by Taki Drake
Ilya’s sharp, indrawn breath and the feeling of fear that radiated off of him at Zhanna’s words was information to be thought about later. She felt calm. It was as if the young woman were standing on a cold, windswept plane, devoid of snow and ice. The air was clear, and all sounds ceased.
The man in front of her appeared to swell in size. His face flushed, and he opened his mouth to roar once more, “I AM THE JUDGE OF KINGS, THE ARBITRATOR FOR THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. YOU ARE NOTHING.”
“I am Zhanna. I am here doing my best to learn and grow. You are a being without honor, someone who has forgotten everything but the evil that you’re showing. You are the one that is nothing. You are less important to me than the creature that you so contemptuously threw away.”
“SHE IS A BLOT ON THIS PLANE, SOMETHING THAT IS NOT WORTHY OF EVEN BREATHING HERE!”
The fragile hold that Zhanna had on her temper broke. The ground shook with hard tremors, and the mental picture of the box where she had stuffed her anger exploded in an expanding fireball of fury and shrapnel. The rules of the spirit plane translated that image into reality. Expanding from a close circle around Zhanna, Dascha, and Ilya, a high wind ripped outward, carrying with it shards of shining rock and spikes of glistening metal.
Taken by surprise, the sneering man was unable to protect himself quickly enough to avoid being slammed around and pummeled. His garments in shreds, scratches and small wounds covering his exposed skin, he stood in shattered astonishment.
Before he could gather his scattered wits and respond, two more players entered the field. One was Mazza, the ancient Witch that had been acting as Zhanna’s primary teacher. She appeared without warning in a previously empty space directly in front of her student, facing toward Zhanna’s attacker.
Standing next to her was the being called Roz. He also had acted as one of Zhanna’s instructors, although not as frequently as Mazza. His Magic was far different from that of the Witch drawing more on what the Blagogarsk books referenced as something called “sorcery.”
Dascha and Zhanna were fond of both mentors, although the power that each commanded was intimidating. Never had the breadth of their power been more apparent than at that moment, when they had come to the defense of their student.
Flames of blue and purple licked along the hems of Mazza’s robe and cloak. The staff that she carried in her left hand glowed with a sullen light and rattled with the sound of unuttered screams while the air crackled in a wave of frigid cold.
The Sorcerer had skin lightly dusted with scales, now glistening with an eerie sheen. He stood with his feet a shoulder-width apart, a rod in his right hand. The faint smell of brimstone and heated metal accompanied him like a rare perfume that tickled the nostrils and caught in the throat. Although he looked calm, the young woman could tell that he was furious.
“Lenc, you go too far!” snarled Mazza.
“Not far enough, old crone! To allow one such as she to have the Kolovrat is insane, disgusting. She does not deserve it!”
“That is not your call. Perun has spoken, and we are to obey. You had your chance to make a case, and I would expect the God of Judgment to have made a better effort if you felt that strongly.”
“I didn’t put effort into it because there was no way she was going to survive. But somehow, she’s cheated because the little brat, this otrodya, is still alive. Multiple times there has been someone that should have destroyed her, but she keeps escaping. One of you has to be helping her and if you cheated, then so can I.”
Roz interrupted, saying in voice heated by the flames of his anger, “No one has cheated, other than you. You are totally ignoring Zhanna’s efforts at learning and the allies that she is making. We have had nothing to do with that. You are the only one that has broken the rules.”
“THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE! SOMEONE HELPED HER, AND SHE DESERVES TO DIE! ANYONE THAT IS IN LEAGUE WITH HER SHOULD BE OBLITERATED, TOO!”
“Stop.”
Zhanna’s voice was quiet, but the single word cut through the bluster and roar of arguments and threats. Stepping from behind the protective wall of her mentors, the young Witch advanced to stand directly in front of the infuriated Lenc. She looked into his swirling black eyes of unimaginable depth and continued, “This is unseemly. If you truly are the God of Judgment, then what power has made you act like a bad-tempered two-year-old? Where is your sense of fairness? Has someone cast a spell and removed your ability to think clearly? Or instead, have you been manipulated into a position where you have embarrassed yourself and now seek to eradicate it?”
