Anchorite and the The Heart of Effie. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. TOMBTOWN

As soon as the sun appeared over the horizon, Oreon woke Alpin up, rudely banishing sleep from his head. Waking up was not easy. And also cold. It seemed that suddenly, unexpectedly, winter had come: thick steam began to come out his mouth. Hearing something like "Hurry up!" from Oreon, Alpin quickly got to his feet, swaying a little and managing his sudden dizziness.
'Why such a hurry? the boy muttered indistinctly. It was not the first time for him to wake up at dawn, but this morning the awakening turned out to be incredibly difficult.
'Slept too long!' the man said anxiously, putting on his tunic. 'It is better to move in these places during the day. It’s a long way to get to the wall, and the faster we get east, the safer it is for you, too.'
'Will my request to go to the Elven Forest go unheeded?' Alpin asked gloomily.
Alpin shuddered at the idea that Oreon would just leave him here in the middle of the wasteland, because apparently the man had no intention of going south. The boy, after a little thought, added:
'You seem to have made up your mind without me, have you?'
Oreon approached the boy, handing him a piece of bread, a modest breakfast before a long journey. Then the man raised one of his sharpened stakes, pointed it towards the ground with its sharp end, and began to draw something like a map on the soil.
'Look: here, in the north, are the mountains of Zirunderelle and my home, the abode of mountinours, mountain people and giants. Almost the entire south, right here, is occupied by the Enchanted Forests, the place where you want to come. All sorts of creatures that do not belong to the human race live there: but most of all there are elves. They have ruled the forest expanses for many years, and they are vile and arrogant creatures, believe me. It's not worth going there. And you won't. In the west of Abbaddon - the land of Embry, once there was a capital, a majestic and huge city. Now, of course, only memories remain of it - kings have plunged the capital into the abyss of hunger and poverty, and this is one of the surviving places of the human race that Taurentius did not destroy. Well, in the east - the place where we will go with you - the Wall behind which there is a part of our world that is a place serving as a shelter for peaceful creatures hiding from wars and having managed to escape from it. Anima city that successfully hides and protects local inhabitants. There you will meet Ademius, the oldest and wisest inhabitant of Abbaddon. He will give you answers to all your questions. Anyway, I'd be surprised if he doesn't.
Oreon drew a large circle inscribed in the four outlined objects, and continued:
'And here is a rotten wasteland. Somewhere, perhaps, life has been preserved, but it is clearly secret, because all peaceful settlements have long been ravaged by Taurentius hunters, night vampires, andalai wolves and other dangerous creatures. However, the wasteland is the only, albeit huge, area where Taurentius can track any, even the most insignificant magic. That is why it is important to keep any manifestation of it to yourself. Otherwise, they will immediately find us, and then we're all dead!'
'What makes you think anyone would do magic? And who is this Taurentius, I don’t know at all...' Alpin muttered.
Oreon laughed and shook his head disapprovingly.
'I forgot. You don't know anything about what's going on in the world. The story is long, so let me tell you everything on the way. We really better hurry up.'
'So we're moving on together?' Alpin asked uncertainly.
'This is the most correct option now, believe the person who saved you,' Oreon cut, putting his hand on the interlocutor's shoulder. 'Let's go immediately.'
Alpin nodded, quickly finishing off a piece of bread. Oreon glanced into the distance, determining the direction, then waved his hand in a sign that Alpin should follow him and set off with a confident step.
Alpin fully understood what was meant by the combination of the words "rotten wasteland", but he was surprised again and again how desolate and dead was the land along which the road to the east of Abbaddon ran. For many kilometers to the very horizon there was no grass, no trees, and not a single living soul, except for two travelers who, as it seemed from the outside, were going nowhere. The earth seemed so dry that, stepping on it, one could raise dust into the air, hear a crunch and feel the thin crust cracking. Oreon, as promised, slowly continued his story.
