The Gathering Storm kt-1

by Robin Bridges

  Inside, the empress stood next to her husband in the chapel hall, smiling tightly. “Katerina Alexandrovna,” she addressed me. I knew she was terrified for her husband.

  I curtsied low. “Your Imperial Majesties.” I forced myself to look up into my sovereign’s eyes.

  The tsar stared at me hard. Even seated in an ordinary wooden chair, he seemed majestic. When he stood up and towered over me, I thought my heart would burst in fright. There was a reason he was called Sasha the Bear by the Dark Court. “The time has come for you to accept your responsibilities as a princess of the imperial blood,” he said. “Although your family belongs to the Dark Court, you still owe your allegiance to me, your tsar.”

  “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” I whispered.

  “A necromancer is the only one able to summon the bogatyr when Russia has need of him. My son tells me you have the dark gift.”

  I glanced at the grand duke, whose face betrayed nothing. “I have the gift—or curse,” I said. “But I do not know the ritual.”

  “The patriarch will instruct you,” the tsar answered.

  It was almost like the ascension ritual of the Montenegrin Vladiki. Three priests stood chanting in front of the icon-covered doors. Only they wore white robes, with golden embroidery, instead of black ones. Incense burned, creating a smoky haze.

  A heavy wooden chest was carried into the chapel by two young pages.

  I was sprinkled with holy water, then anointed with oil as the patriarch chanted prayers over me. He did the same with the tsar and his sons, only the prayers for them were much longer. The tsar, who had been kneeling, stood up stiffly. The empress discreetly assisted him.

  The young pages opened the chest and the patriarch lifted out a bundle wrapped in linen. Inside the linen was a jeweled medallion.

  I shuddered. Another talisman.

  The patriarch’s voice boomed across the chapel. “Katerina Alexandrovna, walker among the paths of the dead, place your left hand upon the amulet of His Imperial Majesty the tsar Pavel and place your right hand in the hand of His Imperial Majesty the Sovereign Emperor, Alexander Alexandrovich.”

  It was the same medal, a Maltese Cross, the symbol of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, that I’d seen in the portrait of Tsar Pavel. Trying not to shake or tremble, I did as the patriarch instructed. I felt a tingling as something cold flowed through me from the amulet into the tsar’s hand. But I was thankful this ritual did not require my blood.

  The tsar let out a roar as the cold hit him. I cringed, and tried to break off but the tsar gripped my hand tightly. He appeared to grow two feet taller, looking even more like a bear than ever.

  When the summoning was complete, he finally let go of my hand. I stumbled back into the grand duke, who put out his hands to steady me.

  The tsarevitch handed his father a large sword that looked very old. And very deadly.

  The heavy wooden doors to the chapel burst open. A bitterly cold wind blew in, extinguishing all the candles.

  The patriarch continued his chanting. The other priests rang bells and sprinkled more holy water on the tsar, now imbued with the spirit of the bogatyr.

  Making the sign of the cross, the patriarch stepped back. A holy light blazed within the tsar’s eyes. I dropped to my knees, bowing my head, as he strode past me.

  The bogatyr stormed out of the chapel, his voice booming across the gardens. “Konstantin Pavlovich!” he bellowed. “You are no longer welcome in Russia!”

  Grand Duke George Alexandrovich helped me stand before joining his father and brother. The light burned in his eyes as well. A holy light I never wanted to taint with my curse. I hurried after them to the arched doorway and looked out.

  Konstantin the Deathless stood unnaturally tall, like the bogatyr. Closing in behind him were the undead knights of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem. The Dekebristi. Johanna’s last gift for her vampire lover.

  Konstantin had been a short, ugly man in his time. Death, and undeath, had not been kind to his body either. “Alexander Alexandrovich, stand down, or you and your sons will die horribly,” he warned. “As did your guards.”

  “Mon Dieu!” I whispered. Could it be that every last one of the tsar’s men who had been guarding the chapel had been killed?

