, black-haired and black-eyed, with thin bones and impetuous movements surprisingly similar to Temira, was striding towards the ruins that were white in the distance. A long hunting dagger hung on his belt, behind his back - a small one, for a child's hand, a bow and a quiver with arrows.

The girl walked confidently, as if on a well-known road.

Is that Nai? Mea-tael asked in confusion. “I didn't know, I thought she died with you.

If you knew, would you try to find it? Temira shook her head. — Not worth it. The girl is better where she is now. She was taken in by a good family, but your hearth does not yet have a mistress, you have nowhere to bring the child.

“Everything will change once your death is avenged!” I promise I...

- Shut up! his mother interrupted. - Shut up. Your words are a terrible sin. Do not dare!

- He deserved it! Mea-tael exclaimed.

"I don't want my son to bring a curse on himself!" Temira's eyes flashed with that fire that Mea-tael had seen so often while she was alive. "You promised he wouldn't die by your hand!"

“He will not die by my hand,” the half-elf said angrily. But he won't live happily ever after! I will find a way…” Mea-tael shook his head and looked at his sister. - If the baby does not need me, why did you decide to show it to me?

Temira watched as the girl climbed the ruined masonry of the fortress wall and jumped down onto the pavement of the dead city.

“A lot will change soon. I do not know the essence of the changes, our god does not devote the souls of mortals to his plans. But I feel that something is coming, and this something will affect both Nai-tael and you. Be careful.

Just as abruptly, the world turned upside down again, and they again found themselves on the soft green grass of the Upper Steppe.

"You'll wake up soon," Temira said. “I can hear the guard sent for you coming up the steps.

“Mom,” Mea-tael said hurriedly, afraid of not having time to express what had tormented him in recent years. - Mom, forgive me!

- For what? Temira was surprised.

“It all happened because of me. You died because of me.

- Don't talk nonsense! Temira was really angry. “Don’t even think of adding that it’s your fault for being born!” There is nothing for you to ask for forgiveness ... - She froze, looking somewhere through him, then impulsively hugged him. Mea-tael again felt the warmth of her body, as if Temira were alive.

- Now you wake up. Take care son...

Her voice faded away, lost in the void, and the greenery of the Upper Steppe faded, giving way to the dim daylight that penetrated the bedroom through loose curtains.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Tar Mithril,” the servant bowed low, “but Mr. Tongil asks you to visit him immediately. There was something wrong with the elf.

***

Aaron stood at the window, rolling a parchment scroll between his palms, and looked at a small well-groomed park, through the greenery of whose crowns a pond gleamed. It was there that yesterday he tried to subdue the water element. The result was, to put it mildly, not impressive.

Behind Aron on the bed lay a pale and motionless elf. Even if we forget that this is the son of a nobleman and a valuable hostage, Timal was sorry. He climbed where he shouldn’t, it happens ... Especially when the father and master unequivocally demand this in a letter.

However, during a search of Timal's room, the servants found not only a scroll with a message from the elven prince, but also a scattering of triangular greenish stones. The young man had a pair of the same stones with him in his belt purse.

Aaron returned to the table, put down the scroll and took one of the stones. Amulets sent to an elf?

- Called? came the voice of Mea-tael.

Aaron turned to the half-elf who had entered the room, nodded, pointing to the source of the problem.

- Why are you him? he was surprised.

Aaron shrugged vaguely.

- It just worked out. Joked badly.

Was he joking or were you? friend chuckled.

“I.” Aaron held out the scroll to Mea-tael. - You'd better look at this.

He unfolded it, ran his eyes over the lines, frowning.

- My fault. The boy did not confess who handed over the letter?

- I only managed to say what subject I was looking for in the laboratories. There is a message about it. I'm wondering who told the Prince of Azure Vale about the artifact? Both were silent, then Aaron approached the elf. Do you know how to get him out of this state?

- Where? Mea-tael looked at him in surprise. “I grew up among nomads, and I had less contact with pure-blooded elves than you. How did it happen?

“I came across Timal by accident. I went down into the dungeons, and he just wanted to get into the laboratory. He saw me, got scared, and then tried to hit me with magic.

- He? Mea-tael asked incredulously. - Attacked you? With his chicken powers? Are you confusing anything?

“Well,” Aaron was a little embarrassed, “probably decided that he had no choice. You see, it occurred to me to joke about the "last wish", and since we were already in the laboratory ...

“Joking,” the half-elf muttered. - Well, you have jokes! With such a sense of humor, a direct road to the possessions of the Gray Lady - she will appreciate it.

- Thank you friend. - Aaron, scoffing, portrayed a semblance of a court bow. - Thanks for the kind words.

“Don’t joke with me like that,” Mea-tael asked seriously. “Otherwise, I don’t understand either ... And then you will look for a new manager.”

- Will try. Aaron nodded just as seriously.

At that moment, the young man stirred and whispered something softly. Apparently, he began to regain consciousness.

“Give it to me to talk until evening,” the half-elf asked in a low voice. “I promise that your pet's pretty face won't get hurt.

- I think he will tell everything. - Aaron presented the details of the "conversation" without further explanation.

“Maybe,” Mea-tael said at a normal volume, “perhaps we should send the ear of his youngest to the prince?” To behave well and not give out dubious orders.

- Ear? Aaron was surprised.

- Yes. For example, the left. Not too big a loss, but the prince will think a couple of times before doing another stupid thing.

- And if he does? Aaron asked. Mea-tael expressed his idea so casually that Aron wanted to know where his twisted logic would lead the half-elf.

- Then it will be possible to send a couple of fingers ... Or just an eye? The half-elf chuckled and thought.

“No need,” came from the bed. - Do not do it, Please!

Mea-tael winked at Aron so that the elf would not see, and turned to the future victim, developing his thought.

“Your ear, noble Timal, I will cut off your ear so quickly that you won’t even have time to notice it.”

- No need! Mister! The teen, still pale, sat up on the bed, looking pleadingly at Aaron. Perhaps, despite the incident in the lab, the magician of the two seemed less scary to him. — Mister! Don't let him!

Aaron sighed and, taking the scroll from Mea-tael, thrust it into the startled elf. Then I added one of the stones on top.

- Explain where you got it from. If you tell the truth, we won't send your father any gift.