'Here it is, the Rotten Wasteland, in all its glory. Once upon a time there were settlements, cities, there were times when this place was not empty, life was in full swing. This is what the old-timers say, but I, of course, had not fallen into these times. I remember only the endless wars and battles that deprived me of many friends and brothers. There were times when the war seemed already a common thing, and the people did not know any other life. Everyone got used to seeing death and despair every day over time, and no one remembered the reasons for the contention, no one knew why blood was shed, in the name of what ... As you can see, this is how it all ended.'
'A war over that same Taurentius?' Alpin asked. The boy ardently desired to finally find out who bears this so often repeated name.
"Now all the misfortunes are connected with his name, that's true," Oreon nodded. “The hunters who ruined a good part of Abbaddon are his minions, the army of ogres are also his brainchild, and the last thing he did was exterminate the race of fairies, can you imagine. Therefore, he took it at once, and killed all the fairies to a single one. And all in order to get their magical power and turn against the rest of those who disagree with his power. Taurentius has a lot of power and strength, but judging by his appetites, never enough. He wants to become the sole owner of all the lands of Abbaddon, but, it's obvious for everybody, he simply destroys the already dilapidated world.'
'I’m sorry... A horror of some sort,' said Alpin, trying to believe what he had just heard. In the past, the boy was simply proud of his father and of the protection he gave Bryson Hill, but it was now clear what a horrific reality there was outside that protection.
'Is it possible to fight him?' Alpin asked.
'The fight against him did not stop. It's just that the fights were obviously losing. All those who could fight with dignity have long since fallen, and the peaceful people hid behind the Wall. Now it’s more like a cold war, where everything is decided by strategy. There is another problem in that the mountain and forest peoples and those who live behind the Wall do not quite get along with each other, and their relationship can hardly be called friendly. Perhaps if we all united, then we would have a chance to defeat Taurentius, to overthrow him at last. Alas, it's more important to show the offense, it's more important to take revenge, long and pointless than to make a partnership,' - Oreon finished with obvious sarcasm, spit at the ground with disgust.
Alpin didn't know what to say. He walked, keeping up with Oreon, who did not expect any comments from the interlocutor, continuing the monologue:
'But you,' suddenly changing the topic of conversation, the man said, pointing his finger at his fellow traveler. 'You, Alpin, are not an ordinary man at all. Even though you're obviously keeping a lot of things secret from me, you're special in some way. That's why I decided to take you with me.'
'And why am I unusual?' Alpin asked warily. 'Well, besides getting out of that fog where my friends and my entire village disappeared…'
'You can answer my question better than me. You didn't say much, but I can read a lot in a person's eyes. Yes, even in silence sometimes you can find much more than in words,' Oreon answered simply.
And he was right. How to remain undisclosed if a simple stranger, who has been nearby quite recently, already sees through the boy. Alpin cowered all over, hunched over and frowned. Oreon noticed this and gave him a friendly pat on the head, ruffling his hair.
'I know what it's like to keep secrets. And I will not betray you,' the man promised firmly. 'Moreover, I will protect you if necessary, and you will arrive at the wall safe and sound, you can be sure of that.'
'What about my village? What about forest?' Alpin asked gloomily.
'Your village in ahlise. As are your friends. Whether alive or dead is a moot point, but as long as they are there, and we can be sure that they are, they are inaccessible to us. You will not be able to help your village by running through the expanses of the rotten wasteland and looking for a meeting with the ahlise. Ahlise is an imprint of dark magic, that is, another creation of Taurentius, as I believe. If we destroy this magician, ahlise will also disappear, and then, perhaps, all those whom it devoured will return to our world. But you must understand that this is just an assumption of those who have been fighting the forces of evil for many years. It can be far from truth. And as for the Elves - I’ve already told you - they’re unpleasant creatures and their king hates the whole human race. Whoever told you to go there he had no idea how evil and mean Taurebeleg is.'