  “Your Imperial Majesty! We come to serve you!” the Montenegrin king shouted as he ran toward us. He had arrived in a carriage with Danilo. Queen Milena stepped out of the carriage after them, looking pale, with a bandage wrapped around her neck. She had been fed upon. No doubt by both father and son.

  I did not see Militza, who must have been using all her shaky new influence to keep the vampires out of the fight. Or perhaps she feared losing control of them if they saw Konstantin.

  The tsar barely acknowledged the Montenegrin king, who took a position safe behind his wife. The tsar raised his sword high and glared at Konstantin the Deathless. “No blood drinker will ever sit on the throne of Russia,” he declared.

  The tsarevitch and the grand duke held their swords ready. I was frightened for them as well. The silver wolf kept close to the tsarevitch, fangs bared.

  Danilo stood smiling, an evil gleam in his eye. He did not bother to raise his sword as an undead soldier advanced toward him.

  Queen Milena muttered some kind of incantation under her breath and the undead soldier fell to the ground, motionless. The queen turned toward me with a vicious smile. I knew no incantations to fight with. Except the spell of shadows. My gift of necromancy would be no help on this battlefield. I shuddered.

  A low rumble alerted me that we were about to have company. The undead soldiers were closing in on us. “George!” I shouted, praying that protocol infractions were forgivable in the middle of a life-or-death battle. “The undead!”

  The undead soldiers trampled toward us. I wanted to cry when I saw the poor creatures, but I knew they shared no such human compassion. They were intent on feeding and were under the control of the false tsar.

  “KILL THEM ALL!” Konstantin Pavlovich snarled, adding what sounded like a spell in an ancient language. He was locked in combat with the true tsar, who, although larger and stronger than the lich tsar, was not as fast. Konstantin had already drawn first blood, piercing the bogatyr’s shoulder.

  One of the undead tried to pull me away from the fight. It was Prince Demidov.

  With a feral growl, he lunged for my throat. His foul breath almost made me gag.

  Queen Milena lay on the ground, too weak to get up after expending all her powers, but she smiled as she watched me struggle with the undead prince. She drew something out of the bodice of her gown. It was the Talisman of Isis, which hung around her neck.

  I kicked and threw the undead prince off balance. He let go of me only for a moment, but it was enough for me to move out of his reach. I started toward the queen.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she whispered something in an unfamiliar language. Two more undead soldiers marched toward me.

  My heart pounded in my throat. I realized I was going to die. In a most horrible fashion.

  The two soldiers suddenly stopped, and their heads became curiously detached from their bodies. Behind them I saw George Alexandrovich, holding a bloodied sword. “Get the talisman!” he shouted at me.

  I did not have time to thank him for saving my life. I ran toward the queen again and we rolled in the dirt. I was hurting, and my dress was filthy, but I did not care. I did not want to touch the tainted talisman, but I couldn’t leave it in Queen Milena’s hands.

  “Foolish girl, you will destroy everything!” she spat. “The Romanov court will never accept you! Your place is with us!”

  “I would rather die,” I said, prying the talisman from her bloody fingers. I was about to damn myself. To accept the darkness I’d struggled against all my life. In order to save the tsar.

  I held the talisman high over my head and shouted as loud as I could, “The blood of Isis, the strength of Isis, and the power of Isis is mine!”

  A chilly win
d roared in my ears. It seemed to rise inside of me, threatening to overtake me. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the talisman in my hands. When the roaring stopped, I opened my eyes.

  Slowly, the undead soldiers in front of me laid down their weapons and turned their pale faces to me. All kneeled, rather wobbly, on one knee.

  It didn’t stop all the undead, but I was safe for the moment. I turned to see if I could help the tsarevitch and his brother. The wolf was ferociously defending both of them. Snarling and snapping, it tore through the vampire who attacked the tsarevitch from behind.

  “THIS IS NOT OVER!” Konstantin the Deathless shouted. Fangs bared, he charged the bogatyr with his sword. The bogatyr anticipated him and stepped back, unbalancing the false tsar. But Konstantin took the bogatyr down with him.

