by N M Thorn
For a moment, she remained silent, studying his face with her icy eyes. Then she sighed and turned slightly to face him.
“You’re here because a powerful and dangerous being of magic put a spell on you,” she said, taking his hand. “But like I mentioned before, I’m here to help you.”
He flinched at her touch but didn’t pull away. “Help me? How so? And more importantly, what do you want in return?”
“You’re in danger, Damian. You, and your brother, and even the old eagle Yakov Bruce,” she replied. “You’re all mistaken, and your mistake has some costly consequences.”
“What are you talking about?” Damian growled, squeezing her hand in his. “If you’re truly here to help, stop speaking riddles.”
“Fine.” Mara pulled her hand out of his grip and got up. “I’ll be as plain as I can. The person you are dealing with is not a necromancer or a Master of the Dark Arts. He’s a lot more deadly and powerful than you think. He placed you and Yakov in a magical coma, and with all your power, you could do nothing to stop him. I have no idea what he’s planning, but to be honest, your chances of stopping him are anywhere between zero and nil, anyway. Having said that, if I wake you up in the next few minutes, maybe you can save your brother and the old eagle.”
He stared at her with widened eyes, his limbs filled with lead. “Who is he? If Az is not a necromancer or a Master of the Dark Arts, what kind of monster is he?”
“Az?” Mara laughed, the sound of her frosty laughter echoing through the forest. “How cute. I’m sure you meant to say Azazel.”
“Azazel?” Damian repeated, barely able to breathe. He rose slowly and staggered back a couple of steps, his heart beating desperately somewhere in his throat.
“That’s right, Lord Enforcer.” She approached him and halted a step away, barely reaching to his chest. “Don’t blame yourself, Damian. Who would recognize a dangerous Fallen in a tiny, old, magically challenged wizard?”
“Perun almighty,” whispered Damian, cold sweat running down his back. “Can you break his spell and wake me up?”
She shrugged, a playful smirk on her puffy lips. “Even though I’m not in my full power, I’m still a goddess, am I not? Sleep is my domain. Here, I’m the Queen.” She tilted her head slightly, raising her eyebrows.
He squeezed his head with his hands, his fingers digging into his hair. “What do you want from me, Mara? What’s your price?” he asked, his chest tightened with anxiety.
“Almost the same thing I wanted the last time we met,” she replied quietly, and there was neither derision nor mockery in her voice. “Last time, I wanted my powers back so I could go home…” She stepped closer, now her body flat against his, and placed her arms on his chest, looking up into his eyes. “I can’t live like this anymore. The realm of humans is not for me, Damian. I’m alone and miserable. If I can’t return to the Prav, I would even accept the Dark Nav. Help me, Damian. You are a Destiny Enforcer. You have the power and the connections to get me home. I’m not even asking for my full power, just safe passage to the World Tree through the Land of Dreams.”
“Oh, Mara, I’m sorry,” he whispered with sincere regret. “I don’t think I have the power to do that. Prav is a locked realm of the Slavic gods. Even as a Destiny Enforcer, I’m not welcome there. Not even all the Slavic gods have access to the Prav. Only the god of the Three Realms, Veles, or the great Svarog himself can open the door for you. As far as the Dark Nav, it’s ruled by Chernobog, one of the most dangerous and twisted dark gods of the Slavic pantheon. I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He opened his arms in a half-shrug, but then dropped them at his sides.
She nodded, tears sliding down her pale face, and for a brief moment, Damian forgot that she wasn’t a regular person but a dangerous, ancient goddess. All he could see was a woman in distress, begging for his help.
“I believe you,” she whispered, breaking their eye contact. “I also believe that if an opportunity presents itself, you will try to help me.” He didn’t say anything, but a tiny smile ghosted her lips. “You’re too tall, Damian. Kneel so I can try to wake you up.”
He lowered down to one knee, Mara’s eyes right in front of his now. She cupped his face and upturned it slightly.
“Now, close your golden eyes, Child of Earth,” she whispered, her lips nearly touching his. “It’s time to wake up.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling her thumbs caressing his cheeks. Her lips brushed his, just a gentle touch, and the ground vanished from under his feet.
