Chapter 1: Absolute Curse

THE IMPOSSIBLE MAGIC

CONFESSION OF A SNIPER

I'm a ghostly figure in the game.

My target falling hit, again!

I am a predator, you're my prey!

They call me sniper, not in vain.

But with each heart, I choose to aim,

I start to feel an oddly sorrow, pain.

A hole in heart as big as cave,

The loneliness and emptiness remain.

I woke up crying the other day,

The souls of dead at night repay!

Don't think of war as a sort of game,

You'll be destroyed, gone insane!

PART 1

"Max and the Magic of Death."

Chapter 1

ABSOLUTE CURSE

I drove my motorcycle three hundred kilometers from Bridgeport. The wide asphalt highway had long been replaced by a simple gravel road with potholes and bumps, in which the murky puddles of yesterday's rain had gathered. Just like at home! In the outskirts of Kyiv.

The tech-civilization of Bridgeport has not yet reached here. And I doubt it will get any time soon in the future. The mines and workers' settlements were on the other side of the city. Closer to the mountain range, located in the north. And here, in the wilderness, there are only cornfields and feudal castles, whose subjects worked on the land in an old way: on horses and oxen. The T.C.B – Technical Corporation of Bridgeport had nothing to do here. It seems that the hatred that was felt toward a technical civilization in the magical part of the world still was here to a high degree. No, they certainly tried to sell tractors to the local farmers, but they didn't want them. I have no idea why. It could be a religious factor too. However, the religions here are very strange. They are very different from those on Earth, after all this is another world. And that's putting it mildly. For example, what do you think of the belief in the Holy 'Mudrakkar'? The great mute beggar who grew a tree on his head. Naturally, it's also sacred. The fruits of which, supposedly, can endow a simple mortal with divine power and immortality. Or the belief in the Blue Spider monster with a woman's head, which also fulfills wishes. It's obvious that for half-starved inhabitants of the magical world, this is an essential condition for the popularity of the religious myths to be widely spread.

Or strange sects seeking the 'Things of the Lost God', with a complete set of beliefs in which the 'Big End of the World' will come and they'll be resurrected in a new world. Moreover, no one has been able to explain to me what 'The Big End of the World' means, to begin with. Are there any 'small ends of the world'? Damn! I can break my head thinking too much about it.

I turned off the road at a sign that said 'Doruve' to an even more disgusting quality road. Then I cover a good piece of distance on a dirt road, along a thin stream towards the lake. Cornfields were almost approaching the lake's edge. At a small pier, with a couple of boats tied up, a boy about ten or eleven years old was fishing.

I decided to ask for directions and also make a next try to get rid of the cursed coin. Although this was a waste of time. I've been convinced more than a hundred times that this is impossible. Still, it's worth a shot., could be the case that the lake had some magical power and would remove the curse. Such things happen here sometimes. In the magical world, unlike in ours, you can count on occasional miracles.

Braking right at the pier, I turned off the engine of my "Indian Chief", a motorcycle, which was carefully built in the style of Earth's thirties, looking so chic and shiny, clashing with the surrounding, uncivilized, provincial wilderness. The chrome details and the red leather seat with golden fringe; a prize for the winner at a shooting competition in Bridgeport, surely had been destined to make an incredible impression on the provincial boy; I thought. Although I had hated this motorcycle since yesterday. Because of it, all those problems! What the hell made me go to that competition? Poser! Sniper-poser! Idiot!

Mentally cursing myself, I asked the boy in a friendly tone:

"What are we catching?"

The boy turned and looked at me without any noticeable interest. Several seconds passed without him answering my question. Strangely he didn't even look at the motorcycle. Ignored the shiny beast as if it was nothing interesting for a peasant villager boy in three hundred kilometers away from technical civilization. After all, my jacket and hat couldn't compete with the motorcycle. Shanny made them herself, specifically according to my description of Earth's retro style. And I'm not really that interesting by look either. Such uncharacteristic behavior of the boy slightly puzzled me.

"Chikharis," the boy named a local fish species and added, continuing quite rudely examining my appearance: "You have blue eyes, sir."

