Chapter 4

Catherine, throwing her arms wide, ran toward the waves. A happy smile shone on her face; her laughter sounded like the finest chime of some unknown but wonderful musical instrument. Stepping knee-deep into the sea, she scooped up water in her palms like a child and tossed it upward.
Rutgar watched with a smile as this lovely creature rejoiced so clearly in nature. A sense of carefreeness and happiness passed from the girl to him. Dropping his knapsack, he flopped freely onto the sand. The waves caressed his outstretched feet and beckoned him temptingly to dive in.
Anxiety vanished; it did not matter that a long and unknown journey home lay ahead. In this place blessed by Silat, the very spirit rests and gathers strength for the road further.
Smiling, Catherine lay down beside Rutgar and carelessly closed her eyes. Her young body, almost unburdened by clothing, pulled at the youth invitingly, longing for strong masculine arms. The prince felt another kind of wave calling him to decisive action.
"After all, you are a future king!"—his father's words came back to him. "And you must not swoon the moment you spot a skirt."
The memory brought sadness. How was his father; was he healthy? He was surely worrying about his foolish son, while Evelyn plotted her schemes.
Catherine caught the change in the man's mood, as only a sensitive woman can.
"Do you miss home?"
Rutgar gave a barely perceptible nod.
"My greedy sister wants to seize my father's throne; her husband, the mage Zufar, tricked me into a trap and transported me here. While I am here, my father is in danger!"—he clenched his fists helplessly. "That pair will stop at nothing!"
Genuine bitterness sounded in the prince's voice; the girl wanted to press him to her, stroke him, comfort him.
"Tell me about yourself, where are you from?" she asked, wishing to distract him from sad thoughts.
Rutgar looked back at the lying girl.
"I am from the Free Kingdom in the east of the continent. My father is the rightful King Gregory of House Eagle!"—the youth's chest puffed out, his shoulders involuntarily broadened further; it seemed to Catherine that her companion had even grown taller.
"In the Empire, you are called apostates," she chirped cheerfully.
A flame ignited in Rutgar's eyes, and he countered passionately:
"You are the apostates! Everyone knows that House Falcon rejected the great Silat and confused many with their blasphemous reasonings! My kin left for the free east, driven by followers of Elrath! Everyone threw stones at us, but now we laugh at your troubles! Where was your god looking when demons destroyed the Throne of Falcon? And even in our time, not all is smooth in the empire! I have heard of devastating civil wars, and the laughter of demons is heard from Sheol itself! We, however, are protected by Silat, the only one among dragons who deemed us worthy!"
Catherine's expression darkened. Many centuries had passed since those dark times, but even now in the Empire of Griffin, people blame the government for renouncing the air dragon. Many secretly leave for the east. Cowards! In such a difficult time, when every sword counts!
But she did not want to argue with Rutgar; his eyes were glistening with fire. If you say one word to him now, he'll answer back ten in return, straight from the soul, and then an eleventh for good measure...
"Every boy in our kingdom knows this story," the prince continued. "But few have heard the final words of Novel, the founder of the kingdom, who remembered his abandoned homeland and friends until the end of his days. And he prophesied that in the hour of acute need, at the moment of greatest danger hanging over the Empire of Falcon, the East shall come to the rescue!"
Catherine smiled sardonically.
"The Empire of Falcon was destroyed several centuries ago; why didn't you come when the last emperor defended his capital?"
Rutgar frowned, recalling the lessons of his mentors. A moment later, his face cleared.
"It wasn't the Empire of Falcon that was destroyed, but the lineage of Falcon! The empire remained in the same place; it is simply called the Holy Empire of Griffin! People live as they always have, in their old settled places. The East will come to the rescue when danger threatens the entire population, not just one house. Who knows, perhaps in the decisive hour, beneath the walls of your castles, it will be my horn that sounds?"
Catherine smiled gratefully. The prince had grown in years, but he spoke like a naive youth dreaming of heroic deeds. Even being many leagues from home, he does not think about how to hold his own throne. Instead, in his thoughts, he proudly rides a snow-white horse; hordes of demons scatter at the mere sight of the fearless rider, and grateful imperials throw wreaths beneath the steed's hooves!
They decided to continue along the shore. A saving coolness blew from the sea, and the sun was not nearly as fierce as it had seemed several hours ago.
