by Raye Wagner
She hadn’t actually grasped that the gate was already destroyed and would crumble to dust if not for the magic holding it together. Once again, she was grateful for Tredak’s help as well as her guard’s. She nodded, letting him know she understood.
His lips pressed to the tender skin behind her ear, and then he pulled back and grabbed her hand once more.
22
Evzan lifted Adaline up by the waist, and she maneuvered her knees onto his shoulders. Using the wall for balance, Adaline slowly set one foot on his shoulder and then the other. Evzan held her in place and inched toward the gate.
Adaline was over ten feet in the air, and if she raised her hands above her head, she could easily reach thirteen feet. Not near the forty feet needed to get to the top corners of the gate. She grabbed onto one of the rungs and it held, but when she put her foot to the metal, the bar disappeared, and she was grateful Evzan still held the other foot. She brought her knee to her chest and tested one of the pieces of metal several feet higher, and this time, she found purchase. Holding her breath, she hauled herself up one rung at a time.
Adaline peered into the fortress beyond to see people scurrying around, but the area just behind the wall was cleared except for the towering catapults waiting for ammunition. She continued to watch with dawning horror as men filled the large basins with buckets of viscous fluid.
“Pitch,” Evzan whispered in her ear, covering her mouth. He was right next to her, and she was so startled she yelped into his huge palm. “They’ll light it and then fling it over the wall.”
She pulled his hand away, spitting out grainy bits of dirt.
He narrowed his eyes, and she closed her mouth until she remembered she had a question for him. She inched closer and brought her lips to his ear. His masculine scent mixed with the scent of the earth in a unique Evzan smell. “How long before they launch the pitch?”
He shook his head. “You can’t stop it. Not this first round. So focus on what you need to stop the next round.”
Cold helplessness churned in her belly, and Adaline glanced back at her troops waiting for her to bring down the wall. She would not let today turn into a massacre of her people. Every death would cling to her, fettered for eternity. She hastened her climb, grabbing a bar and moving her foot at the same time, and gasped as her right side swung out into empty air.
Evzan hissed beside her, grabbing her left wrist in his vice-like grip.
Adaline’s heart thundered in her chest, and she scrambled to get a hold of the metal again. She clasped a rung only to have it disappear, so she grabbed the one beneath it, putting her foot back where it had been before.
Slower this time, she reached for a rung above, but it, too, dissolved as soon as she touched it. She looked to Evzan and saw him purse his lips. She stepped up another rung, but it too vanished.
“You must be getting close,” he muttered.
The piece of djinn magic must radiate at least some of its power to the other pieces around it.
“Can you reach it?” Evzan whispered.
Adaline shook her head. Every time she tried to step up a rung, the metal under her foot disappeared. “There’s too much magic.”
“Figures,” Evzan muttered.
Adaline kept her hands where they were and stepped up two rungs with her feet, managing to advance a little. She was now crouched with her feet and hands at the same level. Without any support above her, she wouldn’t be able to stand.
“Let me get behind you, and I can hold you steady. Then you can reach higher,” Evzan said.
Adaline saw him, or rather felt him, shift from next to her to beneath her, bringing his shoulders to where her feet now were. Glancing up, she saw the top rung was no more than four feet from where she was. If Evzan held her feet, she’d be able to reach.
“Steady now,” he said as he brought his body flush behind her. “Now stand up.”
Adaline leaned into her guard as he pushed against her, providing the stability she needed. Even better than holding her feet, the comforting strength of his body kept her upright.
“Just don’t touch the rung where my hands are, or we’ll both fall backward,” he said, his breath fanning past her cheek.
Adaline heard the men on the other side of the wall, shouting in the long, low tones characteristic of Belochian. Her chest tightened as one of them dipped a torch to the contents of the catapult.
“Fire,” a man bellowed in the enemy’s tongue.
