Ten minutes later Fedor stopped. Just ahead of them was a black-hulled boat. He held a finger to his lips and dove again. When her mother didn’t make a move to follow she didn’t either. Three dull thumps sounded in the water. Fedor swam to the surface a moment later.
He looked up at the boat. What was the holdup? Anya’s teeth chattered and her eyes stung. Finally someone appeared on deck and tossed a rope ladder over the side.
Fedor waved her over. Anya swam up and grabbed the lowest rung. Somewhere out of sight another explosion sounded. She’d been so intent on not drowning she’d lost all track of the battle. Fedor gave her a boost and she managed to get her foot on a rung. She scrambled up the ladder and soon a rough hand grasped hers and pulled her over the rail.
Anya collapsed on the deck and stared at the sky. They’d done it. She could hardly believe, in fact she might not really believe it for days, but still they’d made it.
Mom sat beside her and took Anya’s hand. They shared a weary smile. Finally Fedor joined them up on deck. Anya chuckled. He looked like an otter with his hair and beard soaked and plastered to his head.
“What say we get out of here?” the man that had helped them out of the water said.
That sounded like an excellent idea to Anya. She shivered as the wind swirled and a cloud passed over the sun. She looked up in time to see the witch flying right toward them.
* * *
Yarik peeked around the side of the container at the empty docks. He’d been sure the rebels would try to sneak in on the far side of the battle. It was exactly the sort of thing they liked to do; misdirection and stealth were the best methods to use when facing a superior foe. So where the hell were they? The battle still raged at the opposite end of the pier, machine guns clattered and an explosion went off now and then.
Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe they were planning to fight their way through the guards and escape that way. He shook his head. No, that just didn’t make sense. The rebels wouldn’t try and force their way through three witches and almost three hundred guards. Someone had to be coming this way.
“Sir, the witch.”
Yarik spotted Irmina immediately as she plunged down toward a black-hulled trawler. What was she doing? Had she spotted something he missed? The only way that made sense was if the rebels had come from the sea.
He slapped his palm against his head. He’d never even considered that they might try to swim to the boat.
Yarik drew his pistol and burst out from around the pallets.
He sprinted toward the boat, heart pumping and feet pounding.
A shot fired.
The boat started up and pulled away from the dock.
What was she doing? The target was escaping.
Yarik fired three shots into the side of the hull, but they pinged off. The pilot wasn’t visible from his position.
Once the boat cleared the pilings it accelerated out to sea. By the time he reached the end of the dock the boat was long gone.
He stomped the planks. Damn it! They’d been so close.
He looked down into the water. Irmina floated fifteen feet from the dock surrounded by a spreading pool of blood.
Yarik tossed his gun to the ground and leapt in. He swam out, grabbed her, and pulled her back to the waiting Igor. Between the two of them they heaved her up onto the dock.
He levered himself up and out of the water. “How is she?”
Igor shook his head. “Dead, sir. The bullet went right through her heart. Whoever fired it was a better shot than the sniper in Dorcha.”
He slammed his fist on the dock. The one witch he actually liked and she had to go and get herself killed. This incident wasn’t going to go well for him either. While he hadn’t been directly responsible, she had been working with him and if there was any way for the witches to pin her death on him, Yarik was sure they’d take it. It looked bad when one of their own was killed, called their invincibility into question.
“Sir, listen,” Igor said.
Yarik cocked his head. Everything was quiet. The fighting had ended. The rebels had completed their mission and he’d failed in his.
He reached out and closed Irmina’s eyes. Poor kid never had a chance. Yarik hoped he didn’t end up just like her.
The more he traveled the more he realized that was life in the Empire, it used you until you had nothing left to give, like a giant leech sucking out the people’s blood. You could fight it and die like the rebels or serve and hope you didn’t end up bleeding on a dock somewhere. Not the best choices, but that was the Empire.
