Fascinating geography

By EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

Is there life after life? Of course there is, if you are an incarnation of a powerful sorceress and nothing but the devil's curse keeps you in the banal world. But love that has survived the centuries can end suffering. Whoever thinks you're dead, your life continues on the plane of mages and wizards, alchemists and necromancers, ineffable animals and mind-blowing fairies.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: EDGARS AUZINS
• Release date: Apr 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224665020

EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

Dzimis 1989. gada 22. decembrī. Absolvējis Rīgas Juridisko koledžu. Profesijā nav strādājis, bet apguvis programmēšanas prasmes un pašlaik ar to nodarbojas. Kopš 2022. gada ir personīgā uzņēmuma vadītājs, kas nodarbojas ar transporta pārvadājumiem, kā arī programmēšanu. Dzīvnieku, īpaši suņu, mīļotājs. Born 22 December 1989. Graduated from Riga College of Law. Has not worked in the profession, but has acquired programming skills and is currently working in it. Since 2022 he has been the CEO of his own company, which deals with transport transport as well as programming. Lover of animals, especially dogs.

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Fascinating geography

EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

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Copyright © 2024 EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

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Prologue

-What did you do, witch? – the man in black stood with his back to her, staring at a large white block of stone.

Sir, I’m not a witch, I’m a battle mage. Or have you already forgotten the difference? Eh, why did they give you a diploma?

A magician wouldn’t do what you did, brat.

Ha-ha, the one whom the man called a witch burst into hysterical laughter, we sealed the contract with blood, right? And I did my part! It's all true! It was you who wanted extra payment.

He turned around and his eyes flashed with two purple lightning bolts. The sorceress recoiled, but the sparks materialized and, reaching her body, paralyzed her arms and legs.

I won’t forgive you for this, Lina, the man muttered through his teeth. I will seal you away where your henchman will never find you. You will exist in suffering for hundreds, no, thousands, millions of years, until this world orders you to live long. Your soul will not be able to rest on the fields of the third layer...

He uttered one curse after another, but Lina looked at her malicious enemy with a proud look. His face was distorted in rage, but the girl only smiled at his anger. Her long red velvet dress was covered with purple lightning, she could no longer move, she was in so much pain. But the magician did not let the girl go.

And then a tall, thin man entered the hall, also wearing a long black cloak, like the sorceress’s enemy. He walked through a large room with high arches, striking the stones with his staff with such force that this knock struck the emptiness with a terrifying boom. His silvery bangs fell over his eyes, and only his long, pointed nose protruded from under his cascade of hair.

I knew you would come, the magician was distracted by the newcomer. And I knew that I would get into trouble with you.

But we will do to you what has long been expected, Mr. Devil, the alien squeezed out, moving his lips slightly. - Let Lina go.

- I'm daydreaming! – the Devil grinned. -You will never see her.

- Why? – the magician looked up at him with big yellow eyes, and his cheeks became whiter than the sheets.

But the Devil did not answer, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The pink and purple lightning that enveloped the girl's body flashed. She screamed. The light became so bright that the magician who came covered his eyes with his wide sleeve, and only the one who called the spell stood proudly and unshakably and looked at the female figure disappearing in the purple light. As soon as the glow died down, a persistent ozone smell spread through the room, as if after a thunderstorm. The magician attacked the villain from behind and, screaming wildly, began to demand the opposite spell.

The devil snorted, pushed him away, turned away and walked away from the hall. He pretended not to notice how the magician hit the ground with his staff and fell into a glowing green portal.

– Lina, we will return to this world! – were his last words.

Two less idiots, the Devil grinned.

Chapter 1. Everyday life of a young resurrector

The caravel of the Spanish discoverer Columbus floated along the river, President Reagan filmed him, John Kennedy walked along the maple alley hugging Marilyn Monroe, and on the threshold of the hut, on the highest hill, Stalin and Ivan the Terrible were sitting on a log, smoking peace pipes. In the lowlands, near the river, Claude Monet painted a picture, and in a miniature pub, soldier Schweik told stories with Baron Munchausen and Vasily Tyorkin.

