Forge and Fire: The Replacement Book 1

by Proserpina, Ripley

  “Tatiana is your true name?” The man’s eyes widened and the blue began to glow. He stepped back and then leaned toward her. “Never. Never tell a stranger your real name.” Straightening, he glared at the others. “You’re all very stupid.”

  Shubin began to laugh. “She was raised in the human world where names are freely given.”

  “The human world.” He stared at her. “How are you so old?”

  Shubin laughed again, and Tatiana had to curb the impulse to elbow him. “I’m not that old. Twenty.” Or nineteen and a half according to Babusya, not that it was any of his business.

  “Most replacements die in their first days in the human world. How did you live so long?”

  That was one of the many questions Tatiana had about her existence. “I don’t know,” she said. “But things are different now. It’s not like my family was going to leave me on a rock, exposed to the elements.”

  Grisha crossed his arms. “They aren’t so different.”

  “Well, my family is,” she retorted, crossing her arms. She shivered as the wind picked up. “They would never do anything to hurt me.”

  “The rusalka are gone,” the man said, changing the subject abruptly.

  “Impossible,” Fedir said, his voice hoarse.

  “You can look, travel the length of the river to the ends of Korolevstvo, but you won’t find them.”

  Tatiana’s stomach dropped. “Where did they go?”

  He shrugged. The sun had dipped below the horizon, at least she thought it had. It was hard to tell with the heavy gray clouds, but she thought one spot was a little brighter, and the clouds more orange than gray. It would soon be night, and then what?

  More to the point, if the rusalka were gone, what happened next? Her family would be missing her, and if she couldn’t replace herself with their real daughter, then she would have to go.

  Which meant she was going to die.

  It was bittersweet. Part of her settled at the idea of going home. She could hug her mom and bug Pasha for a while more. But her time with them would be limited.

  “I guess I need to go home,” she said. She stuck her hand out to the stranger. “It was nice to meet you.” As soon as she did it, she felt like a dope and began to draw it back, but he caught it in his hands.

  They were covered in scales, but they weren’t slimy. They were smooth and slightly bumpy, more like the scales on the one snake she’d touched as a child than a fish or frog.

  “My name is Taras,” he said, covering her hand with his other one. His eyes changed colors, the blue deepening to violet, then suddenly red, like two hot coals before dimming to black and then blue again.

  His gaze fell to their hands before he brought it back to her, and she smiled. “No, it’s not,” she said, and gasped as she realized she’d spoken aloud. “But you don’t have to tell me,” she added, and for some reason, winked. “Everyone is allowed their secrets.”

  The smile dropped away and he shifted from foot to foot. “Your friends and”—he stared at Fedir—“bird have told you why we don’t give our true names. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “You could call yourself Clarence, like my bird friend, it doesn’t matter to me. You can call me Sally.”

  “Is your name Sally?” he asked.

  “No, it’s Tatiana.”

  “Then why would I call you Sally?” He narrowed his eyes.

  “Because it doesn’t matter what you call me,” she explained. “I’m still me.”

  “And what is a Sally?” he asked.

  She shook her head and waved him away. “Just forget it, it was a bad joke.” Tatiana sighed and wedged herself through a tiny gap between Shubin and Fedir. She stood facing the river and bit her lip.

  “I know,” Taras said quietly into her ear, and she jumped.

  “What?” She shivered again in the wind. The temperature hadn’t dropped, but standing in her soggy clothes made it feel colder.

  “I knew you were joking,” he said. “Sorry. I was teasing you back.”

  He was? Tatiana giggled. “Oh.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Funny.” But the lightheartedness left her the longer she stared at the river. “I should go now.”

  “What do you mean?” Grisha asked. She turned around to find him striding toward her. His hands were fisted at his sides. “Do you want to die?”

  “My family will be waiting for me,” she explained. “They’ll be looking for me soon, won’t they, Fedir?” He had made it so they wouldn’t miss her, but it wouldn’t last forever.

  “Yes,” he answered, eyes narrowed. “Soon. But you can’t leave.”

  “I have to,” she said. She grazed her lips with her fingers and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “You said you meant it.” He pushed into her space. “So I kissed you. And now you’re changing your mind.”

  “I’m not!” she said.

  “I’ll take you back,” Grisha interrupted. He stared at the river, not making eye contact. “If you want to go, I’ll take you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking a step toward him.

  Fedir grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled.

  “No,” someone said. Their voice was deep and accented like Grisha’s.

  Fedir froze at the voice. They all did. Grisha. Taras. Shubin. Their eyes widened, and then, like they had no choice, they dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

  Not her, though.

  Across the river, one foot propped on the concrete, stood a man. He dropped the rock he held in his hand and it rolled into the river with a plop.

  Staring at Tatiana, he crouched and then launched himself into the air. He landed next to them with so much force the pavement cracked, lines spiderwebbing in all directions.

  Next to her, the guys didn’t move. They didn’t lift their heads or get off their knees though Fedir’s shoulders heaved with breath and his wings trembled.

  The man was covered in dust, his face gray with it. His blue eyes bore holes into her as he approached. “Why don’t you kneel?” he asked her.

