Or at least she might have if Fedor hadn’t killed the one that came for her. If they got their hands on her now, Anya doubted she’d receive gentle treatment. No, whatever came of this mad plan, she had no choice but to see it through.
Five minutes later faint sounds filled the air. It sounded like voices, but who in the world would be out in the middle of the forest?
She found out a moment later when they rounded a bend and the trail opened up into a clearing. A handful of fires burned and the scent of roasting meat set her mouth to watering. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and found she was starving.
“What is this?” she asked.
“A resistance camp,” Fedor said. “We’ll be picking up some help before we continue our journey in the morning. You two must be hungry. We’ll eat and then perhaps we can answer your many questions.”
Getting answers seemed a good deal less important at the moment than eating. Fedor led them into the clearing. A young man in gray carrying a machine gun approached and after a few words motioned them through.
They went to the nearest fire. A woman tended a bubbling pot, stirring it with a wooden spoon. Anya stared for a moment. She hadn’t expected to find women mixed in with the rebels. Though why it should surprise her she didn’t know. Her own mother had gotten involved with the group after all.
The cook offered a gap-tooth smile and ladled up a bowl of stew for her. Anya accepted it along with a bent spoon and set to eating. The gravy had a mild spice she didn’t recognize and the meat fell apart when she cut it. After hours of hiking it tasted like the finest meal in the world.
She’d emptied half the bowl before Anya realized she hadn’t thanked the woman. “This is delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear.”
Anya glanced at her mother and found she was engrossed in conversation with one of the rebels. Probably someone she’d met at the house.
Anya returned her attention to the cook. “I didn’t expect to find women with the group. Do you mind if I ask why you joined the resistance?”
The cook’s gentle expression turned hard and for a moment Anya feared she’d said something she shouldn’t have. The grim look lasted only a moment then a sigh blew it away.
“I joined because my daughter was like you, a wizard candidate. The witches took her from me and I haven’t seen her since. That was five years ago and god only knows where she is and what they’ve done to her. When I heard of the mission to help you escape I volunteered at once. If I can save you…” the woman sniffed and looked away.
Anya wasn’t sure what to say so she returned to her meal. Try as she might, Anya couldn’t imagine life anywhere else. All she’d ever known was the Empire and their little house, an equally small school, and her few friends. It wasn’t a perfect life, but until today she’d been fairly content.
Anya cleaned her bowl and yawned. Desire for sleep warred with her need to know exactly what was going on. Mom finished her discussion and turned to face her. It looked like answers would be the winner. Fedor shifted, completing their little semicircle.
“You wished to know more of our plans,” he said. “Here they are. We mean to smuggle you out of the Empire, across Europe, to the Kingdom of the Isle. We’ve spent ten years laying plans and preparing for this moment.”
Anya stared, stunned by what he said. Ten years the resistance had been planning this? All she knew about the place was what she learned in school. The teachers said they were a weak, decadent nation that allowed their people to decide who represented them and let their wizards run free. It didn’t seem so bad to her, especially now that she was one of those wizards.
“Why now? Why me?” she asked.
“Our contacts in the Kingdom requested we bring out a wizard,” Fedor said. “They’re curious about how powerful you are without the czar’s curse twisting your magic, their words not mine. Of course, we didn’t know until today that you would be the one we brought out. Sasha volunteered to leave with us if you passed the test. When you did, things happened quickly.”
“So what next?”
“In the morning we set out for Dorcha where we’ll hop a train to Anapa. That’ll take at least ten days.”
“I can’t believe they’d go out of their way just to meet an uncorrupted witch.”
Fedor barked a laugh. “Hardly. We’ve prepared documents that reveal everything we know about the Empire. You’re just the icing on the cake. Your presence tipped the scales in our direction.”
Her head spun. It was all too much. Anya looked to her mother who had a sad smile.
“I refuse to let them have you,” she said.
Anya nodded, curled up in a little ball, and hoped everything made more sense in the morning.
* * *
The dawn light revealed a most welcome sight to Anya: four crudely built dune buggies. They looked like piles of scrap someone bolted wheels to, but they had engines so at least she wasn’t going to have to hike all the way to Dorcha. She sat up and groaned. Sleeping on the ground hadn’t done her back or neck any good.
She got to her feet and her spine popped. Her mouth tasted like a family of mice had moved in, but there didn’t appear to be anywhere to get washed up or brush her teeth. A quick glance around the clearing revealed the rebels in all their dubious glory.
Eleven men and women dressed in tattered clothes crouched around last night’s fire pits. The men had scruffy beards and the women’s hair was a tangled mess. She reached up and found her own hair in a similar state. They’d seemed more impressive last night, sitting in the dark, tending their fires. In the harsh light of day it became clear that they were desperate, ragged people straddling the line between survival and starvation. At least they all had guns.
The sight did little to fill her with confidence. On the other hand, they didn’t look like they had much to lose, so maybe that would motivate them to overcome their circumstances. For her and her mother’s sake she certainly hoped so.
“Good morning, kiska.”