6
The Land of the Night Princes
Anya had never seen so much water. The Black Sea stretched out in every direction. As they moved further and further away from the Empire it felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders. She was free, for the first time in her life, truly free. She leaned on the rail in the front of the boat and breathed deep of the sea air. Somehow she’d imagined it smelling fishy, but all she got was dampness and a hint of diesel from the engine.
She’d changed out of her soaked dress and into a set of ill-fitting men’s trousers and a blue and white striped t-shirt. It wouldn’t have been her first choice of outfit, but it was dry and she didn’t complain.
Speaking of complaints, a loud gagging drew her attention to the side rail. Mom wasn’t enjoying the trip as much as she was. Anya had taken to the ship from the moment they set out; her mother, unfortunately, hadn’t responded so well. She seemed to prefer Anya ignore her visits to the rail, so that’s what she did.
Fedor and the man that helped them aboard—Yanni, she heard him called—emerged from the wheelhouse and climbed down to the deck. Anya went to join them.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“So far,” Fedor said. “We lost seventeen fighters at the dock plus another ten arrested.”
“I’m sorry,” Anya said. She had a hard time imagining all these people being willing to give up their lives to help her escape. It defied belief. Fedor said it wasn’t about her, but about doing something to hurt, or at least embarrass, the Empire. That didn’t do much to alleviate the guilt, but it would have to do.
“We gave as good as we got,” Yanni said, a fierce smiled creasing his scarred face. “They took down three witches and over twenty guards. That’s a good day’s work by any standard.”
Even if they were the enemy, she couldn’t think of that many dead as any sort of good thing. Anya doubted she’d make much of a fighter, she was too squeamish.
Her mother pushed away from the rail and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Have you seen any sign of the coast guard?”
“Are you feeling any better, Sasha?” Fedor asked.
Mom waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine, just need a little time to get my sea legs. The coast guard?”
“No sign yet,” Yanni said. “But it’s only a matter of time. I’ve got Jacob keeping watch on the radar and listening to the radio. If they approach we’ll know about it.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And we’re no match for a cutter. Our best hope lies in speed. I’ve set a course straight for Constanta at maximum speed. We may look like a trawler, but this ship is rigged for speed. We’ll be there in a few days at most, barring trouble.”
“Then we disembark and get eaten by vampires,” Anya said.
“On the contrary,” Fedor said. “The princes hate the Empire almost as much as we do. They’re the ones that gave us all the magical weapons we’ve been using to hold our own against the witches. I’ve made all the necessary arrangements to travel safely through their country. In fact, I found Lord Talon perfectly polite and agreeable.”
“Still, it’s a little like a deer trusting a pack of wolves to serve as its bodyguards. Everything’s great until the guards get hungry.”
* * *
“I think they’re gaining.” Anya stood at the rear of the ship and peered through a set of binoculars Fedor had given her. The Imperial patrol boat was li
ttle more than a dot to her naked eyes, but through the glasses its guns looked all too large.
Her mother had joined her at the rail, the worst of her seasickness having passed two days ago. “We’re still well ahead. Yanni says we’ll reach Constanta with time to spare.”
“How much?”
“I didn’t dare ask.”
They’d been traveling free and clear for just under a week and Anya had hoped they’d reach their destination without any trouble when Jacob announced a blip on his radar screen, thirty miles off, but making straight for them. Yanni jammed the throttle all the way forward until the little needle went over the red line.
He noticed her worried expression, grinned, and said it didn’t matter if the engine blew up as long as it lasted until they reached the port.
“Land ho!” Fedor shouted from the front of the boat.
Anya’s heart leapt. Maybe they’d make it after all.
Thirty yards behind them an explosion sent a spray of water into the air. She looked back at the patrol boat. Smoke rose from the barrels of one of their guns. They didn’t have to gain much to put them in range.
Yanni burst out of the wheelhouse. “Was that a shot?”
“Yeah, about thirty yards short,” Anya said.
