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From his geography lessons at school, Dan knew very well who populated the second layer of the world in this country. In the cities, no matter what, Europeans have come in large numbers, but in the villages you can’t find a single normal person. The girls are beautiful, but when you get to know them better, they are mermaids or strigas at best. Not like in my native Europe: either a witch or a sorceress. It’s no wonder that the strange Fifa lived in such a country overpopulated with non-humans. But also dangerous. Necromancers, for example, were not born in Russia at all, just like alchemists. No one has yet figured out why. Probably, the nature of his homeland also influences the magician’s gift.
He didn’t want to be distracted by the peculiarities of national magical creatures, and for now he naively assumed: Fifa called him to her place, most likely, to summon some nasty genius from the third layer and subsequently take over the world. But is it really possible that in such a large country as Russia there was not a single Czech, Slovak or Hungarian soul caller? Why wasn’t there such a thing in France, where any European could get there even without a visa? For some reason this escaped Dan’s attention that day.
«Here is the ticket,» the master handed the envelope. – To Moscow. Because, as we found out on the orconet, Fifa writes from Russia. She probably flies to Paris on weekends. You’ll find out, though. Registration in an hour. Hint understood?
«That’s not the right word,» muttered the young necromancer. «But I don’t agree to go to some Fifa who is looking for me without a protector magician.»
The mentor threatened him with his finger:
– If it weren’t for your experiments with all sorts of nurseries, there would be no Fifa, believe me. If you light up, get out on your own. And now… your brilliant dragon will protect you, he is not only capable of iambic and trochee.
– Well, yes, I also know amphibrachs! – the creature blurted out, bouncing on one leg.
Looking guiltily at his feet, Dan took the documents from his mentor.
– If you evade, I’ll report it to the Council myself!
No, he will not hide, cowardice is so vile. The necromancer stared at the mirror and began styling his thin ash-gray hair with gel. Having finished with his hair, he went to the window.
– Free! – he shouted to the poor reformer, snapping his fingers.
A moment later, in the place of the ancient man, only a skeleton dressed in a cassock lay lying, and a couple of seconds later, these remains flashed with a bright purple light and dissolved. After Dan freed the souls of the rulers from the te
The young necromancer rolled the landscape from the table into a tube and put it in a corner, from where he kicked out the dragon, who had already written five whole pages of the poem.
The master stood silently at the door and calmly watched his student getting ready.
«I need a battle mage, I need a battle mage, a Russian, a battle mage,» Dan whispered under his breath, as if calling for someone.
«What a stupid necromancer,» the mentor shook his head, «you can call the soul of any battle mage from the Kingdom of the Dead whenever you want.»
«I need a living battle mage with whom I could go through this whole test,» the guy corrected his spell when he blew out the burning candle.
He didn’t notice how the smoke, wriggling like a snake, dissolved in the pink light high above his head. For a long time he thought that what was said was not a spell, but simply an installation before the battle. When he said such words, for some reason he felt better, he felt like someone distant, but at the same time so close, hugged him by the shoulders and whispered in his ear: «I’m with you, I’ve always been there, I loved you.»». Dan had no idea who this voice belonged to. When the noise in his ears subsided, the necromancer forgot to think about the surging vision, and silently left the room.
The master went to the window and sadly watched the student go down to the observation deck. The necromancer stood for a long time against the wall under his window, pressing his forehead against the ivy that entwined the tower in which he had lived for five whole years. It’s hard to say goodbye to something that has become almost dear to you. In the same way, Julius, at fifteen, with tears in his eyes, left home, forever, to Prague Castle, where necromancers are taught and souls are summoned for investigation in the European Court.
Dan still had a lot to learn. He was destined to face more than one danger. A battle mage wouldn’t hurt him. But he didn’t know what happened when he said, before leaving the tower: «I need a living battle mage.» But the power of a brilliant necromancer is often enough not only to summon the dead from their subspace…