It was a lie. I had the beginnings of a plan, but it was not formed enough to explain. Anton sensed my deception and frowned, giving a little shake of the head.
"What have I done to deserve your arrival after all these years?" He pointed a finger at me. "If it weren't for the blessing of the Great One, I would have already buried you."
"Greater men and women have tried and failed. What makes you think you would be successful?" I asked.
"Mother, please," said Ana.
"Apologies. I speak too harshly. It's a curse of mine," I said.
Anton barked out a stunted laugh. His dark eyes cut me. "A curse? Nyet. A tactic. When this is done, Princess. When you have performed the Great One's deeds, we shall finish this."
I faced Anton with a scowl on my lips. He straightened and readied himself as if we were about to go to battle. When I bent at the waist, his hand flinched towards his sword. Everyone in the room saw it.
I gave Anton a deep bow, one reserved for empresses and kings. When I was finished, I looked him in the eye and said, "I am not your enemy, but I can be if that is your wish."
Then I turned and walked out, half expecting Anton to attack while my back was facing him. When I reached the door, returning to the chill air, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter Eighteen
While we waited for Rowan and the others to return, I tried to keep a low profile but not appear to be plotting against Anton. I'd meant what I said to him, that I wasn't his enemy, but I didn't think he believed me.
So rather than stay in the small house with Ana, I spent my time in the great hall. I sat in the back, at the tables with the least of his crimson-coated warriors, thus indicating my station.
Anton was annoyed at first, constantly glancing in my direction, expecting some subterfuge or plotting, but I kept to myself, not even talking with his warriors. After a few days, he stopped noticing me.
It was better this way, to hide in the open. It was easier to imagine less nefarious plans if you could see the person. If I'd waited in the house, Anton would have conjured ideas about what I was doing, until he sent his warriors to drag me out of the house.
The other advantage was that I got to observe him, his warriors, and his wife Senyana. The relationship between the two of them was not bound by love. He barely looked upon her, except when she brought their child, a boy of four.
Ana spent most of her time outside of the hall, performing the duties of a shaman, whatever those were. Sometimes, when she chanced to be in the room and not paying attention, Anton watched her. He still had feelings for her, which left me conflicted.
Koryak was absent too, except for one day when he appeared at Anton's side, though I had not seen him enter the hall. His lips were stained black, leaking onto his chin as if he'd been drinking ink.
I'd been carving a scrimshaw turtle out of a hunk of bone with a sharp knife, being careful not to nick my thumb. I watched the exchange out of the corner of my eye.
Anton was drunk, as he frequently was in the hall. Since they could not hunt without being attacked by the Nenet's airship, they spent their time drinking and telling stories.
Koryak was trying to tell Anton something important, but the khan would have none of it. He kept angrily shaking his head and saying something. Finally, he spoke loud enough that I could hear.
"Stop your skulking around and entertain us, shaman. It is winter in Siberia and the time for stories. Awe us with your magic," said Anton, waving his hand around drunkenly.
"But the wolves," said Koryak, clearly meaning the shadow ones that hunted magic.
Anton shook his head. "We've had no reports of them for a week. They've gone hunting somewhere else. Maybe even those traitors, the Nenets. I'm bored. Entertain us."
"But khan—"
"I said entertain us, worm!" shouted Anton, slamming his fist on the armrest. The rest of the room fell silent.
Koryak hesitated, clearly not wanting to dare the wolves, but when Anton stood and started to draw his sword, the shaman relented, holding up his hands and moving to the front of the dais.
The slight shaman touched his lips as he closed his eyes. Then he held his hand out, palm facing the warriors. His eyes flashed open, revealing blackness. The whites had been covered.
Suddenly, in the middle of the room, the ghostly figure of an older warrior appeared. He had dark black hair that swept to his shoulders and wore elk furs marred by damage from old battles. His weathered, wrinkled face was painted with white lines that had clearly been smeared by his own finger.
The warriors reacted instantly, pounding their fists and mugs approvingly against the tables.
A shout pierced the room as Anton stood up and clubbed Koryak over the head with his fist, crumpling the shaman to the floor. Even before he hit the ground, Anton kicked Koryak in the ribs.
"I told you, never show that old fool again!" said Anton.
A few of the other warriors rushed up and dragged away Koryak, who was sputtering and coughing, the effect of the kick clear on his woozy face.
The festive mood of the room had been spoiled. Anton stood with fists at his sides, glaring at his warriors before crashing back onto his throne and messily drinking from a mug, spilling half of it on his chest.
I wisely kept my gaze on the floor, not wanting to draw attention at this delicate moment. I wanted to rush back and find Ana to learn what had happened and how Koryak had conjured the vision of that old man that I assumed was his grandfather by the resemblance.
When Anton was passed out, head bobbing, I left the hall and found Ana. She was sitting on the porch of a withered old woman with no teeth. The old woman cackled upon my approach and slapped her knee, saying something about how I could not be Ana's mother because of how young I looked.
I apologized for interrupting and pulled Ana away to explain what happened. Her face grew dark.
"The drinking is getting worse. I've seen bruises on Senyana's arms. He nearly beat one of his warriors to death last winter," she said.