Oh, that's it! I'd forgotten! Yes, human blue eyes are a rarity here. At least in this part of the world, it's not a thing often to be seen. Although they're not blue, more like greyish color. But still, the locals only have yellow or brown eyes, mostly. Davers, on the other hand, have grey eyes. But Davers aren't humans. So they don't count.

"Look," I continued, leaving his remark about the color of my eyes unanswered. "Have you heard of Master Kulu-Kulu? He's a wizard, a specialist in removing curses. I've been told he lives somewhere around.

"Heard of him," the boy replied, sniffing and pointing in the opposite direction from where I had come. "You took the wrong turn, sir."

I signed. Damn! Knew it!

"Want a ride?" I offered with weak hope.

The boy pursed his lips. "No, sir."

Damn! Damn! What a generation! I rummaged in my pockets, looking for a quarter of a silver real, the local currency, found, pulled it out, and showed the profile of the 'King Engineer the First', shining beautifully in the light of the morning Sun.

"Five," the boy tossed off flippantly, barely glancing at the coin.

"Wait? Are you from the city? Not from the village?" I asked suspiciously, my voice full of doubts.

"Yeah, came to visit my aunty. Vacations. How'd you know, sir?"

I was annoyed again. By myself. You can guess here! Damn merchants! Where are we going in a fantasy world? Every little whiner tries to rob you, taking advantage of the situation!

"Have you heard of Zingaru Hariisky?"

"The owner of the port? The millionaire?"

"He's a billionaire, in fact, but that's not the point here. I mean you have a good chance to be richer than he, one day." I grumbled unhappily and pulled out my wallet. I didn't feel like wasting another two hours looking for the wizard's house, would be wise. Time was the most precious thing to me right now. A matter of life and death!

"Get on the motorcycle, I'll be right there in a minute," I instructed the kid, giving him the money.

The boy grinned. Apparently, my joke about future billions amused him. He cheerfully coiled up the fishing rod and climbed onto the back seat, now examining my 'iron horse' with some interest. Damn, little pretender!

I approached the edge of the pier and swung my arm wildly, sending the 'curse' into the air. The coin described an arc, sparkled in the sun, disappeared, and...

...and ended up back in my pocket. In the upper breast pocket to be precise. A heavy, pentagonal old copper coin. Where did they even get it from, in the first place? I took it out again. Squeezed it in my fist and threw it again into the smooth surface of the lake. Not that wildly this time. Just to be sure.

The result was the same. This time it was found in the pocket of the jacket. At first, I tried to find out how it 'returns'. Is there any sequence? But first 'disenchantment' magician, a specialist in removing curses I had met, instantly cooled down my experimental fever: "If you take off your clothes, Master Max, and try to throw away the curse, it will most likely teleport back and appear behind your cheek. But if the mage who put the curse on you has a bad sense of humor, it could return in your stomach or even in your intestines. So, better let it return in a conventional way." I involuntarily shuddered, imagining such a despicable occasion, a pentagonal coin in my guts. Grrr! Disgusting!

The disenchantment didn't help at all. Such powerful curses cannot be removed. End of story. There's even a special section dedicated to them in many magic books. 'The Absolute Curses or Dan-Dan-Floor's Absolute Curses Series', that's what they had been called. I ran all over Bridgeport, spending almost all my savings in attempts to remove this damn curse. In vain! And one of the worst things of all were those bastards, disenchantment mages! They took money for consultation fully understanding that they couldn't help from the beginning. Just like lawyers at home. Scumbags!

Master-Wizard Kulu-Kulu was my final hope. His address was given to me by the last disenchantment mage from Bridgeport, who charged me for two hundred reals for consultation. Moreover; the address more resembled something like 'Anywhereville', to my grandpa, grandpa Kulu-Kulu; than a regular address with a street number and other things. The curse-removing specialist explained it as a precautionary measure. Supposedly guy wasn't on good terms with the government."

The coin has flown into the lake again. I closed my eyes, trying to catch, and feel the moment when it returns. I just was too stubborn enough a person to stop foolish attempts.

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Plop! A lightweight coin in my breast pocket. The curse teleported back!

"What's wrong with you, master?"

I opened my eyes. The boy was standing next to me.

