by N M Thorn
Petrukha motioned for Damian and Jamie to follow and headed toward the palace, walking briskly with his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t slow down until he reached the stone steps leading toward the tall, double door of the palace. Giving quick orders to his men, he pushed the door open and bowed, pressing his fist to his chest.
“Lord Commander,” he said, straightening. “Welcome to my domain.”
“Are you the Lord of the Isle?” asked Damian, confused. “How can a Destiny Enforcer, let alone a Shadow Enforcer, become the Lord of the Sacred Isle?”
“Patience, Lord Commander.” Petrukha smiled, his smile accentuating deep wrinkles around his eyes. “I promise to explain everything as soon as we sit down and relax.”
“I have plenty of patience,” muttered Damian, following Petrukha through a large hall with walls decorated by ancient frescos. “It’s time that I don’t have. Please, help us find what we came for, and we’ll be out of your hair.”
Petrukha ran up the stairs and marched through a wide but poorly illuminated hallway, which opened into another spacious hall. He halted in front of a white door, decorated with gold-plated ornaments. Placing his hand on the golden door handle, he pushed it open and stepped aside, allowing Damian and Jamie to walk through first.
The room wasn’t large, and unlike the rest of the palace, it was decorated with the modesty and laconism of a warrior. A narrow bed stood by the wall, and a large table surrounded by four chairs took the center of the room. A single half-burned candle sat on the table, illuminating the space with its unsteady, orange light, and the light scent of melted wax and smoke permeated the air. A thick book, opened in the middle, lay next to the candle.
“Take a seat,” offered Petrukha, pulling one of the chairs out. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?” His eyes darted from Damian to Jamie, and he raised his sandy eyebrows, expecting their answer.
Damian exchanged a quick look with Jamie and shook his head. “No, thank you. We truly are in a rush.”
He headed toward the table and placed his hand on the back of a chair, ready to pull it out, when the world tilted and spun around him. A wave of urgency, followed by happiness and then deep despair flooded his mind through the blood bond with Cole. Damian groaned and leaned forward, bracing his arms against the table.
“Cole?” He carefully probed their bond and immediately received another overpowering wave of emotions—this time of shock and fear. “Brother, are you okay?”
“No.” The response came right away, but Cole’s voice was coming through with strange interferences. “I’m in trouble, Dima. You need to come back as soon as you can.”
Damian’s heart halted in his chest, cold sweat beading his forehead. Cole would never ask him to come if he wasn’t in a truly dangerous situation he couldn’t resolve on his own.
“What’s going on?” he asked, barely able to breathe.
“Amaris is not who we think he is,” said Cole, speaking so fast that his words blended together. “He is not even… a m—” Cole’s voice broke and disappeared just to reappear a couple of seconds later. “Dima, besides River, Jamie and me, who did you speak with about your agreement with Ricardo?”
“Why?”
“Figure out—these people are—you can’t trust them,” Cole continued, his voice breaking and disappearing. “—works for Amaris—knew a few months before…”
Dammit… Damian cursed in his mind and projected to his brother, “I should be back shortly. I found the place, and I just need to find the item. Hang in there, little bro.”
“Dima, Amaris said—the item he asked—to deliv—belongs to him, anyway…” Cole’s voice wavered and vanished.
“Cole?”
There was no answer. Damian probed the blood bond again, but it was gone.
“Dammit!” He slammed his hand against the table, making the candle jump up a little.
“Damian, what’s going on?” asked Jamie, staring at him with concern.
“I just spoke with Cole. He’s in trouble. We don’t have time, Jamie. I have to go back as soon as possible.” Damian pulled the chair out and sat down heavily. Switching his attention to Petrukha he said, “I need your help, Lord of the Isle.”
Petrukha frowned, regarding Damian with blunt curiosity. “Fine,” he said, folding his arms atop the table. “Let’s start by you telling me who the both of you are and why you are here.”