Alpin sighed heavily. Closer to noon, it became very hot, and men simply wanted to take off all their clothes, although this would not have helped: it turned out that it was impossible to wait even for a slight breeze in this place. Wiping the drops of sweat mercilessly flowing from their foreheads, the travelers began to breathe through their mouths from lack of oxygen.
'It's cold, it's hot! Is it always like this here?' Alpin croaked. Was Bryson Hill really an oasis in this terrible desert?
'I don't live here, I don't know how it's always been here. But when my path goes through the wasteland, I have to be ready for any temperature. The heat can be replaced by a blizzard and frost, and then everything will come back. I should have warned you right away. This oddity is a consequence of the magical battle between Ademius and Taurentius. One of the wars, but the biggest and most terrible,' answered Oreon.
Not far away appeared an island of strange dried-looking shrubs, somewhat similar to gooseberry thickets, only these plants were clearly dead and completely dehydrated in the sun.
'Look, something is still growing!' The boy pointed at the find.
'Stay away from this,' Oreon warned him.
'Are these plants dangerous?' Alpin asked with interest.
'This is a harmala, but sometimes it is simply called burial ground plant. Poison shrub. He's dead, like everything around him. But even after death, this plant can cause harm. Touch it and you will fall asleep forever. It secretes a special substance that will plunge you into a dead slumber in a split second. Harmala is rare, grows mainly in these parts of Abbaddon. Avoid him if you notice. Come on, greener. Yesterday my horse happened to be near this plant - and here I am without a horse and I am forced to walk.'
'Good, I got it,' the boy nodded, turning a little away from the poisonous shrubs, apparently afraid that it would start shooting poison at him from a distance.
Not far from the harmala shrub, one could see the skeleton of some very large animal ingrown into the soil.
'You see, someone is already out of luck,' Oreon shook his head. 'And all this is even tragically symbolic. This is the legacy of present days. Everything here has lost faith in better times. And, as you know, faith is the last to die, you know?'
Alpin was silent. Although the heat tormented him, at that moment a strange chill ran down his back. Once again, throwing a glance towards the island of poisonous bushes, the boy thought about the fact that he had lived all his serene short life up to this moment in terrible ignorance. After all, while the inhabitants of Bryson Hill enjoyed a quiet life, death and devastation reigned very close to the village, and the world turned to dust.
'I didn't know... I didn't know anything at all...' Alpin whispered to himself.
Oreon laughed bitterly and shook his head. There was nothing to add.
It's been long enough. In the afternoon, the heat became even more unbearable, but there was no place to hide anywhere. Therefore, no one even stuttered about the halt.
Oreon stopped his stories for a while: it was clear how hard the path was given to him, although he courageously held on and did not complain. Alpin was also surprised by his endurance. Only a few hours after the heat gradually subsided, something similar to ruins appeared on the horizon: half-destroyed stone structures about a few people high. It immediately became clear that Oreon had noticed them as a proposed place to sleep. That's where they went. They wanted to hide in the shade, sit down and rub the tired legs.'
'It'll be safe here. Once there was a small town here. All its inhabitants were killed already around five years ago, and the ruins are of no interest to anyone, as a reminder of past wars,' Oreon explained the situation.
'By the way, you and I are doing well,' he smiled already on the way to the devastated city. 'Judging by where we are now, about a quarter of the way is already behind us.'
'So, three more days of travel?' Alpin made a simple logical conclusion.
'Well, if nothing unforeseen happens,' Oreon answered honestly, entering the stone arch, apparently left from the gate that let travelers into the ruins.
The remains of a very strange city opened up to the gaze of travelers: it was small, but most of the destroyed buildings were columns and turrets, as if the city that once stood here consisted of miniature castles and fortresses. It was obvious from Oreon's face that this was not his first time here. He knew exactly where he was going, leading Alpin, impressed by the view, into the depths of the stone ruins. The travelers came to a place, a kind of round square, on which a tall black pillar flaunted on a small hill. And Alpin's attention was also attracted by a big, simply huge tree, a bit like the one that stood in the meadow at Bryson Hill, only it was black, as if charred, with a dead, at first glance, trunk and branches, crooked and twisted.