"Nothing," I replied. "Unfortunately, you can't help me with this. Let's go."

I climbed onto the seat and started the motorcycle.

The fishing boy, who was catching fish, saved me a lot of time. The Wizard's house was not where I was looking for it. I missed almost about two miles or more.

Approaching him, I slowed down the motorcycle and let go of the young guide. He ran joyfully away waving me goodbye. Why not! He had a ride. He earned five reals! Not every day you're that lucky and meet such a fool as me.

The wizard's cottage was a decent one. Chic two-story villa. Built of red bricks with beautiful shrubs, like ivy, climbing up the wall to the gutter of the tiled roof, with open red petals. Behind the lattice fence with iron gates of welded reinforcement was a neat and well-kept garden. The bronze lion's head adorned gates, with a fist-sized paw and a bronze hammer on a chain with a short handle barely fitting in my palm. The Master-Wizard Kulu-Kulu did not seem to welcome the fashionable electric bells from the capital. I took the hammer.

The lion's head suddenly twitched. Alive, it roared in a human voice, moving its bronze muscles in its face as if it were not metal but living flesh: "Hey, hey! Drop the hammer, moron! Do you think this is funny? Beating me on the head with that crap? What if they hit you with a hammer? Will you like it?"

I wasn't surprised. A silly prank used here, a standard magician's joke. Like recordings on answering machines that some enthusiasts record back on Earth: "Sorry, our answering machine is broken, so this is the fridge speaking, please leave a message after the beep!" Magicians loved to joke. Just have an excellent sense of humor. Although this one is already an overused joke here. Surely a spell has been cast here for more than a decade time ago than it was considered to be fashionable.

"Hello! My name is Max Light. I've come to remove the curse," I said, ignoring the stream of abuse and outrage from the lion's mouth.

The head suddenly changed the tone of its voice to a pleasant female one.

"Welcome, and come in Mr. Light," said the voice of the secretary, strict and well spoken...

The lady met me at the threshold. An elderly woman wearing a strict black outfit with a neckline on her chest and big round glasses. "Surely a witch. A real one," I thought, climbing up to meet her on the stairs with a forced false smile.

"Excuse me, but do you have something in your pants, Mr. Light or it's just you like me so much?" she asked strictly, tilting her head forward and looking over her glasses, exactly as my first-year teacher Alina from my elementary school had been doing.

I was slightly taken aback by that remark. I managed somehow completely forget about the revolver tucked under my shirt. "Indeed a witch! Of a very high caliber, and not only by profession!" I thought.

I pulled out my weapon and properly apologized.

"I'm sorry, Miss, completely forgot about it. I'm a bit knackered. On feet since yesterday, you know."

She didn't answer, just nodded, took a box from somewhere, and threw my weapon in there, holding it by the barrel with two fingers as if she touched something slippery and poisonous. Mages don't like firearms. As a result, witches shouldn't either. I knew this.

Then the secretary said, "Go to the reception room, Kulu will see you soon," the secretary said and silently vanished somewhere.

I entered the designated room where there were only two leather chairs and a low table. The waiting dragged on for twenty minutes before I was finally received. They didn't offer coffee. And there wasn't any. Coffee doesn't grow in this world. Neither does cocoa. There are some local analogs. But I still have never gotten used to them. They test some kind of bitter brew. Reminds me of floral tea. And I never liked it 'at home' on Earth either.

The Master-Wizard Kulu-Kulu smoked a pipe. A long black pipe polished to a matte shine, made of briar. Almost lying in a deep chair, adapted more for a human person by size than for the dwarf he undoubtedly was. A dwarf, if using a comparison from earthly mythology. His eyes peered from under thick eyebrows absolutely white as his hair of an albino type. Just like Gandalf the Grey in a mini-version.

No greeting or introduction. Just a nod towards the opposite chair. I sat in the offered seat, also not breaking the silence. The old wizards should be treated with the utmost respect. Kulu-Kulu continued to puff on his pipe. Contemplatively looking at me. Mages love to create a mysterious atmosphere. But in this case, it seemed he needed that for something other than just impression. Sorcery scanning, probably. I patiently allowed myself to be scanned. Aura, mana, the hell stuff the mages usually look through. Well, look, look! Just don't drill a hole with your intense gaze! ...

