Escape From the Dragon Czar: An Aegis of Merlin Story

by James E. Wisher

  Yarik grabbed his radio mic. “Guys, pull over a second. Igor, we have the cellphone tracker, right?”

  If they didn’t, he’d have to go to the local base at Dorcha and borrow one. That would take an extra couple hours which would do nothing to improve the witch’s mood.

  The radio crackled and Igor said, “Yes, sir, in the trunk. Why?”

  Yarik pulled off the side of the road and switched on his hazard lights. “Just get it out. We need to find Irmina.”

  Igor pulled in behind him and everyone got out. From the trunk Igor removed a box with a hand-held antenna. He flipped the power switch, punched in a series of numbers, and spun in a slow circle. Yarik didn’t know how his subordinate managed so well with technology, but he had the knack.

  When he paused Igor faced the forest and a little bit back the way they’d come. “That way, maybe forty or fifty miles.”

  Yarik stared at the sprawling expanse of evergreens. How in the world would he reach her through all that? There had to be logging roads, that was what the resistance was using to move around. If she confronted them it had to be on or near one of the roads.

  He frowned at his pitiful car. No way could he take that through the woods. Yarik tapped his chin and tried to think.

  “Are there any logging operations in the area?” Yarik asked.

  All he got in answer were blank stares. Why should he be surprised? It wasn’t security agency business so his men would have no reason to know about it.

  Yarik retrieved his phone and dialed base. “Rostov? I need you to check the county records and find me the nearest logging operation.”

  “Should I ask why you want to find loggers when you’re supposed to be looking for rebels?”

  “No.”

  “Hold on.” Yarik barely heard the clicking of Rostov’s keyboard. “Okay, I’ve got three registered jobs. Where are you?”

  “Eighty miles east of Dorcha on Seven E.”

  “Ugh! You’re thirty miles from the nearest location.” Rostov rattled off a series of directions. “Did you get all that?”

  “More or less. If I get lost I’ll call again.” Yarik hung up. “Load up, boys. We’re going hunting.”

  * * *

  Anya had never been to Dorcha before. The caravan of dune buggies stopped at the edge of the forest on a hill overlooking the city. Even from a distance it looked grungy and rough. Smokestacks chugged black smoke into the air which mingled with the exhaust from the train depot to stain the whole city gray. Like everything else in the Empire, the squatty buildings were constructed of cinderblocks and concrete with metal roofs. If there existed a more dingy place in the world she couldn’t imagine it.

  Anya, her mother, and Fedor got out of their buggy and one of the remaining rebels climbed behind the wheel. Fedor exchanged a few quiet words and the group took off. Anya watched them until they were out of sight. Her chest felt tight and her breath came in ragged gasps. They were on their own again. Somehow having a larger group felt safer, though after the encounter with the witch she realized the stupidity of that idea.

  Fedor checked his watch. “We need to get going. Our train is supposed to leave in three hours.”

  “What about the others?” Anya asked. “Will they be okay?”

  Fedor started down a narrow path toward the city. “I hope so. Their job now is to lay a false trail that will hopefully buy us the time we need.”

  Anya and her mother fell in behind him. “What was that thing you used to stop the witch?”

  “A gift from one of our allies. If all goes according to plan you’ll meet Lord Talon in three weeks.”

  “But what was it?”

  “I have no idea. He said if I ever found myself in an encounter with a witch with no hope of escaping to throw it at her.”

  “Not the most detailed instructions,” Mom said.

  Fedor barked a laugh. “No, but it worked and that’s what matters.”

  The path brought them to a wheat field. The golden stalks came up to Anya’s chest. The field spread as far as she could see in either direction. At the far end a road waited to take them into the city.

  “Won’t we have to go through a checkpoint?” Anya asked.

  “Yes, a very specific one. We have a friend waiting. Keep low.” Fedor crouched down and set out through the grain.