'Oreon,' whispered Alpin. 'What kind of place is this?'
'This, my young friend, is one of the ruined cities, the great Tombtown. And our place for the night. Let's stay here.'
Oreon halted at the two stone walls, which had destroyed closer to the upper boundary and formed a secluded corner. Here Alpin saw a circle lined with stones, where, obviously, a fire had already been kindled more than once.
'You know these places, right?' more affirming than asking, the boy said.
'I had to see a lot of things,' Oreon spread his hands, equipping the place of the future lodging for the night. 'Well, it's not really an ordinary city. It has its own history, which is associated with many mysteries and secrets. It can be said that Tombtown is one of the most legendary places of Abbaddon.'
'One of the legendary ones?' Alpin repeated a little irritably. 'And, of course, I never heard of it either.'
'Yeah, well,' Oreon drawled. 'I don't think we're going to start a fire. It's not cold, and it's not worth attracting too much attention. We need to eat before dark, and we will try an early sleep so that tomorrow we will get up at dawn.'
Alpin did not experience acute hunger, but his legs ached with heaviness. The boy sat down on the ground, leaning his back on the stone firmament, and began to rub his knees and shins.
'Never walked that much, huh?' Oreon asked. 'Come on, be strong.'
'Of course I did,' said Alpin. 'But the Bryson Hill walks never made me so much tired. Now it seems I have entered another world, with a different land, air and laws.'
The man handed Alpin a piece of bread and took some for himself. Herbal tea was poured into tin mugs.
'So what is this ruined city so famous for?' Alpin asked with interest.
'There are legends that it was from here that troubled times began, which brought Abbaddon to the state in which it is now. Of course, you don't know this, but before Taurentius began to exterminate the fairy race, the human race was on the verge of extinction. Here you are a human, and I am not quite. I am a mountinour, this is a race of mountain people, our descendants were giants. Once upon a time, in the days of the prosperity of our world, one of the most powerful wizards lived in Tombtown. They say that in his strength he could surpass Taurentius dozens of times, but, according to legend, he was kind in soul and used magic only for the benefit of people and nature. He was prophesied a great fate, and everyone who lived that times imagined this magician as the ruler of Abbaddon, wise and just. The fame of him went with exorbitant steps, and somebody imbued with either envy or simple anger. The human race desired to destroy the wizard. It is not known whether they were led by someone or united by a common idea, but an army of people headed here, to Tombtown, took the city by storm, wanting to destroy the wizard and everyone who gets in their way. And they succeeded.'
'Ordinary people killed the most powerful magician in history?' Alpin was surprised.
Oreon's story so far reminded him of one of the tales told in the tavern by the inveterate drunkards of Bryson Hill.
'To be precise, they burned it,' Oreon continued. 'Did you see a big pole nearby? They say that this is the very pole to which they tied the poor fellow and gave his body to the fire. Well, apparently he didn't do anything. He didn’t even resist. Why? Unknown. If the legends describe the truth, then it is not clear why a wizard who performed incredible magic many times turned out to be defenseless in front of a crowd of mere mortals. Or maybe he surrendered to them intentionally, because, having burned in the flame, the wizard cursed people. Such is revenge for what people did to an innocent magician. As a result, the chain of events taking place further led to the fall of the human race and their complete extermination. A curse that no one took seriously at first was more than real. In addition, the weirdest thing is that the reason of almost all the recent events of this chain has been and still is the same Taurentius that has been terrorizing Abbaddon for more than five decades. And here, like many before you, you might think that Taurentius is somehow connected with the curse of that wizard that he fulfills his prophecy. That is why many believe that after the death of the last man in Abbaddon, the last representative of the human race, the war will end and peaceful times will come. But as for me - I think this is already an extreme! Killing for life - what a nonsense! Moreover, Taurentius does not pursue the goal of exterminating the human race. He wants to dominate all races everywhere. Killing the last human being obviously won't stop him.'
