by N M Thorn
“Your mission? Fire and Ice, Child of Earth!” The bird threw her wings up, desperation in her voice. “I know that when it comes to the Destiny Enforcers, once orders are given, they have no choice but to obey. Is that what drives you to sacrifice yourself?”
“No.” He glanced at Jamie and then at his gargoyle, an ache settling in his tightly pressed jaw. “My back can attest that I questioned and disobeyed direct orders from the Destiny Council more than once. I have to do it because even though a lot depends on my success, this mission is also personal to me.”
“How so?”
“My brother’s life depends on it.” Damian ran his hand through his dirty, wet hair, his heart contracting painfully at the thought of Cole. “I never beg, Mogol… I rather die than live on my knees, but I will do anything for my brother.”
“Your brother?” asked the Mogol, suddenly alert. “You’re a Child of Earth, so most likely you’re quite old. The only way your brother can still be alive is if he is also a being of magic. What is he?”
“A vampire.”
The Mogol folded her wings behind her back, her beak opening slightly. “A vampire?” she echoed him, her eyes staring somewhere over Damian’s head. “Two brothers—the Darkness and the Light…” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. “No, it can’t be.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Damian, goosebumps rising on his arms.
“Nothing,” the Mogol cut him off abruptly and lowered herself to the ground, spreading her wings. “Climb on my back, Child of Earth. You saved my children from a terrible death, and I’m glad I can repay your kindness.” She glanced at Jamie, expectation in her eyes. “You too, young wizard. I will carry you all across the river. Besides Veles, I’m the only being of magic who can travel between all three realms, and I’m the only child of the Dark Nav who can safely fly over the river of torment.”
The bird Mogol made it clear that she wasn’t going to say more on the subject of his brother and asking more questions was pointless.
“Thank you,” said Damian, his stomach twisting with dread. He ran his fingers over his tattoo, staring pointedly at the gargoyle. “Zhulik, time to go, my friend.”
“Oh, ma-a-an,” Zhulik whined, getting up. “I was so hoping to see the river Smorodina from a bird’s-eye view…” He glanced at the bird Mogol and grinned, wagging his tail. “Literally.” He winked at Damian and vanished with a light pop, morphing into his tattoo.
Damian carefully stepped on the Mogol’s wing, her feathers slippery under his feet as he made his way up. He settled on her back between her wings, wondering if the giant bird even felt his weight. As soon as Jamie joined him, the Mogol got up and was high in the air with one flap of her powerful wings.
“Are you ready?” she asked, slowly picking up some height. “I’m going to fly high over the river to make sure its magic won’t feed on your souls as much. But for you, Child of Earth, it’s not going to be easy. So, brace yourself and hold on tight, so you don’t fall.”
“I’m as ready as I can be,” muttered Damian, grasping at the slippery feathers.
“Giddy-up!” Zhulik snickered in his mind.
The Mogol rose higher in the air, her powerful muscles working hard under her feathers. Damian closed his eyes and lay flat on her back, holding on for dear life. He heard Jamie’s gasp of awe but didn’t care to look down at the view, praying that Veles’ Triglav was powerful enough to keep his friend safe.
The sickening reek of sulfur assailed his senses, and he buried his face into the Mogol’s rich plumage. Despite the height, he could still feel the deadly presence of the river Smorodina. The icy tendrils of darkness reached up and wrapped around his heart, making it beat desperately against his ribcage like a scared little bird in a cage. His mind, obscured by a strange fog, was drifting on and off while everything inside him ached with despair, grief, and fear.
It seemed as though all his happy memories—as few as he had—were gone now, and all he could see in his future was pain and loss. The most horrifying moments of his entire existence flashed before his eyes in a never-ending merry-go-round of nightmares, and the only desire he had left in his tormented soul was to let go and fall to his death. The river’s deadly magic overpowered his mind, extinguishing the need to live and fight. His fingers unlocked of their own accord, and his tense muscles relaxed.