“Damian, please wake up… Dima… I need you to wake up, brother mine.”
Chapter 30
~ Damian Blake ~
Damian opened his eyes but could see nothing except for the dark sky with two glowing red stars above him. He blinked a few times, dispelling the blurriness from his vision. Two red stars turned into a pair of glowing scarlet eyes, gazing at him without blinking.
“Cole…” Damian reached up, his arm heavy and stiff. His fingers brushed over his brother’s cheek.
“You’re awake. Thank God.” Cole sat back on his heels, a tortured smile tugging at his lips, the tips of his fangs showing.
Damian pushed himself up into a sitting position, realizing how weak he was. “Actually, you should thank the Slavic goddess of Nightmares that I’m awake.”
“Divine intervention…” Cole whispered, staring at his brother incredulously.
“Something like that,” replied Damian.
He searched the lakeside but couldn’t see Yakov anywhere. Cole got up and headed toward the lake. He returned a few seconds later, carrying the old wizard in his arms. Yakov was awake, but his arms hung limply, bouncing with every step his brother took. Cole lowered him to the ground next to Damian and then brought the box, placing it on the ground between them.
“Az was here when I surfaced,” he said quietly, a haunted expression settling in his dimming eyes. “I’m sorry. He controlled me, and I could do nothing to stop him.” He punched the air with his fist and looked up in the dark sky, biting his lip.
“He only took the controlling ring,” Yakov pointed out, his fingers tracing the shape of the large silver band. “Why is that?”
“He didn’t say,” replied Cole.
“There are only two Hollow Band sets,” said Damian. He closed the box and picked it up, rising to his feet with a strenuous groan. “Are they interchangeable? Can the controlling ring from this set control the band from the other?”
Yakov looked up at him, his face turning a sickening yellow. “Yes,” he whispered. “I believe so. Do you know who owns the second set?”
“I think so. The last I heard, it was in Kendral,” replied Damian. “But that was more than five hundred years ago.” He switched his attention to his brother. “Cole, help Yakov get up. We’re going home. We need to find out where the second set is and that will tell us where Azazel is going next.”
Leaning heavily on Cole’s shoulder, Yakov froze in place, and his jaw dropped. “Did you just say Azazel?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Damian nodded. “Azazel? Are you out of your fucking mind, Commander? We can’t fight the Fallen! It’s suicide! Even for you!”
“I know.” Damian smiled a humorless smile, his eyes meeting Cole’s shocked gaze. “Yakov, neither you nor Cole have to go with me, but I have no choice. It’s my obligation to face Azazel and stop him.” He placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready?”
Cole nodded, and Damian snapped his fingers, teleporting them from the Dead Lake.
It was past noon when Damian, Cole and Yakov materialized on the steps of Paradise Manor. A Mercedes SUV was parked on the driveway in front of the entrance, and that told Damian that Jamie was back home. The entrance door still wasn’t fixed, and Atticus was busy working with a broom, cleaning the splinters of wood from the foyer. As soon as the young werewolf noticed them, he pressed his fist to his chest, inclining his head. Then he stepped aside, gesturing
for them to come in.
Damian headed straight to the kitchen. As he suspected, River, Ace and Jamie were there, discussing something animatedly. As soon as he walked in, they fell silent, and Ace moved her infuriated gaze from Jamie to Damian and then to Cole. Damian frowned, wondering what that was all about, but at the moment, he had no time to deal with drama. He pulled one of the chairs out and sat down heavily, placing the box on the table.
“Cole,” he said, turning to his brother. “Can you please make a cup of strong coffee for Yakov? Maybe get him something to eat. He still feels weak after the number Azazel did on both of us. The weakness should be gone in a short while, but some food and caffeine in his system might help him recover sooner.”
Cole just nodded, helped Yakov to sit down and headed to the coffee machine. River got up, taking a tentative step toward Damian, but he raised his hand, stopping her.