Pots brimming with flaming liquid launched over the fortresses walls toward her men, and somehow, everything slowed for that moment as the hungry flames licked into the air, aimed to consume her soldiers. Adaline gulped, and then the flames flew out of sight. Screams rose from her armies behind her. Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out the noise of chaos and death, but anguish wrenched her heart.
“Hurry up, Adaline,” Evzan said, his voice distant. “Don’t give them time to reload.”
Adaline forced her attention to the metal rungs in front of her. She clasped one after another, but each one dissolved under her touch. Fearful desperation climbed through her chest, and she wanted to scream. “It’s not here.” Her heart pounded and her stomach roiled. “Evzan, it’s not here.”
“Calm down, my love. We’ll find it.” He took a deep breath, and his chest pressed to her back. “Do you want me to move us to the right or the left?”
Adaline looked to her right where less than a quarter of the gate’s rungs remained to be checked, and then to her left where there were still more than half. “I don’t know,” she whispered. She squared her shoulders and said, “Right.”
Evzan shifted one foot, giving Adaline plenty of time to move before he took the next step.
The seconds stretched into an eternity as they inched across the massive gate. Adaline continued to grab rung after rung, moving her hands up and down in a rhythmic pattern as she searched for the magical piece.
“Hurry up,” he said.
“Not helping,” she snapped back.
Another step to the right and Adaline fell, her stomach lurching as her mind blanked with panic.
Evzan swung his arms under hers, grunting as his forearms absorbed the impact of her weight.
Her legs swam in the empty air, and she pawed at metal that disappeared on contact.
“Hold still, Princess. I’ve got you. Put your feet on mine, and lean back.”
Adaline sagged against Evzan, letting him support her entire weight. When her feet rested on top of his and she felt secure, she ran her hand down the rungs again.
The next time Evzan shifted his foot to the right, he pulled back with a muffled yelp.
“What is it?” she asked, reaching her foot out to test the bar. But as soon as her foot made contact, the metal disappeared.
“The magic is different there. I can’t touch it without it burning me.”
Adaline reached out with her hand, but it was like running her hand through air. “It doesn’t burn. Nothing’s different . . .” She saw it then. The djinn metal was in the top right corner, and Tredak had been right. It was clearly different than the rest of the gate. “It’s up there. Top right corner, second from the top.”
Inky blackness clung around the magical piece. It was just like the rest of the gate and yet wholly different, too. The darkness was so thick as to almost be a part of the night sky or the depth of the earth. Writing marked the stone, but the language was unfamiliar to the multilingual princess.
“Can you reach it if I scoot us over and you stand on my shoulders?”
“Promise you won’t drop me?” Adaline asked, looking down through the rungs to the inside of the wall. The last thing she wanted was to disintegrate the bars and fall into the fortress to the mercy of the enemy.
“I won’t drop you,” he replied. He climbed down several bars, and Adaline tested the rungs.
When she stepped onto his shoulders, he wrapped his hand around her left calf. “If you stand straight up, you should be able to g
rab it.”
“And then what? Do I just pull it out? Are we supposed to destroy it?” How had she not thought to ask the question of Sir Tredak before they’d started? Adaline shook her head. Why did she implicitly trust him? Especially since he seemed to know way too much, yet he parsed out his knowledge as if he were on a pedestal, or perhaps he enjoyed being needed. And he claimed to be just a soldier? She grimaced, frustrated with her own naivety.
“Pull it out. I have a pick if you need it.”
Adaline rolled her eyes. Of course Evzan did. He was probably just as bad as Tredak. The princess straightened, keeping her knees just slightly bent until she realized if she stood tall, she’d be able to use the underside of the stone arch for support. As she went to lock her knees, she saw a soldier approaching through the crenellations on the wall less than a dozen feet from her and ducked.
“Adaline,” Evzan hissed, swaying with her movement, and he reached up to grab her thigh. “Please . . .”
As if she was doing it on purpose.