She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts Anya hadn’t even noticed her mother approach. A familiar hand squeezed her shoulders and she reached up and squeezed back. At least Mom was here. That fact made her feel better than it probably should have.
“Hi, Mom. Did you sleep?”
“A little.” Gentle pressure brought Anya around to face her. In her free hand Mom held a biscuit studded with cheese. “Breakfast?”
Anya accepted the food and bit down. Flakey goodness filled her mouth and brought a happy groan. Nothing like hunger to make the food taste delicious. All around her people were packing and scattering the remains of the fires. It wouldn’t do much to hide the fact that they’d camped here, but every little bit helped.
She sighed and finished her meal. How did they make something so tasty out here?
Her mother held out a blue leather booklet. “This is your new identity. Memorize it and burn the one you brought from home. The only thing worse than getting caught with false documents would be getting caught with both new and old papers.”
Anya flipped open the booklet. Anya Ventorova. At least they let her keep her first name. Probably a good idea lest she forget to answer to a new one. Anya was common enough that it shouldn’t draw a second look.
She dug her old book out of her bag, found a still-burning fire, and tossed it in. Just like their house, it went up in flames. No going back now.
Half an hour later they were roaring down a rough road cut through the pines by heavy equipment years ago. Anya sat beside Fedor who drove the best of the dune buggies, a four-seater with a proper roll cage. On the back seat her mother and another man she didn’t know crowded together. Not the most comfortable arrangement, but it beat walking.
“When can I drive?” Anya shouted over the roar of the engine.
Fedor shot her a dubious look, but didn’t refuse outright. Not that she expected him to give in easily. This wasn’t a pleasure trip after all.
T
hey traveled over the rough paths all morning until a little after noon when Fedor slowed. They rounded a bend and found a shack not much bigger than an outhouse, built of rough logs, moss, and vines.
The dune buggies came to a stop beside the shack and Anya jumped out. Her legs almost gave out after hours of sitting in the cramped seat. She looked left and right, her knees locked together.
A gentle tap on the shoulder got her to turn around. The woman that cooked for her the night before had left her transport and come over.
“You’ll have to use the bushes, dear, no bathrooms out here.”
Anya grimaced, but ran over behind a clump of low bushes. When she finished she returned to the group in time to see Fedor emerge from the shack. He was scowling and his fists clenched and relaxed like he wanted to strangle someone.
The rest of the group busied themselves filling the buggies from bright-red gas cans. Anya reached her mother at the same time Fedor did. Two of the others joined them. No one had introduced themselves to her and she figured that was intentional. She couldn’t tell what she didn’t know after all.
“Bad news?” Mom asked.
“Darko didn’t make the rendezvous last night. Our mole says a witch arrived early yesterday evening. We have to assume they know our plans.”
“How much did Darko know?” Mom asked.
“No details, just that we planned to smuggle the two of you out of the Empire. That’s still enough to cause us trouble. They’ll have lookouts posted on all the roads. That shouldn’t be a big deal since we’re traveling cross country, but when we reach Dorcha things could get dicey.”
“Let’s not borrow trouble,” Mom said. “We’re days from reaching the city. Plenty might still go wrong between here and there.”
Fedor grunted. “True enough. Load up. We’ve got a long ways to go.”
* * *
Yarik stood, arms crossed, and surveyed the clearing. Six cold fire pits, matted down hay—a large group had camped there for several nights. They were long gone now, but it seemed clear that this was where the true Fedor had led Anya and her mother. They were still a step behind and Yarik hated being behind.
Noon had come and gone an hour ago. If only they’d managed to find the path sooner. He shook his head at the useless wish. His men had done their best and he couldn’t ask for more than that.
His stomach grumbled and he pulled out one of the peanut butter crackers he’d grabbed from the vending machine before they left. He’d barely popped it in his mouth when one of his men shouted, “Sir! We found something.”
Chewing as he ambled over, Yarik tried to put himself in the rebels’ minds. How would he try to get Anya out of the Empire? Certainly none of the obvious methods would work, not now that the security service had caught their scent.
Near the edge of the clearing were four separate tracks leading west. They were too close together to be car tracks so that meant ATVs of some sort.
Shit!
They’d never catch up on foot and the agency didn’t have anything usable of their own, at least not within a day’s travel and by the time something arrived it would be too late. They’d have to circle around and hope to pick the rebels up on the far side of the forest.
“Agent Yarik.” Irmina strode up, a harsh frown creasing her pale features. “What’s the problem?”
“Our targets have acquired transportation. No way we can keep up on foot.”
“Perhaps you can’t.” She chanted in one of the wizards’ nonsense languages and when she stopped she floated a foot off the ground. “But I can.”
She turned east.
“Wait!” Irmina glared at him. “Do you have a phone or radio or something we can use to keep in touch?”
“A White Witch has no need of such mundane things.”
No, of course they didn’t. However, Yarik didn’t want to end up with another dead witch on his hands. It would look bad on his record not to mention his boss might have him shot.
“Igor!” Yarik said.