Catherine frequently ran to the water and splashed about. She would return almost dry; the southern sun greedily absorbed the moisture. Rutgar noticed a dark strip beyond the sea.
"If I were in the steppe, I would think there is a forest on the horizon," he explained to the girl.
"And what if there is land there too?" she suggested immediately. "If we build a raft, we could cut across."
Rutgar looked around the area dramatically.
"I wonder what we'd carve a raft from? Besides, I've never gone to sea. And I don't intend to," he said curtly.
"Still, we must look at the map," Catherine insisted.
The prince stopped abruptly. The girl looked back, confused.
"Did something happen?" she asked anxiously.
"Are you saying you have a map? A map of the Silver League?"
The girl nodded.
"For your information, I prepared for my escape thoroughly," she reported businesslike, her blue eyes shining with satisfaction. "I thought through the smallest details."
"And you didn't take any food," the youth reminded her. "Get out the map."
He held out the knapsack. Catherine reached into a side pocket and extracted a carelessly rolled piece of parchment. They unfolded it on the sand. Rutgar could not believe his luck; before him lay a map of the continent! True, it was covered in incomprehensible runes, but for someone who had studied cartography from early childhood, that was no obstacle. One glance was enough to find their current location and correct their further path.
"Look," he pointed with his finger to a peninsula marked in yellow. "We are right here, on the very edge, see?"
Catherine nodded irritably. As if she hadn't been the one who brought the map and initially chosen the correct path!

"If we don't want to lose our way, we need to move north, go around these mountains, and come out to the bay again. Then along the coast to the green valleys of your homeland. And may Silat send the wind at our backs!"
The girl nodded uncertainly. In words it sounded very simple; how it would happen in practice, even Elrath does not know.
They decided to have a snack for the occasion. Catherine spread a thick handkerchief on the sand and quickly and skillfully laid out meat and fruits. Bread was unknown in these parts, but the prince had managed to take some delicious flatbreads from the palace kitchen. Why hadn't she thought to fill a whole bag herself while preparing for escape?
They ate in silence. They mostly focused on the fruits, which were beginning to rot. They decided to save the flatbreads for cases of hunger.
"It is better to gnaw on hardtack," Rutgar noted philosophically, "than to swallow rotten meat."
The sun reached its peak when Catherine gathered the knapsacks. Rutgar easily threw both over his shoulder. They had grown lighter, a worrying thought flashed through his mind. One must exercise restraint in eating, as the fortress monks loved to repeat during fasts. On the other hand, food would simply spoil in such weather.
Their feet sank into the loose sand. His companion walked barefoot, having put her slippers in her hip bag. To Rutgar, the sand seemed scorching, unfit for walking without shoes.
The youth remembered escaping from Rafiz's palace. Now that the anxiety of captivity had finally subsided, memories came of moments he hadn't noticed in the heat of flight.
"Why does a powerful mage need so many servants and guards? After all, with a movement of his hand, he can do infinitely much."
"People need mages no less than mages need people," Catherine answered. "Simple farmers often complain about sorcerers and mages, but in the event of drought or, conversely, continuous rains, they turn to them, asking to change the weather. Sailors demand fair winds, hunters—to disperse the fog. And all for a certain fee."
"And what do mages want?"
Catherine shrugged:
"Who knows? I've heard that on the northern borders of the League, mages hardly attend to worldly concerns. People live under their patronage and feel protected. In return, they give part of the harvest or prey. The sorcerers are hastily licking their wounds after the war with Queen Isabelle. They gather armies and magical artifacts. After the troops of Griffin, the lands of the Silver League became empty, if one can put it that way."
"How did your troops defeat the mages?" Rutgar frowned.
"They formed an alliance with necromancers."
The prince recoiled. Consorting with necromancers is the worst thing possible. What forced the Queen of the Empire into this alliance?
Catherine read the question on her companion's face, but in response, she shrugged again.
"Mages were helped by the dark elves of Ig-Hall. Uniting, they expelled the outsiders from the country. Rafiz was tasked with monitoring this strait. Now I understand that Erish necromancers could attack from ships at any moment."
A lizard's head popped up from a small dune. Looking around, it crawled out completely. A neighboring dune temporarily hid it from view, and a third once again sheltered it from the merciless heat.
Fragmentary news of the upheavals of the great world reached the Free Kingdom, but how inaccurate that information proved to be! Rutgar could not have imagined that in the lands of Erish a dark hand had risen again, and dungeon elves were attacking mages!