  The cold light surrounding Konstantin grew larger. The bogatyr struggled stoically, but I knew he was suffering from the cold touch of the deathless tsar.

  Both sons of the bogatyr were fighting another wave of undead soldiers. King Nikola and Crown Prince Danilo were protecting Queen Milena from three more of the Dekebristi. No one was able to help the bogatyr.

  I watched Konstantin’s cold light wrap around the bogatyr. It was draining his soul.

  I wanted to scream. The talisman had not affected Konstantin at all.

  But shadows could destroy light.

  Even a cold light.

  “Sheult Anubis,” I said, the sick feeling of dark magic beginning to rise in my stomach.

  Nothing happened at first. The bogatyr and Konstantin continued to struggle.

  “Sheult Anubis,” I repeated, a little stronger this time as the shadows began to close in around me.

  I spoke the words a third time and concentrated on pushing the shadows toward Konstantin.

  It was a weak effort, but the shadows distracted him just long enough for the bogatyr to roll away and stand again. Konstantin was caught off guard as the bogatyr charged him.

  He slipped in a puddle of blood and slid toward the Montenegrin queen. King Nikola pulled his wife out of the way.

  The bogatyr pointed his sword at Konstantin’s neck. “Yield, blood drinker.”

  “NEVER!” Konstantin spat.

  The bogatyr drew back his sword to deal the death blow.

  The false tsar laughed. “This is not the end, Alexander Alexandrovich. The throne of Russia belongs to me!”

  A chilling wind blew and the ground began to shake. I could barely stand up, but Nicholas Alexandrovich held out his arm to assist me. Then, suddenly, the wind disappeared, taking Konstantin the Deathless with it.

  The bogatyr swore disgustedly as his sword came down with a heavy clang upon nothing but dry earth.

  “What the devil?” the tsarevitch said.

  “Konstantin!” the bogatyr roared. But the false tsar was gone. An eerie silence fell across the churchyard.

  “Is it over?” I asked.

  The bogatyr’s gaze swept across the bloody field. With a satisfied grunt, he nodded and sheathed his sword.

  I heard a weak voice calling out. “Mistress …”

  It was not Count Chermenensky, but Prince Demidov. I found him lying in a tangled heap, his left arm sliced off. I was nervous approaching him, but he was under my control now, thanks to the talisman.

  Gently, he held something out to me. “He lived to serve you, Mistress.”

  I stepped back with a cry. It was Count Chermenensky’s head in the crook of his right arm. The undead count had been killed while trying to protect me.

  George Alexandrovich was at my side immediately and put his hand on my arm to steady me. “He served his mistress well,” he said. It took everything I had not to faint. I could not stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.

  The grand duke bent down and clasped the undead prince’s remaining hand. “This war is not over yet, friend. We ask that you lead the other undead soldiers and fight for Russia against Konstantin the Deathless.”

  Prince Demidov nodded and stiffly saluted the grand duke. “If the mistress wills it, it shall be done.”

  I wiped the tears out of my eyes. I’d hoped to find a way to return the poor count and the others to their eternal rest. At least the count would no longer suffer. But if the tsar wanted the others to remain as revenants, there was nothing I could do. I stood up to hand the talisman to the bogatyr.

  With a frown he shook his head. “Only a necromancer may wield the Talisman of Isis. Will you bear this burden? Will you serve your tsar?”

  I hesitated. All my hopes and dreams for my future had already slipped away. I bowed my head. “I will, Your Imperial Majesty,” I whispered. I would embrace my dark powers, to protect the tsar.

  The bogatyr’s voice boomed over the bloodied field. “I do hereby recognize the undead knights of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem. From this day forward, you will belong to the Order of St. Lazarus.”

  The priests who had been standing in the hall of the chapel chanting prayers now rang their bells and said prayers for the newly created order.

  The mysterious silver wolf had vanished. If it hadn’t been for the ghost of Tsar Pavel mentioning wolf-folk, I might have believed that I’d imagined the beautiful creature. I wondered if the wolf was someone I knew. The creature had kept very close to the tsarevitch throughout much of the fighting.