A stout twenty-two-year-old agent in a stained gray suit huffed and puffed his way over. “Sir?”
“Mistress Irmina needs to borrow your phone. Be a good lad and dig it out.”
Igor pulled a blocky little flip phone from his inner pocket and held it toward the witch like he feared she might take his hand along with the phone.
Irmina glared at both of them and for a minute he feared she might refuse. Finally, she snatched the phone out of Igor’s hand. Fedor sighed in relief.
“I will contact you when I’ve captured them.” Irmina tucked the phone into her white robes and flew away after the tracks.
Yarik waited until she was out of sight then groaned. This was why he hated working with witches. They all wanted to go off and do their own thing. Not a team player in the bunch.
“Round up the boys, Igor. We’re going back to the cars.”
“Do you think she’ll be able to capture the whole group on her own?” Igor asked.
“No, I suspect she’ll kill most of them and capture the leaders, hopefully near an access road. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough hiking for one day.”
Igor broke into a smile revealing a broken front tooth. “I’m with you there, sir.”
He saluted and went to collect the rest of the team. Yarik sighed. It was important to keep up the boys’ morale. Having a witch around wore them out. Now all he needed was someone to lift his morale and he’d be all set.
* * *
Anya wasn’t sure if it was the steady vibration of the engine, the noxious fumes coming out of the exhaust, or the fact that she didn’t sleep worth a damn the night before, but she found herself half dozing off as they roared through the forest. She blinked and yawned, trying to shake it off. Their little group had left the shack three hours ago and were now in the middle of god knew where.
“Witch!” The shouted warning came from one of the other buggies.
A burst of adrenaline washed away her weariness in an instant. She twisted around, but saw nothing. Where was she?
A blast of lightning sent dirt flying between Anya’s buggy and the one to her right. She tried to track where the attack had come from. For an instant she thought she saw a ghost of white flitting between the trunks, but it vanished before she could say for sure.
Two of the buggies skidded to a stop. The rebels on board scrambled out and drew their weapons.
“What are they doing?” Anya shouted as Fedor hit the accelerator. Seven people with guns were no match for a White Witch.
“Buying us time.”
Another crack shattered the air and a pine tree came crashing down in front of them.
Fedor barely slammed on the brakes in time to avoid crashing into the trunk. The pine tree had to be a foot and a half in diameter and it blocked the whole road. It seemed the witch didn’t intend to let them escape.
The shifting lever clunked into reverse and Fedor backed up to join those who’d remained behind. A man in black carrying an old bolt-action rifle ran over. “What are you doing?”
“We have to use it,” Fedor said “She blocked the road.”
“If we use it now we’ll be defenseless and it’s a long way to the border.”
Anya didn’t know what they planned to use, but they’d better do it fast. A flutter of white drew her attention to the sky. The witch descended and hovered a few feet from the gathered rebels.
“Surrender now and your deaths will be quick,” she said.
The woman from the cook fire raised her pistol and fired. A gust of wind roared and blew the bullet aside.
As if it was a signal all the rebels opened fire.
What looked like a tornado sprang up around the witch.
When the guns fell silent the winds died, revealing their unharmed opponent. The witch favored them with a sneer of contempt.
“Pathetic.” She gestured and the winds grabbed the woman that fired first, lifted her up and slammed her into a roadside tree twenty feet up.
She hung there, impaled by three branches. The witch watched her bleed, a little smile on her cruel face.
Fedor pulled a black crystal the size of a hen’s egg out of his pocket. The man that had objected earlier nodded.
Fedor drew back and hurled the crystal at the witch. The wind flared up again, but the crystal punched through it.
The witch’s eyes widened a moment before the gem crashed into her chest.
It shattered.
Magic flared, forcing Anya to look away.
When she looked back a seven-foot-tall black crystal floated where the witch had been a moment before.
* * *
Yarik was three hours into a five-hour cross-county trip and enjoying his time away from the witch when his phone rang. Who could that be? The guys in the car behind couldn’t need anything and he wasn’t expecting to hear from anyone at headquarters.
He grimaced and groped through his pockets for three rings before finally getting a grip on his little phone. It would have been nice if the cheap piece of junk had caller ID, but since the government provided it he only had the most basic features.
He flipped it open. “Yarik.”
“I require your presence at once,” Irmina said.
Yarik held the phone away from his ear and stared at it as though it had betrayed him. “I’m on the road. We should reach the far side of the forest in two hours. Where are you?”
“In the forest. I’m not exactly sure where. The rebels had a magical artifact. They used it to trap me and escape.”
Yarik smothered a laugh. If she heard him he’d be dead the instant they met up. “Okay, we should be able to track your cellphone signal so be sure not to turn it off. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Hurry, Agent. While you dawdle the enemy escapes.”
The line went dead and he tossed the phone into the passenger seat. Arrogant bitch, blaming him for the targets’ escape when she was the one they captured. Probably got overconfident and let them get the drop on her. Served her right. Maybe she’d be more careful next time.
Escape From the Dragon Czar: An Aegis of Merlin Story Page 4
