Tomorrow has arrived.

Sylvia spent the night in the half-Interreality-famous Valley inn. Having already heard about what had happened, the landlord and all the servants bowed low and obsequiously, assuring them of their unchanging devotion.

The Arca heiress nodded favorably in response, but went to bed in the outermost room, quietly dragging a blanket and pillow there. From the rest she built a semblance of herself sleeping under the covers. Of course, she did not spare the guard spells.

She expected an attack, revenge, an assassination attempt.

I didn't wait.

Slightly disappointed, Sylvia went down to the common room at dawn.

The owner rushed around, assuring “the most precious lady Nagual” that she had absolutely no need to bother her charming legs with walking, and that everything would be delivered at her first word wherever it pleased her; Sylvia just waved it off.

“Just because Mr. Tragne or Mr. Copper behaved this way does not mean that I will do the same.” I'm not going to hide from anyone or lock myself away. If we are doing the same thing, everyone should know that I...

Healer Dintra stood in front of her. In new luxurious robes that fell to the ground, where fiery birds spread their wings on dark green silk. The healer leaned on a simple black staff, even without a pommel; at first glance, it looked like an ordinary stick.

The tavern keeper, sideways, made his way out of the common room. Cooks and other servants rushed after him. Someone screamed on the street, demanding that fire barrels be immediately delivered “and the weathermen notified!”

“Dear Sir Dintra,” Sylvia said slowly. Luxurious outfits awaited her, crafted overnight by the craftswomen of the Valley (with the help of magic, of course) - but she put on her old clothes, burnt in places, patched in others.

He wasn't afraid. Not at all. Neither herself, nor the Chaos in her blood, which she undoubtedly felt.

Sylvia couldn't figure out how to behave.

– What does the worthy healer want to tell me? – she finally decided.

“The Empire, then,” he said, grinning, and suddenly, out of nowhere.

Yes, it flashed through Sylvia’s mind, this one is not wasting any time. Straight to the point.

Tense faces appeared at the windows of the hall. Mages and not only them, other inhabitants of the valley, who, like Aglaya Stevenhorst, did not possess magical abilities, but worked in numerous jobs, satisfying the whims of the master sorcerers.

– Listen to me, girl. How our wizards amuse themselves, in general, I don’t care; but only as long as there is no harm from them to others. If such a thing appears, I will not let it happen. I got it? If you lead the local sorcerers to burn and kill without any purpose or meaning, just to fill their coffers with gold...

“Then I’ll have to step over you first, old man?” – Sylvia inquired loudly. - Believe me, this will not be difficult for me at all.

The heiress of Red Ark is accustomed to responding immediately to a challenge thrown at her.

However, Dintra just shrugged, turned and walked towards the exit.

The faces in the windows were blown away by the wind.

Probably, it flashed through Sylvia’s mind, the smartest thing would also be to shrug their shoulders ostentatiously and, contemptuously, say something like “the old man has lost his mind... it’s a pity, a pity, but there was such a doctor!” His poor patients...” - calmly go about his business.

But the daughter of the Master of the Mortal Shower would not be herself if she did not understand – with her skin and with her entire gut – that now she needed to fight. That her bluff will not work on the audience; that in the Valley, sorcerers, accustomed to a luxurious and lazy life, respect strength, only strength and nothing but strength.

What power she was about to demonstrate now.

Otherwise, no one will listen to her. And they will only laugh behind her back.

Sylvia's cheeks were burning, she rushed after the healer... but somehow the doors slammed right in front of her nose so that she crashed into them with her forehead, sparks from her eyes.

She growled, kicked open the doors, and rushed after - Dintra mockingly slowly moved away from the tavern.

...She caught up with him only when the town itself was left behind. The old healer seemed to be barely moving his legs, leaning heavily on his black staff, shuffling, stopping to rest - but Sylvia, who was almost running after him, could not close the distance.

And then he suddenly stopped, turned around and looked her straight in the eyes.

They asked for words like “only one of us will leave here,” but in the gaze of the strange healer there was something completely different.

Cold and imperturbable interest, as if Sylvia, despite all her strength, was some kind of rare and, moreover, ugly insect.

– I don’t want to kill anyone. – Sylvia’s chest heaved violently, she could not understand why she was suffocating so much. - But if you refuse to obey...

Instead of answering, the healer silently stepped towards her.

And he was transformed.

The most complex and carefully induced illusion disappeared.

Instead of an elderly, corpulent, short of breath doctor with a large belly and loose hands, Sylvia appeared as a gray-haired warrior in black armor, like a harrier. The face - thin, with sunken cheeks and deep eyes - was covered with countless scars. The blued armor gleamed oilily; nothing superfluous, no beauties. The black staff turned into a one-and-a-half-handed sword with an unusually long hilt.

The cold, hard face of the warrior in black armor seemed vaguely, elusively familiar - but where, when, under what circumstances could she have encountered him?.. No, she can’t remember right now.

Sylvia backed away.

She was the daughter of the Master of the Rain, a hereditary magician, she knew what a pound was worth, but she had never met anyone like this warrior. In the stranger’s gaze she now read the strength that only lived centuries, not decades, can give.

- Who are you? – that was all the last of the Red Ark could say.

The stranger's face did not waver. Instead of answering, he made only one short, meager, indistinguishable movement, and his long blade cut through the air with a hiss.

Sylvia was rescued by Chaos. The air in front of her flared up, the tongues of flame strove to cling to the steel, but only after coming into contact with it, they fell to the ground in powerless black flakes, like burnt paper.

The fact that he missed the first time did not discourage the warrior at all. He continued with a long lunge, pausing slightly at the very end, as if wanting to see what Sylvia was capable of now.

She managed to dodge again.

Involuntarily, she suddenly remembered the ever-memorable duel with the sorceress Clara Hummel, but then she had her father’s flamberge in her hands...

Now magic replaced her weapon, and Sylvia responded with a whole series of spells - disarming, binding, suffocating.

The warrior put up the shield with one careless wave of his hand, removing the spell from himself. Each repelled spell resonated with pain in Sylvia’s chest, as if a sharp bird’s beak was piercing her insides every time.

Who is he?!

The sword thrust into her face, blinding her with a sudden brilliance.

A simple blow of sheer force knocked the blade aside. The warrior chuckled slightly.

Sylvia gave the Chaos in her blood a little more will. Just a little, as it seemed to her, but this was enough to make her feel omnipotent. Blood, fire, death, destruction - oh yes, she wants, wants it all, thirsts, hungers!

Blade whistle. The net of flames woven around Sylvia sounded out to the sides with a dry crunch, like cut fabric.

She barely had time to jump away. Just barely.

The warrior, on the contrary, stepped forward and swung again.

Sylvia could only dodge and dodge, and only at the last moment. She was lucky, but how long will such luck last?!

And yet she did not give up. They couldn’t defeat her so quickly, they couldn’t defeat her so effortlessly!

Chaos again flowed from her fingers, curled into tight whirlwinds, rushing forward, zealously ready to serve the mistress, ready to seek out and burn magical traps, guard charms, everything that could not but protect the stranger now.

With a whistle, his sword slashed crosswise in front of the warrior.

The wave of Chaos sent forward hastily receded. No, no, she can’t handle this!..

Sylvia growled. No, she won't give in!

Now she already felt like Avis Emplada probably felt in a very recent skirmish with her, Sylvia. Powerless anger, confusion, bewilderment...

The daughter of Red Ark attacked, pouring all the fury she could muster into her destruction spells. This unknown enemy will not stand between her and her goal! Never!

The warrior in black repulsed them too, but not without difficulty. A thin stream of blood ran down from his nose.

However, he still grinned.

His bastard sword, which he held with both hands, hissed through the air, and with it Sylvia’s charms, turning them into nothing. The warrior was both a sorcerer and a swordsman, using both steel and spells with equal dexterity.

Sylvia backed away. She knew that she could hook the enemy, she desperately tried to do it... but the most that her most terrible and effective spells achieved was thin streams of dark blood accumulating in the gray mustache of her enemy.

Finally, the warrior in black armor seemed to have had enough of it all.

Another swing of the blade, the rustle of steel right next to Sylvia’s cheek, the sharp pain from the bursting spell, the howl of Chaos, his desperate attempt to deflect the iron, to save his bearer, to save...

Steel cut through the remnants of the black-red flame of Chaos, which had not protected its owner; the tip hit Sylvia's throat. A foot in a heavy boot, shod with blued metal, clipped her knee, and the heiress of the Red Ark plopped down on her fifth point.

The warrior immediately crushed her with his foot, pressing her shoulder blades to the ground. The tip of the sword pricked the skin, and a drop of bright scarlet blood appeared.

Blood soaked in Chaos.

The warrior sniffed, getting rid of the clots of ichor, and looked at Sylvia point-blank.

– And you decided that you would rule the Valley? Will you turn it into a weapon of Chaos?

Sylvia was choked with angry tears. How so? Why? She defeated everyone, including Mescott, Tragne, Emplada! Defeated everyone! And here she is... like a girl...

“Answer,” the warrior said coldly.

“I...” Sylvia croaked, “I... wanted... power.”

“One of the young, and early,” the warrior noted. - Power for whom? For Chaos?

– Chaos... nothing... my... slave... my... weapon...

“Chaos will subjugate and break anyone except the strongest,” the warrior calmly retorted. – To think that you control it is either incredible stupidity, or incredible self-confidence, which is the same stupidity. So why do you need to live then? Why wait until you finally turn into his human tool?

Tears flowed down Sylvia’s cheeks, shameful and helpless.

- Enough... stop... don't mock me... just finish...

“When enough is enough, I’ll decide for myself,” the warrior grinned in her eyes. – Answer the questions, Silvia Nagual. Where did you... get this?

– Can I... stand up? I promise, I... will tell you everything...

Sylvia bit her lip. This damned bastard seemed to read her thoughts.

– Rumors about the voluptuousness of the healer Dintra do not mean at all that I am subject to the same weaknesses, girl. So you will say it like it is. And livelier.

Choking with impotent rage, Sylvia began to retell her adventures. The warrior did not interrupt, only occasionally throwing out “in short!”

“That is, you passed through areas where Chaos seeped through the barriers,” he concluded when Sylvia finally fell silent, licking her dry lips. “And he took possession of you.” I suppose it didn’t require much effort from him. What happened to you during this?

- Nightmares...

– Which ones exactly?

Sylvia said.

– And you decided that now you will definitely become the queen of the Valley? With new strength and a new friend? Friend-Chaos?

Sylvia bit her lip and nodded silently - she was afraid of bursting into absolutely shameful tears.

“Okay,” said the warrior after a pause. “The chaos in you is very, very strong, but... I won’t kill you immediately.”

“Thank you for that,” Sylvia squeezed out.

– So you want to lead the magicians of the Valley into battle? – the warrior inquired, grinning. - It's a good thing. They stayed here too long, needless to say. But you will lead them not where your left heel wants, but where you need to. I got it?

Sylvia nodded quickly. Agree to everything, agree, you will have time to stab him in the back when you manage to at least get back on your feet.

The warrior in black continued to grin.

“Do you think you’ll have time to stab me in the back later?” Naive. However, believe it if it makes you feel better. Now I'm letting you go. Build your army. “He said the last word with undisguised disgust. “You can even start ruling here.” Just remember that I can always find you and kill you. No long conversations. “He slightly pulled the sword away from her throat. – So I advise you to think about whether your famous Chaos is really that strong. Especially here, in the heart of the Orderly One. Do you understand everything, Nagual?..

Sylvia nodded silently.

– I remembered you when you first appeared here. When Ignatius sent you on some errand. You didn’t complete the order, but that doesn’t matter now. You are a troubled and fighting girl, you would have made a lot of sense... if only there wasn’t so much garbage in your head. Let's see how you show yourself. Maybe you're not completely hopeless...

And, turning, the warrior in black armor walked away, without any fear for his defenseless - at least at first glance - back.

Sylvia remained lying as she was, only silently looking after the healer Dintra.

But I still missed the moment when the illusion returned, and a plump, breathless, old and well-known wizard and still a respected healer re-entered the Valley.

Sylvia somehow put herself in order. She bent over the babbling stream - they all flowed here from the mountains to the central lake - and began to wash herself.

But at the sight of her own roaring face, she was overcome with such rage that she slapped herself with a resounding, burning slap in the face, and then another and another.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Arrogant girl! Well, of course, here, in the Valley, one could not help but find such hidden servants of the great forces ruling the Orderly One! Well, of course, these forces would never leave unattended such a nest of quite strong, independent, sorcerers who - at least openly - do not obey anyone!

And she rushed straight into the hornet's nest and decided that the Archmage was her only worthy rival!

Stupid, stupid, blind chicken!..

And she slapped herself again.

Honestly, if my grandfather had been here with his rods, I would have asked her to be flogged. Because she deserved it.

However, on the other hand, an open enemy is already half an enemy, if not a quarter. She made this “Dintra” - who knows what his real name is! - show yourself, act. She received invaluable information.

Ugh! Give it up! Stop comforting yourself, you fool! This Dintra can really kill you, and Chaos cannot deal with him so easily. And the goblins, even if you gather her entire army into one fist, will not be able to cope either.

This means that one must show humility, readiness to obey and carry out orders. Look down, don't look up, answer quietly and respectfully. The doctor Dintra had a reputation for being a lover of young girls... and, although Dintra the real one denied all this, who knows, maybe there really is no smoke without fire?.. Maybe the old, good and faithful, like death, remedy will work and here? In the end, the warrior, although gray-haired, was tall, stately, strong, and in his eyes there was that truly masculine toughness, if not cruelty, that Sylvia felt unmistakably.

And which is so attractive.

Who knows, who knows... Maybe she’s not even completely stupid after all.

Do they want to direct her war where the great forces need it? Well, there's nothing wrong with playing into the hands of someone powerful, as long as she achieves her own goals in the process. There is nothing wrong with making yourself useful, or better yet, indispensable. Indispensable in the big, in the “main thing”, in comparison with which her own small victories will be lost, disappear, the pranks of a useful and good girl will be considered unworthy of attention.

Hurry up slowly.

Red Ark rushed and paid a terrible price. And Rainbow also hurried.

She, Silvia the Nagual, will not rush.

She will clearly and conscientiously fulfill her promises. For example, what was promised to the goblins. True, their desires in relation to Mrs. Mescott differed, um, in some animal nature, but what about the simple-minded sweepers and goldsmiths? Perhaps we can give in to them on this too. But as for everything else...

There must be order in the Valley. Iron order. And the magicians should be satisfied and happy. And for this we need victories. And of course, what she planned for Irene should not have looked like a punishment or her, Sylvia’s, ill will. An accident, nothing more.

She stubbornly raised her chin.

“I will not retreat or turn back, no matter what. If someone can be bought with gold, I will do it. If someone can be bought with my body, no matter what gender they are, I will do it. If someone can be bought for fame and victories, I will do it too.