The young man looked at the resulting composition and smiled contentedly, rubbing his hands. At that moment he looked like Napoleon Bonaparte, who tells his entourage about the success in the Battle of Austerlitz, standing at the map.

The table top was huge, almost the size of a standard tennis table, only without a net. There was no empty space there: a hilly papier-mâché landscape, miniature compared to reality, stretched across the entire surface. The role of grass, no matter how trite, was played by ordinary green velvet, bought at the nearest Fabric store. And on this synthetic simulator of real nature the great people of the past walked, only reduced to five centimeters in height.

Here and there, mostly on the hills, there were small two-story houses. But... a miniature landscape is not at all surprising if no one lives in it. Any even more or less savvy architecture student can create the exact same terrain. But only those who are able to call upon the souls of once dead people are able to bring life into their micro-world.

The guy, the author of the miniature world, was in seventh heaven. And rightly so, he spent a whole six months creating his ingenious project: he skipped lectures at the school of necromancy, owed a lot of coursework and was simply overworked. Well, this man was not interested in summoning the souls of dead partridges: it’s all boring and hackneyed, but having your own little world, your own civilization on a separate table is a completely different matter! Orwell's pig farm is resting! Why isn't anyone doing similar experiments?

- Dan, I feel sorry for your parents! - an old master declared from the threshold and entered the guy’s room.

Like all teachers of the school of necromancy, he wore a long crimson robe trimmed with a white border. He looked like a wizard from pictures in children's books: shoulder-length gray hair, an unkempt beard tucked into the belt of his robe, sad eyes, a wrinkled forehead, a potato nose. If he held a magic wand in his hands, it would be easy to confuse the necromancer with some ordinary sorcerer. But the master put on his head a hat that was completely uncharacteristic of wizards - a rag one, with two white fake horns and a golden school coat of arms on the front side. The exact same symbol with the image of a skull pierced by lightning, cast from pure gold, hung from the master’s neck on a long silver chain, very similar to those worn by new Russian businessmen in the mid-nineties of the last century.

The young necromancer smiled welcomingly and, squinting his left eye, scratched the back of his head, ruffling the silver hair on the crown of his head.

I feel sorry for them too, Master Julius. Because...

They paid one hundred thousand crowns for you, the master did not listen to Dan, and you absolutely do not need training at our school!

- Like this? – the guy was sincerely surprised, straightening his bangs that had fallen over his right eye. – I consider myself the best necromancer in the Czech Republic.

In response to the student’s impudent statement, the teacher only sighed heavily and began to look at everything that was on Dan’s table. It would be clear to any educated person that the young necromancer was wasting time and a lot of energy for the sake of his own entertainment and, quite possibly, to satisfy his curiosity. So many historical figures coexisted in the world he created that it was scary to imagine such an idea put into practice not on a separate tennis table, but in a real state.

But to be honest, the once great and powerful rulers of the past after death, it turns out, had to be content with the happy face of a young necromancer experimenter and trample a clearing of green velvet. It looked too cynical from the outside.

Dan, for five years, not only have you been constantly skipping classes, disappearing into the library for masters, you have also managed, with all your desire for knowledge, not to master the main principle of necromancy! "Julius hit the velvety grass with his fist in a rage, and Stalin and Grozny rolled head over heels from the earthquake and plopped into the river.

– Don’t call unnecessarily! - the student jabbered in the tone of a failed student trying to get at least a C on the last possible retake. – It’s written in large scarlet letters on the first page of every textbook!

Proclaiming the basic principle of the science he was studying, the young necromancer put his hand to his heart, where on his blue student robe he had the same skull with a lightning bolt embroidered on his cap as the master's.