“This is Jamie Coldwell, a wizard,” said Damian with a light wave of his hand in Jamie’s direction. “I’m Commander Damian Blake, the Shadow Enforcer to Lord Magnus.”
“Whoa… Hold on a second. Lord Magnus?” Petrukha asked, his eyebrows rising. “When I visited the Destiny Council realm the last time, Magnus was just the Master Commander in charge of the Destiny Enforcers.”
“I guess you’ve been here for a while,” muttered Damian, pursing his lips into a firm line. “Let me give you a quick overview. Lord Ulric Aramir is no longer in charge. He’s been convicted of manipulating the Board of Destiny. Magnus is the Head of the Destiny Council now, one of the top three.”
Petrukha pressed his hand to his mouth, and his eyes widened. “I understand you’re running out of time, so tell me the details later,” he exhaled after a moment. “In the meantime, tell me why you are here, Commander Blake.”
“I was ordered to go there—I don’t know where, and find that—I don’t know what,” said Damian, cringing at how habitual saying this strange riddle had become to him. “My quest brought me to the Sacred Isle, and I hope you can tell what this ‘I don’t know what’ is.”
Petrukha rose slowly, the blood draining off his round face. “Who sent you?”
“It’s complicated—”
“Then uncomplicate it, Commander,” snapped Petrukha, suddenly tense, his fingers squeezing the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white, “or you will leave my domain empty-handed.”
Damian frowned, swallowing with effort. Cole’s voice—unsteady and troubled—surfaced in his memory, and he bit his lip, pinching the bridge of his nose. Making a split-second decision, he told Petrukha everything that happened since he met the Head of the Arizona House.
“You had to leave your brother behind with that monster…” Petrukha shook his head. “I thought with time the Destiny Council would grow more humane.”
Damian chuckled mirthlessly. “No, you didn’t.”
“No, I did not,” Petrukha echoed his words airily, his eyes going foggy like that of a person deep in his thoughts. Then he grunted and asked, “Do you know who this Head of the Arizona House is?”
“No,” replied Damian, “but apparently my brother does, and whoever Amaris is, he is not what he appears to be. Also, Cole said that the item I was supposed to retrieve from the Sacred Isle was something that used to belong to Amaris. Any ideas?”
Petrukha got up heavily, his face a sickly green. Moving his chair back with a loud screech, he slowly made his way to the only window. He halted there and pushed a curtain aside, staring at the dark street.
“Petrukha?” called Damian. “I’m sorry, but I have no time for intermissions. If you know something, you need to tell me now.”
“My karma finally caught up with me,” he whispered, turning around. “Everything that is happening to you and your brother is my fault.”
“Please explain,” said Damian, leaning back in his chair.
“The name Amaris. Do you know what it means?” asked Petrukha, clenching his hands.
“No.” Damian glanced at Jamie, but the wizard just shook his head with a bewildered shrug.
“There are two meanings to this name. One of them is a child of the moon,” whispered Petrukha. “Her choice of the name and your brother’s message about the item belonging to her, made it all clear.”
“Her? Amaris is a man,” objected Damian, his chest constricted with the expectation of the next troubling news. “I haven’t seen him close enough or without his mask, but I’m positive he’s a man.”
&nb
sp; Petrukha exhaled, shaking his head. “She was always the best master of illusions,” he whispered, returning to the table. He sat down, placing his clenched hands on the table. “I assure you, Commander, the dark entity you’re dealing with is a woman, and I’m the one who made the mistake that brought all of us here.”
Chapter 27
~ Damian Blake ~
For a moment, Damian stared at Petrukha, unable to speak as a wave of fear and frustration bubbled up in him. “You made a mistake?” he finally managed to say. “When Destiny Enforcers make mistakes, people die. What kind of mistake did you make?”
“I’ve been punished plenty for it, Commander.” Petrukha sighed, rubbing his forehead, his shoulders slumped. “But trust me, no one can punish me worse than I punish myself every single goddamn day since the moment I learned the truth.”
“I’m sorry.” Damian swallowed, looking away. “Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Please, continue.”