“River, I’m really sorry,” he said, his every move sharp and jerky. “We have a situation on our hands, and I need to deal with it as soon as possible. You’ll understand everything later.”
River threw a reproachful glance at him and turned to Cole. “Why don’t you sit down, Cole,” she said, moving a chair for him. “For a vampire, you look like you’re ready to drop yourself. I’ll take care of our guest.” She smiled at Yakov and headed toward the refrigerator.
Feeling heat creeping up his cheeks, Damian turned away and stifled a sigh, cursing himself inwardly for his usual awkwardness and unusual nervousness. Then he channeled his magic and drew a rune glowing with the orange light of his elemental energy in the air. He touched it with his fingers and whispered a summoning spell.
“Luc de la Crosse, I summon thee.” He completed the summons and stilled as the empty oval of a communication window replaced the rune. After a few seconds, a flare of light lit up the window, and the Master Warden approached it, still in his full medieval regalia.
“Commander,” he said, his face tense, “were you able to recover the Hollow Band?”
“Yes and no,” replied Damian, showing the Master Warden the open box. He told him everything that had happened at the Dead Lake, omitting some personal parts of his conversation with Mara.
“Azazel,” muttered Luc, his French accent thickening as it always did when he was troubled. “O Lord, save us all.” He crossed himself, all color draining from his face. “How could I not realize—"
“It’s okay, Luc. Do you know where the second set of the Hollow Band is?” asked Damian, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. “I’m sure that whoever owns the second set is in danger. Since Azazel took only the controlling ring, it means he is after the second band, otherwise, the ring is useless.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, mon ami.” Luc ran his hand through his hair. “The second set is in Kendral. Originally, it was passed from one Master of Kendral to the next. At some point, the Ancient Master of Power, Mrak Delar, owned it. When he was at his darkest, he used it to control Alliandr.” Luc frowned and rubbed his forehead, his gaze going out of focus. “From what I recall, in the end, Mrak Delar passed the ownership of the Hollow Band together with the power and the throne to Master Alliandr, the young King of Kendral.”
“Then I believe Azazel is on his way to Kendral,” said Damian. “I have to contact Master Alliandr and warn him. After that, I’m going to ask his permission to enter his realm. I have to find Azazel and deal with him.”
“Oh, Damian.” The Master Warden stepped closer to the communication window, his eyes widened. “You can’t…” He slammed his fist against the surface of the window and looked away for a brief moment. “I’m afraid you don’t have the kind of power you need to stop a Fallen, Commander.”
Damian smirked, meeting his brother’s tense gaze. “Do I have a choice?” he asked quietly, switching his attention back to Luc. “Do Destiny Enforcers ever have a choice? I’m going to go to Kendral and do whatever it takes to stop Azazel and at least attempt to capture him. Besides, the young King of Kendral is a skilled Master of Power. I’m not going to be alone.”
“God be with you, Commander,” said Luc de la Crosse. “Please, keep me updated.” He waved his hand and closed the communication window.
Damian leaned forward, bracing his fists against the table, and dropped his head. A stampede of thoughts rushed through his mind, and he couldn’t focus on anything. Feeling a gentle touch to his shoulder, he snapped his head up to see River standing next to him.
“A Fallen,” she said, lowering her hand. “As in a fallen angel? Is that what Azazel is?”
“Yes, something like that, but a lot worse,” replied Damian, straightening. “In his true form, he’s a powerful demon, evil to the core. He is more powerful than any angel.” A bitter smirk crossed his face. “Just like any evil being of magic, he doesn’t bother with the rules and laws of the World of Magic. He doesn’t care how many people die or if the World of Magic gets exposed. For him, purpose justifies the means. All that in combination with his great and dangerous power, makes him…” His voice trailed off, and he looked out the window at the familiar desert view.
“Unstoppable?” River whispered.
“Not unstoppable, Detective,” chimed in Cole, taking the cup of steaming coffee out of her hands and placing it in front of Yakov next to a plate with a sandwich. “No one is unstoppable. But it makes him hard to beat.”