- And where is the need? – Julius snorted, catching Adolf Hitler by the collar. - Children's pranks!

The miniature dictator, like a hamster sold in a pet store, waved his arms and legs until the master put him on the hill where Stalin and Grozny, who had fallen earlier, had managed to climb.

Dan, looking down, shifted from foot to foot. Yes, there was no apparent need for his mega-project... yet. And the master immediately understood this. Why are teachers so insightful?

I see, Julius concluded, leaving the table without attention and going to the window. – And how do you not get a headache from the persistent smell of incense in your own room?

The black dragon, Dan's pet, was snoring on the green sofa, emitting not the most pleasant odors from his nostrils. The animal had nothing to do with his wonderful owner, much less his teacher.

- By the way, what kind of guy is this? – the master pointed at the window.

There, in the courtyard among the pigeons on the observation deck, from which the whole of Prague was visible at a glance, a short bald man in a cassock sat on his haunches and drew suns on the ground with chalk.

- Akhenaten! – Dan declared proudly.

The master's face turned purple, and he began to yell, waving his fists, that the young experimenter could only hide from the righteous anger of his mentor or wake up the dragon so that he would breathe on the master. True, the latter is fraught with an order to expel from school.

- Bastard! What are you doing? Were you able to summon a full-fledged person?!

- And more than once. As always, for three days, the guy waved it off, as if what he had done was quite ordinary, my next scientific experiment, Master Julius."

Do you even know, the teacher did not stop yelling, "that your, if I may say so, hmm, experiment, killed all the sheep and goats in the corral...

At this news, Dan doubled over with laughter and wiped his face with the sleeves of his robe.

– Should you have heard his sermons in church...

– For... this is why I called the first religious reformer. I filmed his entire performance for the archive. You are... Master Julius... don’t worry so much, otherwise your heart will begin to play pranks, you will die... Am I going to have to call you to lectures later? And this one... he will go back to the dead tomorrow. It’s strange that you didn’t notice Isaac Newton among the gardeners last week.

The magician's face stretched out in surprise.

So this is who collected all the unripe apples in the Hradcany gardens... he whispered, slapping his hand on his forehead.

Dan made a displeased grimace: wow, he is conducting the most ingenious experiments, but they can’t at least praise him, for some reason they are angry. While making justification speeches, the young necromancer backed away from the master advancing on him, and perhaps he would have crushed the composition, carelessly sitting on the table, if the mentor had not stopped the onslaught due to an absurd reason.

The necromancer's wonderful dragon, an animal no larger than a German shepherd, could not stand the noise and, waking up, clung to the master's robe just below the waist.

- Well done, dragon! – the guy winked at his pet, which angered the master even more.

He’s lived in the world for a quarter of a century, he said offended, and he’s having fun like a little child.

With a withering glance, he looked at the presumptuous dragon, who, looking guiltily at the master, crawled to the far corner of the room and began to write something down in a thick notebook with a spring.

I would have kicked you out a long time ago, Dan, Julius muttered, adjusting his robe, but I can’t. Not a single student of our school has had such strength as you have since the time of the great Wenceslas. If we let you go, then the time is not far off when personalities like the Devil from Old Town Square will become interested in you.

The master sat down on the edge of the sofa, where the dragon was sleeping a minute ago. It was clear that he wanted to make peace with the student, despite the scandal he had just created. The old necromancer patted the sofa next to him with his palm, saying, go, Dan, there’s something to do.

More than anything else, the young magician was afraid of being expelled: graduating from a regular school, college, taking up one of the branches of magic, and then being so absurdly thrown out of a magical institution - a shame for a hereditary necromancer. What does it look like if you are expelled not from some provincial school, but from the world-famous School of Necromancy in Prague Castle?

The last thing Julius said gave Dan hope: if the mentor was able to recognize the remarkable strength in him, then he was unlikely to send him away. And he, picking up the hem of his robe, sat down next to her.