  Mom motioned her to go first so she bent low and followed Fedor’s tracks. For a time her world became a golden forest of tiny stalks. A small part of her, the part that wanted to pretend she was still a regular girl and all she had to worry about was taking the career placement exam, tried to pretend this was all a game of hide and seek. And it was, except the people doing the seeking wanted to kill them.

  Half an hour later they stopped at the edge of the field. Cars and trucks whizzed by on the nearby road. There wasn’t a bit of foot traffic to be seen.

  When Anya mentioned it Fedor said, “Don’t worry, plenty of locals walk into town. There’s a footpath half a mile to the south that leads to our inside man’s post. You know, we’ve been planning this for years. Have a little faith.”

  Anya had plenty of fear, anxiety, and anger, but she was low on faith. Maybe if they made it to the train without any witches appearing she’d dredge some up.

  Once more Fedor led the way, this time skirting the road and hurrying along at the edge of the field. Just as he’d said they reached the end of the field and found a footpath that ran parallel to the street. They stepped out and started toward the city.

  Anya clenched her bag tighter as they approached one of the innumerable guard shacks that dotted the country. She’d heard you couldn’t travel more than a hundred miles in any direction without running into one.

  Ahead of them a man and woman reached the shack. Three men in white uniforms emerged and a brief conversation ensued. Documents were examined and they were allowed in. Nothing to it, as long as you weren’t a wanted woman.

  Fedor slowed his pace to a crawl.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

  “There were only supposed to be two guards, our friend and a lazy sergeant that made him do all the work.”

  “What does that mean for us?” her mother asked.

  Anya wondered the same thing, but couldn’t force the words through her clenched teeth.

  “I don’t know.” Fedor’s doubt sent a shudder through her. This was it. They were going to die before even escaping the county. “We’ll just have to go through with it and hope our friend has a plan.”

  Hope someone they’d never met could solve their problem for them. That was the plan? It took every ounce of courage she could muster to keep putting one foot in front of the other. What choice did she have? It wasn’t like she had anywhere to run.

  When they were three hundred yards away Fedor said, “Remember, we’re just regular folks visiting family in the city. Don’t do anything to make them more suspicious than they already are. Take your new documents out now so you’ll be ready.”

  Anya dug the little booklet out of her pocket and forced herself not to squeeze it too tight. She didn’t want to tear the stupid thing.

  Another person, a woman on her own, went through the checkpoint then it was their turn. Anya took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. Her nerves would be more likely to get them caught than anything.

  “Papers.” She looked up at the gaunt face of a middle-aged officer wearing a crisp white uniform. He held out a gloved hand and Fedor put his false documents into it.

  The guard pursed thin, bloodless lips as he studied the forgery. Beside him a fat slob in a stained uniform watched the proceeding with supreme disinterest. A third, younger man stood behind his superiors, his gaze darting from the head guard to Fedor and back again. He had to be the inside man. He didn’t look like the sort of person you’d want to rely on to get you out of trouble. The poor guy looked as nervous as Anya felt.

  Finally the guard handed Fedor his papers and turned to Mom. She handed him her booklet and even smil
ed. Anya doubted she’d have had it in her. Her mother was tougher than she’d thought.

  The guard gave Mom her papers and turned his cold, blue eyes on Anya. He held out his hand a third time and she handed her ever-so-slightly trembling booklet to him. He snatched it and started reading. After a heart-stopping minute he handed them back.

  “Everything appears in order,” he said.

  Her heart soared. They’d done it. The fake documents had gotten them through.

  “There’s just one more thing.” He reached into the shack and emerged with a testing stick like the witch brought to their house. He offered it to Anya. “All girls appearing to be between the ages of fifteen and twenty must be tested. There’s a missing wizard candidate you see and we can’t take any chances.”

  She reached for it, knowing exactly what was going to happen. They were doomed. She’d been stupid to think they could escape. The Empire was too vast and powerful.