“It was the year sixteen eighty-nine,” Petrukha started, his voice so raspy it was barely audible. “I was stationed in Selo Preobrazhenskoye, shadowing my charge, Tsar Peter the Great. I was posing as the constantly drunk jester, but people thought me to be the Holy Fool—yurodivy—which made it easier for me to get close to the young Tsar.
“He was just a teenage boy at the time, but his future had been written all over the Board of Destiny from the moment he was born. His sister, Tsarevna Sophia Alekseyevna, was a smart and educated woman of her time, but she fell under the influence of a beautiful Portuguese actress, Donna Luna. The first time I laid my eyes on this actress, I knew she had dark magic, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t break her influence on the Tsarevna.
“At first, I thought she was just another dark witch, but soon I realized it wasn’t the case. Careful and cunning, it was practically impossible for me to get close to her. Besides, even though she didn’t recognize the Destiny Enforcer in me, I was positive she knew I was a wizard, and she made sure to conceal her energy signature any time I was around.”
He stopped talking, as if every word caused him physical pain, and frowned, two deep wrinkles appearing between his eyebrows.
“Skip the details. Get to the point,” said Damian through gritted teeth.
“Anyway, after a few months of trying to uncover her supernatural identity, I came to the conclusion that she was a Master of the Dark Arts, but I could also sense some demonic powers in her, which at the time, I couldn’t explain.” Petrukha shook his head, pressing his hand to his eyes. “I couldn’t have been more wrong…”
He got up and walked toward the bed where he lay down on the floor and reached under it. When he got up again, he held a small silver box, its former shine tarnished by the years.
“As Donna Luna moved forward with her plan, I had to do whatever it took to protect my charge and enforce the proper course of Destiny,” he continued, lowering the box on the table between himself and Damian. “The problem was, I was acting under the wrong assumption. When the sorceress made her next move, I confronted her. While I managed to stop some parts of her plan from being executed, saving the lives of quite a few people in the process, I couldn’t have predicted…”
His voice trailed off, and he touched the box, sending a burst of his magic through it. The lid cracked opened, and he reached inside, pulling out two pieces of a broken mask that were bedazzled with shards of a mirror. Damian sucked in a sharp breath as a wave of powerful magic emanating from the mask touched his senses. Even without opening his other sight, he could detect the darkness in its energy signature.
“What is it?” Jamie reached for the mask, but Damian grabbed his hand, stopping him.
Petrukha laughed softly, kindness shining in his light eyes. “Yeah, don’t touch it, young one,” he said, glancing at Jamie. “I don’t think it can hurt you, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“What is it?” Damian repeated Jamie’s question. “I sense its magical energy signature. It’s dark.”
“It’s dark because it was enchanted to keep the Darkness under control,” explained Petrukha, pointing at the mask. “You see all these pieces of mirror? Some of them are shards of the long-lost Hyperborean mirror.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jamie exhaled breathlessly, his eyes shining with wonderment. “Are you saying Hyperborea is real?”
Petrukha glanced at Damian, a corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “He truly is as young as he looks.” He jerked his thumb at Jamie.
“Even younger than that,” muttered Damian, switching his attention to Jamie. “Everything is real, my friend.”
“Yes, Hyperborea exists,” confirmed Petrukha. “Ancient Greek philosophers disagreed about the location of this mystical place, naming a few different areas. What they didn’t know was that Hyperborea never stays in one place for a prolonged period of time. It moves, not unlike my Sacred Isle, and just like my domain, it harbors great and dangerous magical powers. The shards of Hyperborean mirror hold some of that power in them.”
Petrukha averted his gaze, his fingers tracing the shape of the ornaments decorating the silver box absentmindedly.
“Anyway,” he continued at length, “when I detected the traces of Hyperborean magic, I realized that as a Master of the Dark Arts, she was skilled in evocation, necromancy and other forbidden branches of dark magic. I was positive she used the magic of the mirror to channel demonic powers. So, logically, I thought that if I destroyed the mask, I would sever her connection with the demon, and that would allow me to kill her, using the purifying light of Creation.”