At the same time, the young necromancer's conscience whispered: 'Where is your pride, Dan? This man almost crushed you to dust a few minutes ago!'

You are very strong, Dan, Julius sighed, but, unfortunately, you are too careless and defenseless. Do you think it was just that the great Wenceslas wrote the main rule back in the twelfth century - do not call unnecessarily? And you use very strong magic to satisfy your curiosity. I repeat, not once in five hundred years has a single necromancer managed to summon a person for more than ten minutes. I’m generally silent about your hotbed of celebrities.

What is it, a breeding ground, Dan waved his hand, childish pranks, reincarnated mice, boring stuff.

Judging by what he had just said, he was not at all aware of his strength. Julius looked in horror at the young necromancer, who had just turned twenty-five two weeks ago, and who naively considered such powerful magic to be nothing. The mentor himself, for example, would not have been able to hold out such a rat city for more than five minutes, and even after the end of the operation he would have lain around in a sleepy state for half a day and would have eaten for three.

He remembered his first experience very well. Then, three hundred years ago, when Julius was not much younger than his current student, he went to the cemetery at night to call his drowned sister back into the world. Fifteen years have already passed since the dishonored girl threw herself into the waters of the Vltava, but the then young necromancer brother was sure that sister Katinka would want to look at the blue sky again and climb the mountain in Petřín. Exactly at midnight, the young magician began the ceremony: he lit a candle and began to read invoking spells. And the girl returned. In the dim light, the brother saw her pale violet skin, tangled bleached hair, empty eye sockets and... long nails that no one had cut in fifteen years. Before he had time to realize that Katinka did not want to live, these uncircumcised claws, stained with earth and the flesh of the dead, dug into his cheek. The magician screamed, trying to cast a spell and call his sister away, but the revived suicide decided to take revenge on her brother to the last, and grabbed his chest with her other hand. The necromancer screamed in hellish pain. And Julius would not have taught the young boy Dan three hundred years later if that night and at the very moment when the sister wanted to tear his heart out of his brother’s chest, a priest had not appeared at the cemetery. As soon as drops of holy water touched the girl’s body, she released the helpless magician and went back to the grave.

After that day, Julius was treated for two years by the best healer in Prague. But three scars on his cheek and five on his chest, with their pain, for three hundred years, reminded the magician of the most useful lesson in his life, and for a long time they would not let him forget this nightmare.

His student Dan did not care at all about his health or safety. The boy had more than enough strength, despite the fact that two dozen souls of long-dead people were wandering around the tennis table in his room, and another one was waiting for feedback on the observation deck. For some reason, it seemed to Julius that if suddenly they all went to the third layer, as the Kingdom of the Dead was also called, Dan would give up and restore everything back in fifteen minutes.

It was not for nothing that all the necromancers were thin, physically weak and ate a lot. All these are signs of overexpenditure in calling from the third layer. Dan was different from his colleagues: he was tall, strong and did not at all suffer from excessive thinness. But the guy always ate not just for three, but for five! It was clear that he was not like everyone else.

You don’t understand your strength, my boy, Julius spoke slowly, trying to calm the restless student, abilities like yours cannot be obtained anywhere except from birth. You don't need our school, even if it's the best in the world. You, Dan, have the honor of becoming the most powerful necromancer of our time. But you don't understand! And it's dangerous! Because sooner or later your ignorance will be used not for the most noble purposes. As long as you are in Prague Castle, you are safe, but if you take a few steps away from the gate...

The master, stroking the scar on his cheek, spoke kindly, but instructively.

I’m flattered, of course, Dan spread his hands, blushing from the praise, but why do I need such power? I wanted to be an ordinary medical examiner in Prague. Summon murdered victims at trial, which is what all more or less powerful necromancers do. And as a hobby, I always dreamed of running a celebrity museum. Like, outdo Madame Tussauds from the first layer of the world: she has wax dolls, but I would have living ones! People would take pictures with them for money. Do you understand?