The man opened his mouth to continue his tirade but was arrested by the calm curiosity on her face. The words collided in his throat and refused to emerge. The silence stretched out in an elastic moment of potential, undecided as to whether to ease or to explode. Finally, a faint flush ran up from the man’s collar onto his face, and he said reluctantly, “You may have a point.”
Zhanna heard a muttered “Might!” from Mazza, but the young Witch held Lenc’s eyes and waited for more.
“It is possible that I may have been maneuvered into this position. I found myself stating that your mission was impossible. It was compounded by my comment that the only way you could succeed was if you received assistance that was outside the rules that govern our interaction with humankind.”
“When I succeeded in my goals then you became more convinced that it was undeserved and dishonest. Right?”
Right in front of Zhanna’s eyes, the commanding male went from the epitome of power and overwhelming force to an embarrassed and vulnerable man. Now staring determinedly at his own feet, he agreed, “I didn’t want to accept the fact that I could be wrong, especially when I had made such a big point about the whole thing. So, I got angry at you.”
Once more Zhanna heard a mutter from behind her, but she was too focused on Lenc to spare any attention for others. Watching him for a few more seconds, the young woman finally ventured, “It hurts, doesn’t it? Being wrong, I mean. It can be embarrassing, too.”
Lenc nodded his head as if the movement was both painful and unaccustomed. Still refusing to lift his eyes, he admitted, “I was wrong.”
“Sometimes it seems that I’m only capable of being embarrassed if I have fooled myself into thinking that I will never make a mistake. That’s the first step in thinking that you’re better than everyone else. The truth is that everyone makes mistakes. It seems to me that the difference is whether you acknowledge them and learn from them, or if you ignore them and don’t learn.”
With an arrested look on his face, the man in front of her once more looked up and met her gaze. The swirling flat black of his eyes was now tempered with hints of warmer brown. Still stern looking, something indefinable had altered, leaving him more approachable. He said with a strange little quirk to the side of his mouth, “You DO know that I’m the God of Philosophy too, right?”
Zhanna laughed, her sparkling amusement bubbling through the air. Catching her breath, she said, “No, I didn’t know that. But somehow that makes sense. Judgment and Philosophy, having to ponder the meaning of life and still cast judgment. Not an easy thing to do. But while you are pondering, you might think about this. Who would want my efforts to restore honor to the Witches of Russia to fail? Who would benefit and who would win?”
Intrigued, Lenc smiled at the young Witch. Then he looked up at the two standing behind her and said in a conciliatory voice, “The two of you can stop staring daggers at me. I’ve gotten over my fit of being angry. The young one here has pulled me back to my senses with both delicately applied force, and the perfect tool for my mind. Who stands to benefit? That is definitely something I’m going to have to think about.”
Roz responded in a contemplative tone of his own, “Whoever it was that set this up would have had us fighting each other. We’ve been allies for too many centuries to allow that to happen. I too will have to think about who has just tried to manipulate us.”
Lenc nodded to Zhanna, saying, “Th
ank you. Thank you for pointing this out and thank you for stopping the path of warfare and damage. Be certain that I will be looking into what happened. After all, it would be “fair” if everyone knew what went on.”
With that last comment, Lenc disappeared, leaving behind the same faint smell of brimstone and the sounds of scales slipping over stone.
“Two-year-old? You just told the God of Judgment that he was having a toddler fit. Did I get that right?” Mazza sounded halfway between scandalized and amazed. Roz was leaning against Dascha’s side with a hand covering his eyes. At first, Zhanna thought that he was hurt because he was shaking. Only when the Sorcerer pulled his hand from his face did she realize that he was laughing so hard that he couldn’t talk.