And the warrior in black, the true Dintra, should be pleased too. I will buy it for my humility, diligence and usefulness. Oh, how useful I will be to him!..”

Having cheered up and somewhat perked up, Sylvia headed back. It's really time for her to get down to business. After all, she is the absolutely legally elected ruler of the Valley, the head of its Council!..

“No, friend, everything is not so scary and terrible. Of course, you earned a slap in the face, but nothing, the main thing is to draw the right conclusions.”

Now go back and get to work, get to work!

* * *

Sylvia walked back into the tavern with a firm step, with her head held high and a victorious look.

– Madam Nagual? – the owner flew up. -What will be the orders?

“Hot bath,” Sylvia said haughtily. - And the second one, cold. My clothes were supposed to be delivered. And where is the rest of the Council? They were supposed to assemble an hour before noon.

“They’ve already sent it,” the innkeeper said obsequiously. - Mr. Giacomo came and were very worried. And Ms. Jessica Benbow. And Mr. Seferard Molinae. And Mrs. Julia Esterri also brought a messenger, they were very worried whether you were angry with her. She herself is unwell, lying there, the healers are working magic on her...

“Wonderful,” said Sylvia coldly. “Tell everyone I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Today the Council will be truly historic.

“Without any doubt, dear Madame Nagual, without any doubt!”

“This little man is already mine,” Sylvia thought with slight contempt. – “Any power is good for him, as long as he doesn’t touch him. And he agrees to pay taxes. Too cowardly to rebel. He had a quiet life here, too quiet. There's a lot to lose."

Hot water, and then immediately cold. Gritting her teeth, Sylvia repeated the procedure several times, got out, and rubbed herself red with a hard towel. The head is clear, feelings and emotions are hidden deep under lock and key, resentment and bitterness are the furthest away.

Now the outfits.

Having rejected several luxurious dresses - one tight-fitting, another with full skirts and a third with a bell-shaped skirt - Sylvia donned short breeches just below the knees, soft boots and a beige jacket trimmed with brown twisted cord at the cuffs and around the loops. The mages of the Valley were too fond of rags, in her opinion, but it was by no means worth breaking them over the knee from the very beginning.

The Valley Council also delivered all kinds of ceremonial weapons, but Sylvia didn’t even look at the pile of elaborate blades with guards flashing with scarlet, blue and green lights.

Chaos had failed her. True, only once so far, but I discovered my weakness. Of course, she had a lot more in her arsenal, but...

She won, armed with her father's flamberge.

She won and, although not of her own free will, got Chaos into her blood.

However, all this power is alien. And at the decisive moment, for example, Chaos failed, but there was no flamberge at all.

Well, lesson. She won't rush. In the end, the main thing now is to show the magicians of the Valley that it can fight, win, and that wealth will flow into the Valley.

If for this it is necessary to take those worlds that Dintra points to, well, she will take them. Along the way, grabbing everything else that is not lying well.

Then he will grab what is lying well.

* * *

There weren't many people today at the Valley Council building, the "town hall" as Clara Hummel called it.

The magicians chosen by the Guilds held the meeting without spectators.

This has happened. Not often, but it happened. Especially when it was necessary to discuss some details. In fact, the tradition of the Valley demanded open Councils, and this rule was respected; Sylvia did not want to break it, but today clarity and coherence were required, and not endless shouting and arguing.

The amphitheater was filling up, and filling up quickly.

Seventy-one members of the Council appeared. Seventy-one, because Mrs. Mescott and Mr. Tragne, as the fat man Giacomo announced with a tragic face, told the high assembly in writing that, due to serious health conditions, they could no longer perform any role in the Council, even to be its simple members.

Evis Emplada came from the Guild of Battle Mages, gloomy and frowning, as if at a funeral.

Nine people came from the Guild of Tempestatists, or Weather Controllers.

From the Healers Guild, the largest in the Valley - nineteen.

From the Guild of Architects - seven.

From the Guild of Herbologists - seven.

There are also seven from the Animal Artists Guild.

From the Guild of Mentors - five.

From the Guild of Amplioneurs, “land improvers” – five.

From the Guild of Illusionists - three.

From the Alchemists Guild - three.

From the Guild of Perfumers - three. Yes, magical aromas and ointments were, let’s say, in considerable demand.

From the Guild of Forbidden Knowledge - one.

And, finally, from the Chroniclers Guild - also one.

Seventy-one people. Or rather, seventy-one Mages of the Valley.

They gathered to decide her fate.

Giacomo, puffing, immediately took the pulpit and began to lead:

- Gentlemen, weathermen! You, yes, you, closer please. Nobody will bite you. Madame Krevert, Tammy, my dear, I understand that the Perfumers Guild always elects the most seductive-looking sorceress as its head, but please, when wearing such a cut, do not cross your legs. Not that I would be against it, but it, alas, distracts your esteemed colleagues. Mrs. Benbow, Jessica, dear, please, here, here. Healers are rightfully in our forefront...

Two young pages in dashingly twisted berets with striped feathers and uniforms with braid opened the double doors for Sylvia. There was exactly an hour left until noon, and the huge clock downstairs in the common room began to loudly strike its eleven strokes.

The Valley Council rose in unison.

Everyone stood up, even those who - Sylvia knew - were close friends of Irene or Erreas.

Sylvia chuckled to herself.

How much stronger they were then, in their Rainbow. But the Emperor did not submit anyway; So will she really give in to these weaklings who know how to create puzzling spells, but are completely devoid of courage?

With the exception, of course, of Battle Mages. But how many are there? - A handful. And they rely too much on their charms. Chaos, as experience has shown, can cope with them effortlessly.

It is enough to give them a job, a fun job, a dashing job, to pull them out of oblivion and poverty - of course, very relative poverty by the standards of the Valley, to restore their pride and status - and they will become its most loyal supporters.

“Lady Nagual,” Giacomo bowed, yielding the pulpit to her. -You are unusually accurate.

“Accuracy is the politeness of rulers,” she smiled in response. And she ascended the pulpit, calm, unperturbed, as if she had not just been lying on her back, and the edge of a sword had not frozen at her very throat.

- Gentlemen Council! Thank you for responding to my invitation. This is my first meeting as its head; and I think that first of all we need someone who will help me. Mr. Giacomo Sempri has already taken on this difficult task. I think this is what we should approve. Objections?.. Great. Adopted unanimously. It's nice to see such a rare unity of opinion; I believe we can move forward very quickly. Moreover, I am not an amateur or a master of long speeches.

She took a breath. They looked at her vaguely, dissatisfied, with unkind expectation. Of course, here now are gathered those who are already doing well, whose trunks are already full, except, of course, Evis.

“I promised the Valley something and I won’t go back on my promises,” Sylvia said easily, with a smile. “But you don’t have to be afraid that some huge sacrifices and hardships will be required of you.” My motto is voluntariness. Already on my way here, I drew up a campaign plan. Look!

She smoothly moved her hand, and the light in the hall dimmed, and a map of the Valley’s surroundings appeared right in the middle of the free space.

- Jertho. An ordinary, ordinary little world, from where, by the way, many tenants and goblins came to us, about whom I will tell you later. A little world so close to us that it never occurred to anyone to pay attention to it. I converted.

A light whisper passed between the magicians.

Sylvia continued calmly:

– It is sparsely populated and poor. However, he is poor only because there is no real power there. Our power, I mean. The kings there are just yesterday’s bandits who don’t even know how to rob their subjects. Instead of letting the sheep grow and then shearing them, they simply slaughter them. It is not surprising that from time to time the people there start uprisings, burn everything they can reach, and kill everyone they can reach. After such riots, half the country lies in ruins, people are dying of hunger, mothers are selling their children, well, in short, you have seen this more than once.

And although Jertho is vast, there are only five real kingdoms there, the rest is wild lands. Five kingdoms, five rulers. Here,” a map of the world itself appeared above the table, “their capitals: here, here, here and here.” As you can see, on the most fertile lands and, in general, not so far from each other. We'll cover them all at once. And here we cannot do without our dear colleagues from the Guild of Battle Mages...

Everyone turned around at once, looking at Evis Emplada.

She cleared her throat hoarsely.

“Does the Vale Council want us to kill innocents?”

Sylvia bowed her head slightly. Eplada, of course, fought countless times as an ordinary mercenary, for money, and did not bother with any “innocents.” The newly-minted head of the Battle Mages Guild was simply showing her temper.

The meeting fell silent in fear.

The daughter of the Master of the Rain accepted the challenge.

“You won’t have to kill any innocents, Avis.” Only kings. Greedy, stupid and evil. Where people die in the thousands, only one baby out of five lives to be a year old, and famine is common in their lands. Remember what I said - there is no need to ruin the plowman or rob the artisan. It is enough... to eliminate those bloodsuckers who do not allow the people to escape from terrible poverty, and the common people will carry you in their arms.

“I need proof,” Avis said.

- Of course. All evidence will be presented on the spot. However, I dare to remind you how the glorious and fair Guild of Battle Mages took on the order of Mr. Erreas Tragne in order to secure the estates he had purchased; Are you sure, Avis, that not a single innocent person died?

No, Giacomo Sepri can positively be useful. At least as a source of all kinds of details.

The blow hit the target - Emplada did not respond. True, she didn’t lower her eyes either, she looked at Sylvia’s face with some very bad squinting.

“We’re not going to unleash hordes of barbarians on peaceful towns and villages,” Sylvia continued, adding a little ice to her voice. “We don’t need huge armies.” A few small groups are enough. Battle mages, Healers, Weathermen - first of all. But there is also a place for magicians from the Guild of Forbidden Knowledge, Herbologists, and Animalists. Architects. Even Perfumers. “She glanced quickly at the pretty Tammy Krevert, who was straightening her hair. A good half of the men in the hall openly stared at her garters and lace stockings, boldly exposed in the cut of her long soft dress.

“We will put an end to the evil and stupid kings, the greedy nobles, the corrupt priests.” Instead, there will be stewards appointed by the Valley. And, of course, we have enough means to find out whether the reports of these managers are true and whether too much is sticking to their raking hands. Some of our venerable magicians may have to spend some time there; Architects and everyone else will be needed here so that their stay there will be in the greatest possible comfort.

The life of the common people, plowman, miner, blacksmith, saddler, tailor or furrier, will be made many times easier. All we have to do is streamline taxes, and people will begin to kiss the dust under our feet.

One of the older and bolder healers coughed expressively.

– Ask, Madame de Frenier.

No, it was not for nothing that she learned by heart who was who in the Council!..

The healer's light brown hair was styled in a complex wavy hairstyle, a sea green dress without a hint of neckline, platinum and mithril bracelets.

“I beg your pardon, Madam Nagual.” But what benefit do we have from this world?

– Excellent question, Madame de Frenier. – Sylvia smiled. “This world will be our first possession. Let's spend some time and effort and lay out convenient paths through Interreality. As soon as we restore order there, goods from there will go to the Valley, albeit simple, but also necessary - timber, stone, marble, grain, fish. See for yourself: having eliminated the kings and established at least some order, we will receive so much in gratitude that grant us great strength to digest it all.

Moreover, rumors about this world will spread throughout Interreality. About a world where great sorcerers came from somewhere outside and established their own rules, honest and just. You will see for yourself, Madame de Frenier, how one world after another will open their gates to us, having first hung their thieving kings on them, and strew the streets with flowers before you.

Any more questions, Madame de Frenier?

The healer opened her mouth slightly, but, faced with Sylvia’s icy gaze, she immediately closed it.

“We only need about five dozen magicians,” Sylvia continued in the most businesslike tone. – I hope, Avis, for the Guild you represent here. I think we will find a way... to adequately reward your efforts.

– What should we do? “Avis’s gaze cut like a knife; she didn’t even try to hide the hostility that was turning into hatred.

- You? Oh, isn't it obvious? We need a dozen Battle Mages, two per squad. They will lead them. One day, at the same time, they will strike. The kings will be eliminated. At the same time, it will be announced that from now on the magicians of the Valley are the owners here. After which it will be necessary to immediately inform our new subjects about the abolition of many idiotic laws, such as the right of the first night and so on.

I will write all the details. And I will announce it myself. On the main squares.

– My Guild will do this only if it is the will of the Council! – Evis said angrily.

- Undoubtedly. The Valley is not tyranny. The will of the Council is paramount. Mister Tragne did not violate it, sir Archmage honored it, and of course, I will honor it. I hope to convince, not force. It's easy to force. Convincing is much more difficult.

Sylvia took a breath.

- So, gentlemen of the Council. I propose the following list of taxes that are canceled immediately - on smoke, on windows, on grinding flour...

She spoke for a long time. She stopped and answered questions. I clarified. I asked myself. She showed maps with roads, ports, mines and even sea farms marked there. She painted a picture of the flow of blessings that would fall on the Valley, as if from a cornucopia.

Hoarse. And I felt disgustingly good.

Thanks to the grandfather, who successfully hammered the basics of housekeeping into his granddaughter with rods. Thanks to the Academy library, where Sylvia sat for long hours, even before she accepted Chaos into her own veins - as soon as she understood what she wanted to achieve.

It didn't take long for the council to decide.

The expedition to the world of Jertho was decided by seventy votes in favor, with only one abstention. Or rather, the one who abstained was Evis Emplada.

– Tomorrow I ask everyone to gather again at the same time. We must stop the goblin... unrest.

Wizards and sorceresses rose from their seats and headed towards the exits in twos and threes.

- Evis! – Silvia called out to Emplada, who was the first to rush away.

The young sorceress reluctantly stopped. She came to the Council dressed for battle and campaign, with weapons, without regard for traditions and decency.

“What do you want, Madam Nagual, Honorable Steward of the Council?”

- The council has decided. “With an overwhelming advantage,” Sylvia said calmly, although Chaos was seething and raging inside, furious at the disrespect shown to its bearer—and therefore to himself. - It's time to fulfill the promise.

Avis's eyes flashed lightning, her mouth curled.

“I will obey the decision of the Council,” she finally squeezed out.

“I didn’t doubt it for a moment,” Sylvia smiled. “We need a dozen of your magicians.” Can you do it? Will you get enough?..

“There will be ten,” Avis grumbled gloomily. - I myself. Egmont, Melville, of course. Renne, for sure. Iltanar. Altos. That's already six.

“To be sure, you still need two per squad,” Sylvia remarked softly.

“To be sure...” Emplada grimaced.

“And speed,” Sylvia continued. – One blow, one injection – that’s all. So that no one would get hurt, except for a few scoundrels.

- What about children? – Evis inquired gloomily. - Royal families? Princes and princesses? Brothers and sisters? Are they scoundrels too? Are they also rooted out?

Sylvia shook her head.

“Have you always been this picky, Avis?”

– You, Madam Manager of the Council, speak as if you are a hundred years old!

“It’s not my fault that you never grew up.” Although ten times older than me. Or at fifteen.

