CHAPTER 8. PERIMETER

The rest of the day was not worth remembering and left Kangassk dead tired. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, with his dusty clothes and shoes still on.

It was past noon when he made his first attempts to wake up which turned to be more difficult than usual. His stubborn nocturnal mind kept clinging to memories of Kuldagan: its dunes and fountains, sandy winds and scorching sun. The thing that broke the spell was a strong aroma of coffee and chocolate combined. Somehow, it snaked its way into Kan’s dreams and woke him up.

“Good morning… I mean, good day, lord Kangassk!” It was a servant, a plump young boy with neatly cut hair and rosy cheeks. He held a brightly painted tray; there was a handful of sweets, each wrapped in foil, and a big porcelain cup filled to the brim with the aromatic drink.

“Good morning, kid!” Kan smiled at him and sat on the bed. “What’s your name?”

“Latar. My mom owns this inn,” said the boy proudly. “Your teacher, the mage lady, told me to make you cocoa with coffee and serve it with some sweets.”

Kangassk took a sip of the strange drink. He knew what coffee and cocoa tasted like but never thought of mixing them in one cup. The mix was good.

“Sit down, Latar,” said Kangassk, “and help yourself. There are way too many sweets for me anyway.”

The boy jumped at the offer without hesitation. In a moment, his little hand grabbed the particularly tasty treat from the middle of the heap.

“Tell me, do you happen to know what kind of creature dvoedushnik is?” asked Kan, his thoughts back to yesterday’s news again.

“It’s a person with two souls.” Latar seemed surprised to learn that a grown-up man could be ignorant of such a thing. “One of the souls is human, the other is a demon. The demon-soul wakes up at night and does bad things while human-soul sleeps. They say dvoedushnik kills with winds! Winds so strong they shred flesh from the bones!”

“...Exactly: they shred flesh from the bones…” concluded Sereg as he entered the room.

Latar quickly pocketed several more sweets and darted out of the door. Sereg crossed the room with a lazy pace, grabbed a chair, and sat across Kangassk.

“I bet if I hadn’t scared him away, he’d tell you a creepy story or two,” the worldholder said, thoughtfully. “But all in good time… Right now, you need science, not fairy tales, so I brought you a book. Read it. I put a bookmark on the page you need.”

Kan looked at Sereg with wide eyes. The haughty worldholder who used to call him a “stray mortal” and treated him accordingly came here specifically to teach him a lesson! The very idea of Sereg teaching him something took Kangassk’s breath away. He even failed to notice where the book came from, a heavy ancient tome embossed with silver patterns. Maybe Sereg had just summoned it on the spot by some magic spell. One way or the other, it was there now, beside the painted tray with the sweets.

“And don’t spill coffee over it!” said Sereg sternly before leaving the room.

Kan obediently moved the drink away from the book. He realised the seriousness of the situation only after looking at the tome’s publication date. That book was almost two thousand years old!

For a bookmark, Sereg just used a candy wrap, without much respect to the thing that wasn’t nearly as ancient as him; so, while he did have some respect to the tome, it wasn't that great. The surprises didn’t end there: the text in the book was written by hand.

“Dvoedushnik is one of the rare and scarcely explored Omnisian natural phenomenon. Of the five recorded cases, four were the results of botched summoning experiments where vitryaniks (lesser wind demons) were involved. In the fifth case, the origins of the dvoedushnik remained unknown.

The complete transition of vitryaniks into Omins was proved to be impossible. The only type of presence possible here for such a demon is astral parasitism. The only possible host for it is a person with a spacious magical chalice filled to the brim. Subjects answering to that description are usually elderly people who have never used magic in their life; less often, talented young mages with untapped potential.

The coexistence of the parasite and the host is known as the “double soul” phenomena. During the day, the possessed person acts their usual self, during the night, the vitryanik takes over. The demon hunts by way of powerful winds it raises over its victims. Common folk call them “Death Winds”. Those winds are often strong enough to tear the victim apart.

