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.
Its good that they didnt 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 didnt take long for Tams 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 slaves 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 elses 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 couldnt 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 Dorhands eyes.
The struggle for freedom means someones 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 dont do this! I dont want!
Kill him! Kill!
A blow to the heart with a dagger and warm scarlet blood poured into the boys 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 wont save you!
No need for loud words. Every attempt you make to resist me will cost you dearly. Next time Ill make you kill one of your friends. And maybe not just one. Do you want Lina dead? Shell 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 youre 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 cant 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 couldnt 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 couldnt die!
Latrich looked at him:
Youre 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 shouldnt 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 couldnt 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 sorcerers 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.
Its 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.
Im no longer your slave.
How dare you! Namlis, obey! Otherwise
Otherwise what? Will you kill me? So Im 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 Latrichs 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.
Ill 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. Ill write to my brother that Im alive, that Im 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 dont 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 elses 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, whats new?
Thirty more of Latrichs 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 Latrichs actions.
But not one of them stood up for us! Paris clenched his fist.
Youre 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.