  “Why would I?” she asked. A hand wrapped around her ankle, and she glanced down to see Grisha had grabbed her. He wasn’t forcing her to her knees, but he was squeezing. She got it. She should kneel.

  “Do you know who I am?” He turned his head in a way that reminded her of Fedir. He crossed his massive arms over his chest. He wasn’t dressed like Grisha or Shubin. Or undressed like Fedir and Taras. He wore what looked to Tatiana to be… armor. If armor came in leather.

  “I don’t,” she answered, and when he said nothing, added, “Are you going to tell me?”

  It felt as if the wind blew across her body, but her hair didn’t move. It was a wave of something else, and as the man stared at her, eyes narrowed and hands dropping to his side, she realized it came from him.

  Once more, like she was standing into a headwind, she felt something push at her, but it wasn’t enough to make her stumble.

  “Replacement, you are more than you seem,” he said.

  She kind of liked that. She was more than she seemed, but then something occurred to her. “Are you making them kneel?”

  The man’s gaze flicked toward the others, and he shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  “Well, stop,” she told him, and his eyes widened. Grisha squeezed a little harder, and she jumped. “Ouch. Grisha. I get it, he’s a king and-or god and I should stop antagonizing him. Except I. Don’t. Care.”

  The men suddenly leapt to their feet, crowding around her as the other man crossed his arms again. “You’re interesting,” he told her.

  Was that a compliment? He didn’t say it like it was a compliment. “Okay.”

  “And I can’t let you leave.”

  Someone touched the small of her back. Their palm pressed against her and it made her stand straighter. “Sorry, Charlie. I have a human family and a poisonous world to get back to. Also, probably colle
ge.”

  He sighed. “I heard you do this with the fish. It’s not as funny the second time. I have spent more time in the human world than your friends, so I know about jokes. You may call me Prince.”

  Tatiana snorted and started to choke. He couldn’t be serious. “You may address me as Prince.” That wasn’t what he said, but it was what his tone implied. He was trying the patience of the wrong girl.

  “I won’t,” she said. “I won’t address you as anything because my friends and I are leaving. So you can stop trying to get our attention with your little shot put demonstration. No one likes a show off.”

  “Tatiana.” A muscle ticked in Fedir’s jaw. The poor man was grinding his teeth to dust, but he kept his hand on her back. It was him who was trying to keep her steady. Heat flooded her face, and she wished she could kiss him again.

  “You’re coming with me,” the man said.

  “Pass.”

  “Now.” His eyes glowed and the muscles near his shoulders—what were those things called? Biceps? Deltoids? Quads? No, quads were by her legs. Whatever they were called, they were twitching; she could see them jumping beneath his skin. He was very tense.

  “I politely decline your very kind offer.” Tatiana moved one foot back and curtsied. “My friends and I are going to go.”

  “Bird. River dweller. Roamer. Miner. You are coming with me. Bring the replacement.”

  Fedir’s arm moved around her waist, clutching her tighter against his body. “I’m sorry,” he said, right before he extended his wings and lifted them into the air.

  16

  The Prince/Kopala

  This replacement was amusing. He liked her. She’d be dead before he really had time to enjoy her humor. His whole body twitched just thinking of the amount of effort it had taken not to burst out laughing.

  When he thought of where they were going, however, he didn’t want to laugh at all.

  Amusement fled and there was only anger.

  He ran beneath the bird, who held the replacement in his arms, and the roamer, who had turned into the wind.

  The miner, despite his heavy coat, kept up with him, matching him stride for stride. But the river dweller? The vodyanyy? If it made it to the throne, then Kopala would be shocked.

  He could hear it, panting, behind him, but it didn’t complain. It had been too tempting not to look behind him, and when he had, he’d seen the vodyanyy watching the sky. He was tracking the replacement.

  Kopala pumped his arms a little harder, forcing himself to go faster. It would be better for the thing if it died before they got to their destination. What awaited them wasn’t kind.

  And the bird…

  Kopala had known he was the last of his kind. And guilt had burned a hole in his gut each time he’d tried to knock him out of the sky. It wasn’t like he wanted to do it; he didn’t have a choice.

  He didn’t have one now.

  But if he did, he’d have let the replacement go. And he’d have pretended he’d never seen the bird.

  Or any of them.

  If Kopala had had a choice, he’d have turned his back on all of them and run as far away as he could.

  17

  Grisha/Cherny

  It wasn’t Tatiana’s fault. Ever since Cherny had figured out who was tracking them, and systematically trying to kill Fedir, he’d known things were going to go sideways.

  The creature whose power sat like a rock in his chest didn’t have a name Cherny knew. Prince was definitely closest. The being that ran beneath them was powerful, more powerful than him, for sure. He was royalty, gifted with immortality, and known throughout Korolevstvo for his strength. Funny, the prince was also known for his kindness. He was a protector of humans, so this was strange.

  The poison dust, the way the world seemed to be dying—something was very wrong in Korolevstvo.

  The prince’s behavior was just a symptom of a greater sickness.

  As they flew over the land, Cherny grew aware that ahead of him Fedir flagged. He was trying to surf the currents more, and he saw that Tatiana clutched his arm tightly around her body.