'How confusing everything is,' Alpin said gloomily. 'Why does he want all this? What does he want to achieve?'
'Well, I think it's pretty banal here,' Oreon said simply, talking about it as something completely obvious. 'Like any dictator, Taurentius is sure that his outlook and ideology will bring something new, make the world a better place under his leadership. For him, such concepts as killing for the sake of life, war for the sake of peace are normal things. Completely insane, on the one hand, but really many, very many share the opinion to this day that the burned wizard and the current Taurentius are one and the same character, that the fire killed only the body of the magician, he was, if you like, simply unbound.
'So you believe in this whole story? But that magician was kind. And Taurentius is a villain...'
Alpin finished his bread and began to drink tea. Oreon didn't answer. Probably, he himself did not know what to believe in, or maybe he just wanted to finally relax, stop talking after a hard road. He put the backpack under his head and lay down on the ground, throwing his hands behind his head.
'Many people take this legend at face value. Some call it tall tales. Well, I'm somewhere in the middle,' after a little thought, Oreon nevertheless answered. 'You know, in difficult times people are ready to believe in anything, to cling to any ray of hope. And although I do not like the forest people, there is some truth in their unwillingness to share all these superstitions. And if some legend promises to rid the world of a tyrant, of course, many become hostages to such views.'
'So, Taurentius, in your opinion, is a disembodied magician who was burned by people fifty years ago and who was reborn to take revenge and rule,' Alpin summed up, also settling on the ground.
'Maybe yes, maybe no,' Oreon muttered, yawning. Apparently, he was starting to get sleepy.
'Is Taurentius the only wizard that exists today?' Alpin suddenly asked for no reason.
'Of course not,' Oreon still muttered under his breath, but now there was a hint of a smirk in his voice. 'They are few, but they exist. And some are even closer than you think.'
Alpin bit his lip. He thought it was time to shut up.
It got dark. Oreon fell asleep very quickly, but his sleep was light. The man tossed and turned and mumbled something. Alpin just lay with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the night. Last night seemed very quiet to him, but today the boy began to notice various rustles, the whistle of the wind, even the echoes of some kind of ghostly echo, as if somewhere far away someone was saying something obscure and only fragments of phrases were heard.
Alpin pulled the device out of his pocket and looked at it. How glad he was that he had not lost this thing in the fog, the only thing left of his former serene life, the last thing that reminded him of home. Did the boy do the right thing, disobeying the order of the crazy Mr. Poltus and not going to the elves forest? This question still tormented his mind, drilled it mercilessly. The thought flashed through Alpin's head that perhaps the compass is not only an ordinary thing. Maybe there is something hidden in it, some kind of secret. Alpin lost track of time, staring at the device in his palm until his eyes began to ache and tear. No, after all, it was just a compass, nothing more.
An unexpected sound, similar to deaf strokes, distracted Alpin, simply pulled him out of the ocean of thoughts with a rough hand. The noise appeared somewhere very close, it was becoming unpleasant and approaching. Oreon jumped up, instantly awake and grabbing his makeshift spear.
'What's happening?' Alpin hissed.
In response, Oreon gave the boy a stern look and put his index finger to his lips: it was necessary to maintain silence. Then Oreon looked away at several pointed sticks lying near the blackening spot in the soil where the fire had once been. Alpin took the hint and cautiously reached for the spears, gripping the weapon tightly.
Then Alpin began to observe with interest and anxiety the further behavior of Oreon: the man actively moved his nostrils, inhaling eagerly through his nose, as if diligently trying to smell something in the darkness, and then had laid down on the ground, pressing his ear to the dry soil. Alpin was the first to see small lights flickering in the darkness, as if a small flock of fireflies with an unusual noise for her, like the sharp crackling of a breaking dry splinter, was already very close. And then the silent Oreon finally spoke:
'Hold on to me, Alpin. These are Andalai wolves.'