He grinned at her. “Good eye, kid. We’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”
“What are we going to do?” Mom asked. For the first time since this mad journey began real fear filled her voice.
“We’re going to keep running. No need to worry until their shots get within five yards.”
He ducked inside. Anya and her mother shared a look. Neither of them said what they were thinking, but Anya suspected it was the same thing. There was a lunatic driving the boat.
Fifteen minutes later the shots were hitting close enough to rattle the hull. Anya and her mother had abandoned their position in the rear to join Fedor up front. The docks of Constanta loomed out of a thick fog. There wasn’t a single boat tied up to the piers. Further inland the warehouses had rusted years ago, their doors hanging cockeyed or in some cases having fallen to the ground. Everything cast long shadows from the setting sun.
They were sailing into a ghost town.
Anya’s heart beat a little faster now that she’d seen their destination. She’d expected there’d be someone to meet them at least.
The loudest explosion yet rocked the ship. It shuddered and groaned.
Yanni and Jacob left the wheelhouse and climbed down to join them.
“We’re hit,” Yanni said.
“How bad?” Fedor asked.
Anya kept her eyes on the dock. They had a mile or two more to go, but the boat was already slowing.
“Bad enough.” Yanni scrubbed a hand across his face. “Momentum will carry us in no problem, assuming that gunship doesn’t sink us first.”
Mom shot him a glare.
Yanni raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying.”
A mile out another explosion shook them and the boat slowed even more.
“We’re taking on water,” Yanni said. “Get ready to jump on the dock as soon as we reach it and run like hell for the warehouses.”
“It’s not like we can hide,” Anya said, her voice high and ragged in her ears.
“No need to hide.” Jacob offered a reassuring smile. “The locals spend their days inside and sunset is only minutes away. Any marine stupid enough to follow us into one of those buildings will wish he’d joined the army.”
Understanding dawned on her, though it did nothing to make her feel better. There were vampires living in those buildings. The plan was to run toward the blood-sucking monsters. In what world was that a good idea?
Another explosion sounded a few feet to the left of them. Apparently in this one. Better to take their chances with monsters that might want to hurt them than with men that certainly did.
The nearest pier was only a hundred feet away.
Mom held her hand in a death grip. Anya’s fingers had gone numb, but she didn’t even think about asking her to loosen her hold.
“Get ready.” Yanni gathered himself.
The moment the boat was even with the wooden surface he leapt. Fedor went next then Anya and her mother.
Anya’s ankle wobbled and she stumbled as she struggled to keep her footing. Strong hands steadied her.
She looked up at Fedor. He nodded. “Go!”
Mom pulled on her hand and they were off and running. Anya risked a look over her shoulder. People poured off the Imperial ship, all of them armed with machine guns.
The warehouses looked impossibly far away, though it was probably only three hundred yards.
Anya had never considered herself much of an athlete, but it was amazing what fear and adrenaline could do for you.
She ran.
Her heart thumped and her lungs burned.
Bullets pinged off the ground all around them.
She crossed into the shadows stretching from the warehouses and the temperature dropped ten degrees.
“Ah!” Mom staggered and fell, jerking Anya to a stop.
She turned to see blood oozing from her mother’s stomach. “Mom!”
Anya knelt and tried to press on the wound. Hot blood gushed from between her fingers.
“Run, kiska.” Her mother’s voice emerged in a ragged gasp. “Hurry.”
“No! I’m not leaving you.” She pressed harder, trying to stop the blood.
Fedor, Yanni, and Jacob had stopped as well, drawing weapons and returning fire. Anya ignored everything but her mother. She had to stop the bleeding.
It was getting so dark she couldn’t see what she was doing. Something shadowy rushed past her, but she ignored that too.
Anya barely registered the change from controlled bursts of gunfire to wild, fully automatic chaos.
Fedor knelt beside her. “Let me see.”
Anya moved her hands away. The night was silent. She looked up at last to find figures in black had surrounded them. They wavered, seeming solid one moment and insubstantial the next. The vampires stared at her with glowing red eyes.
