Anya flinched and Fedor gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
“Alas,” Lord Talon said. “She had an unfortunate encounter with the Imperial navy. The young lady’s mother will be my guest for the foreseeable future.”
The major lowered his gaze. “My apologies and condolences. I meant no insult, miss.”
Anya nodded. “It’s okay. There’s no way you could have known. Thank you for letting us pass through your country.”
His face turned into a mass of wrinkles when he smiled. “Not at all. Lord Talon so seldom asks for a favor, granting it is the least we can do on the rare occasions he does. Shall we go? I’m sure you’re anxious to continue your journey.”
The only thing Anya was anxious to do was sleep in a real bed, but she bowed to Lord Talon. “Thank you for everything. Please tell my mother I love her.”
He smiled again. “I will. And as I said, feel free to visit again any time.”
The vampire lord took his leave and she and Fedor followed the major across the border into Germany. One more leg of their journey complete. Now all they had to do was cross a war-torn land and make it to the Kingdom of the Isles in one piece. Now that they were more than halfway there it actually felt possible.
7
A Land at War
It wouldn’t take much, Yarik decided, to truly despise Calais. From his perch in one of the towers of the True Face of God cult’s church he could look out over the wretched, burned-out city. Fire did more to illuminate the night than electricity since the nearby power station was blown up over a year ago. The religious nuts controlled three-quarters of the place including the waterfront. Which was good since that was almost certainly where the girl would try and make her escape.
A faint hint of char reached him. He’d been in the city for five days and there was always something burning. On a good day it was an abandoned building. On a bad one it was some poor bastard that did something the inquisitors didn’t approve of. And that was a long list that occasionally changed if the inquisitor in question didn’t like your looks.
Why in the world did the czar agree to work with these madmen? Not that he’d ever say anything against the czar, may he rule forever, but the Empire had basically outlawed the worship of anything but the czar himself, so a religious cult didn’t seem like the most likely ally for him. Granted they did rule all of what used to be Spain and Portugal and was now called the Blessed Realm. Blessed for the priests maybe, but he doubted the regular people living there were so happy.
Yarik flicked a speck of ash off his suit coat. If Anya was coming he wished she’d hurry up and get here so he could capture her and go home.
The tread of a heavy boot came from the staircase behind him. Yarik turned to find Hedon or was it Victor, well one of the dragon-bloods at any rate, standing in the hatch.
“What?”
“There’s a spy on the communicator, Agent. She has news of the target.”
At last. “Let’s go.”
Yarik followed the dragon-blood down three flights of steps to the hall. The passage to the right led to the cathedral. They turned left to the small prayer chamber the priests had delegated for their use. It wasn’t much bigger than Yarik’s office at home. For three big men it made for a tight and smelly fit.
The final member of their little group waited inside holding a small, bronze-handled mirror. A female face framed by blond hair filled the glass.
Yarik took the communicator. “You have news?”
“Yes, Agent. The target was spotted on the road to Paris. We almost overlooked her since only the girl and the man were present. My subordinate has been following them from a distance and there’s no sign of the mother.”
“No matter. She was never a priority. What assets do we have in Paris?”
“Minimal, I’m afraid. Just me and three others. Our cell was put in place to spy not carry out a snatch and run.”
“That’s fine, just keep an eye on them. I’ll be there with reinforcements by morning. Well done.”
“Zolta. I’d appreciate it if you remembered my name in your final report.”
“Of course. If this goes well I’ll put in a good word for you. Maybe get you promoted out of this toilet.”
Zolta nodded and the connection went dead. Yarik put the communicator on the little table in the center of the room and grinned. “Get ready to move. We’ve got a lock on the target.”
Hedon and Victor smiled, displaying far too many pointy teeth. It was so easy to forget they weren’t fully human.
“How are we going to travel?” one of them asked.
“We’ll requisition a car from our…Which one are you?”
“Hedon, sir.”