- Rrrr! - Evis burst out. – Don’t dodge, madam manager! So what about the children?

Avis was very, very angry. And she wasn't afraid either.

“It’s clear,” thought Sylvia, “that you didn’t give a damn, Emplada, about all the children of the Orderly One combined. You just don’t like me, that’s all.”

“Nobody sends you to kill children,” Sylvia said slowly. “Although I saw a lot of them die.” Melin was a cruel world. I want life to be better on Gertho. And she will. And the princes and princesses... I think we will be able to explain to them that what has happened is a severe necessity.

- Let's explain. Well, of course, we'll explain. “How could it be otherwise,” Evis grimaced.

- We'll explain, we'll explain. – Despite everything, Sylvia’s voice remained calm and even. “And don’t forget that we will save many more of the very children you are so worried about if life there becomes even a little better.”

– Four more magicians. And break them into twos, please,” Sylvia said politely. It seemed impossible to piss her off.

“Renata and Shonre, Abigail and Heather,” Evis muttered. - Fine. Deuces are deuces. When?

- Tomorrow morning. Let's gather everyone, I'll tell you what needs to be done.

* * *

Dintra stood in front of her, big, heavy-set, short of breath. He leaned heavily on his staff, looked with an oily gaze, rummaged over his chest and thighs. He smacked his lips.

But Sylvia knew that in front of her now was a completely different person. Or - even most likely - not a person. She continued to call him "Dintra", just getting used to the name.

But he was the complete opposite of the old doctor.

- Jertho. Well, maybe Jerto. If you do everything you talk about. – Behind Sylvia was the Valley Town Hall, around there was a square with its neat flower beds, a fountain, statues of elven work and other attributes of a quiet and peaceful life. “But after Jertho, I’ll need you.” With all his minions.

The magicians and sorcerers of the Valley were still snooping and snooping around. And, although Dintra spoke in a full voice, Sylvia had no doubt that no one near them would ever hear a single word. And even if he hears it, he won’t understand it.

-Where will you need me? – Sylvia gathered her will into a fist and looked straight into her hard gray eyes.

- Where you need me, Mr Dintra“, he corrected arrogantly. - Repeat.

Sylvia clenched her fist behind her back.

– Where will you need me, Mr. Dintra? – nevertheless, she repeated out loud.

- I'll tell you about this a little later. Gather your army. Let them try something easier first. Jerto is a good choice. After you win there, your five dozen magicians - and you along with them - will go to the real deal.

– What about the Valley?

“Your lackey Giacomo will manage the Valley.” Moreover, I can also... keep order if you do what is required.

– Do what is required... uh... Mr. Dintra?

- Yes, exactly to do what is required. I already told you, I don’t care who rules here, as long as the right thing gets done. Do you understand, girl, what I'm getting at?

“I understand,” Sylvia nodded slowly. Everything is going as I planned, she rejoiced to herself. I must become useful. And I will be useful!

– I will follow your instructions, Mr. Dintra.

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m not your enemy as long as you... act without permission and don’t cross boundaries.” And as long as you follow my instructions.

- But... Mr. Dintra...

“Don’t worry,” the old doctor grinned. – You are power-hungry, and that’s good. If the Valley really brings order to the surrounding worlds... maybe we'll get along. But if not... - The gray eyes narrowed, and Sylvia suddenly became very scared. The person (or non-person) standing in front of her could be much more cruel than the entire Rainbow combined.

Yes, Sylvia felt scared, very scared, despite all her experience, despite everything she had gone through. Although, it would seem, what can frighten her after the battle on the Drowned Crab?

However, Dintra looked at her - and goosebumps ran down her spine.

He could, could, could have done something to her that was not just bad or terrible - but unimaginable.

And even the Chaos in Sylvia’s blood calmed down. He became quiet and hid, fearing to give himself away.

“I understand everything, venerable and highly respected Mr. Dintra,” Sylvia did not bow, but still lowered her eyes. Only the eyes, not the head. – If I can be useful to you in any other capacity... or kind...

“You can, you can be useful,” the healer grinned. - If you do everything exactly.

– You have no doubt, venerable Mr. Dintra.

“We’ll see,” the healer narrowed his eyes. - We'll see, Sylvia.

* * *

The next few days passed in continuous trouble. Form shock tens. Repeat all the steps many times on maps and three-dimensional paintings. Don’t forget the countless “what if so?...” Sylvia hardly slept, hardly ate, and, I must say, almost forgot about Dintra.

This had already happened - her mind tried with all its might to repress the memory of the shameful defeat, to occupy itself with something else.

Sylvia assembled the Council, easily getting it to approve an increase in goblin rates. The greenskins demanded the heads of Hob and Dob, but Sylvia contented herself with tying them both to a log and handing rawhide whips to those who had suffered from this couple. After which she personally threw the half-dead hobgoblins out of the Valley.

Sylvia couldn’t help but think that Dintra’s proposal to “keep an eye on things” would be very helpful. There is little hope for fat Giacomo, even though he is crumbling into a petty demon.

All these worries, so... ordinary, so simple and understandable, somehow blurred and hid the very fact that she, Sylvia, had won. That she now rules the Valley, that she has revealed Dintra’s true identity, that she is preparing to conquer Jerto, the world that will form the first stone in the foundation of her Empire.

She just didn't have time to think about it.

And only on the fourth day, on the last evening before the performance, she went to the house of Messire Archmage.

To an empty, dark, abandoned - at least at first glance - house.

* * *

Tall lancet windows, iron fencing, dark brown wood doors with forged hinges. Overgrown bindweeds that climbed all the way to the roof.

Sylvia stopped.

She had already stood like this once, struggling with all her might against the temptation to enter the house of Messieur Archmage, say, through the chimney See the novel "Ashes of Asgard", p. 287. " The house of Archmage Ignatius stood empty and dark. Sylvia, in human form - a teenage girl with a gray strand of hair above her forehead, in simple clothes, a parting gift from Nallika and the Temple of the Oceans in Evial - stood for a long time in front of a modest mansion that did not boast of luxury. The temptation was great. She is strong and flexible, to fly up to the roof at night, to get through a pipe - Sylvia had no doubt that she could cope, even without any equipment, and... But Messire Archmage would not be Messier Archmage if he had not left behind his threshold for the curious, a variety of and, one could be sure there would be no painful surprises.”. That time, she - a girl who had just made her way to the Valley, the protégé of Mrs. Irene Mescott, a student at the Academy - did not dare.

Now it's a completely different matter.

Although, of course, Chaos in the Blood had already failed her once, unable to master Dintra’s sword, but she, Sylvia, had learned something. Against magical traps and traps in the house of Messire Archmage, Chaos, you see, will do just fine. She'll try her best.

Sylvia angrily glanced at the ancient Rune Stone that had grown into the ground not far from the home of Mr. Ignatius Copper.

It seems that this was a very important Stone. It seems that it was installed almost by the mysterious Forerunners themselves, the same legendary founders of the Valley. But this Stone stood on its own, it was not used for any rituals, only the goblins - while they were submissive and diligent - polished it to a shine.

As usual, the hedge is covered with ivy. The turret of a small observatory still rises on the roof. But the gate hinges no longer creak. That's right - she herself ordered the greenskins to lubricate them...

A two-story neat house, not at all like the abode of one of the most powerful wizards in Existence. Everything here is not what it seems, everything is deception, illusion, disguise.

The dark door beckons, attracts you. The windows are covered with shutters.

“Well, make up your mind, Sylvia. You are now the steward of the Valley Council, and although you will be condemned for intruding into the holy of holies, you cannot leave it as it is.”

Artifacts collected by Ignatius cannot just be left lying around.

The white owl softly spread its wings, and a moment later Sylvia was already standing on the roof.

Now we had to find traps with traps.

Chaos obeyed instantly, its invisible threads were drawn into the chimney. Sylvia expected to find anything here, from the most ordinary bars to some toothy creatures. And, of course, incinerating, tearing, suffocating - and so on and so forth - security charms.

The thinnest tentacles of Chaos encountered the first obstacle, barely plunging into the chimney. It was a lattice, a lattice made of thick rods, clearly of dwarf forging, and not of ordinary iron. Like algae on a sunken ship, numerous spells, repellent and protective, nested on the bars. Some would have detained the intruders, others would have warned the owner.

The spells are tricky, looped, and do not need updating or verification.

Sylvia smiled wickedly and allowed Chaos a little more.

Chains of dark sparks rushed into the chimney, the spells collided, burning and mutually destroying each other.

Of course, this can only be done if Messire the Archmage himself, as now, is not at home.

It was like a slight tremor running under my feet. Sylvia felt tremors running through the walls, rafters and ceilings, as if someone were waking up someone who had fallen asleep.

Nevertheless, Chaos easily dealt with the first obstacle, and even dwarf steel could not resist it.

Sylvia quickly and without much difficulty cooled the melted bits of rods sticking out from the brickwork, and forced Chaos to move on.

Something too simple, she thought. True, she did not try to dismember or separate Ignatius’s charms, she simply burned them. The spells came into effect, and then Chaos absorbed all their deadly power.

Not the most sophisticated method, whatever. Not a real hack to be proud of.

But now the main thing was to be below.

The tentacles of Chaos reached the mouth of the fireplace. There a second barrier was encountered, and again Sylvia resorted to the same technique - she made the trap work and fed it to Chaos. True, it became increasingly difficult to absorb the excess power resulting from the disintegration of powerful spells; Sylvia seemed to be burning from the inside, steam was pouring out of her mouth, as if in a fierce winter.

But, one way or another, she opened the way for herself.

...Sylvia climbed out of the fireplace, all smeared with soot and barely restraining herself from sneezing.

This was the living room. A memorable place. It was here that they first burst into the whole crowd - she, Clara Hummel, Tavi, Avis, Melville, Egmont...

And Kitsum. Clown Kitsum, who later turned out to be completely not the clown Kitsum...

Here she first saw Messire Archmage. And she was completely sincerely, honestly, to the depths of her soul, amazed by him. Its strength, its power, its depth. The legendary Komninus Strasa, the founder of the Rainbow, was hardly suitable for Messire Archmage even as a junior student.

She then fell to her knees. She really was ready to do anything - to give herself up to the Messiah right there, to become his slave, to fulfill all his desires...

Great powers, and now she is the ruler of the Valley! And she stands in the empty house of the Archmage himself, ready to knock the locks off his chests!

Old woman Fate loves to tell jokes.

How long has it been since it all started? When did the strange captive Danu appear in Red Ark?

Sylvia shook her head, driving away the inappropriately flooded memories. Then, all this later! When she gets out of here.

Invisible tentacles of Chaos rummaged and rummaged through the gloomy-looking ebony cabinets and sideboards, crawled into the cracks between the holm oak wall panels, and climbed up to the ceiling. Of course, the doors and windows are protected with heavy spells, but Sylvia won’t meddle there anyway.

She needs artifacts and notes from the Archmage. Diaries, experimental results, recipes for potions and detailed descriptions of spells. His office is here, next to him, behind the door. The door is open - Messire was not afraid of anything in his house... or no, he was afraid, and how! The opening was guarded by two dozen spells at once, starting with calling hungry ghosts and ending with the good old fireball in the face.

Sylvia hesitated for a while - there was a temptation to simply break through the brickwork, but then it turned out that the walls around the office were also covered. After thinking, Sylvia decided not to risk it and burn the protective charms without unnecessary difficulties.

...Even Chaos could not at once contain everything that came to life in the empty doorway. The last fireball to be born disintegrated into weightless ashes almost right next to Sylvia’s face...

Sylvia exhaled forcefully, coughing violently - her lungs filled with acrid gray smoke. Chaos did not have time to cope with the power stored up by Ignatius; he had not even digested the spell from the chimney yet. Nothing like this happened while Sylvia was fighting off Evis Emplada and her comrades.

So far, everything has remained relatively simple. Of course, only and exclusively because Chaos was with her. And if Sir Archmage had returned, he would have immediately realized that there were guests here.

Having destroyed another obstacle, Sylvia waited. Sir Ignatius was distinguished by his love of refined jokes. There are probably delayed action surprises that come to life some time after the main screen's spell has worked.

But everything remained quiet. The search tentacles of Chaos, having ran around the Archmage’s office, returned back empty-handed.

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. Of course, it is unlikely that Sir Copper foresaw her appearance here, and not just an appearance, but an appearance with Chaos in her blood. But all the same, somehow it all turned out too easily for her... or not? After all, she's not trying to carefully disarm the guard spells. She simply feeds them to Chaos. It is unlikely that any other hacker would be capable of this.

Once again coughing out gray acrid smoke like a dragon, she carefully crept into the office. Empty and quiet, all the doors are neatly closed, perfect order everywhere. Small fireplace in the wall. On the table is a massive box with elaborate bronze griffins in the corners, and on the lid is the inscription “Today’s”.

Sylvia looked around - on the shelves there were the same boxes with signs “Tomorrow”, “Particularly urgent”, “Important”, “Particularly important”, “Particularly important, but not urgent”...

The last one made her rack her brain. What is it with us - important, and even “special”, but not urgent?

Of course, you will have to search not only the entire office, but the entire house. Knocking on the walls, probing the floors, trying to find secret doors and secret drawers - she wasn’t born yesterday to assume that Messieur Archmage keeps the most secret parchments somewhere at hand, in an office where any burglar can get to them!..

Well, let’s say “anyone” won’t get there, she corrected herself.

And she got to work.

Of course, all the boxes with parchment scrolls were also protected by their own special charms. Feeling her impatience growing, Sylvia burned them all - after which she had to fall to her knees near the fireplace, and Sylvia vomited fire. Real dirty red fire.

“I would never have thought that I would become... a dragon,” a faint thought stirred. My head was spinning, the tingling in my temples was growing, my heart was beating wildly.

“The sparks must have risen right up to the roof,” flashed through my slightly clouded thoughts. “If they notice, that’s fine...”

The latches clicked, the teeth clicked - the jaws of the last of the guard spells cast by the Archmage on the casket closed. Without moving closer, Sylvia, with a weak movement of her fingers, forced the lid to open.

Scrolls, scrolls, scrolls... She hastily checked - no, the parchment is no longer protected by anything.

I unfolded the first one.

“Considerations for the preparation of the curriculum for first-year students of the Academy, as advised by the honorable deans and vice-rector...”

She dropped the parchment. What nonsense is this? Or is the true content protected by averting charms?

Next.

“On the issue of allocating plots for the construction of houses for young family magicians...”

Next.

“On the allocation of unrefined mithril to the Alchemists Guild in the amount of twelve poods, ten pounds and five spools for subsequent transmutation.”

What nonsense?! How could Sir Archmage keep something like this in a box marked “Particularly Important”?!

There was also nothing interesting in the remaining two dozen scrolls. Exclusively the economic affairs of the Valley, and completely ordinary, ordinary ones. Not for the eyes of Messire himself.