“Commander, you must fight!” Damian heard Zhulik’s voice in his mind but had a hard time comprehending the meaning of his words. “It’s the pull of the Dark Nav. Find something to hold on to and fight it, dammit! It’s going to be over soon.”
Damian groaned, trying to find any scraps of anything that could help him hold on to reality. As the last resort, he reached to his brother but found only a terrifying void in the place where their connection had been.
“Commander, listen to my voice!” Zhulik boomed in his mind, painfully ripping him out of the emptiness and despair. “Try to remember!”
A new chain of images started to move before his eyes, dispelling the horrific nightmares the Dark Nav was inflicting on him. They were flashing fast, as if someone were shuffling a deck of cards in his mind, but strangely, he remembered every single moment Zhulik was showing him. A young blond boy standing next to him, his dirty, skinny arms wrapped around his waist, his shaking body pressed against his, searching for warmth and protection. A cliff over the river under the endless blue sky. A young man with blond curls framing his handsome face, gazing at him with affection and trust. He saw himself lying in tall grass, a pair of velvety, brown eyes shining above him like two stars. And finally, an image of a woman with flaming red hair appeared in his mind. She stretched her hand to him, love in her cerulean gaze, her lips forming three words over and over—return to me…
Gradually, the influence of the river of torment on him started dwindling. His mind cleared, and he gasped as he realized how close he had come to slipping into the flaming inferno. He pulled himself up, his arms wrapping tighter around the Mogol’s back, his fingers squeezing her shining feathers.
“Zhulik…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” the gargoyle grumbled. “Just remind me to never go through your memories again. A terrifying place, I must say... I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight.”
An image of a trembling little puppy with overly large, round eyes manifested in Damian’s mind, and he couldn’t help it when his lips stretched into a grin.
A few endless minutes passed before the bird made a wide circle and started to drop height. She landed softly and spread her wings, waiting for them to go down. Following Jamie, Damian slipped to the ground and exhaled with relief. He moved forward, halting in front of the Mogol and bowed, pressing his fist to his chest.
“My gratitude,” he said, straightening.
The giant raven inclined her head, gently touching his shoulder with her iron beak. “Go, save your brother, Child of Earth,” she said. Then, without a warning, she spread her wings and rose in the air, quickly disappearing from view.
Damian followed her with his eyes until she was gone and then turned to Jamie. “Let’s put some distance between us and the river, and then we’ll take a short break if you don’t mind.”
He turned his back toward the chasm, ready to start walking when a soft touch to his mind made him halt and sharpen his senses. It wasn’t the deadly pull of the Dark Nav, and it wasn’t the call of his gargoyle. It felt safe and familiar, and a tiny spark of hope ignited in his heart. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, opening his mind.
“Dima, where are you?” His brother’s voice, distant and breaking, sounded through their blood bond.
“Cole?” he asked, still unable to believe it wasn’t some kind of twisted illusion conjured by the Dark Nav. “Nikolai!”
Cole didn’t reply right away, and in a matter of a few heartbeats, thousands of worst-case scenarios flashed through Damian’s mind. When his brother spoke again, a wave of relief spr
ead through Damian, adding to his overall weakened state.
“Dima… Thank God,” said Cole, speaking so fast that Damian had a hard time making out his words. “I found one place in the bunker where our connection is not completely blocked, but I don’t want to use it for too long. Who knows… Amaris may notice, and right now, I’m just trying to stay on his good side.”
“Cole, are you okay?” asked Damian. “Did he keep his word?”
“Yes, he was true to his word,” Cole replied calmly, but a barely noticeable vibe of anger touched Damian’s senses through their blood bond. “He treats me and Ruslan well… um… mostly. Doesn’t matter. Let me tell you what’s going on, and we need to disconnect.”
“Go on.” Damian swallowed, anger and dread spiking through him. Mostly well? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
“I found Sylvana. Amaris has abducted her and keeps her under his control, using necromancy,” Cole continued, speaking a touch faster than before. “She was the one who trained his fake slayers and gave them the poison. She had no choice.”