Damian channeled his magic and assumed his true form. Folding his wings behind his back, he held his finger to his lips, asking everyone for silence. Then he drew another rune in midair and pressed his palm against it, channeling his magic through it.
“Master Alliandr, I summon thee,” he whispered and stepped back, staring at the blank communication window.
A moment later, the window lit up, and a young man stepped in front of it. He was at least as tall as Damian, if not a little taller, and his jet-black hair fell to his shoulders in soft strands. While he looked muscular in his tight black pants and white shirt laced on his wide chest, there was an unmistakable vibe of elegance and a certain charm about him. His obsidian eyes observed everyone in the room with interest, and a soft smile touched his full lips.
“Master of Kendral.” Damian pressed his fist to his chest and lowered to one knee. Except for River, everyone kneeled before the King of the World of Magic.
“Oh, my,” mumbled River, staring at the young Master of Power in awe. Damian glanced at her, and a jolt of pain surged through him, tightening his chest. Not sure what that was all about, he dropped his head lower, clenching his jaw.
“Please rise.” Alliandr waved his hand, gesturing for them to get up. His black eyes stopped on Damian, taking in his appearance, and his chiseled features hardened. “You are a Commander of the Destiny Enforcers, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my lord,” replied Damian, approaching the window. “My name is Damian Blake.”
“Damian Blake.” The young Master frowned, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’ve never heard of you. The only Commander I know of is Moore, and I hope I’ll never have to meet with that man again.” His frown deepened, his lips forming a firm line. “What can I do for you, Commander?”
Damian cringed inwardly at the icy tone of the young Master of Power, wondering what happened between him and Commander Moore.
“It’s about the Hollow Band you have in your possession, Master,” said Damian.
Master Alliandr paled, and his hand went up to his neck involuntarily. “What about it?”
Once more, Damian repeated the entire story. As he finished, the Master of Power stepped closer to the window, bracing his arms on either side of it, and dropped his head, his long hair obscuring his face.
“Master Alliandr,” Damian called after a short pause, chills running down his spine. “If you give me permission to enter your realm—”
“That’s the problem,” the Master of Power interrupted him, raising his head. “You don’t need to cross over into my realm, Commander. The Hollow Band that belongs to me is in yours.�
�� He raised his right hand and pointed at the silver ring on his finger. “At least the main band is in your realm, and I believe that’s what the Fallen is searching for.”
Damian exchanged a bewildered look with Yakov. “Why?” he asked.
“A while ago, I used my Hollow Band to control an extremely dangerous dark being of magic,” said Alliandr. “He was one of the immortals, so killing him wasn’t an option. At the time, I was too young and inexperienced as the Master of Power, so the only way I could subdue him was by using the Hollow Band. I did that, and then I wrapped him in iron chains and locked him in a tiny cell I made out of solid rock. He’s been there all this time…” His voice trailed off, and he raised his eyes flooded with the blackness of his power, staring at Damian without blinking. “Commander, you must stop Azazel. This monster…” He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “You can’t allow for this monster to walk the world of humans ever again.”
“Who are you talking about, Master?” asked Damian calmly.
“Koschei the Deathless,” replied Master Alliandr. The darkness vanished from his eyes, replaced by endless exhaustion. He rubbed his forehead, throwing his hair off his face. “I’m talking about the ancient sorcerer, Koschei the Deathless. But from what I’ve been told, his immortality is conditional. He can be killed. I just don’t know how.”
“Gospodi Iisuse Hriste, pomiluj mya greshnogo,” Yakov exhaled, crossing himself.
“I haven’t heard anyone praying in old Russian for a while.” Damian smirked, looking at the wizard from under his hair. “Don’t tell me you’re scared, old eagle?”
Yakov got up and leaned forward, propping his fists against the table. “Yes, I am,” he said, his eyes darting from Damian to Alliandr. “And you should be too. With all due respect, Master of Kendral, you’re wrong. Koschei the Deathless is not a sorcerer. I mean, yes, he can wield magic. As a matter of fact, he is one of the most powerful Masters of the Dark Arts, but that is the least of our worries.”