“I would have probably assumed the same thing,” Damian murmured with a light shrug.
“Yes, seemed logical to me at the time,” Petrukha said. “So, in the heat of the fight, I managed to rip the mask off her face and break it, severing her connection with the demon—or so I thought. When she tried to run, I saw the visage of the demon hovering over her, and it was terrifying… Nevertheless, I caught up with her and set her ablaze, catalyzing the fire with the purifying light of Creation. As I expected, unable to channel the demonic powers, she burned, but before she perished, she shouted that I won the battle, but I lost the war, and her words stuck with me.”
“What did you do next?” asked Jamie, shifting closer.
“I did what any Destiny Enforcer would do,” replied Petrukha. “After I made sure my charge was alive and well, I took the box with the mask to the Destiny Council realm and reported everything that happened to my master and the High Council. I also told them about the sorceress’ last words and asked them to launch a full investigation into her affiliations and magical background. At first, Lord Aramir dismissed my concerns, but since the other two members of the High Council wanted to investigate, he had no choice but to agree.
“The investigation took a while. The best wizards of the Wardens Order explored the mask and when they finally announced the results of their research, I wished I were dead…” His voice morphed into a pregnant pause, and he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Exhaling a ragged breath, he continued, “To make a long story short, most of my assumptions were wrong, and instead of fixing the situation, I made everything a lot worse.”
“What did the Wardens find out?” asked Damian, shivering as if the temperature in the room had dropped by a few degrees.
“As I suspected, Donna Luna was an ancient sorceress. Channeling her magic from the moon, she was a gifted Master of the Dark Arts with quite a few unusual powers in her arsenal,” continued Petrukha. “I was wrong, however, when I thought she was just channeling demonic powers. She wasn’t. She made a deal with a demon, a Guard of Hell most likely. What I also didn’t know was that her deal backfired. She overestimated her abilities, and her power alone wasn’t enough to keep that high-level abomination of Hell under control. When she realized her mistake, she used the Hyperborean magic to stop the monster from ascending to its full power in the human realm. Basically, she locked the demonic ent
ity inside her body, binding it with the magic of the Hyperborean mirror.”
“Oh, dammit…” Damian muttered under his breath as understanding dawned on him. “So, you broke the mask and released the demonic entity she summoned from some twisted demonic realm into the world of humans.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.” Petrukha nodded slowly, visibly struggling with his relentless guilt.
“But what happened to that… whatchamacallit… Donna Luna?” asked Jamie. “Did she actually die in the fire?”
“No, she didn’t die,” replied Petrukha at length. “I believe the contract with that monster made her immortal. As long as the demon is alive, she can’t die. As long as she’s alive, the demon won’t stop searching for her. The Destiny Council sent a few teams to search for the demon I had released, but they couldn’t find it anywhere, neither could they find Donna Luna herself. So they hoped that both had left the realm of humans.”
“Nice,” muttered Damian, shaking his head. “Some high-level demon is rampaging all over the world, searching for her, while she’s hiding in some underground bunker.” He rubbed his forehead, feeling a throbbing pain manifesting in his temples. His thoughts returned to Cole, and he closed his eyes, thinking of his brother’s desperate situation. “So, why are you here, Petrukha? How did you become the Lord of the Isle?”
He averted his eyes, his fingers clasped together so tightly, his knuckles turned white. “I was punished, Commander. It was time to replace the old Lord of the Isle, and the High Council sent me here to take over the position. I’ve been here ever since. You’re the first person from the Destiny Council realm who’s spoken with me since that time. Being here… all alone… thinking about what I did and unable to do anything about it… That’s the worst kind of punishment.”
Damian grunted, clenching his teeth. “So, what does the second part of the riddle mean? ‘Bring me that—I don’t know what’,” he asked, changing the subject. “What exactly does she want me to bring to her?”