Frowning angrily, Sylvia opened the casket with the inscription “Particularly important, not urgent.”

It really wasn't urgent. Projects to expand the Valley, projects to set up trading posts in “magic-rich worlds” (Sylvia had never heard of such trading posts or such worlds); projects for changing magical flows in the immediate vicinity of the Valley to create the necessary “power density” for carrying out some particularly subtle and sophisticated experiments.

The Rain Master's daughter bit her lip. She simply smashed two more caskets into small pieces - and the iron frame, decorated with sharp fangs, tried to crawl after her, like a trap, trying to bite her leg.

“Astrological events, worthy observations.” "Astronomy, own drawings." "On the decline in the yield of alchemical gold from the philosopher's stones."

Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense!

"Additional Materials for the God Trap Mechanism."

Sylvia froze. I re-read it.

"...to the mechanism of the god trap."

These are not freshman syllabuses.

"Additional materials". This means that there must be “basic” ones somewhere. In any case, this is already something.

She unfolded the parchment - with every conceivable precaution.

“Addition 1. Construction of the 11th cascade, red flow, cutting off. See also “Notes for the 18th cascade, purple flow, retraction. Display of the initiating impulse in a bound space and the formation of an isolate..."

Sylvia shook her head.

Cascade? Flow? Red? Lilac? What other ones are there? Initiating impulse?

What kind of nonsense is this?

« Since in general we have that:

Therefore, the encapsulation process can be represented...»

What kind of runes? What language is that? What do we have “in general”? What “can we imagine”? Sylvia, of course, has no idea what Fourier series are. True, the question remains open of how Sir Archmage knows about them and how he managed to adapt this to his case... What are these strange runes anyway?

Sylvia hissed in annoyance.

However, the Extras went into her bag.

She searched the rest of the boxes, caskets and table drawers after that with special zeal.

True, to her disappointment, she did not find any artifacts. But Messire probably had whole deposits of them here. Did you rehide it before you left? Or is there an entrance to the catacombs somewhere under the house? However, why shouldn’t he be?

She came across several more interesting scrolls - all about the development of some particularly sophisticated spells and their systems; however, apart from these same “Additional materials” (which were still impossible to understand without the supposed “Main materials”), Sylvia did not find anything about the “Trap of the Gods”.

Nevertheless, she did not lose heart. The house is large, there are probably plenty of hiding places. She will certainly find them, absolutely.

Sylvia finally managed to calm down her wildly pounding heart. She exhaled another puff of smoke - fortunately, much paler and smaller than before. Chaos will cope with an excess of power.

Stop, daughter of Arc. Was it in vain that your grandfather spanked you? Why do you need Chaos in your blood? Why do they waste what they have accumulated?

Sylvia slowly sank into the sir's deep chair. Well, that’s not bad. I'll have to get one for myself too.

The tentacles of Chaos spread in all directions, thinned, branched, multiplied, like invisible cobwebs. They carefully, as if caressing, touched the walls, door frames, felt every opening, every threshold, every floorboard.

In front of Sylvia, in a light gray haze, the plan of the house began to appear, with its thick walls - fit for a fortress, - with a wide staircase up to the observatory, spacious basements ... where she would definitely need to look - as well as places that were much more prosaic, like the kitchen, the dining room and a bathroom with latrines.

She peered into the gray outlines until her eyes hurt, until it hurt, trying to understand where the hiding place - or hiding places - could be hidden; and understood that, alas, they could end up anywhere.

There is no separate suspiciously thick wall where a hidden postern can be found; the hairy tendrils of Chaos did not detect any suspicious cracks or spells hidden in the brickwork.

But there was something in this old house, Sylvia was sure. Of course, she could have ordered the goblins to simply demolish the entire structure, which the greenskins, head over heels happy with their newfound “freedom,” would have done without hesitation, but why once again quarrel with the Valley, where Messire Archmage is still a great authority? No, she will find everything herself.

Floors, ceilings, ceilings. Cellars. Is there anything there?..

She rubbed her eyes forcefully. She turned around. She glanced at the bookshelves with annoyance. Of course, she will also take care of them, but later, a little later.

Although...” She narrowed her eyes. This leather-bound tome with no title on the cover? Everyone has it, but he doesn’t.

The book was carelessly left on the shelf, not standing up like the other volumes, but thrown flat on an empty space.

Sylvia extended her hand, not forgetting to check for protective charms; and, having found nothing, she carefully ordered the book to open.

She ordered, looked and froze, holding her breath.

On the very first page, in the neatest, calligraphic handwriting of Messire Archmage, it was written in the language of the Valley:

“Theoretical foundations and practical implementation of a set of spells for capturing divine entities of any strength.”

Sylvia's mouth dropped open.

Well, yes. Messire Archmage seemed to be doing just that. And, leaving his house, he casually threw the book of his notes onto the shelf - he probably wanted to hide it, but didn’t have time. Or no, I simply forgot and was in a hurry. It happens. And - left it in the most visible place.

She carefully turned a couple of pages.

Detailed notes in multi-colored ink, but with the same hand - about the composition of mind-blowing spells that make it possible to imprison the essence of any force in the area of ​​\u200b\u200b“distorted space”. Moreover, the harder these creatures fight against the walls of their prison, the stronger it will become.

This is a find. This is the loot. And how similar to Messire Archmage! Confident in himself and his charms, confident to the point of... self-confidence. Super-extraordinary.

She is the one who will bring him to trouble. If you haven't already. Sylvia burned many of his repelling charms; theoretically, even when destroyed, they were supposed to send a message to their owner. But she, Sylvia, is somehow calm and untroubled, and her instincts are silent; She was absolutely sure that Archmage Ignatius would never return.

The thick incunabula went into the shoulder bag, to “Additional materials”. This alone justifies the whole event, Sylvia thought. True, it didn’t work out with the artifacts. It turns out that Messire turned out to be a little more cunning than you imagined, friend. He hid them well, even too well. Not in your own home. Did you guess what they would come looking for? But why then did you abandon these notes?

Did you take the artifacts with you then? Or... did he think that they might be needed, and hid them somewhere in Interreality, so that he could reach them? Perhaps, perhaps...

...Sylvia’s search lasted until late at night. I found several more handwritten volumes, one of them on human skin with very valuable and intricate enchantment systems. I picked up some rare ingredients that are still used in transmissive or apotropaic magic (pre-ancient techniques, invented by sorcerers of wild tribes, but sometimes they are more than effective).

Finally, she took a close look around the living room and office. Something still worried her here. Carefully removed artifacts and a collection of powerful, incredibly complex spells left in plain sight. Still, it somehow didn’t fit.

Although, she thought, sophisticated explanations are not always required. It is likely that Messire, having conscientiously cleared out the entire warehouse of his artifacts, was so concerned not to forget a single one that he simply forgot about the book.

One way or another, she will, of course, carefully check these spells.

She left Ignatius's house the same way - through the pipe. It was already pitch black all around, and Sylvia allowed herself to straighten up to her full height, taking a deep breath of the fragrant night air. No, the Valley is still a wonderful place.

And she, Sylvia the Nagual, is the most suitable ruler for her.

* * *

“I have everything ready, venerable Mr. Dintra.”

The old healer nodded, stroking his own belly, which was quite impressive, by the way.

“Well, go ahead, Nagual.”

They walked slowly side by side along the path along the lake shore. From the outside, the new manager of the Council shows honor and respect to the old, honored and respected member of the Healers Guild. In the distance, Master Giacomo Sempri trotted behind them, from time to time piercing Dintra’s back with jealous glances.

“Don’t worry,” Dintra grinned. - He won't hear us.

“Reverend Sir,” Sylvia coughed. – Our strike will be lightning fast and decisive. All five capitals will be in our hands no later than tomorrow evening. I would like to know... if possible... if you would do me the honor... if you would introduce me to your plans. My most ardent wish is that there would be complete agreement between us. The sooner I know what I need, the faster – and the better! - your intentions will come true.

“You were taught well in the Red Arch, as I can see,” Dintra grinned again, taking a step and leaning heavily on his long black staff.

- Did you teach? – Sylvia looked into his eyes. Into those same steel-gray cruel eyes of the old wolf. - More likely, they fought! My grandfather, the head of the Order, considered the rod to be the best teaching aid.

Dintra snorted quietly.

“It doesn’t seem like your spirit would be tamed by that, does it, Sylvia?”

- It hasn’t tamed, venerable one. I want to fly... as high as I can. But I’m not going to burn my wings on the sun’s flame.

– In other words, you are looking for an alliance with the powerful. – Dintra didn’t ask, he asserted.

- I'm looking, venerable one. – Sylvia rushed headlong into the pool. – Wouldn’t you look if you were me? I am stronger than anyone in the Valley, but with you... I know my place. The rods teach this very well. Believe me.

– If you “knew your place”, you would never get into such adventures, Sylvia.

“I... don’t know...” She lowered her head. – I defeated everyone here! I rule - by the right of the strong!

“It wasn’t you who prevailed,” Dintra shook his head heavily. – Overcame the Chaos in you.

“Chaos couldn’t do anything without me either!”

“Of course,” the healer unexpectedly agreed. – Chaos in the Ordered in itself can do little. He can act only through human instruments like you. And I haven’t heard of anyone receiving... such abilities from him.

Sylvia straightened her shoulders proudly.

– The richer you are, the happier you are.

- Without a doubt. And that’s why it’s especially important to me that you don’t mess things up. Or, rather, to break them where needed, and not where necessary. As long as you do this, consider yourself to have allies. But only as long as you really break what is needed and where it is needed.

- I understand. But... venerable Dintra... who are these allies? What are their names?

- Am I not enough for you? – The healer raised an eyebrow. – Our...our little demonstration isn’t enough for you?

- No no no. – Sylvia already put out her palms. - In no case! Never!.. But...

Current page: 1 (book has 18 pages total) [available reading passage: 12 pages]

Nick Perumov
Hedin, my enemy. Volume 2. “...That one is against us!”

© Perumov N., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

* * *

Synopsis, or What Came Before?

After the end of the events described in the novel "War of the Mage", it seemed to the New Gods of the Ordered, Hedin and Rakoth, that a peaceful respite had arrived. Two worlds - Melin and Evial - were saved by merging, so that a new one arose in their place. The Savior who appeared in Evial was repulsed, although not defeated. Captured in the Western Darkness, the sorceress Sigrlinn, Hedin's beloved, broke free. The insidious Archmage Ignatius, who had lured Hedin and Rakot into a trap, fell, and the brilliant but insane sorcerer Evengar of Sallador, who dreamed of achieving divinity, also fell. The vampire elf Eivill, who betrayed Hedin, also died, leaving in the hands of the New God a most valuable artifact, a pledge of the Far Ones, given to her as proof of the seriousness of their intentions.

The Battle Mage of the Valley, Clara Hummel, managed to pull out the keeper of the crystal of Evial's magic, the dragon Sfairat, from Evial. She managed to find a quiet haven, where they lived as husband and wife, having time to give birth to four children, because time in that world flowed faster than, for example, in the Promised World or even in Melin.

However, there was no peaceful respite. The plans of Chaos and Distant Forces were thwarted, but they did not suffer complete defeat. Hedin's apprentices were forced to fight in many places while maintaining their balance.

Clara Hummel Line

Clara Hummel's peaceful life was disrupted when a strange local magician who called himself Gent Goyles came to visit her. He hinted that he guessed about her true origin; and, although at first glance his visit did not pose any immediate threat, Clara became worried.

Her concern turned out to be not in vain.

In the same world was the vampire elf An-Avagar, from the nest of the already mentioned Eyvil; he served Hedin, but he understood this service in a very peculiar way, rather as an indulgence for bloody atrocities.

Trying to figure out what kind of evil was happening in the vicinity of their native village, the children of Clara and Sfairat fell into an ancient trap, set by someone unknown, but clearly on “strong magicians.” In a way incomprehensible to Clara, this trap turned out to be connected with a completely different one, located in Interreality and set by Hedin’s dwarven apprentices, who hoped to “capture at least one Far One alive.”

At the same time, the already mentioned vampire An-Avagar, among other things, caused an invasion of the dead raised from their graves into the village where Clara and her family lived. Choosing whether to immediately rush in search of the children or return to the house and help the villagers defenseless against the undead, Clara quarreled with Sfairat, and he alone set off in pursuit.

Clara managed to repel the attack of the dead - and, unexpectedly for herself, help was provided by the vampire himself, who began to show a completely non-vampiric interest in Clara; she was able to get to the trap where her children were locked. However, the sorceress would not have been able to get through to them if not for the help of a strange but powerful sorcerer who called himself Cor Dwayne.

Clara managed to recapture the children, but at the same time she entered into battle with Hedin’s apprentice gnomes, who were rushing with all their might to the triggered trap, being sure that they had “captured the Far One.”

Kor Dwayne assures her that she is now at enmity with the New God Hedin, who “does not forgive such things.”

At the same time, the girl Irma, who found herself an involuntary student of Clara Hummel, ends up in the castle with strange magicians, the “brother and sister” of Cor Dwayne named Skjöld and Solley. Solley undertakes to teach Irma magic - Clara had previously discovered considerable talent in the girl.

Having freed the children, Clara must now find her husband, the dragon Sfairat, and explain to him.

Returning with the children to Pokol, Clara found the village almost completely ruined. The guardian cat Shonya, however, survived and managed to keep the house of Clara and Sfairat intact. People from these places were helped to move to other villages by the magicians of Belleora, the nearest large city.

Clara and the children and Shoney went in search of Sfairat.

In Interreality, however, they were intercepted by a detachment of Hedin’s apprentices under the leadership of the gnome Kerret, the same one who almost captured Clara’s children in a trap set “for the Far One.” Kerret demanded that Clara "surrender"; she refused, but managed to draw the gnome into negotiations. No one knows how their conversation would have ended, but by some chance a fight broke out.

Zosia, Klara's youngest daughter, was seriously, almost mortally wounded.

Clara managed to keep her on the very brink of death, but this could not last long. Fortunately, Chargos, Clara's eldest son, was able to bring help in time.

Gelerra's Harpy Line

Gelerra's harpy regiment fought in Hjorvard, where unknown opponents threw into battle little-understood but eager-to-fight bull-heads, who were joined by short dwarf sorcerers from a wild, unknown world, where they were recruited by some strange, but obviously very powerful magician

Breaking the shield erected by alien wizards, Gelerra fell under an incomprehensible influence that deprived her of her senses and in an unknown way threw her far into Interreality.

There she encountered the sorcerer Skjold, who stated that he allegedly “saved” her, keeping her from falling “into the abyss where the roots of the World Tree lie.” Skjöld asked the harpy only one question: what does she choose - freedom or service. Gelerra proudly replied that her duty was to serve the great god Hedin. The sorcerer, as promised, gave her freedom, but Gelerra found herself not in some of the worlds or even in Interreality, but in a strange ghostly place, similar to the crown of a gigantic tree, where she, helpless, was carried by a strong magical flow, little gradually turning into a demon.