“He was acting just like one of the children in the village does when he doesn’t get his way! Temper and yelling, trying to bully somebody else. What else would you call it?”
“Girl smart. Strong backbone too.”
“Petra! I was so worried when you crashed down and didn’t get up. Are you okay?”
The Guardian seemed stunned by Zhanna’s flood of warmth and concern. Nearly stammering in reply, Petra said, “Petra fine. Smart to keep head down in God fight.”
“By that definition, Zhanna is definitely not very smart!”
“Mazza!”
Chapter 27 – Maze Game
Zhanna was still a little shaky after the confrontation with Lenc. Talking with her mentors and Ilya, the young Witch had settled down during the discussion of how her training was going. She needed some reinforcement of her feelings of accomplishment at this point. There were so many skills that Zhanna knew that she had to master, that it was easy for her to get depressed. Focusing on the skills that she had spent so many painful hours improving, the unqualified approval of her instructors helped her see how far she had come. With that approach, she could feel good about her progress without dwelling on possible consequences.
Mazza was especially pleased with Zhanna’s progress. “You have gotten even farther along than I thought you would. It did not occur to me when we planned this how the drills and the Blagogarsk books would combine. That mixture has produced a strangely-reinforcing form of intense education. I may have to think some more on this and see what else we can do. You’re going to need the skills, and you’re going to need the power quickly.”
Before Zhanna could respond or ask questions about the need for her accelerated learning, Mazza was gone. Smiling in rueful appreciation of how the ancient Witch could deliver those leading exit lines and then disappear, Zhanna turned toward the sorcerer, Roz. “Is there anything that you think that I should practice to further stabilize the lessons that you have been having me learn? If there is, please tell me and I will implement them if I can.”
“The only thing that I feel is really lacking is for you to build up your combat reactions. Right now, it sounds like the two mercenaries you have working with you have begun to train those instincts in response is necessary to survive battles, but Magic in warfare requires a different mindset.”
“Stefan is always springing new attacks on me to teach me to react and survive rather than freeze and think. Is that the sort of thing that you’re talking about?”
“Exactly. However, you’ve chosen a very difficult road by aspiring to be both a fighter and a combat mage. Most Witches do not command in the battle. They cast their spells usually from a safe vantage point, staying out of the immediate line of danger. By including yourself in the battle force, you will have to meld both instincts. And when, or if, your Magical energy is exhausted, you will be less vulnerable than those that operate from the rear. Just don’t forget that you will be more susceptible to damage on the front line.”
Roz chuckled, a dusty, unused sound. “I remember the first testing maze that I attempted. It was more centuries ago than I want to think of, but I still can see it in front of me as if it were yesterday. Before you return to the physical plane and your universe, work your way as far through the maze as you can. Petra and your Familiar may accompany you, but no one else.”
Turning to Ilya, the Sorcerer said with warmth in his voice, “You know it’s time to let her try her wings. She needs to learn how to fly, no matter how much it hurts.”
Bowing his head in acknowledgment, the blonde Cossack said, “I know. I will conform to the rules and provide no help unless the maze comes down or she wins free.”
Waving his hand in farewell, Roz disappeared into a faint sparkle of light.
<< At least he has the manners to say goodbye and not just poof out. >>
<< All of them are very strange. It is like they have been distilled down into unique flavors or shapes of personalities and skills. >>
<< That would make sense. They are reinforced by their followers’ beliefs and, as they told you before, they have fewer worshipers these days. Remember, they made you promise to do what you could to bring back their relationship with the Witches? >>
<< Of course, I remember! But that doesn’t stop me from wishing that they could be just a little easier to deal with. >>
<< Hah! Even Gods can be a pain in your tush! >>
Zhanna felt a butterfly touch on her elbow and turned to see Ilya looking at her with concern. His eyes roamed over her face looking for something that only he knew. Eyes deepening to a well of complex emotions, he asked, “Are you truly all right? That encounter was dangerous and uncomfortable. I know that Lenc seemed insane, but he truly is not usually that way.”