“Dammit,” muttered Damian, shaking his head. “Even if we save her from Amaris, the Sisterhood will have her head for that…”
“Agreed.” The vibe of anger emanating from his brother intensified. “We’ll have to figure something out to protect her. But one step at a time.” He fell silent for a heartbeat and then continued, “You and Zabava were right. Amaris collects the magical energy of witches.”
“Did you see it with your own eyes?”
“No,” replied Cole, “but I hope to find my way into the room where he does it soon. I’ll have the proof, brother. Trust me.”
“I trust you, Cole,” murmured Damian. “I don’t trust Amaris. Especially because we still don’t know his supernatural identity.”
“I believe he’s a demon,” said Cole. “Even though I haven’t seen his face—he always wears a mask—I came close enough to him to have a taste of his blood. He has traces of demonic essence in his bloodstream. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tasted demonic blood before—that of pure demons and human bodies possessed by demonic essence. His blood is different from both, but I’m pretty sure he’s some kind of demonic entity.”
Damian frowned. He expected Amaris to be anything, but not a demon. Too smart, too elegant in his manners, too cunning.
“Cole, be careful,” he said. “Make sure he doesn’t find out about your”—he took a deep breath—“magical abilities. Demons are sensitive to fluctuations of the magical energy field, so keep yours under control.”
“I have no idea how to do that, but I’ll do my best…” Cole’s voice wavered and disappeared for a moment. “Dima, when are you coming back? How much time do I have?”
“I don’t know,” replied Damian, staring into the dark. “I found the place. Now I need to find the magical entity, and I have no idea what to expect.”
“Understand… Be careful…” Sadness washed over Damian through their unsteady connection. “We should disconnect now, but I’ll try to speak with you again when I learn something new.”
“Watch your back, brother mine…”
“Always…”
Chapter 24
~ Damian Blake ~
The magical ball of yarn moved through the tall grass, running slowly up and down endless rolling hills. Unlike before, it was moving a lot slower, and Damian and Jamie didn’t have to run to follow it. Even though it was a relief, Damian couldn’t help but wonder why the pace of the yarn had changed so drastically but couldn’t find a reasonable explanation.
The sun rose over the Sacred Isle, showering the everlasting planes with its warmth and light. They walked for quite some time, but the scenery never changed. Every time they made it to the top of the next hill, Damian hoped to see something different, yet he saw only more hills and the infinite ocean of green grass speckled with white and yellow wildflowers.
The air was filled with the freshness of morning dew, the delicate fragrance of flowers and the scent of damp earth. Surrounded by his element, Damian felt stronger and more powerful than ever, and for a while, he let go of his worries and just enjoyed nature in its virginal state.
“Damian, can I ask you a question?” Jamie’s voice sounded somewhere on the outskirts of his mind.
“You just did.” Damian threw a sideways glance at his companion. Jamie’s jaw dropped, and Damian laughed, tapping him on his shoulder. “What do you want to know?”
“I understand that your daggers are bound to you by the Destiny Council,” he started, his gaze darting to Damian’s wrist, wrapped in the leather of his bracelet. “But how about your whip? I’ve never seen a weapon like that before, and I’ve seen quite a few unusual weapons in the Guardians Order’s arsenal.”
Damian winced and kept walking, staring straight ahead, his fingers automatically reaching for his bracelet. “It’s a long story,” he replied at length.
Jamie glanced at him, understanding changing his features. “Sorry if I brought back some hard memories. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Damian cleared his throat, raking his fingers through his hair to cover the left side of his face. “It’s okay,” he said. “The whip was a gift from the Romani people.”
“Romani people?” parroted Jamie, confusion written all over his face.
“Gypsies.” Damian chuckled, shaking his head. “You probably don’t know, but gypsy magic is extremely powerful and one of a kind. They crafted this whip for me, tailoring it to my magical energy signature. So, when I use it, it feels like an extension of my arm, a part of my body, you know? Just like my daggers respond to my mental command, my whip responds to my magic, my every move and thought. Except for me, no one can use it to its full potential.”
