The Dragon's Vow or the Stubborn Bride
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Raising her fist, Grymza smiled at me and, without turning around, headed into the building. I followed her with my gaze until her straight, tall figure disappeared behind the door, and then looked forward to a bright future.
Chapter 2
There were a dozen Travel Bureau stations in Verlor, the capital of the Onyx Rocks, but I had to leave from the same one where I had once arrived with my father. The journey to it from the guesthouse took about forty minutes, and while we were driving, it began to get dark. Reacting to the deepening twilight, bright magic lanterns began to blink on the streets, flooding the area with a cozy, warm light. I admired the beautiful houses of wealthy capital city residents and the majestic building of the theater, which made an indelible impression on me – I had the opportunity to visit there once with other students.
Sitting in the gig driven by the silent Batmore, I gazed at the noble Eshsheri leisurely strolling in the autumn park with their smart daughters and husbands. At the carriages rushing past. On thoroughbred, well-trained horses with equally thoroughbred riders. To tastefully decorated shop windows. For fountains that don’t freeze even in winter. She looked and smiled involuntarily, sincerely enjoying every moment.
Eh! Still, there are advantages in the life of a magician! Did I think, running around the castle courtyard with the boys, that this would happen to me? That one day I will be able to travel alone without parental supervision?
As we moved away from the center, the houses became darker in appearance. Their narrow dark windows did not please with bright light and pretty curtains, but frightened with bars and iron shutters – the industrial quarter had begun. Buildings of factories and factories stretched out, where magic and craft were intertwined, producing metal products known throughout Balaria: from rune swords to cart wheel rims. From magical jewelry forging to ordinary scythes and sickles. Only at the boarding school did I learn what an important place my native land occupies in the world. How many inventors and scientists are born, and how rich in metals and jewels its depths are, the guardians of which from time immemorial were the ruling families of onyx dragons.
Having passed industrial areas, we found ourselves in residential ones. There were also shops and shops here, but with simpler display windows. Dim lights were burning in the windows, and the shadows of residents preparing dinner flickered. A rollicking melody came from some tavern, and the bright magic lanterns had long since been replaced by dim lanterns that gave off a deathly green color. Because of him, the faces of people rushing from work seemed especially sallow, and a staggering drunkard could easily be mistaken for a zombie.
And in some alleys there was no lighting at all. A noisy group tumbled out of one of these straight onto the roadway, frightening our horse. The driver had to use an air wave to gently push the revelers to the side of the road. Drunken swearing followed, but the phlegmatic Bathmore silently whipped the reins, urging the brown filly on.
My father and I passed these places in the morning, and then they did not look so dangerous. Feeling uncomfortable, I hid deeper into the phaeton and, just in case, grabbed the handle of the bag, regretting that I was not traveling in a carriage, but in an open carriage. There was only a short distance to the station—three or four blocks—when I felt a magical tension in the atmosphere. The hairs on my arms stood up and a specific chill ran down my back. Wary, I turned my head, looking around the street with an unfocused gaze. I was still incapable of doing more, but this simple technique allowed me to see exactly where magic was used.
– Stop! Stop! – I shouted to the driver, but Bathmore was already pulling on the reins.
He managed a moment before a man was thrown out of a nearby alley by the horse's feet, mercilessly slamming onto the pavement.
The air wave at the end reflected from the wall of the building opposite, scattering dust, small debris and dry leaves on the sides. Screaming in fear, I stared wide-eyed at the body that Batmore was trying to avoid. But the filly neighed and fought, not wanting to go further. Meanwhile, the tension of magic intensified. Ahead of us, drifting snow ran from building to building, swirling in the uncertain light of the streetlights like thick steam. Along the line she drew, a real palisade of thick icicles grew. Do not go around or jump over!
Following the driver's quick glance back, I realized that the same fence blocked our way back.
– What’s going on today! – Batmore could not stand it and tried to take it to the left so as not to run over the victim with his wheel.
And I suddenly wondered if I had ever heard his voice before?
“Batmore, is this man… dead?” – she asked quietly, unable to take her eyes off the person lying on the road.
“If he’s a magician, he’ll survive,” the driver tried to reassure me, but he didn’t do a very good job.
– We must help!
I stood up, intending to jump out, but I was stopped by a sudden shout, like the crack of a whip:
– Sit, eshsheri! We don't want any trouble, and the guards will deal with the tramp.
Bathmore pulled on the reins, causing the filly to back up a little. Just a few steps. The gig turned out to be opposite the alley on the other side of the street, but even a fleeting glance made it clear that it was impossible to get through there. The passage was cluttered with some rubbish. So we managed to fall into a trap! If we had driven a little faster, we would have managed to get past…
At the end of the street, from behind the squat houses, the dark silhouette of a gas tank was clearly visible. The large round building in which PR was accumulated, and from there it was used to heat houses and illuminate streets, impressed me even on the day of my arrival. It was located right next to the station. Maybe run to it on foot and ask for help there?
I pulled the bag closer. I can, I can run. Maybe…
But while she was deciding to get out of the gig, which was creating a false impression of security, a group of men appeared from a nearby alley. They were in no hurry, they walked imposingly, laughing and talking. There was no doubt that everything that was happening was their doing.
There were six men, and all were definitely magicians. Not paying much attention to us, they imposingly surrounded the unfortunate man, who lay motionless on the pavement. One of the magicians lit a firefly, illuminating a small space above their heads, and I was surprised to realize that they were all young guys, hardly much older than me.
“Mikael, it seems you’ve gone too far,” stated one, blond and rosy-cheeked, the spitting image of “mom’s little pie,” reproachfully.
– I do not like it! Let's get out of here! – whined another, short and the frailest of all.