'What wolves?' Alpin asked in fright. But there were no explanations, and there was no need for them. It was clear from Oreon's terrible fright that the enemy was, to put it mildly, dangerous.
'Hit them with a sharp end in the neck or belly and do not let go until the spirit expires. You'd better take the second spear...'
From the darkness in a powerful jump appeared about a dozen strange outlandish creatures. Yes, at first glance they could be mistaken for wolves. Shaggy, on four paws. But only these creatures were much larger than adult wolves, and they did not have the usual dog face. Instead, the whole head was occupied by something vile, terrible, similar to a flower bud, of a dirty gray color, the petals of which opened with the same crash, revealing hundreds of small sharp teeth and a red long thin tongue swaying like a snake. The whole head of these unusual wolves was a solid mouth without eyes and nose.
Alpin recoiled in horror, burying his back against the stone wall. One monster jumped towards the boy, but Oreon deftly arrived in time to help, plunging a sharp spear into the body of a predator.
'Don't stand still, don't yawn!' the man exclaimed. 'One bite - and no luck will save you! You will die for sure!'
In an instant, Oreon slipped under two wolves that jumped in his direction, and with a pair of spears he ripped open both of their stomachs. The entrails spilled out, and the snarling creatures collapsed to the ground, dead. Two beasts were advancing on Alpin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other wolf knock Oreon to the ground, attacking from behind. Gathering his strength, Alpin got to his feet and rushed to the rescue.
The boy tried to remember the sparring at the fight place, and wished that Krauser was around right now. Alpin tried to turn off fear, to believe in his own strength. A huge paw hit Alpin in the side - something crunched inside. The boy screamed in pain, but stood on his feet, only for a couple of moments bent over, clutching a wounded rib. While the beast was distracted by this scream, Oreon drove the already bloodied weapon into the enemy's neck. Another wolf flew in a jump at Alpin, flashing with frightening teeth. The boy, firmly grabbing a wooden spear, swung with all his might and plunged it right into the monster's mouth.
Alpin and Oreon stood with their backs to each other, looking around: the wolves kept coming and coming, surrounding their victims. It was a whole pack.
'Do you think we'll survive?' Alpin whispered desperately, pulling a weapon out of the dead monster's mouth.
'I've seen monsters before them. But luck wouldn't hurt us now! If you have some kind of magic, preferably protective, it's time to apply it!'
'What makes you think I have magic?' Alpin exclaimed, hoping in the depths of his soul for her.
'It was possible not to notice...'
Alpin wanted the magic to somehow break out from him now and help deal with the enemy, even tried to concentrate, but only wasted time in the end. Looking over the coming monsters, Alpin counted at least ten of them. His heart just jumped out of the chest.
Then something like chaos began. Predators attacked Alpin and Oreon at once. It was difficult to understand which side to defend. Alpin just swung his spear with all his might, hoping not to stab Oreon in the process. Hands were covered with scratches. The boy couldn't believe he was going to get out of this madness alive. Alpin threw another stabbed monster away, trying to see Oreon in the darkness. Oreon fought very dexterously, defeating one wolf after another. It was admirable: no comparison with the fighters in Bryson Hill, here he is - a real warrior. For a moment, Alpin even forgot about the dangerous, deadly foes around him.
A severe pain shot through his shoulder. A wolf crept up from behind, jumped off the ruined top of the wall, knocking the boy off his feet, and sank his teeth into Alpin. In the next part of a second, the monster collapsed dead as Oreon hurled a spear at the wolf, piercing right through it. The eyes seemed to fill with milk, and everything became blurry. Alpin leaned back on the ground, staring in a daze at the monstrous wound: bone, scraps of meat, blood - everything indicated that this creature had literally bitten off half of Alpin's shoulder. The pain was cold, as if the wound had turned into an icy block of granite. A woman's scream was heard. A silhouette flew through the air. It was not clear, if it was nothing but a vision or if ghosts had flocked to watch the bloody battle. However, everything was real. Alpin remained conscious. Although everything was blurry to him, the boy understood that suddenly the enemy retreated, and Oreon rushed to the wounded boy.