Yarik reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a blue ballpoint pen. “Bend down.”
Hedon did as he said and Yarik drew a blue H on his forehead. Nothing ostentatious, just a little mark below his hairline, if he’d had hair, so Yarik wouldn’t be constantly wondering which was which.
“There. Now, we’ll get a car from the priests. They have to have something. If worst comes to worst we can use the pickup they brought us here in. Pack up our stuff. I’ll go see Father Gabriele.”
He left the dragon-bloods to their task. Shouldn’t take long since they each only brought a single bag. At the end of the hall a set of heavy oak double doors led to the church cathedral. Yarik shoved them open and strode inside. The pews were empty, but Father Gabriele stood in front of the altar, hands clasped in prayer. He dressed in an all-black priest’s outfit. A gold cross hung down on his chest.
The priest turned and threw his hands to the sky. “Welcome, brother. Have you come to pray? The True Face of God welcomes all who embrace him, even a damned heathen like you.”
“Not today, Father,” Yarik said. “One of our assets spotted the target this afternoon. She’s in Paris and we need transport.”
“No problem, no problem. We have a bus that will serve the cause admirably. Twenty of my men will lend a hand. Paris is a big place after all. They will find the godless witch and set her on the proper course. Fire and steel, Agent. Fire and steel can cleanse even the most godless and turn them to light.”
“The czar wants her intact and undamaged. If that’s going to be a problem, me and my men can manage on our own.”
“No, no! The church honors our agreements. The Archbishop said you are to be afforded whatever aid you require and we shall obey. Obedience, Agent, is also a supreme duty in the church.”
Well, that was one thing the church and the Empire had in common. “Great. Where’s the bus? We’ll meet your men outside.”
“Around back. We will join you shortly.”
“We?”
“Yes, I will come along to lead my troops in the holy crusade. The vile witch will not escape us, rest assured.”
Of all the things Yarik felt upon learning that Father Gabriele would be joining them, assurance was at the bottom of the list.
* * *
Anya had read many books, both fiction and nonfiction, set in Paris. When the little two-door car the German army had donated for their journey pulled into the outskirts of the city it was instantly clear none of those books had been updated in a while. The first and most obvious thing was the City of Lights wasn’t very well lit. In fact, other than their headlights Anya hadn’t seen a single electric light. Fire, on the other hand, was prevalent.
Fedor hit a deep pothole, jarring her and making her wish they hadn’t left Germany. That portion of the trip had easily been the most pleasant. From one side of the country to the other they had a military escort. The roads were smooth and no one tried to kill them. The people had been kind and generous, the food delicious, and the beds she slept in each of their three nights in the country soft and warm.
She sighed. Maybe it would be best to forget about Germany. Until they reached the Kingdom of the Isles comfort was going to be a luxury.
“Where are we going?” Anya asked.
&nb
sp; “Free French Army safe house.” Fedor kept his eyes on the road. “The resistance leadership made a deal with them to help with the journey in exchange for Kingdom weapons. We get one night of safety and sleep then we head for Calais in the morning.”
Anya yawned. Sleep sounded good. Her schedule was all messed up after the time they spent in the Land of the Night Princes. She hoped her mom was adjusting to her new life.
The street ran through a slum filled with sagging tenements and litter-choked alleys. The world beyond their headlights should have been filled with people, but all she saw was junk and ruin. Could this be the same city she’d read about? It didn’t seem possible.
“What happened here?” Anya asked.
“War. When the Blessed Army invaded they weren’t gentle. I’ve read estimates that a third of the population has been killed and another third displaced. Everyone that could, fled the cities. It’s easier to survive in the country. The only people in the city now are soldiers and looters.”
“How do you know so much? They didn’t teach us any of this in school.”
“No reason they would. As for me, I told you, we’ve been planning this for a while. I did research on every leg of the trip, even spoke to a member of the French army. It was an enlightening conversation. Depressing as hell, but enlightening.”