In the end, overwhelmed by despair, Gelerra, having lost faith, was carried out into a certain world, but no longer by a winged harpy-adata, but by a terrible monster.

There she encountered an unknown enemy, a demon hunter, and almost died from his spell. She was saved by the sorceress Solley, who was in the right place at the right time. She saved it and took it with her. At the castle, Solley and Skjöld began to "cure" the harpy, as they called it, claiming that they were "in debt" to Gelerra, and that she was being helped here for no reason.

Along the way, Solley carefully, without going too far, asked Gelerra about Hedina and her service, claiming that she and her brothers were exclusively “for freedom” and would not demand any service from the adata in return. Moreover, Solley assured that by fighting their distant enemies, she was thereby “helping the great Hedin.” The sorceress was especially interested in the green crystal, Eivill’s pledge, which the vampire received from the Distant Ones and was later found by Gelerra in Interreality.

Gelerra did not promise anything to anyone, but she was increasingly visited by thoughts that were not at all characteristic of a faithful disciple of the Knower of Darkness.

Line of Matthew Isidorti

Matthew Isidorti, an ordinary mortal man, a young cleric of the monastery of the Holy Powers in the most ordinary world of the Ordered, was obsessed with the desire to comprehend the secret and forbidden. Most of all, he was attracted to stories about mysterious demons and ways to control them - and finally ancient and forbidden books dedicated to this fell into Matthew’s hands.

The young cleric left the monastery and, after a long journey, reached the places where, according to the anonymous author, demons appeared; there an adept, not lacking in courage, could hope to know them and even subjugate them.

Matthew was lucky. He repelled the attacks of the demons, although the fight with the third of them threw him into an unknown dungeon from where there was no way out. The ghost, who identified himself as the demon he had killed, predicted that, despite Matthew’s victory, he was also doomed, since he must die in the dungeon from hunger and thirst; the demon himself, they say, is as he is, and is forced to kill because the New Gods created him as such.

Nevertheless, Matthew managed to escape from the trap - an amazing displacement of space threw him into completely different places of his native world, where he was faced with a collision with Gelerra, who had almost lost consciousness and was tormented by a terrible hunger, which, as it seemed to her, could only be satisfied by human flesh. In the fight, they were both close to death - Gelerra from the flame caused by the runes of Matthew, Matthew - from the fangs and claws of the “demon”; at that moment, however, two saviors appeared, a man and a girl. The sorceress girl saved Gelerra, the man saved Matthew. Neither the harpy nor the cleric saw their saviors in detail.

They were simply saved.

Like Gelerra, Matthew found refuge in the castle of Cor Dwayne. The owner himself became the young cleric's mentor in the magical sciences. In addition, Dwayne entrusted his new ward with the care of a very important captive, imprisoned in a dungeon protected by powerful spells - the Queen of Shadows. Cor Dwayne told Matthew who she was and that she was also imprisoned because, for the sake of fun with her relatives - the so-called New Mages - she unleashed hordes of monsters on the innocent villagers of Northern Hjorvard.

The beauty of the Queen struck poor Matthew to the very heart. He didn’t understand why Kor Dwayne had burdened him with these responsibilities, but...

An order is an order.

Line of the Ancient God Odin and the Valkyrie Raina, his daughter

After the end of the Evial events, when Old Hroft and Raina met, the god Odin began his own game. Together with Raina, he digs up long-forgotten iron fragments that still remember the glory days of Asgard, and the Alvian armorer Ively forges new swords for Hroft and Raina. One is convinced that, although the Aesir fell on the Borghild field, their shadows remain in the possessions of the great Demogorgon, and he will be able, one way or another, to help them out. Having enlisted the help of Yargohor, the Leader of the Dead, and having found the wolf Fenrir, the son of Loki, Odin and Raina set off on a dangerous journey.

It turned out to be very difficult to get into the domain of the Cathedral Spirit, but the Distant Ones and the magician Skjold, already familiar to us, unexpectedly came to the aid of Old Hroft, assuring that he is supposedly “with his relatives,” ardently sympathizes with the cause of the Ancient God and is ready to help in any way he can. Maybe.

He really helped. Despite the opposition - demons, monsters, disembodied ghosts - Old Hroft managed to pave the way for the Valkyrie Raina to the boundaries of Demogorgon. She managed to find the Aesir and bring their shadows out of the kingdom of death, but they were only shadows, weak-willed and seemingly sleeping. Odin himself, Fenrir and Yargohor had to endure a battle with Hedin’s apprentices.

Returning to the plains of Ida with the shadows of the Aesir, Old Hroft managed to perform a ritual that revived them in their former true flesh.

Hedin had to urgently go to the rebuilt Asgard, rebuilt for real, from wood, stone, steel and gold; The Knower of Darkness witnessed the last stages of the ritual, which ended with the emergence from the Alvian sword, given to Odin by the armorer Ivly, of a new ash tree, Yggdrasil, in all respects similar to the one that once towered over the original Asgard, the Asgard of the Ancient Gods that ruled Hjorvard.

At the foot of the ash tree, a new Source of Magic emerged, born from the dark umbilical cord that led from the Source of Wisdom abandoned by Mimir to an unknown magic-mechanical system in the depths of the Ordered One. Who arranged all this remained a mystery.

Seeing the growing cataclysm, Hedin decided to retreat from the revived Asgard. Sigrlinn, who did not agree with him and demanded a decisive war with Old Hroft until his complete overthrow, left the Knower of Darkness.

Having met the soul of her mother in the Demogorgon's domain, Raina, together with Rakoth, set out on the way back along the Ordered One. Valkyrie was determined to return her mother's body - just as Odin had to return the flesh to all the Aesir she saved. However, on the way home, the Valkyrie suddenly felt strange emanations, “like before the Battle of Borghild,” as if the Ancient Gods began to gain strength again.

Having descended into an unfamiliar world, Rakot and Raina found themselves face to face with the mysterious Ancient One, who gains strength, among other things, through mass sacrifices. Having entered into a battle with him, Rakot, to his own amazement, discovered that the Ancient One was much more powerful than he seemed, and the powers of Rakot himself seemed to have suffered damage. After a bloody battle, they managed to stop the evil of the Ancient One, and Rakot hurried to the Promised One to notify Hedin about what had happened; Raina went to Asgard.

In Asgard, the god Odin received a guest. The envoy of the Distant Ones who appeared persuaded Odin to open war against Hedin and Rakoth at the head of the army of the Ancient Gods.

“Bring me this army, and I will lead it,” were the last words of Old Hroft.

Silvia Nagual Line

The last of the Red Ark, the daughter of the Master of the Death Shower, Sylvia the Nagual, after the battle on the Drowned Crab, was able to escape from the merged worlds of Evial and Melin. Free from all debts and obligations, she decided to return to the Valley of the Magicians - this place seemed to her the most suitable for her abilities.

Having reached the Valley without incident, Sylvia quickly found herself among the students of the local Academy, hiding her true magical abilities. During one of her forays far beyond the Valley, she noticed a detachment led by an old friend, the Valkyrie Raina, who was leading somewhere a whole host of souls of the dead.

Sylvia's curiosity was stronger than all other considerations.

She followed Raina and her companions.

The pursuit led her to the road of the dead gods, the road that was followed to the domain of the great Demogorgon by the Ancient Gods, who fell at the hands of Yamert and his relatives, when those, called the Young Gods (and they themselves called themselves “beloved children of the Creator”), asserted with fire and sword its power over the Ordered.

The emanations of Chaos were very strong here.

And Chaos managed to take possession of Sylvia.

On the way, she met a very, very unusual companion, who called himself “the servant of the Savior.” He indeed resembled the Savior, but only in appearance. He predicted that he and Sylvia would meet again, because “their worlds are in danger,” and what they supposedly planned was best done together.

Sylvia did not understand the vague speeches. She drove away the uninvited guest, and he left without anger, saying goodbye and leaving her alone.

An unkind reception awaited Sylvia in the Valley of the Magicians. Irene Mescott sensed the Chaos in Sylvia's blood and tried to "cleanse" it. Sylvia managed to escape and escape into the surrounding forests; after that, having organized an uprising of goblin servants and stunned the sorcerers of the Valley with the power of magic bestowed by Chaos, Sylvia was quite democratically elected head of the Valley Council - and demanded the creation of no less than an Empire...

Volume II
“...That one is against us!”

Chapter 1

Hedin the Knower of Darkness again acquired its former form and essence. He returned from the jaws of the Unnameable, having split into three to do so. Two of its parts were here, in the ordinary Ordered, and were preparing to reunite, but the third...

The third remained within the Unnameable. In his belly, in his womb, in his very core.

And it was scary.

It’s scary because Hedin saw and felt himself how the souls captured by the Unnameable were dying... or rather transformed, turning into his creepy goat-footed servants.

They are needed to build the Path for their master.

However, who knows whether he will still need this Path if everything Ordered collapses into his womb. The Fourth Source knocked down the fine tuning of the spells that had once been set, and the cage that held the beast was disintegrating. From the point of view of other mortals - very, very slowly, so that the luminaries that illuminated their worlds would have time to die a natural death. From the point of view of other mortals, it was terribly fast, so that they had time to notice and feel every moment of the catastrophe, from which even the strongest magic could not have saved.

The Great River of Time was going crazy; The closer she got to the lair of the Unnameable, the faster her running became, the more whirlpools raged in her. And, accordingly, the closer the world was to the limit, the faster the end came for it.

Therefore, Hedin could not pull out all of himself.

He couldn’t - part of himself remained there, within the limits of non-existence, where even the souls themselves disintegrated and changed shape. Souls that invariably turned out to be much harder than mortal flesh!

It still had no shape. I have, but haven’t found it yet. He had to return back to the stone bowl of boiling Urd, where he began his journey; but for some reason the spell worked much slower than he had originally expected.

Hedin-prostrate, a cold, observing and rather lazy hypostasis, somewhat reminiscent of the Great Orlangur, freely spread out along all the streams of power, from end to end of the Ordered One. He was interested, he was following at once a whole abyss of events, large and small, and as if he could not choose which one was worth devoting more time to.

Hedin the Returner, a clot of disembodied consciousness, the same one that was supposed to bring together the “old” Hedin, slowly moved back, “home”, to the sacred Urdu. He saw and perceived everything that the observing giant saw and perceived; he saw the Ordered thing boiling with blood.

He saw the battle raging around the Promised One.

I saw my apprentices left there.

I saw what was happening with the rest of his troops, who went to the distant worlds of the bull-headed people.

I saw where the dark umbilical cords lead, I saw where they end.

And I saw Ulvain.

Or rather, I heard it.

"Sorry, Teacher..."

The price of such knowledge is terrible, and even the gods do not tear themselves apart just like that, just to find out what their enemies are doing. The price is terrible - because the temptation to remain divided, almost all-knowing, almost all-seeing is colossal. It’s scary not to resist, it’s scary to be flattered by imaginary “divinity,” which is often mistaken for detachment, coldness and indifference.

When in a single moment you survey all that exists, it is easy to remain indifferent to the voices of these little ones.

And something else was missing, something elusive, remaining there with the Unnameable.

Pity for the souls caught in the mad whirlpool of non-empty emptiness.

And something else, equally important, for which Hedin could not yet find a definition.

As if he had lost completeness, completeness, integrity.

A huge price had already been paid, and the Plan had only partially begun to be implemented.

The fiery phoenix Sigrlinn appeared where he expected - near Asgard the Reborn. Now her army will appear there, everything that she managed to gather. Night Riders, remnants of the Order of the Fair Lady... perhaps one of the elves. Also, perhaps, one of the giant Grimtursen, the former inhabitants of Hjorvard, who have not forgotten their defeats in the ancient wars with the Aesir.

Everything is correct here. Everything is fine.

Rakot... Rakot near the Boiling Cauldron.

Plan, plan, plan. Everything is going according to Plan, according to one of them. Because there are many of them. And the main thing is that the Plan is carried out...

No, the same Hedin who remained in the dungeon of the Unnameable would have shouted at this. This is not true at all, this is absolutely not true!

But they would not have heard him.

Hedin the giant was captivated by an interesting spectacle - he found the afterlife of Eivill.

Hedin the Escaped feverishly manipulated spells, trying to streamline the flows of magic and untie the knots that had lingered. Absorbed by mechanics, subtle adjustments, clever overlays and overlaps.

The third hypostasis, the one that remained in the center of Darkness, that which was white fire, the essence of the New God Hedin, turned around, looking straight into the heart of the Unnameable.

This hypostasis of the Knower of Darkness must remain here - and it cannot remain.

A dull pain arose in the consciousness, although, it would seem, there was absolutely nothing to hurt.

In order for everything to come together and become one, all three parts of what was separated were required. Three, not two.

The real Hedin - he remained here, in pitch darkness, feeling how “from above”, from the border with the Unnameable, more and more souls were falling into the eternal darkness, captured by the raging emptiness.

What was left? - only a mortal risk. Risk and hope that the two left behind will be able to... hold out until he returns.

He didn't expect anything more.

* * *

The magnificent phoenix made a steep loop in the skies above the plains of Ida and, finding himself on the ground, turned into a beautiful woman in a snow-white tight-fitting dress with gold trim. Her hair remained like tongues of gray flame trailing behind her, bright, almost blinding.

Rows of knights in equally shining armor bowed before her, dropping to one knee. They maintained perfect alignment, and proud white and gold banners with a rapidly soaring phoenix floated above their ranks.

To the right and left of the phalanx of knights stood groups of strange women, wrapped up to their eyes in shapeless rags, robes, with scraps of fabric of leafy, dark green and brownish colors sewn on them. Even the most experienced hunter would not have noticed them in the forest.

The Beautiful Lady did not invite anyone else with her.

And now she slowly walked along the line of her faithful, saying something and pointing to the walls of Asgard.

What exactly she said was not even very interesting to the giant Hedin. He could easily imagine it that way.

Now Old Hroft only needed to hold out for the required time. The plan assured that Father Druzhin was quite capable of this.

A beauty in a white dress, which was not touched by either dust or dirt, slowly walked along the line of her knights and smiled at them - each and every one of them.

* * *

- Bolg! Bolg, wake up, I say! Don't sleep, couch potato!

- What do you need? Right now I’m cursing, my fangs will fall off!

– Should a student of the great Hedin answer like that? - the orc ax-bearer in heavy armor, studded with points sticking out in all directions, like the shell of a strange mollusk, reproached his fellow orc.

- Sorry. – Bolg, the orc warlock, sat down, rubbing his sleepy eyes. The green-skinned hand habitually grabbed the staff, decorated with the skulls of various monsters.

Two orcs from among the apprentices of the Knower of Darkness were hiding in the most ordinary-looking sandy pit, blocked by the trunks of young pine trees that had just been cut down nearby.

