Escape From the Dragon Czar: An Aegis of Merlin Story

by James E. Wisher

  He turned right and rapped on the closed door. “Come in.”

  Fedor pushed the door open and stepped inside a simple office filled with papers, binders, a copy machine that looked like it came from the Elf War, and a desk with a slim man in a dark suit behind it. The man rose and held out his hand. “Fedor, you’re a little behind schedule.”

  Fedor took the fine-boned hand in his blunt paw. “We ran into a few difficulties. You’re The Manager?”

  “Correct. Tell me everything.”

  Fedor did as he asked and when he finished The Manager said, “Running into a witch so early was unfortunate, but you handled matters well. I’m confident we made the right choice in agreeing to let you escort the young lady on her journey.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “A general alert has gone out to all security forces along with your descriptions. That was expected and shouldn’t be a problem. Our spy says three witches have been assigned to the search. Avoiding them is our biggest priority.”

  “When do we move?”

  “Immediately. I’ve arranged transport to the train station. The truck will arrive in five minutes. Don’t worry about the guard, I’m sure young Karis will be fine. That boy’s been a fine undercover asset. He’s quick on his feet and knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

  The Manager came around the desk and went over to the right-hand wall. He tapped twice and a secret panel opened. From within he pulled a worn duffle bag. “Everything you’ll need for the train ride you’ll find inside.”

  Fedor took the bag and unzipped it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust The Manager, but he liked to know what he had to work with. Inside were ration packs, two automatic pistols and ammunition, a change of clothes for each of them, and a first aid kit. Minimal, but as long as they didn’t run into any major issues it should suffice.

  He zipped the bag up. “If there’s nothing else, sir, I should collect Sasha and Anya.”

  “No, there’s nothing more I can do for you. I’ll call the truck and have them meet you at the loading dock. Good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Fedor turned and left the office. The Manager had done all he could. It was up to them now.

  * * *

  The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky when Yarik finally reached Dorcha. The limited light hid some of the dingy grayness of the city, but it didn’t help much. Did the Imperial designers lay out the cities like this in the hope of depressing the populace so they wouldn’t think of joining the rebellion? Probably not since the cities predated the rebels by centuries.

  Yarik sighed. He’d planned to arrive for lunch and be home for a late dinner, but thanks to the witch it looked like he’d be spending the night. As he approached the eastern checkpoint Yarik frowned. A large group of white-clad security officers had gathered around the guard shack that serviced the pedestrian entrance. What in the world could have happened to warrant that many officers?

  His turn came. He rolled down his window and pulled out his identification. One look and the gate guard saluted and raised the bar for him.

  Before Yarik pulled through he asked, “What happened next door?”

  “Horrible thing, sir. A rebel attack. Two guards were murdered and a third injured. They’re trying to get things sorted out now.”

  “Did a White Witch named Irmina come through here?”

  The guard chuckled. “The witches don’t come through the gates, sir. They fly straight to the Dragon Temple in the city center.”

  Yarik nodded. “Thanks.”

  The guard blinked in astonishment. Yarik drove through and immediately hooked a left over to the foot entrance. He found a parking place a hundred yards up the street and got out. Igor and the boys joined him a moment later.

  “What’s happening, sir?” Igor asked.

  “Resistance activity. If there’s any chance it has something to do with our targets we need to check it out.”

  “What about the witch?”

  Yarik shrugged. Irmina was doing her own thing, the way witches always did. He couldn’t worry about her if he wanted to catch his missing family. “She’s probably at the Dragon Temple. If you want to go check in with her, I don’t mind.”

  “No, sir,” Igor said. “We’ll stick with you.”

  That drew quick nods of agreement from the junior agents, just as Yarik knew it would. He doubted they’d even let a junior agent into the temple. They’d probably just turn them into rats and feed them to the cats that hung out all over the place.

  He smiled to himself at the idea of Igor as a rat and strolled over to the scene. Yarik had his ID out as he approached and a city officer waved him through. One good thing about being an Imperial security agent was that his authority extended to every corner of the Empire and he outranked all but the highest city officials.

  Yarik spotted an officer with a gold badge on his chest marking him as the highest-ranking individual present. He walked over and when the officer noticed him asked, “What happened?”

  “Who are you and who let you into my crime scene?” the officer asked.

  “Senior Security Agent Yarik Borodinov. That young man back there let me through.”

  The officer’s Adam’s apple worked as he tried to swallow. “I’m terribly sorry, Agent. It’s this horrible situation. It’s got me on edge.”

  “Perfectly understandable. You were saying?”

  “Yes, sir. It appears one or more resistance fighters attacked the checkpoint and broke through into the city. I have men trying to locate them now, but I fear they’ll simply blend into the populace. The bastards have a knack for it.”

  “Indeed. So you have no description and no real idea of numbers, is that correct?”

  The officer blanched. “I’m afraid so, sir. Our only survivor was attacked from behind and rendered unconscious before his comrades were killed. To take three of our guards so completely by surprise, I assume more than one assailant was involved.”

  “A reasonable assumption. Where is your survivor? I’d like to speak with him and offer a commendation for his survival.”