Fedor swerved around a crater. “Keep your eyes open for a subway entrance. The army is using the underground to move around and store supplies.”
Great, she’d get to spend the night in a dank, dark hole surrounded by sweaty, smelly soldiers. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, she wondered if being a White Witch would really be worse than this.
The car swerved again and Fedor pulled into an alley. He turned it off and pulled out the keys. A hundred feet off the street a set of steps descended to the underground.
Anya climbed out, then walked over, and started down the stairs. At the bottom a set of heavy steel bars stopped them cold. Beyond the bars a warm yellow light revealed gray tiles and a row of rectangular columns.
A man in a green uniform stepped into view. He had a machine gun pointed at Fedor’s chest. “You’ve got the wrong station, my friend.”
“No,” Fedor said. “General de Gaulle sent us.”
The soldier put his rifle up and grinned. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? We’ve been expecting you for a few days now. Where have you been?”
“We ran into a few unexpected delays. You know how it is when you’re traveling.” Fedor eyed the bars. “You want to let us in? I’m feeling a little exposed out here.”
The soldier smacked a hand into his forehead. “But of course. Where is my head? No doubt the young beauty with you has me distracted.”
He walked back to where he came from and a moment later the bars rose into the ceiling. Fedor led the way in. Once they were clear the bars came crashing down.
The guard left his weapon leaning against the wall and rejoined them.
“I’m Pierre.” He took Anya’s hand and kissed the back of it. Now that she saw him clearly she realized he wasn’t much older than her. “Welcome to the Legion.”
“I’m Anya, nice to meet you. Thanks for letting us stay here.”
He released her and gave a negligent wave of his hand. “Not at all. The weapons that were provided have allowed us to nearly reclaim the city. When the next shipment arrives we’ll push the bastards out of France altogether. Just wait.”
She smiled. “I’m sure you will.”
Fedor cleared his throat. “Your commander is expecting us.”
“Of course, of course. Forgive me. It’s been far too long since I had a beautiful woman to talk to. I got carried away. You see the red arrows?”
Anya looked where he pointed and sure enough a red arrow was painted on the station wall. It almost glowed in the light of the kerosene lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Fedor grunted an acknowledgment.
“Just follow them. Be sure to ignore the yellow and blue ones though, they’ll lead you into trouble.”
Fedor nodded. “Thanks. Ready?”
“Yes,” Anya said. “I fear I might fall asleep on my feet.”
They trudged down the platform, down a set of steps, and along the rails for what seemed like miles, but was probably only a few hundred yards. The tunnel opened into a round cavern. Four more lines converged on the spot. All around fire burned and men in uniforms either sat beside them or tended bubbling pots. Two dozen tents had been set up against the walls.
Hard, hostile eyes looked up as they entered. Anya huddled closer to Fedor. This lot seemed far less friendly than the boy at the entrance. You’d have thought that, having made it past the guard, everyone would know they weren’t enemies.
“Where’s your commander?” Fedor asked.
“Here.” A tall, wiry man with a white mustache emerged from one of the tents. “Are you the friends of de Gaulle?”
“We are.” Fedor stepped in front of her and held out his hand.
The commander shook it and said, “It’s about time. I feared you might not make it and then we wouldn’t get our second shipment. But you’re here now, that’s what’s important. Are you hungry? We have a variety of stews cooking.”
Anya yawned and Fedor said, “Perhaps you could show us to our tent? My companion is tired.”
“Certainly, follow me.” He led them to a tent that looked like more patch than canvas. “Here you are. Sleep well.”
The rickety cot inside was the most welcoming sight Anya had seen in a long time. She collapsed into it and was asleep in seconds.