  Her fingers brushed the wood and the first gem lit up.

  The guard’s lip curled in a vicious smile. “Ms. Kazakov. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. The czar is eager to make your acquaintance.”

  * * *

  Yarik swore to himself that he’d never complain about the roads being rough again. Their commandeered skidder, a rusty beast of a machine with tires taller than Yarik and designed to drag logs out of the woods, bounced along the four-foot-deep ruts, jarring his insides, and reminding him once more why he hated witches. At least the sun was out and the fresh-cut pine smelled nice—the little of it that reached him over the diesel exhaust anyway.

  To say that the loggers hadn’t been thrilled when a group of security agents rolled up on their job site and demanded a ride into the woods would have been understating things by a fair bit. The five rugged men might have been annoyed, but they weren’t stupid. Beyond a few grumbles they quickly complied with his orders.

  Seated on the opposite fender Igor had his eyes locked on the screen of his tracking device. Yarik had ordered the rest of the team to remain with the cars. He doubted Irmina would appreciate having every man under his command watching her rescue.

  They came to an intersection of roads and Igor pointed left. The huge machine lurched, forcing Yarik to tighten his grip.

  “We’re close!” Igor shouted over the roar of the engine. They rumbled along for another minute. “A quarter mile!”

  Yarik tapped the operator on the shoulder and drew his finger across his throat. The driver shifted into neutral and switched the machine off.

  “Wait here,” Yarik said. “We’ll be back soon.”

  The logger shrugged. “If I don’t make my quota this week I’m blaming you.”

  “You think that’ll help?”

  His comment brought a humorless laugh. “I don’t expect it would.”

  Yarik patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave a requisition letter for half a day’s work. As long as you’re not off by more than that, you’ll be fine.”

  The logger raised an eyebrow. “That’s decent of you.”

  He didn’t add, “for a government agent” but Yarik heard it all the same. He wasn’t surprised. Most of his comrades in the security forces enjoyed using their authority to force others to do what they wanted even as they resented their own superiors doing it to them. Petty tyrants and bullies, every son of a bitch in the government.

  Yarik despised most of them, but he had to put food on the table so he kept his mouth shut and did his job. He slid to the ground, grateful to be off his uncomfortable seat. After a couple awkward steps he joined Igor in front of the skidder.

  “Lead on.” Yarik motioned his second ahead of him.

  Igor shuffled along, his gaze darting between the tracker and the rough ground. It was slow going, but when they rounded a clump of short evergreens they found a seven-foot-tall black crystal floating a foot off the ground.

  Yarik rubbed his eyes. Had he breathed in too many fumes? “You see that thing too, right?”

  Igor nodded, his mouth partway open.

  Yarik dug out his phone and dialed.

  She answered it on the first ring. “What’s taking you so long?”

  “We’re here,” Yarik said. “How do I get you out?”

  “The crystal is only immune to magic. Hit it with something heavy and it’ll shatter.”

  “Understood.” He hung up and looked around for a good-sized rock. It didn’t take long to find one that fit in his hand. “Move away a little, just in case.”

  He didn’t have to tell Igor twice. His subordinate scrambled back a hundred feet.

  Yarik cocked his arm and slammed the rock into the crystal. A spiderweb of cracks ran through it. One more ought to do it.

  He drew back and gave it another rap. The trap fell apart, but instead of pieces of crystal falling to the ground, they dissolved and vanished into the air.

  Irmina landed on the ground and stumbled. Yarik reached out without thinking and steadied her. The witch glared and yanked her arm out of his grasp. Typical.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “Fine. The magic doesn’t prevent air from entering. Lucky for me considering how long it took you to get me out.”

  Yarik choked on several retorts. “Sorry. We should get to Dorcha as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour. Join me as soon as you can.” The witch chanted and streaked up into the air.

  Yarik watched until she was just a speck in the sky. “You’re welcome.”