She straightened again, slowly, and reached out for the inky bit of metal. Her hand closed around it, and the energy pulsed up her arm like a hot poker, burning every nerve ending with its force. Adaline clenched her teeth as spots danced across her vision. She yanked at the metal, but it held, secured by the faint magical rungs surrounding it. Whimpering, Adaline reached her other hand to the bar holding the left side of the djinn metal, and as soon as she touched it, the sound of grating metal filled the night.
“Hurry up, Adaline,” Evzan said as men yelled above and below them.
She switched hands, moving to touch the metal on the other side of the enchanted piece. As soon as she brushed her fingertips to the magic, sparks burst around it, and then an explosion rocked the valley, throwing Adaline and Evzan into the air.
Adaline’s vision tunneled, and she heard Evzan yelling her name, and then the world went black.
“Shh, Adaline,” Evzan said, his lips brushing her ear. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”
She felt him, his warmth cocooning her as he placed kisses on her eyes, cheeks, and ears, over and over again. She wanted to tell him she was okay, but her mouth and mind wouldn’t cooperate.
The next time she heard him, she blinked, her vision blurring before the images cleaved together with clarity.
The sky was painted black with only pin-pricks of white dotting its vast expanse.
Evzan still held her, and she grimaced when she saw his face streaked with black and . . . She reached up and touched the sticky dark substance oozing from his temple. She’d never seen Evzan bleed before.
“Welcome back, Princess,” he said with a grin. His voice rasped, but his tone filled with triumph and joy.
“Is the gate open?” she asked in a whisper.
Evzan’s eyes flashed with pride, but he shook his head. “There is no gate. They surrendered an hour ago, but Gunhild insisted we wait until you awoke to negotiate.”
Adaline struggled to sit up, but every muscle in her body ached. Tredak was a moron. Weak magic, indeed. “First, I want you to find Tredak for me.”
“I’m already here,” Tredak said, moving into her line of sight. “It’s good to see you awake, Highness.”
Adaline’s gaze shifted from Tredak to Evzan. “Demote him,” she said. “Or take away his land. I thought he was smart or gifted, but . . .”
Tredak grinned as if she’d paid him a compliment instead of demanding his punishment. He bent over and picked up her hand. Warm energy infused her fingertips and crawled up her arm, her aches and pains dissolving the longer he held her. When the rawness in her throat disappeared, he released her hand with a wink.
This time when Adaline tried to sit up, there was no discomfort. She wiggled to make sure the relief didn’t dissipate and smiled when the feeling of wellness remained. Confusion hit her a moment later, and she gave Sir Tredak a quizzical expression. “I thought I was a null?”
“That wasn’t magic,” he said with another wink. When she opened her mouth to ask more questions, he gave her a look and asked, “Are you ready to negotiate for peace?”
“No,” she said, turning to brush her hand across Evzan’s cheek, a small caress of gratitude. Blood and cracking mud still streaked his face, and her skin felt tight with it. “First, I need to bathe and find suitable attire. Then yes, we’ll go negotiate.”
Evzan’s gaze went from Adaline to Tredak, eyes narrowing. Evzan stood and then helped Adaline to her feet, his arm sliding around her waist. “We’ll go together,” he announced, glancing back to Tredak. “And bring the Mala general, too.”
23
Vasilisa
Wake up!
Vasi bolted upright, clutching the patchwork blanket to her chest. Rays of light streaked across the small room from the crack between the curtain and the sill where she’d tied up the edge. She rubbed her eyes and scooted off the bed, yawning. She’d been up most of the night, worrying about the chore Baba Yaga would have her do, and Vasi felt sluggish as if everything but her mind remained asleep. But she pushed off the bed and hurried to the dresser. If Vasi failed this task, she would fail everything.
The contents of the drawers blurred in her vision, and Vasi dressed quickly, jumping in circles as she laced up the back of her dress. She pulled on one boot and jumped when her door slammed open.
Baba Yaga filled the doorway. The witch’s features competed for the shadows as bright light radiated around her hunched form. A low growl rumbled from her chest, and then she snapped, “You’re late.”
“You didn’t give me a time,” Vasi protested, grabbing her other boot. She scrambled to her feet and followed the hag into the hall.