“It’s bad, Anya,” Fedor said. “I think she’s been hit in the liver. There’s nothing I can do.”
“My most sincere apologies.” A tall man, dressed all in black like the others, separated himself from the group. “We came to help as soon as we could. I wish it had been sooner.”
Fedor offered a seated bow. “Lord Talon, thank you. We’d all be dead if not for your timely aid.”
Her mother moaned and twisted on the ground, her eyes clenched shut.
“Can you heal her?” Anya asked.
Lord Talon knelt beside her. “I am sorry. While we have many gifts, healing isn’t among them. Light magic is painful to us. As I watched from the shadows I saw your mother shift to block the bullets from hitting you. It took great courage.”
Anya had been so focused on running she hadn’t even noticed when she pulled ahead of her mother. “So it’s my fault.” She sniffed back tears.
“No,” Fedor said. “It’s the Empire’s fault. Don’t blame yourself, Sasha wouldn’t want that.”
“While I can’t heal her,” Lord Talon said. “There is another option. A woman of such courage and beauty would be a welcome addition to the Court of Midnight.”
She stared for a moment. He was offering to turn her mother into a monster. But the alternative…
“I don’t know. Mom?”
Her mother opened her eyes. “I love you, kiska. Be strong on the rest of your journey.”
Mom’s eyes fluttered shut.
“She has almost moved beyond even my reach,” Lord Talon said. “You must decide now.”
“If you do this can she come with us?”
“No. Whatever happens, your mother’s journey ends here. I give you my solemn promise that you will be welcome to visit my land and your mother whenever you wish.”
To see her mother again was something she couldn’t refuse. Maybe it was wrong
, but she didn’t care. “Do it.”
Lord Talon’s bright, white teeth flashed in the dark. He drew a long nail across his wrist and thick, dark blood welled up. He held his wrist to her mother’s mouth and she drank.
Mom’s body shuddered and writhed then went still. Her chest ceased to move.
“It’s done,” Lord Talon said. “In seven days your mother will rise and take her place among the Midnight Court.”
* * *
Of all the places Yarik didn’t want to visit, the Imperial capital was at the top of the list. New St. Petersburg was built from the ruins of the original city, which the elves destroyed fifteen hundred years ago during their invasion. According to the histories over twenty million people in the old country of Russia died during the war. Of course when reading an Imperial textbook it was best to take their facts with a grain of salt.
Yarik sat outside the czar’s audience chamber in a modest room bigger than his whole cabin. White leather chairs and ornate end tables decorated the space. Two chairs to his left Nosorova sat and drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. She was the only witch that had survived the disaster that was Anapa. He wasn’t sure if her nerves should reassure him or make him more anxious.
He considered initiating a conversation, but her scowl did nothing to encourage the idea. If she wanted to talk let her make the first move. He leaned back and sighed. Why couldn’t they just get on with it?
Nosorova looked his way. “Did you put your affairs in order?”
He blinked. That was a hell of a thing to ask a man. “Should I have?”
“We are not summoned to receive His Majesty’s compliments, not after the debacle at the docks. My only hope is that he’ll show a little mercy and grant us swift deaths.”
Yarik swallowed. “I was thinking more an official reprimand and maybe a demotion.”
Her laugh held no humor. “The czar doesn’t meet with people like us to offer reprimands.”
The door to the waiting room opened and a bald man wearing a white uniform that strained to contain his bulk said, “You are called.”
Yarik nodded and got to his feet. He and Nosorova followed the guard across a wide corridor. A set of double doors stood open and a rich white carpet showing not a speck of dirt led down a path lined with hundreds of hard, dark wooden chairs. Every chair held a man or woman wearing pure white dress clothes. Some showed a bit of gold at the neck or wrist, but most went unadorned.
Escape From the Dragon Czar: An Aegis of Merlin Story Page 10