The demon chooses its victims carefully and never hunts in the vicinity of its host. The goals of the hunts are unknown, there are only hypotheses. Since humans have the biggest magical chalices and the biggest magical potential of all creatures, even the weakest of them would be more desirable prey if the wind demons are after magical energy. Unfortunately, with only five recorded cases of the “double soul” phenomenon, there is not enough data to prove or disprove that.

Identifying the vitryanik’s host can prove difficult since the person’s diurnal behaviour does not change. Deep, oblivious night sleep and old age, when present together, are considered to be grounds for suspicion.”

Kangassk carefully put the book on the table and paced the room for a while, thinking of what he had read. Narrated in the dry, emotionless language of science, it didn’t seem scary at all. The memory of experiencing the phenomena of White Region after reading a soothing article about it was still too fresh in his mind, though. When Kan’s heart started racing, answering the newly made imaginary horrors in his head, he decided to reread the description of dvoedushnik to calm down again but the book was gone, it had disappeared leaving only the crumpled bookmark behind. With nothing to stop it, Kan's imagination took wing at once.

By the time Vlada had entered his room to tell him to start packing, Kangassk was already watching a full-scale horror show in his head. That day, he jumped at whatever task his teacher gave him - packing, shopping, running with errands - to keep his thoughts away from what was coming.

After Transvolo’s starry void had faded, Kangassk saw a blue dome of the evening sky above the Wide Fields, so tiny on the map, so huge in the real world. With the wind ruffling the wheat there in waves, the fields looked like sea. From that “sea”, an archipelago of steep hills rose, bright green with wild strawberries growing there. The wind above the fields was cool and gentle; not a single hint on how it could be deadly and demonic. A small bird of prey, some nocturnal hunter, was flying in circles above.

The road paved with rough stones and drowning in wildflowers led them to a small village, Iven, cosily settled between the fields and the forest. Several rings of grey tents and twinkling lights surrounded it: the Inquisitors’ camp. Somewhere here, among the busy grey cloaks, were the Five, the famous team of mages of the highest level possible for a Hunter.

The grim faces of the villagers spoke louder than any Hunter reports. Most looked frightened, the others looked defeated, but some… oh, yes, some had angry, rebellious flames in their eyes. They didn’t like being locked inside the grey tent ring and they were seriously thinking of doing something about it.

The arrival of the worldholders went unnoticed. Kangassk already knew why: those people weren’t close enough to the centres of the civilization to know their world’s creators’ faces. To the locals, Vladislava was just a good-looking warrior woman and Sereg was just another grey cloak. In his well-worn unadorned clothes, the northern lord looked like an unimportant young Hunter about Giblar Tar’s age. As to Kangassk, he looked so exotic, with his brown skin, a dragonlighter on his shoulder, and the cold obsidian he wore openly, that he got all the attention. A small crowd of people, mostly kids, followed him everywhere, whispering to each other, “Soothsayer, a real soothsayer!”

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There were two tents prepared for them within the grey ring. They looked exactly like all the other tents around, nothing betrayed the importance of those whom they were intended for. Small magical orbs floated above the entrances, attracting swarms of moths with their dimmed lights. The worldholders took one tent for themselves and left Kangassk the other. Stretching on a cosy woollen bedroll inside his new home, he couldn’t help but wonder how human his immortal masters exactly were and what were they going do in that tent together. The thoughts were… interesting and took his attention for a while. The dragonlighter, bored by the company of his silent owner, left the tent for an evening stroll or maybe a moth hunt.

Kangassk could see the sky through a little round hole in the tent’s roof. The bluish circle dotted with stars was getting darker by the minute. The grey camp didn’t sleep, it never did. Someone was having a conversation in the distance, a couple of mages patrolling the perimeter briskly walked past the tent carrying a light orb with them that shone through the thick cloth like a fairy-tale will-o-the-wisp…

Kangassk dozed off, lulled by the soft noises from outside, then slipped into a deep dreamless sleep, short but refreshing. He woke up disoriented and thought, for a brief moment, that he was back home, in Aren-Castell. He felt a light draughty wind on his face and heard a muted chorus of noises coming through the tent walls from the outside; all that reminded him of a typical Kuldaganian night when people, finally free from the merciless heat, really woke up. The monotonous noise of the grey camp was a sign of safety. Everything was all right.