  4

  Race to the Train Station

  Anya couldn’t stop staring at the guard’s gaunt face. It had never occurred to her that they might have a testing device. She’d assumed only witches carried them.

  A sharp chuff sounded and something wet splattered her face. The guard collapsed as a red stain spread across his fine uniform. A second chuff and the fat guard collapsed, revealing the young man holding a small pistol with a long cylinder attached to the barrel.

  Fedor grabbed the pistol and punched the spy in the face. He went down in a heap among the corpses.

  “Quickly,” he said. “Someone will surely report the shots.”

  He grabbed the still-stunned Anya and hustled her through the gate and into the city. Her mother brought up the rear. She seemed awfully calm considering they’d just witnessed two men get murdered.

  Anya barely registered the drab buildings as they hurried along. Mom stayed on one side of her and Fedor the other, shielding her from the other pedestrians’ view. She tried to think, but her mind refused to obey.

  A minute or two later they entered a low building. The smell of cooking food turned her stomach and it took all her will not to throw up. Mom gently grasped her by the arm and guided her into a nearby bathroom.

  She led Anya to the sink and turned the water on. While it heated up Mom went to the towel dispenser. Anya stared at herself in the mirror. Blood covered her face and dress. She looked like a madwoman from a horror movie.

  Her hands shook so bad when she reached up to wipe the blood away she feared she might poke her eyes out. Mom returned, towels in hand, and washed her face like she’d done when Anya was still a little girl.

  “We’re safe now, kiska.” Mom spoke in a soft, reassuring voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  When her face and hands were clean, Anya stripped off the bloodstained dress and slipped into her spare, a loose, pale-blue sundress. She liked to wear it during the far too brief summers.

  “There,” Mom said. “Don’t you look pretty. Do you feel better?”

  “I just saw two people killed before my eyes, we burned our house down, and now we’re racing to a future I can’t imagine in a country I’ve only read about in books. So no, I am far, far away from better.”

  “I’m sorry this happened to you, kiska. Sometimes in life we just get dealt a bad hand. But I promise, I promise, life will be better in the Kingdom of the Isles than it ever could be here. We’ll be free. There’ll be no checkp
oints, no security agents, and best of all, no White Witches. You’ll have the chance to use your gift as you want to use it, or to not use it at all. The important thing is that it will be up to you.”

  Anya tried to imagine the life her mother described, but it wouldn’t come. The ideas were too foreign. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “So what now?”

  “Fedor is speaking to our contact upstairs. Assuming everything is ready we’ll head for the train depot to catch our ride out of here.”

  “Won’t the security people on the train spot us?”

  Mom looked away. “We’re not traveling by passenger train.”

  Anya frowned. “How then?”

  “I believe our car is carrying furniture. At least we’ll have somewhere to sit.”

  “Great. I guess it could be worse.” An image of the dead men popped into her head. Yes, it could certainly be worse.

  * * *

  Fedor watched a moment as Sasha led her trembling, blood-soaked daughter toward the bathroom. He doubted anyone could see the mess in the dark bar which was just as well. Not that anyone here would say anything. The Black Hammer bar and grill was a rebel hangout and Imperials got a cold welcome and quick kick in the ass back out.

  He sighed as the ladies disappeared into the bathroom. Anya was a strong girl, stronger than he had any reason to hope for. Though shaken, she hadn’t frozen up, thank god for that. If she’d started screaming or fainted, they’d have been in real trouble. With a final shake of his head Fedor made his way toward the bar.

  A young woman with six studs in her nose leaned over and smiled at him. “What can I get you?”

  “A Fizzy Dragon.”

  Her smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Behind the bar, up the steps, first door on your right.”

  Fedor nodded and hopped over the bar. A narrow door led to the kitchen where three people in white chef’s coats were busy cooking at a long grill. They never so much as glanced his way so Fedor ignored them and climbed the spiral staircase to his left. It was a narrow fit for a man his size, but he made it up to the second floor.