However, the pit, and the pine trees, and in general everything around - except, of course, the approaching enemy - existed only as a complex magical construct, erected by the genius of the Teacher, which allowed them, if necessary, to fight together against the multitude, thereby bypassing in some way to the extent prohibited by the Law of Balance.

“Don’t sleep,” the ax-bearer repeated more calmly. - They are coming. And I'll be damned if they didn't do something else, especially clever. Maybe you'll figure it out. I’m more and more under the spell of battle...

“I’ll figure it out, I’ll figure it out,” the warlock said grumpily, shaking off his vestments. - Just don’t get in the way. And take your ax out of my way, be gentle!

- How many times have you been told, this is not an ax, but an axe!

- Ax, ax, what's the difference. It looks like an axe, which means it's an axe. So... don't get in the way now.

The staff with skulls stuffed on it made a complex movement around the warlock, a ghostly greenish glow oozed from the empty eye sockets, which little by little began to enclose Bolg in a kind of luminous sphere.

The smooth, measured movements of the staff were suddenly disrupted, the green streams trembled, as if under a strong wind, and began to melt.

- Wow! “The Warlock froze abruptly and stuck the sharp end of his staff into the sand. There was a noticeable warmth coming from the skulls.

-You're right, Gorm. – Warlock bared his fangs, his eyebrows came together to the bridge of his nose. “It’s not just you who can’t figure it out, but I’m afraid it’s a matter for the dark elves.” Something with space. Something so cunning, something...” He waved his hand. “The teacher would be unhappy if we missed such a chance to capture something so new.” Now, I’ll just get the ball...

- What ball?! – his comrade hissed at the warlock through clenched teeth. - Look outside!

Warlock snorted with displeasure, but followed the advice. An ax-bearer named Gorm looked at him expectantly, with all his appearance ready to reveal: “Well, what did I tell you?!”

- Well, what did you tell me? – Bolg seized the initiative. - Me too, news! Common bullheads. There are a number of small, short magicians with them. What's special here?

– Gelerra went missing after a skirmish with them...

“And you must have been breathing unevenly towards this little bird of ours?” – the warlock inquired mockingly. - Just think, it's gone! We had to look more carefully, stand on the ground with both feet and catch and intercept spells, and not twist dead loops over our heads. Come on, stop talking, let's act as the Teacher ordered.

- Anyone is chatting here, but not me...

“Sarcasm won’t do you any good, Gorm.” Well, come on, on the count of three!

In front of them lay an ordinary country road. With a cart track and puddles in it; on the sides rose pine trees, the most common ones that grow in a great variety of worlds, often spreading along with migrating tribes. And the low gray sky, ready to cry with autumn rain.

Oh, yes, and a sandy hole on the side of the road, carelessly covered with hastily felled young pine trees. Carelessly covered - that was important. The orcs should have been noticed and should have been the first to strike at them.

The disciples of the Knower of Darkness will have no choice but to restore balance.

This is what Teacher Hedin said, and this is how it should be.

The column of bull-headed men froze, and the next moment they deftly rushed into the thickets on both sides of the road. The little magicians in brown cloaks did not lag behind.

“Hold on now,” the warlock grinned predatorily, swinging his staff widely.

The skulls began to cry dark smoke. A dense curtain quickly tightened around the two orcs and managed to thicken to almost complete impenetrability when flames suddenly flared up around them, and the sand pit turned into a kind of blacksmith's forge.

* * *

Knight Leotard stood behind a tall fence, almost as tall as a man. True, it didn’t look much like a village fence – the stakes driven into the ground were as thick as an adult’s thigh. Intertwined between them are thorny flexible vines, unusually strong, which not every sword can cut. Next to the knight stood a crossbowman, slender, wearing a high, pointed helmet with his cap lowered over his face.

- Calm down, Mjöll; let them come closer, as the Teacher advised.

The shooter named Mjöll shifted from foot to foot, adjusted the bolt inserted into the hollow and answered - in a chesty female voice:

- Don't worry about me, dear. I'll cover them at any moment. Just don't miss yours.

Just below the helmet, covered by the fine ring net of the hauberk, a strand of chestnut flashed, escaping from under the steel.

The shooter named Mjöll was a young girl.

The knight grinned.

“I won’t miss it... oh, and our orc friends have already started.” Gorm and Bolg. This means that they will soon come to us.

- Bullheads? – the girl inquired.

“They are the same,” the knight nodded. - Do you remember what to do?

The crossbowwoman's eyes flashed evilly in the depths of the viewing slot.

- I do remember! Stop repeating yourself!

– You have recently been among those who listen directly to the Teacher. Mistakes are forgivable.

The girl didn’t answer. She just grabbed the crossbow more comfortably and turned to the fence blocking the same exact country road that led to the orc pit.

“If these bullies had even a modicum of intelligence, they would have wondered why exactly the same roads lead to the Promised One...

– Why do exactly the same roads lead to the Promised One? Couldn't Teacher have made them different?

– It’s immediately obvious, Mjöll, that you’re new. The teacher does not want to kill anyone in vain. Even the bullheads - and especially the bullheads. Any leader knowledgeable in magic, having seen exactly the same pictures, the same pine trees, the likes of which had never been seen on the approaches to the Promised One, would at the very least have stopped. At most, he would turn back.

“These won’t turn,” the girl said.

“They haven’t turned,” the knight sighed. - Well, who is attacking like that, tell me? Where are the advanced patrols, where are the discerners? Where is their charm? Why didn’t they let even a weak ghost go ahead to scout?

- Because we would have dealt with him instantly. What is the point?

“Well, he still would have time to tell them something,” the knight shrugged. - That's it, keep quiet! They are already close. Come on, on my command. One two Three!..

* * *

- Fredegar, give me some sausage. No more of my urine.

- What a character you are, Robin! They will be ready now.

“They’ll be ready, but don’t you hear that our guests are already close?”

The half, busily working magic over a small frying pan, just snorted.

- I can smell everything. I won’t let a couple of the most beautiful sausages go to waste just because some bulls decided to hit the Teacher’s gate with their horned foreheads. Now it will be just right and you can shoot. You can’t overexpose them or underexpose them, it’s not the right aroma!

The other half, younger, scratched the back of his head furiously.

- I, Fredegar, already agree to anything.

“I’m not,” the man fiddling with the sausages answered calmly. - Because we’ll just have time. And haste is good only when catching fleas.

– I don’t have any fleas!

- Why did you decide that I’m talking about you? The disciples of the great Hedin, glory to him, were spared from such disasters. ABOUT! “The cook raised his curly head sharply. - Yes, very close. But we will still make it. The teacher would be unhappy if we ruined good food. So... here you go!

The wooden fork stuck into the ruddy side of the sausage with perfect precision. Fredegar handed the fork to his partner and took another himself. With his free hand, he calmly removed the frying pan from the fire and stomped on the fire.

- Eat, eat, buddy. I hear their every step.

- I'm toffee! – Robin was indignant with his mouth full.

- So, eat calmly. We'll just finish the sausages when they're ready. Take your time, Robin, do not insult the creation of the worthy sausage maker Barnabad by haste. Eating his sausages hastily is sacrilege.

Robin silently looked at his imperturbable friend.

“Well, now,” Fredegar put down his wooden fork and carefully wiped his lips, “take the bow, my friend, and let’s go.” They will appear just around the corner.

Both halves put on their hoods and took up their bows. The road ran between the same young pine forests; it was blocked by a slingshot with a shallow ditch and a rampart in front of it.

The halves looked at each other one last time - and seemed to disappear, merging with the pine trees on both sides of the road - Fredegar on the left, Robin on the right.

* * *

- Well, why are you looking at me like that, both of you? You can't even eat me! Get some food.

- Is. “The rainbow serpent was hanging a fathom above the ground, but suddenly it moved forward.

The vampire the snake was addressing nervously backed away, pulling his cloak tighter around him. He glanced sideways at the mormat, calmly curled up on the side of the dirt road, its tentacles pressed to its body.

– Why did the Mentor send you here? Listen to someone else's magic! And what are you doing? Stare at me like I'm some kind of delicacy!

- And you? Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss? - the snake whistled, so much so that the simple word “hear” turned into a completely unintelligible set of whistling sounds.

-What do I hear? What will appear now! The rod is a column, ten thousand, at least up to a hundred magicians! Mentor…

“Nothing,” the little goblin leaned out from behind the vampire. “I prepared gifts for them, I bet they won’t be happy.”

“What are your gifts?” the vampire turned displeased. – There are a hundred, I repeat, a hundred magicians!

Nick Perumov

Hedin, my enemy. Volume 2. “...That one is against us!”

Synopsis, or What Came Before?

After the end of the events described in the novel "War of the Mage", it seemed to the New Gods of the Ordered, Hedin and Rakoth, that a peaceful respite had arrived. Two worlds - Melin and Evial - were saved by merging, so that a new one arose in their place. The Savior who appeared in Evial was repulsed, although not defeated. Captured in the Western Darkness, the sorceress Sigrlinn, Hedin's beloved, broke free. The insidious Archmage Ignatius, who had lured Hedin and Rakot into a trap, fell, and the brilliant but insane sorcerer Evengar of Sallador, who dreamed of achieving divinity, also fell. The vampire elf Eivill, who betrayed Hedin, also died, leaving in the hands of the New God a most valuable artifact, a pledge of the Far Ones, given to her as proof of the seriousness of their intentions.

The Battle Mage of the Valley, Clara Hummel, managed to pull out the keeper of the crystal of Evial's magic, the dragon Sfairat, from Evial. She managed to find a quiet haven, where they lived as husband and wife, having time to give birth to four children, because time in that world flowed faster than, for example, in the Promised World or even in Melin.

However, there was no peaceful respite. The plans of Chaos and Distant Forces were thwarted, but they did not suffer complete defeat. Hedin's apprentices were forced to fight in many places while maintaining their balance.

Clara Hummel Line

Clara Hummel's peaceful life was disrupted when a strange local magician who called himself Gent Goyles came to visit her. He hinted that he guessed about her true origin; and, although at first glance his visit did not pose any immediate threat, Clara became worried.

Her concern turned out to be not in vain.

In the same world was the vampire elf An-Avagar, from the nest of the already mentioned Eyvil; he served Hedin, but he understood this service in a very peculiar way, rather as an indulgence for bloody atrocities.

Trying to figure out what kind of evil was happening in the vicinity of their native village, the children of Clara and Sfairat fell into an ancient trap, set by someone unknown, but clearly on “strong magicians.” In a way incomprehensible to Clara, this trap turned out to be connected with a completely different one, located in Interreality and set by Hedin’s dwarven apprentices, who hoped to “capture at least one Far One alive.”

At the same time, the already mentioned vampire An-Avagar, among other things, caused an invasion of the dead raised from their graves into the village where Clara and her family lived. Choosing whether to immediately rush in search of the children or return to the house and help the villagers defenseless against the undead, Clara quarreled with Sfairat, and he alone set off in pursuit.

Clara managed to repel the attack of the dead - and, unexpectedly for herself, the vampire himself provided help, who began to show a completely non-vampiric interest in Clara; she was able to get to the trap where her children were locked. However, the sorceress would not have been able to get through to them if not for the help of a strange but powerful sorcerer who called himself Cor Dwayne.

Clara managed to recapture the children, but at the same time she entered into battle with Hedin’s apprentice gnomes, who were rushing with all their might to the triggered trap, being sure that they had “captured the Far One.”

Kor Dwayne assures her that she is now at enmity with the New God Hedin, who “does not forgive such things.”

At the same time, the girl Irma, who found herself an involuntary student of Clara Hummel, ends up in the castle with strange magicians, the “brother and sister” of Cor Dwayne named Skjöld and Solley. Solley undertakes to teach Irma magic - Clara had previously discovered considerable talent in the girl.

Having freed the children, Clara must now find her husband, the dragon Sfairat, and explain to him.

Returning with the children to Pokol, Clara found the village almost completely ruined. The guardian cat Shonya, however, survived and managed to keep the house of Clara and Sfairat intact. People from these places were helped to move to other villages by the magicians of Belleora, the nearest large city.

Clara and the children and Shoney went in search of Sfairat.

In Interreality, however, they were intercepted by a detachment of Hedin’s apprentices under the leadership of the gnome Kerret, the same one who almost captured Clara’s children in a trap set “for the Far One.” Kerret demanded that Clara "surrender"; she refused, but managed to draw the gnome into negotiations. No one knows how their conversation would have ended, but by some chance a fight broke out.

Zosia, Klara's youngest daughter, was seriously, almost mortally wounded.

Clara managed to keep her on the very brink of death, but this could not last long. Fortunately, Chargos, Clara's eldest son, was able to bring help in time.

Gelerra's Harpy Line

Gelerra's harpy regiment fought in Hjorvard, where unknown opponents threw into battle little-understood but eager-to-fight bull-heads, who were joined by short dwarf sorcerers from a wild, unknown world, where they were recruited by some strange, but obviously very powerful magician

Breaking the shield erected by alien wizards, Gelerra fell under an incomprehensible influence that deprived her of her senses and in an unknown way threw her far into Interreality.

There she encountered the sorcerer Skjold, who stated that he allegedly “saved” her, keeping her from falling “into the abyss where the roots of the World Tree lie.” Skjöld asked the harpy only one question: what does she choose - freedom or service. Gelerra proudly replied that her duty was to serve the great god Hedin. The sorcerer, as promised, gave her freedom, but Gelerra found herself not in some of the worlds or even in Interreality, but in a strange ghostly place, similar to the crown of a gigantic tree, where she, helpless, was carried by a strong magical flow, little gradually turning into a demon.

In the end, overwhelmed by despair, Gelerra, having lost faith, was carried out into a certain world, but no longer by a winged harpy-adata, but by a terrible monster.

There she encountered an unknown enemy, a demon hunter, and almost died from his spell. She was saved by the sorceress Solley, who was in the right place at the right time. She saved it and took it with her. At the castle, Solley and Skjöld began to "cure" the harpy, as they called it, claiming that they were "in debt" to Gelerra, and that she was being helped here for no reason.

Along the way, Solley carefully, without going too far, asked Gelerra about Hedina and her service, claiming that she and her brothers were exclusively “for freedom” and would not demand any service from the adata in return. Moreover, Solley assured that by fighting their distant enemies, she was thereby “helping the great Hedin.” The sorceress was especially interested in the green crystal, Eivill’s pledge, which the vampire received from the Distant Ones and was later found by Gelerra in Interreality.

Gelerra did not promise anything to anyone, but she was increasingly visited by thoughts that were not at all characteristic of a faithful disciple of the Knower of Darkness.

Line of Matthew Isidorti

Matthew Isidorti, an ordinary mortal man, a young cleric of the monastery of the Holy Powers in the most ordinary world of the Ordered, was obsessed with the desire to comprehend the secret and forbidden. Most of all, he was attracted to stories about mysterious demons and ways to control them - and finally ancient and forbidden books dedicated to this fell into Matthew’s hands.