  That brightened the gloomy fellow’s expression. Commendations for a subordinate made the commander look good too. “Right this way, sir.”

  Yarik followed his guide off to the right out of sight of the crime scene. Seated on a stretcher was a young man in his mid-twenties with sandy hair and a very broken nose. He held his head in both hands, the very image of a soldier grieving his fallen comrades.

  “Guard Karis, on your feet!” the officer said.

  Karis’s head snapped up and he winced before lurching halfway off the stretcher.

  “That’s alright, son. No need to stand on protocol after all you’ve been through. Just relax.”

  Karis slumped down and the officer —Yarik really should ask the man his name, but he just couldn’t muster the interest— stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

  “Thank you, sir. It’s been a hell of a day.” The exhaustion was honest enough. No one was that good an actor.

  “I just have a few questions then we’ll get you to the infirmary.”

  “Yes, sir,” Karis said. “Though I don’t know what I can tell you that I haven’t told everyone else.”

  “That’s fine, I prefer to hear the story directly from the source. Old fashioned that way I guess. Just start from the beginning.”

  “We were between arrivals and the three of us were standing outside the guardhouse. I was closest to the city gate, behind my sergeant and the lieutenant. As a family approached on foot someone struck me from behind and I fell flat on my face, breaking my nose, or so the medics tell me. I can’t remember anything after the first blow.”

  Yarik gave an encouraging nod. Maybe it happened that way, but he’d seen plenty of broken noses over the years and that one looked like a fist made it. Despite the expression people seldom fell flat on their face.

  “And the approaching family, what did they look like?”

  “A husband
and wife, I assumed, along with their daughter. The women had dark hair and light dresses. The husband sported a thick salt-and-pepper beard and tan clothes. They looked like ordinary people to me.”

  Yarik nodded. “I don’t suppose you know what became of them? They might have information about your attackers.”

  “Sorry, sir. I didn’t see where they went.”

  Yarik clapped him on the back. “That’s quite alright, son. Get yourself checked out.”

  He left the guard and walked toward his car. Something about this felt wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

  “Is everything alright, Agent?” The officer had tagged along with him as he walked.

  “I’m not certain. Assign someone to keep an eye on our survivor. Discreetly. I want to know where he goes and who he talks to. Maybe it’s my overactive imagination, but better safe than sorry.”

  “I’ll see to it personally,” the officer said.

  “Excellent.” Yarik rattled off his cellphone number. “If anything interesting comes up you can reach me at that number.”

  Yarik left the officer writing on the back of his hand and slid behind the wheel of his car. He needed to find the witch. He had to assume their quarry had entered the city.

  * * *

  Anya had herself reasonably under control when someone knocked on the bathroom door. When Mom opened it they found Fedor waiting with a bag slung over his shoulder. “You two ready? We’ve only got half an hour to meet our ride.”

  “We’re coming.” Mom stuffed the bloody dress in Anya’s almost-empty bag and handed it to her. “It’ll be okay.”

  Anya nodded and they left the bathroom. Fedor stood a few feet away. She couldn’t guess what was in the large canvas duffle bag slung over his shoulder, but the way things had been going it was probably filled with machine guns and hand grenades.

  “What news?” Mom asked.

  “The city’s buzzing with security officers and at least three White Witches. They have our descriptions, but there are a lot of blond girls and men with beards in the city so that’ll slow them down some. The truck’s waiting out by the rear loading dock.

  They followed Fedor past a few empty tables and through a swinging door that led to a kitchen. Now that she’d collected herself the food didn’t smell so bad and she realized she hadn’t eaten since the biscuit that morning.

  “Can we grab a snack?” Anya asked.

  “No time,” Fedor said. “I have plenty of provisions. When we’re away from the city we can eat.”

  Fedor pushed through another set of doors and they stepped out onto a loading dock. An unmarked panel truck had backed up to the dock, its rear door open. The interior held dozens of pieces of furniture.

  Up against the wall was a large, dark trunk. Fedor opened the lid and motioned her over. “This one’s for you.”

  Anya stood rooted in place. “You want me to hide in there?”

  “Don’t worry,” Fedor said. “It has a false bottom. Even if the security agents search it they won’t see you. Come on.”

  Mom nudged her and Anya hurried over. The inside looked awfully dark. Fedor reached in and lifted out the false bottom.

  “It’s only for a little while.” He took her hand and Anya stepped inside. It was far deeper than it looked on the outside.

  “Sit down and I’ll put the panel back.”

  Anya folded her legs underneath her and ducked her head a little. Fedor put a thin panel of wood on top of her and everything went black.

  A vibration ran through the floor. It was oddly soothing, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in a black void. Anya hugged herself, chilled despite the warmth of the close interior. When that guard had looked at her with those cold eyes she’d known they were doomed. When the rebel killed him there was a moment, just a moment, of relief. She had her freedom, at least for a little while longer. It only cost the lives of two men.

  Was her freedom worth it? She liked to imagine they were evil men. Certainly the older officer had the look of a villain. It helped a little. If they were just a pair of unlucky pawns working the wrong checkpoint at the wrong time and they died because she showed up, she wasn’t sure how to deal with that. Anya forced the thought to the back of her mind. Better for everyone if she didn’t think about it.