* * *
Yarik’s legs were shaking when he climbed down out of the yellow bus. Father Gabriele must have been anxious to meet his god given the way he drove down the potholed highway that led from Calais to Paris. On more than one occasion Yarik was certain they tipped over on just one set of wheels. While the ride hadn’t been anyone’s idea of smooth, at least they arrived before sunrise. The hours just before dawn were always the best time to attack.
Before him Paris sprawled, a ruined shell of its former glory. Victor, Hedon, and the priest joined him out in the street. The twenty holy warriors Gabriele had brought with him remained in their seats, heads bowed in prayer. They’d been like that since the bus pulled out of the church parking lot. They must have ridden with Father Gabriele before.
“The communicator?” Yarik said.
Victor dug the bronze mirror out of his pack and handed it to him. Yarik focused on Zolta and five seconds later her face appeared.
“We’re here, at the northern edge of the city,” Yarik said.
“Your target is in the subway system. She and her guardian have made contact with the French army. I have a man watching the entrance they used.”
Zolta gave him an address and Yarik said, “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
She vanished from the mirror and Yarik handed it to Victor.
“Vile magic,” Father Gabriele said. “You should bathe your hands in holy water to cleanse the taint. I have some in the bus.”
“That’s generous of you, Father, but we don’t have time just now. Did you hear our conversation?”
“Yes, I know the area she mentioned. It is fortunate they’ve found their way to the frogs. We shall roast them all in their holes and send their blasphemous souls to hell.”
“I don’t care what you do with the soldiers, but I need the girl alive.” Given the priest’s excessive fascination with fire, Yarik thought it best to keep reminding him this was a capture mission, not a kill mission.
They got back on the bus and the priest eased them into motion. It took most of half an hour to cross the burned-out city. Finally, Gabriele parked and opened the door.
“The street your spy mentioned is a block over. I thought it prudent to approach on foot.”
Yarik nodded. He wouldn’t have thought the zealous priest would have planned that far ahead. Never complain when the universe gives you a gift, his mother always said, lest
it decide to take it back.
He studied the street ahead of them. It was too dark to make out the spy, but he did spot the subway entrance. Yarik turned to Hedon. “Do you see Zolta’s man?”
The dragon-blood squinted and his eyes glowed with a faint yellow light. “I have him, he’s almost directly opposite us in an alley overlooking the entrance.”
Yarik took out a penlight from the inside of his jacket and flashed a sequence at the spy. A few seconds later a reply came: all clear. Good, they were free to attack. He flashed another message, freeing the spy from his task. Whatever happened now, his work was done. A single flash of acknowledgement and Yarik assumed the spy was gone.
“The situation hasn’t changed,” Yarik said. “Let’s go get her.”
Father Gabriele was busy blessing his men who stood with their heads bowed. Yarik’s jaw clenched. If some overzealous holy warrior killed Anya he’d skin Gabriele alive.
The priest said, “Amen. We’re ready, Agent.”
The holy warriors raised their machine guns and Yarik led them toward the subway entrance. The group made far too much noise in the quiet night. Please let the enemy be half asleep. The group stopped at the top of the steps. At the bottom the entrance was sealed with heavy iron bars.
One of the soldiers pulled a grenade and reached for the pin. Yarik grabbed him. If they set off an explosion the girl would be gone before they ever reached the army camp. They needed to get in quietly. Fortunately they had just the men for the job.
Yarik clapped both the dragon-bloods on the shoulder. “You’re up. Get us in there.”
A magical glow surrounded both men. Talons sprouted from their fingers, scales ran down their arms and though he couldn’t see, Yarik assumed their legs and chests as well. Their eyes turned yellow and began to glow.
Hedon and Victor marched down the steps.
A young man appeared in front of the bars on the other side. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Who goes—”
Hedon’s arm shot through the bars, grabbed the kid by the throat, and crushed his neck. Together the two dragon-bloods grabbed the bars and heaved them up into a slot in the ceiling. The steel clattered, but not horribly.
Escape From the Dragon Czar: An Aegis of Merlin Story Page 13