“It did not seem like he was mad, simply angry and frustrated. Perhaps, he is also afraid.”
“Is the idea of a God being afraid strange to you?”
“Not really. It seems to me that no matter how powerful the being, there is always something to be feared. Whether that is another being or the vagrancies of existence, you can always find something to focus your insecurities on.”
Zhanna was taken entirely by surprise when the man pulled her into a brief, tight hug, whispering into her hair, “Your mother would be so proud.”
Stunned, the young Witch almost didn’t realize that Ilya had gone. Instead, small fragments of memory flittered through the piecemeal recollection of a child’s comprehension. The touch of a hand and the smell of a hug. Why did these things pull on her heartstrings?
Looking at her Witch with worry, Dascha watched as emotions flashed onto the mobile canvas that was Zhanna’s face. The rapid changes in expression reinforced what the Familiar could feel through their bond. Zhanna was spinning, trying to reconcile what had just happened to something, anything, the made sense to her.
Dascha cast around in her own mind to find something that she could offer the young woman. Zhanna pulled on her Familiar’s heartstrings as she stood with eyes naked with longing and loss, leaving the cat aching to help. They both were relieved when Petra drew both of their attention by exclaiming, “Look! It is a place to practice like the scary Fire Old One said.”
Turning in the direction that Petra pointed, Zhanna could see a massive enclosed construct made of hedges that rose high in the sky. Without conscious decision, Petra, Dascha, and Zhanna found themselves gliding toward the intimidating garden, slipping over the ground without any pretext of walking.
<< It’s a maze! We had one of those at the Familiar Trials. It is a way of challenging skills and putting us in directed situations to test our wisdom and intelligence. The one at the Trials was horrible and many were injured running it. However, I have to say that what I learned in that challenge has saved us from more significant harm. >>
<< What is a maze? I’ve never seen one before. >>
Standing in front of the entrance, Dascha explained the set up of the labyrinth that she had been through. She told her Witch about the danger of being separated and the way that threats had appeared from every direction. She explained the different challenges that have been part of the Trials but cautioned that different and possibly nastier ones might be waiting for them here.
Zhanna liste
ned to her Familiar’s explanation carefully knowing that this challenge might be set up to purposely separate Witch and Familiar. Unsure of whether their bond and communication could be blocked, Zhanna needed to hear all of the information that Dascha thought was critical before they entered.
Finally, Dascha had covered everything she could think of. Zhanna could feel the worry that her Familiar was experiencing, reassuring her wordlessly along their connection of the limitless respect and love she felt for her companion. Lost in mutual reaffirmation, the Witch and her Familiar leaned on each other for just a moment, reveling in the feeling of being loved.
“Time to go! Go into squiggly place and play! Must move quickly and think faster. Time for acting not pondering. Witch too slow now but must get faster. Fire Old One is right this time.”
“Petra, you are right. It certainly isn’t going to get easier if we stand outside.”
Zhanna headed determinedly toward the mouth of the labyrinth. Just before she stepped in, Petra slipped ahead of her, muttering in a low tone, “Guardian. Remember?”
Knowing that Petra was right and that she had been about to make a stupid error, Zhanna checked her stride long enough for her companion to get a few feet ahead of her. Holding a well of gathered Magical energy ready for a response, and with her long knife loosened in the sheath at her waist, Zhanna entered the testing maze.
Traveling at first with hesitant steps, the party of three moved carefully and slowly through the first few turns. It was hard to maintain a high degree of alertness with constant distractions of unusual plants and changes in direction. Zhanna knew that this was by design, but it still was difficult for her to maintain her concentration.
Dascha could feel Zhanna’s stress but knew that her Witch had to gain control on her own. From her previous experience, Dascha knew that their first challenge would emerge soon, but even she didn’t anticipate the scope of that danger.