  He’d been so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t realize how hurt Fedir was. Cherny swept beneath him, buoying him on the wind.

  “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. He left his wings extended as Cherny pushed and pulled, lifting him higher and then letting him drift toward the ground before lifting him up again.

  Beneath him, Shubin, the prince, and Taras ran. Shubin’s stamina rivaled that of the prince’s, but Taras was falling farther and farther behind.

  In the water, Taras could swim for hours, but on land, his skin would be drying and cracking. His lungs would be aching by now.

  He would probably die before they got wherever the prince was taking them.

  “Taras needs help!” Tatiana called out, pointing to the ground.

  Cherny took form to give himself voice. “Can you fly, Fedir?”

  “Yes,” the man answered.

  He tried to drop to the ground and reform, but something stopped him. The same directive forcing him to follow the prince, wouldn’t allow him to aid the creature who now stumbled. The distance between him and the others grew, and from his vantage point, Cherny could make out the glowing eyes and howls of beings who had scented Taras.

  He tried again, this time staying higher than he normally would before taking form. He dropped, but then came the urge to shift and he did. Dammit. There was nothing he could do.

  “Shubin!” Tatiana yelled, her voice barely audible over the noise he made when he was the wind. “Shubin! Help Taras!”

  Shubin stumbled and his shoulders shifted as if he was trying to turn around, but then, as if dragged by an invisible string, he faced forward again and kept running.

  “Dammit!” Fedir gave a sudden yell and before he knew what was happening, a streak of red dropped by him.

  “Catch her!” Fedir yelled.

  He was the wind. All he had to do was spread himself thin, like a sheet stretched on a clothesline, and he could catch her.

  Something occurred to him. If he let her fall a little farther, he may be able to shift. Then he may actually be able to help Taras.

  But he had to let her fall.

  He raced along beside her. Above him, Fedir was eerily silent. Maybe he knew what Cherny was going to do.

  Before her feet could touch the ground, Cherny caught her. With a burst of air, he bounced her into the air before taking form, wrapping his arms around her, and landing on his feet.

  As soon as he felt the pavement beneath his boots, he had the urge to shift again. He tried to fight it, but it was impossible.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, before he disintegrated into air.

  Tatiana didn’t stop. She ran for Taras.

  Cherny floated beneath Fedir. The least he could do was aid him, if he could do nothing to save Taras.

  He watched the scene play out below him. The prince chased Tatiana, who ran away from him, sprinting toward Taras.

  Shubin had managed to stop himself, but he was as helpless as Cherny. He turned, front to back, and then around again, fighting the urge to run away from Tatiana.

  The prince reached out for Tatiana and Cherny held his breath. But she jumped, and tackled Taras. He wrapped his arms around her, protecting her as they tumbled to the ground.

  Jubilation filled Cherny. That’s my girl.

  The prince came to a stop, and Tatiana’s arms tightened around Taras. With her face set in determination, she told the vodyanyy, “I’ve got you.”

  And she did. Arms tense, legs locked.

  It almost brought him to his knees, but Cherny suddenly realized, Tatiana would let nothing get between her and the people she cared about.

  18

  Tatiana

  Taras’ skin was brittle and dry beneath her fingers. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, and then linked her fingers together. If she could have gotten her legs around his waist, she’d hav
e done that, too. She could hear the prince running behind her, and then shuffling to a stop. At any moment, he was going to reach down, grab her, and try to pull her away from Taras.

  She squeezed him a little harder. “I’ve got you.” They’d have to pry her fingers to get her off him. His body shook beneath hers, and his breathing had an awful rattling quality.

  He was dying.

  “What do you need?” she asked. “Water?”

  He nodded his head. She listened hard. The river sounded far away, but it was there. They had to get him to it.

  “Bring him to the river,” she said without looking over her shoulder.

  “It’s pointless,” the prince said, not out of breath in the least.

  “He’s dying,” she told him. “We have to help him.”

  “Better he die now. What awaits him is worse.”

  Tatiana pulled back just a little to see Taras’ face. His skin was tight against his bones, and his eyes were shut as he tried to drag air into his lungs. This was not better. This was awful and agonizing. She couldn’t watch it. “Bring him to the water and I’ll go with you, no more dragging.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Willingly or unwillingly, you’ll do what I tell you.”

  Something moved in the corner of her eye. She couldn’t quite make it out, except that it seemed to slink from one dark corner to another.

  “They smell him,” the prince said. “He’s a meal. If we leave him, they’ll tear him apart. Is that what you want?”

  “I can hear the water,” Tatiana said. “We’ll go there.”

  The prince barked a laugh. “I’ve already wasted too much time trying to capture the bird. What point is there in healing a creature only to kill it later on?”

  “Tatiana.” Taras’ voice was broken and breathy. “Just leave.”

  “I won’t,” she whispered and slowly, being sure to keep her arms around him, shifted.

  The prince watched her as she slid her arms beneath Taras’. She locked her hands together and tried to stand, but damn, the guy was heavy. For all his leanness, he was hard and muscled. Like a swimmer, which makes perfect sense. Hunched, she dragged him one step toward the sound of the river.