  * * *

  The Dragon Temple wasn’t an actual place of worship. Religion was outlawed in the Empire. The only god here was the czar himself. The people called it the Dragon Temple because of the giant dragon statue sitting right between the steps leading up to the doors.

  Yarik parked, levered himself out of the car, and marched across the sidewalk in front of the building. He looked up at the ten-story white-stone building and grimaced. The place had to be crawling with witches. Igor and the boys didn’t even bother getting out of their car, lucky stiffs.

  He climbed the ten steps and pushed through the doors. Inside was a reception area that would have been at home in any government building in the Empire. A desk with a middle-aged woman seated behind it rested in the middle of a white-tiled chamber. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and a pair of tiny round glasses perched on the end of her nose.

  There wasn’t another soul in sight and the silence gave him the creeps. At least he wouldn’t have to wait in line. He doubted anyone came here unless compelled.

  Well, best get on with it. He went over to the desk and plastered a smile on his face.

  The secretary looked at him without expression. “Yes?”

  “Senior Agent Yarik to see Irmina.”

  “She’s expecting you, I assume?”

  Yarik nodded.

  “One moment.” She picked up the phone, hit three numbers, and waited. “There’s an Agent Yarik here to see you. As you wish.”

  She hung up the phone. “She’ll be down shortly. Wait by the door, but don’t get in the way.”

  “Sure, wouldn’t want to hold up any of your many visitors.” Yarik stood beside the door and ignored the secretary’s glare. She wasn’t a witch and he owed her no more than common courtesy.

  Ten minutes later a hole opened in the ceiling and Irmina floated down. She appeared fully composed after her encounter with the rebels.

  She landed beside him. “Have you found them?”

  “No, but I think they’re inside the city.” He told her about the incident at the checkpoint. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Agreed. I’ve sent wind spirits to scour the city. There’s some unusual activity at the train yard. Given their obvious desire to escape the Empire, that would be an excellent place to start.”

  Dorcha served as a transport hub for three connected counties. Hundreds of trains came and went every day, both passenger and cargo. It would take forever to search every one. Lucky they had magic on their side.

  “Do you have some trick to locate them?” he asked.

  “I suspect they’ll reveal themselves with the proper incentive.” He shivered at the way she said incentive. “On our way we’ll stop at the barracks and call out the reserves. When three hundred city guards pour into the yard they’ll have to react. Once we capture a few of them, it won’t be difficult to pry loose the knowledge we need.”

  While he hated working with witches, Yarik was glad to be on the same side as Irmina. At least for the moment.

  * * *

  Yarik coughed as they approached the rail yard. The diesel exhaust from hundreds of train engines put a thick haze in the air. It was a wonder the workers didn’t all suffer from lung diseases. Ahead of him, three columns of fifty guardsmen each marched in lockstep, their rifles slung over their shoulders. Though their heavy tread was loud, the noise from the trains dwarfed it by several orders of magnitude. He wished he’d thought to bring ear plugs.

  So far no one had done anything aggressive. In fact, everyone that had seen them ran in the opposite direction, an entirely prudent decision even for those guilty of nothing beyond having bad luck.

  Irmina had brought along a p
air of her sister witches and the three of them flew in the air overhead, probably busy searching with magic. Yarik hadn’t the slightest idea how that worked and was just as happy to have them in the air out of his way.

  The column came to a stop at the central junction where ten lines came together and a complex system of switches sent the trains to their proper destinations.

  “All right.” Yarik had to shout so the men could hear him over the trains. “You all know what the targets look like, fan out and find them. Remember, we want the girl alive. The rest, well, use your own judgement.”

  The guards spread out in squads and quickly disappeared amidst the boxcars. Igor and the boys stayed with Yarik.

  “Should we help, sir?” Igor asked.

  “No, we brought the guards to handle the grunt work. We’ll stay here and coordinate.”

  “By coordinate you mean we’ll wait until they catch the target then swoop in and snatch her, right?” Igor asked.

  “Not at all.” Yarik grinned. “I’m sure Irmina and her friends will grab the girl long before we arrive. We’re going to listen for gunfire and explosions. Should we hear any we’ll contact the teams and send them in the proper direction. I certainly have no intention of getting shot in this filthy excuse for a city.”

  “Amen to that, sir,” Igor said.

  Barely ten minutes had passed when the first explosion sounded. It wasn’t an especially big one, probably a hand grenade. It came from Yarik’s left. He squinted through the haze, but saw nothing but more haze.

  He raised his radio. “Possible encounter in quadrant three. Squads thirteen and fourteen converge.”

  A pair of beeps acknowledged his order. Less than a minute later the clatter of gunfire came from that direction. He hadn’t expected much in the way of resistance. Either the rebels were desperate, overly eager to get the girl out, or simply couldn’t pass up so many targets. Yarik suspected option three. A couple hundred targets and no civilians to get in the way, it was too perfect. A train chugged by and one of the automatic switches clanged over.