"Rafiz and Zufar have many enemies," Catherine continued. "Some they captured and kept in the palace. Prisoners need guards. You can't entrust such a task to hollow-headed golems."
That left the option of human mercenaries. But Rafiz preferred to kill for the slightest transgressions and not pay them. Cookmaids toil from morning till night over exquisite dishes; others you cannot bring to the mage's table. I will say nothing about the numerous harem.
The travelers descended to the water's edge; particularly eager waves tried in vain to grab the prince's feet. Catherine slapped her bare soles through the water.
The sun slowly rolled toward the horizon. Rutgar surveyed the dunes; it was time to find a place for the night. All sandy hills are the same, differing only in height. They decided to spend the night far from the water.
Settling into a hollow between dunes, Catherine laid out several pieces of dried meat. During the meal, a lizard ran up to them. It tried to steal a treat from the handkerchief; Rutgar noticed in time and tore off a small piece, and the reptile gratefully wagged its tail.
With the setting sun, the temperature began to drop sharply again. The girl took out a plaid and draped it over her shoulders. In her knapsack, there was also a surprising glass cylinder. The fire inside maintained itself. They placed it between them; it gave almost no heat, but it created the impression of a campfire.
Catherine looked thoughtfully at the fire; tongues of flame danced cheerfully against the glass, striving to escape their confinement.
"Tell me something about your kingdom," she asked, without taking her eyes off the lamp.
Rutgar shook his head and reminded her:
"You still haven't told me how you ended up in Rafiz's palace."
The girl sighed.
"Complete chaos reigns in the Empire. The direct heir to the king has disappeared; no one knows his location. The Queen encouraged the creation of a new order of apostates. I don't know what they preach, but they sow only fear and evil! Secretly killing followers of Elrath, they seize more and more power. Attacks by dark elves continue from the west; dwarves have not yet cooled off after the recent war and wait for one pretext. In the east, malicious orcs sharpen their swords, and in the south, mages prepare their staves.
They say a demon from Sheol has entered the Queen's body. But those are only rumors; no one knows if it is truth or lie, and alas, it is impossible to verify.
Many people fled east, under the protection of House Eagle, but it is unknown if they were able to cross the wide steppes of the orcs. And some fled into the forests to engage in banditry.
My village was attacked under cover of night. Most of the strong lads are now on the borders. There were not many men who took up axes and pitchforks. Quickly pushing back the defenders, the bandits burst into houses, killing defenseless children and old people. Prayers and curses floated in the air, terrible death screams. Only young girls were left alive.
My parents were killed slowly. My father managed to wound an attacker; in retaliation, he was locked in a shed and the house was set on fire. My mother was forced to watch, but she broke free and ran toward the shed. She didn't make it, falling with an arrow in the back of her neck. To the loud laughter of those bastards, they congratulated the shooter who had made a precise shot.
The bandits hauled away livestock, grain, ready swords. Then they burned the village. It is unlikely anyone survived. I was sold along with the grain to a caravan coming from the dwarf settlements, selling weapons famous throughout Ashan.
Rafiz bought me for the harem; I remember how he boasted before the merchants that he keeps only virgins. He draws his youth from them through intercourse. I did not intend to surrender, but others were less lucky. They were taken to the lands of Erish; necromancers require warm flesh and the fear of living victims for their ghastly rituals. Escaping from a terrible Necropolis is impossible."
Tears stood in the girl's eyes; sobbing quietly, she turned away.
Rutgar leaped to his feet, his body shaking with indignation, his fingers clenched into fists. A gaze full of rage darted around the surroundings, searching for those very bandits. Catch them! Kill them! Tear them apart! Bring pain, make them regret what they have done.
Oh, Silat! Why did you allow such a thing? Where was Elrath? Where were all these gods when innocent people suffered? When this innocent creature suffered?
How could such a thing happen under these stars, sky, and sun?
And I came at her with my own troubles and problems. They want to steal a prince's throne! The prince was captured!
Out of shame, Rutgar growled. Catherine shuddered in fear.
"Sorry," he rasped in an agitated voice. "This... this simply should not have happened."
The girl nodded timidly. She looked nothing like the arrogant girl they had met this morning.
Rutgar sat opposite her, looking into those brightest blue eyes.
"I promise, no one will ever hurt you again."
Catherine smiled gratefully.