Recalling Aren-Castell made Kangassk nostalgic. He would have let that place go, forget it, move on if it wasn’t for his mother who had lived and died there. She was a perfect copy of Del but people hated her even more than they hated Kangassk. Giving birth to a freak does that to you. The citizens never forgave her for having an affair with a stranger and shaming the ancestors.

Of his father Kangassk knew little; mother rarely mentioned him. He was a wandering merchant or something, had a funny accent and, it seemed, a cruel heart. He slept with the local girl who fell in love with him, then just left her with a child, perfectly knowing that he would ruin her life, and never looked back.

Mother said that Kangassk didn’t look like him at all. That was most likely true. Alien blood is weaker than the ancestor blood, it rarely leaves a trace on a child. Usually, it just unbalances the ancestors’ features causing them to mix in weird combinations. Kan had green eyes and black hair; the disbalance was so obvious that no one in Aren-Castell could look at him without pity, anger or disgust. No wonder he lost his mind when Vlada called him handsome...

He tried to fall asleep again but couldn’t and had to admit that this time his older, nocturnal side had won. Kangassk felt full of energy and boredom. He thought he could use a walk. The grey camp, so lively and well lit in the middle of the night, seemed safe enough for an evening stroll but Kangassk still took his sword with him, just in case, before leaving his tent.

With all the magical lights around, the world outside looked as bright and shiny as Aren-Castell central square in the middle of the night. The grey cloaks were everywhere: patrolling, running with messages, sparring, or just chatting in hushed voices. One of the Hunters said hello and politely bowed to Kangassk while passing by. Kan shrugged. Being respected and greeted was something he hadn’t yet got used to. Being a worldholder’s apprentice and not a mere mortal was odd. Things were expected of him now, trust was placed on his shoulders but he knew next to nothing about his new position and responsibilities!

He threw a quick glance at his masters’ tent. It was dark and silent. They seemed to be sleeping, after all.

Dark and silent nights were terrifying - Kangassk knew that too well - but nights full of light and sounds seemed too much like home; he couldn’t be afraid now even with the thought of the dvoedushnik in his mind, so he strolled carelessly among the houses and tents. The village was small, so there wasn’t much to explore. Kan’s night stroll finally led him to the edge of the guarded perimeter where the true darkness began. There he stood for a long time just watching the stars twinkle and the fields shine in their silver light when the wind made thousands of wheat stalks move in wide, undulating waves.

Kangassk missed the moment when the wind died and everything became quiet, too quiet to be natural, and came to his senses only when he heard the horrible wail rise somewhere in the very heart of the deep silence. No animal could wail like that; winds dancing inside immense tubes could, though... the winds strong enough to tear flesh from the bones…

The horrible realization took Kan just a brief moment. The next moment, he bolted toward the grey ring, back to the guarded perimeter, back to safety. The salvation was just several metres away but how far it seemed!

The Hunters responded to the wail just like a well-taught army responds to a battle horn; the chaos of the quiet, relaxed night turned into order in the blink of an eye. The Sevens - mage battle units - arose at the edge of the perimeter; the aura of magic around them was as strong as heat is around a burning furnace.

Kangassk crossed the invisible guarded line in a run and fell to the ground, panting. He was safe. Saved, more like. The barrier, held by the protectors in each group, was on. In the centre of each Seven, floating in the air with their hands spread in a frozen embrace, were two mages channelling the mage donors’ energy into the massive protection spell... Two? Kangassk had read about the Sevens; there were never two! Five donors, a defender, and an attacker - that was the classic Seven! What was going on there? How were they going to fight back?