  The bogatyr retreated into the chapel, where the empress waited, and the priests led me in after them to complete the ritual. It was time to send the bogatyr’s spirit back and relieve the tsar of his supernatural burden.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  I was sitting in a pew in a dark corner of the chapel, crying softly. I did not know if I was crying for Count Chermenensky or just because I was exhausted.

  “Katerina Alexandrovna, let me take you home.” George Alexandrovich stood over me and held out his hand.

  I wiped my face and let him help me stand. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Highness,” I said. “Let me collect myself.”

  In the carriage he asked me, “Were you in love with him?”

  “Who, the crown prince? Of course not!”

  He frowned. “Count Chermenensky. Before, I mean.”

  I shook my head. “I hardly knew him. But I felt responsible for him. I never meant to bring him back, I swear to you.” I started sobbing again.

  “You have been very brave today, Katiya.” His voice was tired as he used my family pet name. He slid his arm around me protectively, pulling me closer to him. It made my heart pound.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head on the grand duke’s shoulder. He smelled like dirt and sweat and tobacco. There was no other place in the world I would rather have been.

  When the carriage stopped, he turned to me with those fathomless blue eyes. He wiped the tears off my face with his hand. There was something unreadable in his expression. It vibrated down deep inside me. My palm went to his cheek.

  “Katiya,” he said, his voice hoarse and battle-weary. He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips. “I can give you the sun, my duchess. Marry me.”

  I was dumbstruck. I had not expected this. It had been a long, bloody day, and now this. I couldn’t help crying harder.

  It was not the reaction the grand duke had been expecting. He frowned. “Katiya?”

  I shook my head, my tears falling too fast for him to catch now. “You promise the sun when you know I belong with the Dark Court. Your parents would never allow such a marriage.”

  “My father owes you his life. He needs you.”

  “Not as his daughter-in-law.” No matter how dark his path, I could not live with myself if I tainted the grand duke’s soul with my own shadows.

  He sighed with frustration. “This is about you becoming a doctor, isn’t it? I swear to you I will hire the smartest physicians across Europe to tutor you privately.”

  I smiled despite my tears. He seemed so eager to make me happy. “Georgi, you are deluding yourself. Your parents will never agree to this.”

  “T
hen we’ll leave Russia. We’ll live wherever you wish.”

  “And what of your obligations? You are to become the Koldun.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He pulled me into his arms and whispered into my hair, “I cannot live without you, Katiya.”

  I closed my eyes, leaning my head against his chest. “And I cannot come between you and your family.”

  George sighed. “I’m not giving up, Katiya. Don’t give up on me.”

  I pulled away to look up at him. “Georgi—”

  Before I could say another word, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I had been kissed only once before, and it had been nothing like this. His lips fit mine perfectly. We belonged together. Something inside me uncoiled, filling my body with a strangely wonderful sensation. I placed my hands on his chest and felt his heart beating wildly. My heart was beating just as fast.

  Growing dizzy, I kissed him back. The uncoiling continued, the sensation getting stronger and stronger.

  George groaned against my lips and started to pull away.

  It was my dark magic. My cold light had been set loose and was wrapping around the grand duke. His face drained of its color and warmth.

  I was killing him.

  With a cry, I tore out of his arms and tried to get out of the carriage.

  “Katiya! Wait!”

  I couldn’t look at him. Sobbing, I climbed out and ran down the lane.

  I didn’t know where I was headed, but I ended up by one of the fountains in the Upper Gardens.

  “Katiya!” George caught up with me, his breathing ragged. “Katiya, look at me.”

  “Don’t you see? I almost killed you! I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you.”

  He took me in his arms once more and I sobbed on his shoulder. “Won’t you have a little faith in me?” He took my chin and lifted my face so I could see the silver light in his eyes. “I am to be the Koldun,” he said with a confident smile. “I think I will be safe with you.”

  “You’re not taking me seriously.”

  His smile faded. “Give me a year. Give me a year to prove to you that we belong together. That your darkness won’t blot out my light. Promise me.”