The wolves did not want to leave at all: they only retreated, allowing the largest brother to come forward: a gigantic creature paced towards Oreon and Alpin, shining with its blackness and frightening with a crash of its opening mouth. It was difficult to initially notice the rider sitting on the wolf. His figure was an insignificant small point compared to the wolf itself, a tall, furry giant. The stranger jumped off the wolf, deftly, without falling, landed on two legs. He was a tall, strong man with black long hair gathered behind, sharp features, frowning eyebrows and small but sharp fangs protruding over his lips.
It was obvious that the wolves obeyed this man. And a little later it became clear that Oreon knew him.
'Hello, Henerion,' Oreon said, not leaving Alpin, but rising to his feet, shielding the boy from the enemy. 'I could have guessed that I would meet you. What brought you here? And your... pack...'
The tone of his voice showed that Oreon treated the man standing next to the monster, at least with contempt.
'I'll spare you much talk,' Henerion said coldly. 'You certainly know who is traveling with you. I don’t know if you helped him escape or not, but we will take the boy, and you will calmly continue to go where you went. You and I have nothing to share in this dispute.'
'Your creature bit him,' Oreon declared with hatred, gritting his teeth in anger. 'You know the boy will expire by dawn. Do you want to bring a dead man to Taurentius?'
'Oreon, Oreon,' Henerion laughed. 'Holy naivety. You’re a smart man. How can you not see the obvious? Are you sure he will die?'
Oreon froze in confusion. The interlocutor smiled broadly, exposing his snow-white fangs.
'I don't care what you say. You can only take the boy over my dead body!' Oreon snapped, clutching a spear in each hand.
'Well. It wasn’t part of the plan, but since you’re asking so much...' Henerion nodded, and then shouted some word understandable only to him and the nearby creature, after which the beast opened its mouth, emitting a loud crackling sound, and moved towards Oreon.
Alpin was still conscious. Breathing heavily, he was aware of everything that was happening, and he understood what would happen now. Gathering his strength, he thundered at the top of his lungs, incredibly powerfully, even to his surprise, in a voice that was like not his own:
'Step aside. Hide behind the wall! Oreon! Now!!!'
The man jumped aside. He did not expect that the wounded boy, who must suffer in his death throes, would let out such a powerful shout.
'Now!' Alpin thundered louder than ever.
Suddenly, Oreon rushed to the half-ruined wall, deftly jumping over it, quickly, like an arrow just launched into the air. And not because the suddenly powerful voice of the boy ordered so, but because the beast raised a huge paw over him, releasing sharp claws, and at the same second Alpin raised his hand with his palm to the enemies, from which a bright orange wave of fire gushed, so powerful, that the whole flock of monsters was engulfed in flames and Henerion himself, who uttered a wild cry and rushed to run. The monsters fell like dead charred carcasses after only a few seconds: the fire corroded their flesh like the strongest acid. The stench of burnt wool and leather filled the air. The flames lit up everything around, as if the dawn came much earlier than it meant to come.
All this fiery show happened so quickly that at the end it seemed only a delusion. The ashes came up into the air, floating like the puff of a blossomed dandelion. Surroundings flickered with the fires of the scorching beasts, and the unbearable smog stood.
Oreon stared in amazement at everything that was happening with bated breath, like a child watching the magic of magicians at a festive fair. Henerion was no longer in sight, and his screams died away. It was not known whether he was alive or perished in the flame like a pack of his monsters.
Alpin did not understand what was happening, as if invisible forces controlled his hand. All that is left in the boy's body is a violent all-consuming heat and a chilling cold in the wound area. The hand went down, and the boy instantly lost consciousness. His body slid down the wall to the ground like a bloodied corpse.