The young cleric left the monastery and, after a long journey, reached the places where, according to the anonymous author, demons appeared; there an adept, not lacking in courage, could hope to know them and even subjugate them.

Matthew was lucky. He repelled the attacks of the demons, although the fight with the third of them threw him into an unknown dungeon from where there was no way out. The ghost, who identified himself as the demon he had killed, predicted that, despite Matthew’s victory, he was also doomed, since he must die in the dungeon from hunger and thirst; the demon himself, they say, is as he is, and is forced to kill because the New Gods created him as such.

Nevertheless, Matthew managed to escape from the trap - an amazing displacement of space threw him into completely different places of his native world, where he encountered Gelerra, who had almost lost consciousness and was tormented by a terrible hunger, which, as it seemed to her, could only be satisfied by human flesh. In the fight, they were both close to death - Gelerra from the flame caused by the runes of Matthew, Matthew - from the fangs and claws of the “demon”; at that moment, however, two saviors appeared, a man and a girl. The sorceress girl saved Gelerra, the man saved Matthew. Neither the harpy nor the cleric saw their saviors in detail.

They were simply saved.

Like Gelerra, Matthew found refuge in the castle of Cor Dwayne. The owner himself became the young cleric's mentor in the magical sciences. In addition, Dwayne entrusted his new ward with the care of a very important captive, imprisoned in a dungeon protected by powerful spells - the Queen of Shadows. Cor Dwayne told Matthew who she was and that she was also imprisoned because, for the sake of fun with her relatives - the so-called New Mages - she unleashed hordes of monsters on the innocent villagers of Northern Hjorvard.

The beauty of the Queen struck poor Matthew to the very heart. He didn’t understand why Kor Dwayne had burdened him with these responsibilities, but...

An order is an order.

Line of the Ancient God Odin and the Valkyrie Raina, his daughter

After the end of the Evial events, when Old Hroft and Raina met, the god Odin began his own game. Together with Raina, he digs up long-forgotten iron fragments that still remember the glory days of Asgard, and the Alvian armorer Ively forges new swords for Hroft and Raina. One is convinced that, although the Aesir fell on the Borghild field, their shadows remain in the possessions of the great Demogorgon, and he will be able, one way or another, to help them out. Having enlisted the help of Yargohor, the Leader of the Dead, and having found the wolf Fenrir, the son of Loki, Odin and Raina set off on a dangerous journey.

Nick Perumov

Hedin, my enemy. Volume 2. “...That one is against us!”

© Perumov N., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

* * *

Synopsis, or What Came Before?

After the end of the events described in the novel "War of the Mage", it seemed to the New Gods of the Ordered, Hedin and Rakoth, that a peaceful respite had arrived. Two worlds - Melin and Evial - were saved by merging, so that a new one arose in their place. The Savior who appeared in Evial was repulsed, although not defeated. Captured in the Western Darkness, the sorceress Sigrlinn, Hedin's beloved, broke free. The insidious Archmage Ignatius, who had lured Hedin and Rakot into a trap, fell, and the brilliant but insane sorcerer Evengar of Sallador, who dreamed of achieving divinity, also fell. The vampire elf Eivill, who betrayed Hedin, also died, leaving in the hands of the New God a most valuable artifact, a pledge of the Far Ones, given to her as proof of the seriousness of their intentions.

The Battle Mage of the Valley, Clara Hummel, managed to pull out the keeper of the crystal of Evial's magic, the dragon Sfairat, from Evial. She managed to find a quiet haven, where they lived as husband and wife, having time to give birth to four children, because time in that world flowed faster than, for example, in the Promised World or even in Melin.

However, there was no peaceful respite. The plans of Chaos and Distant Forces were thwarted, but they did not suffer complete defeat. Hedin's apprentices were forced to fight in many places while maintaining their balance.

Clara Hummel Line

Clara Hummel's peaceful life was disrupted when a strange local magician who called himself Gent Goyles came to visit her. He hinted that he guessed about her true origin; and, although at first glance his visit did not pose any immediate threat, Clara became worried.

Her concern turned out to be not in vain.

In the same world was the vampire elf An-Avagar, from the nest of the already mentioned Eyvil; he served Hedin, but he understood this service in a very peculiar way, rather as an indulgence for bloody atrocities.

Trying to figure out what kind of evil was happening in the vicinity of their native village, the children of Clara and Sfairat fell into an ancient trap, set by someone unknown, but clearly on “strong magicians.” In a way incomprehensible to Clara, this trap turned out to be connected with a completely different one, located in Interreality and set by Hedin’s dwarven apprentices, who hoped to “capture at least one Far One alive.”

At the same time, the already mentioned vampire An-Avagar, among other things, caused an invasion of the dead raised from their graves into the village where Clara and her family lived. Choosing whether to immediately rush in search of the children or return to the house and help the villagers defenseless against the undead, Clara quarreled with Sfairat, and he alone set off in pursuit.

Clara managed to repel the attack of the dead - and, unexpectedly for herself, help was provided by the vampire himself, who began to show a completely non-vampiric interest in Clara; she was able to get to the trap where her children were locked. However, the sorceress would not have been able to get through to them if not for the help of a strange but powerful sorcerer who called himself Cor Dwayne.

Clara managed to recapture the children, but at the same time she entered into battle with Hedin’s apprentice gnomes, who were rushing with all their might to the triggered trap, being sure that they had “captured the Far One.”

Kor Dwayne assures her that she is now at enmity with the New God Hedin, who “does not forgive such things.”

At the same time, the girl Irma, who found herself an involuntary student of Clara Hummel, ends up in the castle with strange magicians, the “brother and sister” of Cor Dwayne named Skjöld and Solley. Solley undertakes to teach Irma magic - Clara had previously discovered considerable talent in the girl.

Having freed the children, Clara must now find her husband, the dragon Sfairat, and explain to him.

Returning with the children to Pokol, Clara found the village almost completely ruined. The guardian cat Shonya, however, survived and managed to keep the house of Clara and Sfairat intact. People from these places were helped to move to other villages by the magicians of Belleora, the nearest large city.

Clara and the children and Shoney went in search of Sfairat.

In Interreality, however, they were intercepted by a detachment of Hedin’s apprentices under the leadership of the gnome Kerret, the same one who almost captured Clara’s children in a trap set “for the Far One.” Kerret demanded that Clara "surrender"; she refused, but managed to draw the gnome into negotiations. No one knows how their conversation would have ended, but by some chance a fight broke out.

Zosia, Klara's youngest daughter, was seriously, almost mortally wounded.

Clara managed to keep her on the very brink of death, but this could not last long. Fortunately, Chargos, Clara's eldest son, was able to bring help in time.

Gelerra's Harpy Line

Gelerra's harpy regiment fought in Hjorvard, where unknown opponents threw into battle little-understood but eager-to-fight bull-heads, who were joined by short dwarf sorcerers from a wild, unknown world, where they were recruited by some strange, but obviously very powerful magician

Breaking the shield erected by alien wizards, Gelerra fell under an incomprehensible influence that deprived her of her senses and in an unknown way threw her far into Interreality.

There she encountered the sorcerer Skjold, who stated that he allegedly “saved” her, keeping her from falling “into the abyss where the roots of the World Tree lie.” Skjöld asked the harpy only one question: what does she choose - freedom or service. Gelerra proudly replied that her duty was to serve the great god Hedin. The sorcerer, as promised, gave her freedom, but Gelerra found herself not in some of the worlds or even in Interreality, but in a strange ghostly place, similar to the crown of a gigantic tree, where she, helpless, was carried by a strong magical flow, little gradually turning into a demon.

In the end, overwhelmed by despair, Gelerra, having lost faith, was carried out into a certain world, but no longer by a winged harpy-adata, but by a terrible monster.

There she encountered an unknown enemy, a demon hunter, and almost died from his spell. She was saved by the sorceress Solley, who was in the right place at the right time. She saved it and took it with her. At the castle, Solley and Skjöld began to "cure" the harpy, as they called it, claiming that they were "in debt" to Gelerra, and that she was being helped here for no reason.

Along the way, Solley carefully, without going too far, asked Gelerra about Hedina and her service, claiming that she and her brothers were exclusively “for freedom” and would not demand any service from the adata in return. Moreover, Solley assured that by fighting their distant enemies, she was thereby “helping the great Hedin.” The sorceress was especially interested in the green crystal, Eivill’s pledge, which the vampire received from the Distant Ones and was later found by Gelerra in Interreality.

Gelerra did not promise anything to anyone, but she was increasingly visited by thoughts that were not at all characteristic of a faithful disciple of the Knower of Darkness.

Line of Matthew Isidorti

Matthew Isidorti, an ordinary mortal man, a young cleric of the monastery of the Holy Powers in the most ordinary world of the Ordered, was obsessed with the desire to comprehend the secret and forbidden. Most of all, he was attracted to stories about mysterious demons and ways to control them - and finally ancient and forbidden books dedicated to this fell into Matthew’s hands.

The young cleric left the monastery and, after a long journey, reached the places where, according to the anonymous author, demons appeared; there an adept, not lacking in courage, could hope to know them and even subjugate them.

Matthew was lucky. He repelled the attacks of the demons, although the fight with the third of them threw him into an unknown dungeon from where there was no way out. The ghost, who identified himself as the demon he had killed, predicted that, despite Matthew’s victory, he was also doomed, since he must die in the dungeon from hunger and thirst; the demon himself, they say, is as he is, and is forced to kill because the New Gods created him as such.

Nevertheless, Matthew managed to escape from the trap - an amazing displacement of space threw him into completely different places of his native world, where he was faced with a collision with Gelerra, who had almost lost consciousness and was tormented by a terrible hunger, which, as it seemed to her, could only be satisfied by human flesh. In the fight, they were both close to death - Gelerra from the flame caused by the runes of Matthew, Matthew - from the fangs and claws of the “demon”; at that moment, however, two saviors appeared, a man and a girl. The sorceress girl saved Gelerra, the man saved Matthew. Neither the harpy nor the cleric saw their saviors in detail.

© Perumov N., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

* * *

Synopsis, or What Came Before?

After the end of the events described in the novel "War of the Mage", it seemed to the New Gods of the Ordered, Hedin and Rakoth, that a peaceful respite had arrived. Two worlds - Melin and Evial - were saved by merging, so that a new one arose in their place. The Savior who appeared in Evial was repulsed, although not defeated. Captured in the Western Darkness, the sorceress Sigrlinn, Hedin's beloved, broke free. The insidious Archmage Ignatius, who had lured Hedin and Rakot into a trap, fell, and the brilliant but insane sorcerer Evengar of Sallador, who dreamed of achieving divinity, also fell. The vampire elf Eivill, who betrayed Hedin, also died, leaving in the hands of the New God a most valuable artifact, a pledge of the Far Ones, given to her as proof of the seriousness of their intentions.

The Battle Mage of the Valley, Clara Hummel, managed to pull out the keeper of the crystal of Evial's magic, the dragon Sfairat, from Evial. She managed to find a quiet haven, where they lived as husband and wife, having time to give birth to four children, because time in that world flowed faster than, for example, in the Promised World or even in Melin.

However, there was no peaceful respite. The plans of Chaos and Distant Forces were thwarted, but they did not suffer complete defeat. Hedin's apprentices were forced to fight in many places while maintaining their balance.

Clara Hummel Line

Clara Hummel's peaceful life was disrupted when a strange local magician who called himself Gent Goyles came to visit her. He hinted that he guessed about her true origin; and, although at first glance his visit did not pose any immediate threat, Clara became worried.

Her concern turned out to be not in vain.

In the same world was the vampire elf An-Avagar, from the nest of the already mentioned Eyvil; he served Hedin, but he understood this service in a very peculiar way, rather as an indulgence for bloody atrocities.

Trying to figure out what kind of evil was happening in the vicinity of their native village, the children of Clara and Sfairat fell into an ancient trap, set by someone unknown, but clearly on “strong magicians.” In a way incomprehensible to Clara, this trap turned out to be connected with a completely different one, located in Interreality and set by Hedin’s dwarven apprentices, who hoped to “capture at least one Far One alive.”

At the same time, the already mentioned vampire An-Avagar, among other things, caused an invasion of the dead raised from their graves into the village where Clara and her family lived. Choosing whether to immediately rush in search of the children or return to the house and help the villagers defenseless against the undead, Clara quarreled with Sfairat, and he alone set off in pursuit.

Clara managed to repel the attack of the dead - and, unexpectedly for herself, help was provided by the vampire himself, who began to show a completely non-vampiric interest in Clara; she was able to get to the trap where her children were locked.

However, the sorceress would not have been able to get through to them if not for the help of a strange but powerful sorcerer who called himself Cor Dwayne.

Clara managed to recapture the children, but at the same time she entered into battle with Hedin’s apprentice gnomes, who were rushing with all their might to the triggered trap, being sure that they had “captured the Far One.”

Kor Dwayne assures her that she is now at enmity with the New God Hedin, who “does not forgive such things.”

At the same time, the girl Irma, who found herself an involuntary student of Clara Hummel, ends up in the castle with strange magicians, the “brother and sister” of Cor Dwayne named Skjöld and Solley. Solley undertakes to teach Irma magic - Clara had previously discovered considerable talent in the girl.

Having freed the children, Clara must now find her husband, the dragon Sfairat, and explain to him.

Returning with the children to Pokol, Clara found the village almost completely ruined. The guardian cat Shonya, however, survived and managed to keep the house of Clara and Sfairat intact. People from these places were helped to move to other villages by the magicians of Belleora, the nearest large city.

Clara and the children and Shoney went in search of Sfairat.

In Interreality, however, they were intercepted by a detachment of Hedin’s apprentices under the leadership of the gnome Kerret, the same one who almost captured Clara’s children in a trap set “for the Far One.” Kerret demanded that Clara "surrender"; she refused, but managed to draw the gnome into negotiations. No one knows how their conversation would have ended, but by some chance a fight broke out.

Zosia, Klara's youngest daughter, was seriously, almost mortally wounded.

Clara managed to keep her on the very brink of death, but this could not last long. Fortunately, Chargos, Clara's eldest son, was able to bring help in time.

Gelerra's Harpy Line

Gelerra's harpy regiment fought in Hjorvard, where unknown opponents threw into battle little-understood but eager-to-fight bull-heads, who were joined by short dwarf sorcerers from a wild, unknown world, where they were recruited by some strange, but obviously very powerful magician

Breaking the shield erected by alien wizards, Gelerra fell under an incomprehensible influence that deprived her of her senses and in an unknown way threw her far into Interreality.