“Fascinating.” Jamie’s eyes darted to Damian’s bracelet, regarding it with extra attention.
“It happened over five hundred years ago in the Carpathian Mountains…” Damian sighed, his mind slowly unraveling old memories he considered both happy and painful. “At the time, I was still one of the Commanders of the Destiny Enforcers. Before I assumed the ‘no one’ status, that is.” He frowned, rubbing his forehead. “I had a team and a friend whom I trusted with my life. My friend Cossack and I were sent to investigate some dangerous activities of an old Hutsuls covenant.”
“Evil witches?” Jamie’s eyes ignited with curiosity.
“As evil as they come.” Damian smiled at his friend’s youthful excitement. Things like these had stopped being interesting or exciting to him centuries ago. Just another day at the office. “To make a long story short—”
“Please don’t make it short. Keep it very-very long,” Jamie exhaled. “I want all the details.” He waved at the endless fields and hills of the Sacred Isle. “Besides, we do have a long walk to I-don’t-know-where, as it seems.”
“The covenant discovered our presence… I still believe someone betrayed us,” Damian continued with a shake of his head. “The witches were more powerful than we expected, and they managed to sever our connection with the Destiny Council realm. We couldn’t teleport or open a portal. We couldn’t even call for help.” Catching Jamie’s bewildered gaze, he stifled a sigh. “They isolated a large area and… er… siphoned all magical energy out of it, for the lack of a better word.” He scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. In a way, their enchantment worked like a God’s snare, but I’m sure it was something else. It’s impossible to sustain a God’s snare spell over such a large territory. It would take an unprecedented amount of magical energy. Anyway, just take my word for it—all we could do was run.”
For a moment, his vision fogged, and he saw himself running through the thickets of the Carpathian Mountains, chased by a pack of volkolaks. He felt the coolness of the midnight wind brush his hot skin, throwing his long hair off his face. He heard the dull thumps of his own steps as his feet hit the ground covered in a rug of long pine needles, the sound of his blood pumping too loud in his ears. Damian shuddered a
t the clarity of his memory, small hairs rising on the back of his neck.
“The lack of magical energy made us weaker physically, but despite that, we ran, hoping that we could get out of the affected area before the witches would catch up with us. Somehow, Cossack and I got separated, and I lost him in the dark of the forest. In hindsight, I’m glad he wasn’t with me.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t make it out of the enchanted territory. The witches caught up with me,” Damian explained. “In the end, I managed to escape, but not before they cursed me…” His voice trailed away, and for a few long seconds he walked in silence, images of his past flashing before his eyes. “I think they knew they couldn’t kill me, so they just let their magic do the job. It took a short while for the curse to take hold of me, but once it did, it completely disabled me, blocking my access not only to my magic, but also to my elemental power, of which I still have no idea how that was possible. I tumbled down off the top of a tall hill, hitting every rock and crushing probably every bone in my body on the way down, unable to break the fall…”
He stopped talking, pain coiling in the pit of his stomach as he relived that time. Jamie glanced at him but didn’t ask anything, sympathy reflected in his eyes.
“Anyway, when the Romani people found me, I was hurt and helpless like a newborn baby. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t heal myself. But worst of all—I couldn’t remember anything,” said Damian quietly. “It took them a few months to break the curse and take care of my injuries, but they managed to do it. They saved me, in more ways than one, and I lived with them for quite a few years, refusing to return to the Destiny Council realm. I don’t know why the High Council didn’t pull me back by force, because they had the power to do it, but for the first time in over five hundred years, I was truly free, and I couldn’t care less…”
He sighed, unable to speak for a few seconds. “The gypsies taught me their magic, traditions and their fighting style. I’m not sure why, but their shuvani—a witch—believed that a whip was the best weapon for me. So, their blacksmith forged this whip especially for me, and the old shuvani bound it to my magical energy signature, making it uniquely mine.” He touched the bracelet, rubbing its edge in a habitual gesture. “And that’s the story of my whip.”