The wail was growing with every second, rolling toward the village like a giant invisible wave. Not a single blade of grass stirred on its way.

Kangassk stood behind the Hunters’ backs, helpless, forgotten, and scared shitless. He grasped the hilt of his useless sword so hard his knuckles turned white. He could do nothing, nothing but wait for the moment when the invisible force hits the invisible shield…

Suddenly, the wail died. In the deep, breathless silence, the weak night breeze was rolling waves on the fields again.

“Shields down!” Sereg’s commanding cry broke the silence. “Dismissed!”

Soon, the low buzz of the grey camp was back; murmurs, chatter, complains, commands - all mixed into a soothing white noise. The tired mages walked past Kangassk, back to their tents. The village was safe again.

Kan turned back, hoping to find the worldholders. They were here all right…

Sereg the Grey Inquisitor, a dishevelled young man so pale he looked like a marble statue in the moonlight, and Vladislava the Warrior, a girl with a thick tan that ended where she usually wore a shirt. Both were half-naked as if the alarm had got them out of beds… or a bed.

For a few moments, Kangassk just stared at his masters, unblinking, with bated breath, but as soon as he got over the shock, he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard his legs gave way under him and he had to sit on the ground; he laughed so hard tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop until all the terror of the night attack had transformed into the most stupid laughter ever. Through the tears, Kangassk saw Vlada giggle and Sereg make a wry smile.

Later, on their way back to the tents, Vlada said, “This thing gave us all a good scare, Kan, not you alone.”

Her naked, untanned shoulders seemed to shine in the moonlight, the sheet she wrapped herself into didn’t hide much, and her apprentice was now sane enough to notice such things. Life seemed good again…

“This is the most treacherous of all vitrianiks I’ve seen,” growled Sereg.

“Of all five?” Vlada smiled, a playful irony in her voice.

“Yes, of all five!” Sereg repeated stubbornly. “It’s so strong! And - you saw that! - there wasn’t a single sign of the incoming attack!”

“There were no mage attackers in the Sevens,” Kangassk chimed in. “Why?”

“They’re no use against a vitryanik. What are you even going to attack? The wind?” Sereg sniffed. “The only sure way to get to the demon is to find its human host. If that proves to be impossible, urgent measures must be taken...”

“Which measures?” Kan didn’t understand.

“Urgent ones!” repeated Sereg, clearly annoyed now. “Your friend Malconemershghan may give you a hint. Ask him.”

That said, Grey Inquisitor quickened his pace a great deal. Soon, he disappeared in his tent, then reappeared again, fully dressed, called up several Hunters and strode away so fast they had to run to catch up.

“Did I say something wrong?” Kangassk wondered. “Why is he so mean to me all the time?”

“He’s just jealous.” Vlada shrugged. Watching first realization, then fear appear on her apprentice’s face as he thought of how deadly a rival can a worldholder be made her smile. Finally, she took mercy on the poor guy, “It was a joke… I think you remind him of Malconemershgnan and he doesn’t like that. Don’t worry, he’ll come around. Go have some sleep.”

“And you?”

“I have to look at the map again.”

Kangassk recalled Vladislava’s map, the wonderful thing where the areas of stable magic were marked with gold and silver and each unstable region had curious notes about it. Still, his thoughts didn’t follow the pretty image; they were here, right in the middle of the trouble.

“Vlada!” Kan called to her.

“What’s up?” She had reached her tent already.

“What stops this demon from rising the winds right there, above the village?”

“There are two possible answers, Kan.” She turned around to face him, “It's either the demon’s host lives in Iven - they don’t hunt close to their hosts, remember? - or it realizes that it would be useless to try something here, with all the mages around. Winds need space and time to reach their full strength. There, inside the perimeter, they’d have no chance. By the way,” she shrugged, “you got very lucky tonight. This vitrianik must be quite young and weak still. Otherwise, it would have got you. Still, be careful in the future. And promise me you won’t do anything stupid next time. Okay?”

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“Yeah… I promise,” said Kan with a guilty nod.