There she encountered the sorcerer Skjold, who stated that he allegedly “saved” her, keeping her from falling “into the abyss where the roots of the World Tree lie.” Skjöld asked the harpy only one question: what does she choose - freedom or service. Gelerra proudly replied that her duty was to serve the great god Hedin. The sorcerer, as promised, gave her freedom, but Gelerra found herself not in some of the worlds or even in Interreality, but in a strange ghostly place, similar to the crown of a gigantic tree, where she, helpless, was carried by a strong magical flow, little gradually turning into a demon.

In the end, overwhelmed by despair, Gelerra, having lost faith, was carried out into a certain world, but no longer by a winged harpy-adata, but by a terrible monster.

There she encountered an unknown enemy, a demon hunter, and almost died from his spell. She was saved by the sorceress Solley, who was in the right place at the right time. She saved it and took it with her. At the castle, Solley and Skjöld began to "cure" the harpy, as they called it, claiming that they were "in debt" to Gelerra, and that she was being helped here for no reason.

Along the way, Solley carefully, without going too far, asked Gelerra about Hedina and her service, claiming that she and her brothers were exclusively “for freedom” and would not demand any service from the adata in return. Moreover, Solley assured that by fighting their distant enemies, she was thereby “helping the great Hedin.” The sorceress was especially interested in the green crystal, Eivill’s pledge, which the vampire received from the Distant Ones and was later found by Gelerra in Interreality.

Gelerra did not promise anything to anyone, but she was increasingly visited by thoughts that were not at all characteristic of a faithful disciple of the Knower of Darkness.

Line of Matthew Isidorti

Matthew Isidorti, an ordinary mortal man, a young cleric of the monastery of the Holy Powers in the most ordinary world of the Ordered, was obsessed with the desire to comprehend the secret and forbidden. Most of all, he was attracted to stories about mysterious demons and ways to control them - and finally ancient and forbidden books dedicated to this fell into Matthew’s hands.

The young cleric left the monastery and, after a long journey, reached the places where, according to the anonymous author, demons appeared; there an adept, not lacking in courage, could hope to know them and even subjugate them.

Matthew was lucky. He repelled the attacks of the demons, although the fight with the third of them threw him into an unknown dungeon from where there was no way out. The ghost, who identified himself as the demon he had killed, predicted that, despite Matthew’s victory, he was also doomed, since he must die in the dungeon from hunger and thirst; the demon himself, they say, is as he is, and is forced to kill because the New Gods created him as such.

Nevertheless, Matthew managed to escape from the trap - an amazing displacement of space threw him into completely different places of his native world, where he was faced with a collision with Gelerra, who had almost lost consciousness and was tormented by a terrible hunger, which, as it seemed to her, could only be satisfied by human flesh. In the fight, they were both close to death - Gelerra from the flame caused by the runes of Matthew, Matthew - from the fangs and claws of the “demon”; at that moment, however, two saviors appeared, a man and a girl. The sorceress girl saved Gelerra, the man saved Matthew. Neither the harpy nor the cleric saw their saviors in detail.

They were simply saved.

Like Gelerra, Matthew found refuge in the castle of Cor Dwayne. The owner himself became the young cleric's mentor in the magical sciences. In addition, Dwayne entrusted his new ward with the care of a very important captive, imprisoned in a dungeon protected by powerful spells - the Queen of Shadows. Cor Dwayne told Matthew who she was and that she was also imprisoned because, for the sake of fun with her relatives - the so-called New Mages - she unleashed hordes of monsters on the innocent villagers of Northern Hjorvard.

The beauty of the Queen struck poor Matthew to the very heart. He didn’t understand why Kor Dwayne had burdened him with these responsibilities, but...

An order is an order.

Line of the Ancient God O?din and the Valkyrie Raina, his daughter

After the end of the Evial events, when Old Hroft and Raina met, the god O?din began his own game. Together with Raina, he digs up long-forgotten iron fragments that still remember the glory days of Asgard, and the Alvian armorer Ively forges new swords for Hroft and Raina. Odin is convinced that, although the Aesir fell on the Borghild field, their shadows remain in the possessions of the great Demogorgon, and he will be able, one way or another, to help them out. Having enlisted the help of Yargohor, the Leader of the Dead, and having found the wolf Fenrir, the son of Loki, Odin and Raina set off on a dangerous journey.

It turned out to be very difficult to get into the domain of the Cathedral Spirit, but the Distant Ones and the magician Skjold, already familiar to us, unexpectedly came to the aid of Old Hroft, assuring that he is supposedly “with his relatives,” ardently sympathizes with the cause of the Ancient God and is ready to help in any way he can. Maybe.

He really helped. Despite the opposition - demons, monsters, disembodied ghosts - Old Hroft managed to pave the way for the Valkyrie Raina to the boundaries of Demogorgon. She managed to find the Aesir and bring their shadows out of the kingdom of death, but they were only shadows, weak-willed and seemingly sleeping. Odin himself, Fenrir and Yargohor had to endure a battle with Hedin’s apprentices.

Returning to the plains of Ida with the shadows of the Aesir, Old Hroft managed to perform a ritual that revived them in their former true flesh.

Hedin had to urgently go to the rebuilt Asgard, rebuilt for real, from wood, stone, steel and gold; The Knower of Darkness witnessed the final stages of the ritual, which ended with the emergence from the Alvian sword, given to Odin by the armorer Ivly, of a new ash tree, Yggdrasil, in all respects similar to the one that once towered over the original Asgard, the Asgard of the Ancient Gods that ruled Hjorvard.

At the foot of the ash tree, a new Source of Magic emerged, born from the dark umbilical cord that led from the Source of Wisdom abandoned by Mimir to an unknown magic-mechanical system in the depths of the Ordered One. Who arranged all this remained a mystery.

Seeing the growing cataclysm, Hedin decided to retreat from the revived Asgard. Sigrlinn, who did not agree with him and demanded a decisive war with Old Hroft until his complete overthrow, left the Knower of Darkness.

Having met the soul of her mother in the Demogorgon's domain, Raina, together with Rakoth, set out on the way back along the Ordered One. Valkyrie was determined to return her mother's body - just as Odin had to return the flesh to all the Aesir she saved. However, on the way home, the Valkyrie suddenly felt strange emanations, “like before the Battle of Borghild,” as if the Ancient Gods began to gain strength again.

Having descended into an unfamiliar world, Rakot and Raina found themselves face to face with the mysterious Ancient One, who gains strength, among other things, through mass sacrifices. Having entered into a battle with him, Rakot, to his own amazement, discovered that the Ancient One was much more powerful than he seemed, and the powers of Rakot himself seemed to have suffered damage. After a bloody battle, they managed to stop the evil of the Ancient One, and Rakot hurried to the Promised One to notify Hedin about what had happened; Raina went to Asgard.

In Asgard, the god O?din received a guest. The envoy of the Distant Ones who appeared persuaded Odin to open war against Hedin and Rakoth at the head of the army of the Ancient Gods.

“Bring me this army, and I will lead it,” were the last words of Old Hroft.

Silvia Nagual Line

The last of the Red Ark, the daughter of the Master of the Death Shower, Sylvia the Nagual, after the battle on the Drowned Crab, was able to escape from the merged worlds of Evial and Melin. Free from all debts and obligations, she decided to return to the Valley of the Magicians - this place seemed to her the most suitable for her abilities.

Having reached the Valley without incident, Sylvia quickly found herself among the students of the local Academy, hiding her true magical abilities. During one of her forays far beyond the Valley, she noticed a detachment led by an old friend, the Valkyrie Raina, who was leading somewhere a whole host of souls of the dead.

Sylvia's curiosity was stronger than all other considerations.

She followed Raina and her companions.

The pursuit led her to the road of the dead gods, the road that was followed to the domain of the great Demogorgon by the Ancient Gods, who fell at the hands of Yamert and his relatives, when those, called the Young Gods (and they themselves called themselves “beloved children of the Creator”), asserted with fire and sword its power over the Ordered.

The emanations of Chaos were very strong here.

And Chaos managed to take possession of Sylvia.

On the way, she met a very, very unusual companion, who called himself “the servant of the Savior.” He indeed resembled the Savior, but only in appearance. He predicted that he and Sylvia would meet again, because “their worlds are in danger,” and what they supposedly planned was best done together.

Sylvia did not understand the vague speeches. She drove away the uninvited guest, and he left without anger, saying goodbye and leaving her alone.

An unkind reception awaited Sylvia in the Valley of the Magicians. Irene Mescott sensed the Chaos in Sylvia's blood and tried to "cleanse" it. Sylvia managed to escape and escape into the surrounding forests; after that, having organized an uprising of goblin servants and stunned the sorcerers of the Valley with the power of magic bestowed by Chaos, Sylvia was quite democratically elected head of the Valley Council - and demanded the creation of no less than an Empire...

Volume II
“...That one is against us!”

Chapter 1

Hedin the Knower of Darkness again acquired its former form and essence. He returned from the jaws of the Unnameable, having split into three to do so. Two of its parts were here, in the ordinary Ordered, and were preparing to reunite, but the third...

The third remained within the Unnameable. In his belly, in his womb, in his very core.

And it was scary.

It’s scary because Hedin saw and felt himself how the souls captured by the Unnameable were dying... or rather transformed, turning into his creepy goat-footed servants.

They are needed to build the Path for their master.

However, who knows whether he will still need this Path if everything Ordered collapses into his womb. The Fourth Source knocked down the fine tuning of the spells that had once been set, and the cage that held the beast was disintegrating. From the point of view of other mortals - very, very slowly, so that the luminaries that illuminated their worlds would have time to die a natural death. From the point of view of other mortals, it was terribly fast, so that they had time to notice and feel every moment of the catastrophe, from which even the strongest magic could not have saved.

The Great River of Time was going crazy; The closer she got to the lair of the Unnameable, the faster her running became, the more whirlpools raged in her. And, accordingly, the closer the world was to the limit, the faster the end came for it.

Therefore, Hedin could not pull out all of himself.

He couldn’t - part of himself remained there, within the limits of non-existence, where even the souls themselves disintegrated and changed shape. Souls that invariably turned out to be much harder than mortal flesh!

It still had no shape. I have, but haven’t found it yet. He had to return back to the stone bowl of boiling Urd, where he began his journey; but for some reason the spell worked much slower than he had originally expected.

Hedin-prostrate, a cold, observing and rather lazy hypostasis, somewhat reminiscent of the Great Orlangur, freely spread out along all the streams of power, from end to end of the Ordered One. He was interested, he was following at once a whole abyss of events, large and small, and as if he could not choose which one was worth devoting more time to.

Hedin the Returner, a clot of disembodied consciousness, the same one that was supposed to bring together the “old” Hedin, slowly moved back, “home”, to the sacred Urdu. He saw and perceived everything that the observing giant saw and perceived; he saw the Ordered thing boiling with blood.

He saw the battle raging around the Promised One.

I saw my apprentices left there.

I saw what was happening with the rest of his troops, who went to the distant worlds of the bull-headed people.

I saw where the dark umbilical cords lead, I saw where they end.

And I saw Ulvain.

Or rather, I heard it.

"Sorry, Teacher..."

The price of such knowledge is terrible, and even the gods do not tear themselves apart just like that, just to find out what their enemies are doing. The price is terrible - because the temptation to remain divided, almost all-knowing, almost all-seeing is colossal. It’s scary not to resist, it’s scary to be flattered by imaginary “divinity,” which is often mistaken for detachment, coldness and indifference.

When in a single moment you survey all that exists, it is easy to remain indifferent to the voices of these little ones.

And something else was missing, something elusive, remaining there with the Unnameable.

Pity for the souls caught in the mad whirlpool of non-empty emptiness.

And something else, equally important, for which Hedin could not yet find a definition.

As if he had lost completeness, completeness, integrity.

A huge price had already been paid, and the Plan had only partially begun to be implemented.

The fiery phoenix Sigrlinn appeared where he expected - near Asgard the Reborn. Now her army will appear there, everything that she managed to gather. Night Riders, remnants of the Order of the Fair Lady... perhaps one of the elves. Also, perhaps, one of the giant Grimtursen, the former inhabitants of Hjorvard, who have not forgotten their defeats in the ancient wars with the Aesir.

Everything is correct here. Everything is fine.

Rakot... Rakot near the Boiling Cauldron.

Plan, plan, plan. Everything is going according to Plan, according to one of them. Because there are many of them. And the main thing is that the Plan is carried out...

No, the same Hedin who remained in the dungeon of the Unnameable would have shouted at this. This is not true at all, this is absolutely not true!

But they would not have heard him.

Hedin the giant was captivated by an interesting spectacle - he found the afterlife of Eivill.

Hedin the Escaped feverishly manipulated spells, trying to streamline the flows of magic and untie the knots that had lingered. Absorbed by mechanics, subtle adjustments, clever overlays and overlaps.

The third hypostasis, the one that remained in the center of Darkness, that which was white fire, the essence of the New God Hedin, turned around, looking straight into the heart of the Unnameable.

This hypostasis of the Knower of Darkness must remain here - and it cannot remain.

A dull pain arose in the consciousness, although, it would seem, there was absolutely nothing to hurt.

In order for everything to come together and become one, all three parts of what was separated were required. Three, not two.

The real Hedin - he remained here, in pitch darkness, feeling how “from above”, from the border with the Unnameable, more and more souls were falling into the eternal darkness, captured by the raging emptiness.

What was left? - only a mortal risk. Risk and hope that the two left behind will be able to... hold out until he returns.

He didn't expect anything more.

* * *

The magnificent phoenix made a steep loop in the skies above the plains of Ida and, finding himself on the ground, turned into a beautiful woman in a snow-white tight-fitting dress with gold trim. Her hair remained like tongues of gray flame trailing behind her, bright, almost blinding.

Rows of knights in equally shining armor bowed before her, dropping to one knee. They maintained perfect alignment, and proud white and gold banners with a rapidly soaring phoenix floated above their ranks.

To the right and left of the phalanx of knights stood groups of strange women, wrapped up to their eyes in shapeless rags, robes, with scraps of fabric of leafy, dark green and brownish colors sewn on them. Even the most experienced hunter would not have noticed them in the forest.

The Beautiful Lady did not invite anyone else with her.

And now she slowly walked along the line of her faithful, saying something and pointing to the walls of Asgard.

What exactly she said was not even very interesting to the giant Hedin. He could easily imagine it that way.

Now Old Hroft only needed to hold out for the required time. The plan assured that Father Druzhin was quite capable of this.

A beauty in a white dress, which was not touched by either dust or dirt, slowly walked along the line of her knights and smiled at them - each and every one of them.

* * *

- Bolg! Bolg, wake up, I say! Don't sleep, couch potato!

- What do you need? Right now I’m cursing, my fangs will fall off!

– Should a student of the great Hedin answer like that? - the orc ax-bearer in heavy armor, studded with points sticking out in all directions, like the shell of a strange mollusk, reproached his fellow orc.

- Sorry. – Bolg, the orc warlock, sat down, rubbing his sleepy eyes. The green-skinned hand habitually grabbed the staff, decorated with the skulls of various monsters.