The young necromancer knew how to trick his teacher, because for a good hundred years Julius had been crazy about photography.

Dan lounged on the sofa, dreamily looking at the ceiling. There, Renaissance masters painted biblical scenes. The paintings were so beautiful and interesting that the magician who lived here for five whole years was ready to endlessly look at the drawings on the ceiling of his room. Probably at that moment he dreamed of a personal museum and the profits he would receive from ticket sales.

The mentor got up from the sofa and walked around the mouse composition several times. He muttered incomprehensible words under his breath and pulled at his beard.

Arrogant Dan, dizzy with his own power, sat on the sofa and was already drawing up cost estimates for the creation of the museum.

– Do you know how each of your calls ends? – Julius suddenly asked the guy.

The disincarnation of the body into which I put my soul, blurted out the young necromancer. "That’s why I call upon the dilapidated skeletons who have applied to move to the dead. As required by the Council.

The mentor just shook his head:

That’s what it’s written in the textbooks we cram at school. This is what happens when you call upon the soul of a rabbit, caterpillar or elephant. The same thing happens when a murdered victim is summoned in court. But when it’s far from being for the investigation...

What is the difference, exactly? Dan glanced sideways at his mentor, distracted from his dreams.

– The textbooks do not say what the consequences of calling without the permission of the Council are. Why, you ask? Because not every necromancer is able to pull out a soul for investigation, and experimenting, as you do, can only occur to a normal person after a hangover. In addition, for mass resurrection they can be disincarnated. And imagine that you live for yourself, relax on the third layer, and then they call you and say: Go on a business trip for three days to the upper layers for a skeleton! What would you do, Dan.

The guy, realizing how the soul was summoned, smiled impudently. But the warning about disincarnation haunted him. And the teacher continued. Yes, everything is not so simple on this third layer, where they go after death. After all, the souls of the revived exist at the expense of necromancers, which is why all the magicians of this specialization were weak. What price Dan paid for experiments with so many people is not at all clear, because the guy’s health was fine. True, Julius, slyly narrowing his eyes, whispered at the end:

– I have one suspicion about what becomes of the souls you call. And if this is so, everything is simply terrible!

From such words of the master, the young necromancer shuddered.

-Are you afraid? – the teacher grinned. - So that's great! Because in the near future you will only have to be afraid. A hunt has been announced for you. No, not the police. These goblins and orcs are stupid and so weak that they are not able to fight such a strong magician like you on their own. After all, you know how to call the souls of the departed into any body, the Council allows protective necromancy. Eh, such an enemy’s death is much faster than from a battle mage’s fireball. And the hunters already know that you are here, in Prague Castle. No magical protection of our school will hide you from the omnipresent enemy. He will be waiting for the moment when you leave the gate. You're not a coward to hide in a tower, are you?

The young necromancer's eyes widened and he, opening his mouth, silently stared at his mentor.

– Does the name Pink FIFA mean anything to you? – Julius asked slyly, but Dan didn’t answer, he just shook his head.

It didn’t tell me anything either, the master said sadly, but now my entire mailbox on the orconet is filled with messages from this person. She wants you dead or alive. How did she know about you, but...

– You know, Mr. Julius, I’m not interested in this glamorous Fifa, tell her so!

– Even if she blackmails me and promises to destroy the entire school? – the mentor glanced sideways at the student. - I feel sorry for the tourists from the first layer: there will be no City, where will the poor things go? Where will I scare them by appearing in their world as a ghost? Especially when one gives the other a camera and says: 'Could you take a picture of me, please?note 1' They will rush up the high steps of the palace or even this hostel where you and I are sitting now, they will throw the camera, I get the equipment.

– Aren’t you tired of these tourist jokes! – Dan smiled.

It’s clear why it’s not beneficial for Julius to host a battle on school grounds.

- Yes, even if