As if Vasi hadn’t said anything, Baba Yaga continued, “If you survive today, you’ll never be late for the Horsemen again.”
Vasi halted in the middle of the hallway, halfway to the witch. “Did you say the Horsemen?”
“I told you we’re late. Now be quiet, and move.”
Baba Yaga spun away, and Vasi rushed to join her. With one hand clutching a boot, she patted her apron pocket, checking for the doll and knife as she hobbled down the stairs.
“Keep up,” Baba Yaga snapped, not even turning around when Vasi tripped down the last two steps and fell into the hallway.
The difference between having a thick sole on one foot and only a sock on the other made running on the smooth floor challenging. Cursed kurz mites were too good at their job. Wishing the roles were reversed for one second, Vasi grumbled, “I only have one boot on.”
“Then you should have put on two!” Baba Yaga’s robes billowed around her as she threw open the door and strode outside.
Vasi took two steps out onto the stoop and, waving her arms, fell onto her backside, clutching the stair beneath her. In her rush to catch up to the witch, she hadn’t seen beyond Baba Yaga. The stairs and the house were still up in the air. Vasi scrambled like a crab back up a step and glanced over the edge.
There was at least a thirty foot drop to the grass below. The house wobbled back and forth, and Vasi hyperventilated. The house descended, and Vasi’s stomach rose and lodged into her throat. She inched up another step and clutched the doorframe.
Baba Yaga turned her head, and the morning light glinted off her metal teeth. “Best put your boot on now. I’m not slowing down for you anymore.”
Vasi hurried to do as the witch said as the stairs bounced violently beneath them. The house landed with a jolt, and Baba Yaga charged toward the bone gate. It creaked and rattled as the bones ground against each other, spreading open to create a hole only big enough for the two of them to pass through.
Vasi cursed the witch’s speed and ran. The air smelled of morning dew and trampled grass, and the breeze was heavy with the scent of pine. The bone gate began to knit closed behind Baba Yaga, but Vasi squeezed through and chased after the witch.
At the road, Baba Yaga halted.
Only a few strides behind when the witch suddenly st
opped, Vasi wheeled her arms and, once again, almost fell. Vasi panted as she righted herself, sucking in lungfuls of air to catch her breath.
Several minutes passed, and the haze began to lift.
Vasi shifted from foot to foot, wondering why they’d been in such a hurry only to wait. Her thoughts flitted to a djinni dressed head to toe in black, and curiosity seized her. “Which of the Horsemen are we waiting for?”
Baba Yaga held up a hand. “Silence.”
A low rumbling spilled out of the forest toward them. The sound of a thundering gallop came first, and then, not even a breath later, the head, neck, and body of a great snow-white stallion appeared out of the shadows of the trees, invisible one moment then towering over them the next.
Vasi blinked as the morning light glinted off the golden metal accents on the horse and his rider.
Pokor appeared beautiful when she watched their precession each morning, but Vasi saw her distant glances from the window had not done him justice. Even if she hadn’t seen his silvery horns, she would know him as djinn; there was no mistaking the otherworldly quality to his skin and sculpted features. Even his height had a supernatural quality to it.
He pulled up to stop just beside Baba Yaga.
At this proximity, Vasi craned her neck up to study him. His presence made her uncomfortable with an odd sense of familiarity for someone she was wholly unfamiliar. Vasi averted her gaze and stared at the gruesome scenes embroidered in gold.
“What have we here, Baba Yaga?” Pokor asked, turning toward them.
Vasi looked up, and his umber gaze was fixed on her. His power settled around them, and she could feel his intensity buzzing between them.
“Is this your little apprentice?” he asked, his deep voice filled with power.
“More like I’ve taken in a thorn in my foot.” Baba Yaga snorted as if the idea of Vasi being her apprentice was preposterous. “Take this girl to a village where the commoners are hungry.” She turned on Vasi, giving her a smile full of sharpened blades. “You wish to save people, feed the villagers by nightfall.”