Finally, the wizard expressed a desire to speak:

"You are from far away."

You have no idea how far away, buddy. I thought, but only confirmed his suspicion out loud:

"Yes. Very far away."

"Been here for long?" he asked. "Do you like it?"

"Five years. No," I answered sparingly, thinking of something else. When will we get to the business, old man? My time is running out!

"Why?" The white brow raised in surprise.

"Don't know."

"Show me the problem," he asked, suddenly switching the topic. As if he heard my thoughts. I decided not to curse him anymore. Maybe he's a telepath. Who knows? A serious old man. I took a coin out of my jacket pocket and extended it towards him on an open palm.
Kulu-Kulu squinted his eyes, briefly examining the object in my hand, then nodded. I put the coin back into my pocket with relief. Holding it in direct contact with my skin felt unpleasant as if I were holding something dirty, a cockroach or a fly.

"This is indeed the 'Oath of Dan-Dan Flors'. Number seven absolute curse from their arsenal."

I nodded, expecting more. I've already heard this a dozen times since yesterday.

"I can't do anything about it. You'll die in four, at most, five days," he continued in a calm voice as if he wasn't foretelling me a death sentence, but rather was a confectioner behind a counter announcing to buyers that he's very sorry, but the raisin buns have run out today, so you won't be able to have any for tea.

I sighed and stood up. It made no sense to listen to him anymore. Damn! To waste so much time! And two hundred credits in addition!

"Where are you going?"

Kulu-Kulu's question stopped me.

"Haven't you just said you couldn't do something about it? I just don't waste..."

"The fact I can't do anything doesn't mean others can't. Or even you yourself. You came for advice, right?" he interrupted me reproachfully pointing out with his pipe at me.

I nodded and sat back in the chair. The stress of the impending inevitable death deprived me of patience. Qualities, especially those typical of me as a former sharpshooter.

"To be honest, Master Light, under different circumstances, I would have taken this as disrespect," continued Kulu-Kulu puffing on his pipe. "But you've been excused as you're in mortal danger and, of course, don't want to waste the little time you have. That's understandable and commendable. Many I have seen with such a curse immediately lost their spirits and gave up. Perhaps the ingrained knowledge of a local resident, that the curses of Dan-Dan Flors cannot be removed, does not weigh on you. Maybe there's some chance for you."

"How will I die?" I asked. "A dozen enchantment specialists of your level, in the capital, couldn't give me a clear answer to this question. And why is it so absolute? Hasn't anyone developed an anti-spell to this curse over centuries or even thousands of years of its existence?"

"Let's take it to step by step," Kulu-Kulu responded, slightly grumpily, either irritated by my demanding questions or by my diminishing his status to the level of the capital's mages. Perhaps he considered himself much cooler. "The spirit that the curse is cast upon will choose the manner of death. I don't know it yet. It's not possible to determine at this phase. We'll know for sure in two to three days. Your second question: the curse is absolute because a human sacrifice was brought when it was cast. That's the highest price, so you won't be able to bargain. Life for life. Perhaps even an innocent creature was sacrificed. Then the situation becomes even more complicated to deal with. About your third question: No. Sorcery has its own laws. You can break them, but it requires immense magical power. At the moment, only three known creatures in the world are capable of dealing with curses of such caliber. And you don't have access to them. And that's in case they'd have the desire to help a human. But, you can trick. And this was done not once, and not twice throughout history.

I involuntarily stepped forward. For the first time, after so many wanderings, this was at least some ray of hope.

"How?"

"Do not rush," Kulu-Kulu said and again inhaled the fragrant smoke of local substitution for tobacco, or maybe marijuana, which strangely grows here too as some other Earth's plants. Frankly, I have no idea what it was, some local drug, probably.

"Tell me, how did it all start from the very beginning, Mr. Light? I need to know the details. Very few casters can cast curses of this level. Maybe I knew your "killer".

The last phrase didn't get along with me. I shuddered. Killer! As if I'd already died! And why is he saying, I knew? Is he dead? Still, I tried to remember all details of the evening before it had started...

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