"But what about Koryak's grandfather? How did he make the old man appear in the middle of the room?" I asked.
"That wasn't Koryak's grandfather, but his father, the previous khan," said Ana.
"I thought the khan and his son had been killed by the dragon, or airship, I guess," I said.
"Koryak is a bastard from another woman. The khan was his father, but no one expected him to challenge for leadership of the tribe," she said.
"Then how did he make his image appear?" I asked.
"The shaman magic. He can project what is in his mind," she said.
Something bothered me about the shaman magic. I put my hand on Ana's arm. "That doesn't sound like earth magic. This is something new, isn't it?"
She glanced at my hand but did not pull away. She nodded slowly, almost embarrassed.
"I can show you when they're all asleep," she said.
"Only a few were conscious when I left. Is there something in the khan's hall?" I asked.
She would not meet my gaze. "Beneath."
We went back to the hall. Most of the torches providing light in the village had dimmed or gone out completely. A darkness hung in the chilly cavern as if a malevolent force waited to dig its claws into us.
Inside the hall, the fire crackled and men snored. Anton had gone back to his room. As we crept across the hard floor, we heard retching from the corner. The young warrior with a splint on his arm was on his hands and knees, vomiting up the contents of his stomach in noisy splashes.
Behind the dais, my daughter lifted a trapdoor. The scent of wet earth mixed with a tinge of madness tickled my nose. Ana grabbed a lantern from the wall, and we descended into the cold ground, breath condensing into mist.
Timbers held back the soil except in some sections which had pushed through creating brown, frozen stalagmites. We came to a door made with iron. The edges bled orange from rot.
Ana produced a key. The door squeaked open, and I almost ran back up top wh
en the smell hit me. It smelled like cinnamon and cabbage that had decayed to liquid.
Ana flared the lantern. My eyes took a moment to adjust before I could see the room in full. On the far side, chained to a wall, was an emaciated Uthlaylaa. The creature's normally gray skin was ashen-white. Its head hung down and if I hadn't known better, I would have thought it was dead.
"This is how Koryak has magic," she said.
"I don't understand," I said, noticing a set of empty chains on either side of the Eater.
Ana touched her black lips, guilt-ridden eyes glancing towards the Uthlaylaa.
A gasp escaped my lips. "You drink its blood?"
Ana flinched at the inflection of distaste in my voice. "Only rarely since I have other magics to rely upon. But Koryak drinks frequently."
"You should not do this. This is wrong," I said. "And the Uthlaylaa. The Eaters. They are dangerous, even to keep as a prisoner."
I thought of the red mist that had caused so much damage in the hut. And of the memory worms that they'd put on Ben and I back in Philadelphia.
"I don't like it either," said Ana. "But the magic we've gained from it has saved the tribe countless times. We would all be dead already if it weren't for this."
I put my hand to my mouth in disbelief. I had no love for the creatures, but to keep one in a dark room and drink its blood was madness.
"No good can come of this," I said, and took a step towards the creature.
Ana moved into the way, putting a hand on my chest. "I'm showing you this so you can better understand."
"Understand the monster you have become?"
My words were like a blow to Ana's face. She blinked, her face turning blank.
"A monster who has survived," she said in a low voice as hard as steel.
We faced off, the tension revealing the old scars that had not gone away as we'd hoped. In her forward stance, shoulders back, she blamed me. Blamed me for pushing her away. I could see it in her defiance. She thought I might bless this arrangement because she'd seen me as a cold, calculating political player.
Which had been true when I was a member of the court. But now? I hoped I was different. But how many times would I have to pass this test? How many times would I have to turn away from my past?
With no further word, I left the pit and returned to my temporary house, shaken by what had transpired. I did not sleep that night.
Chapter Nineteen
Rowan Blade arrived a week later with Ben Franklin, Brassy, her guardian, Harvest, and three bewildered Yarans. Haida looked the least affected by the journey, which wasn't a surprise now that I knew why she had a Uthlaylaa hand around her neck.
The Yarans ignored Franklin and Brassy. The name Benjamin Franklin meant nothing to them, and Brassy's glass arm was hidden by the thick fur coat she wore. I was pleased to see they looked healthy.
The massive guardian Harvest drew considerable interest from the Yarans. He'd ducked through the doorway, his head almost scraping the rafters. A few chairs skidded away from him. Other warriors stood, looking around, unsure if he was an enemy.
Anton stood up, hands on his hips, a wide smile on his face.
"When you said you had allies, I had no idea you were bringing a giant," he said, laughing. "With him we could take down an army."
Rowan sashayed to the front, wearing a dark dress showing ample cleavage, a style more appropriate to a Paris theater than an ice cave in the middle of Siberia.
"He's my guardian," she said. "Taking down an army would be a waste of his talents."
Anton eyed the big man, the sudden realization that he'd let this beast into his village apparent on his face. He dismissed his warriors, who hesitated before they filed out, concerned we might cause their khan harm.
"Now we're all here," said Anton after everyone had left, hiding his previous concerns. "What shall we do?"
Ben Franklin strode to the front, looking swallowed by his furs. He winked at me before he addressed the khan.
"I've been thinking about that on our way here, once Rowan explained the situation," he said in the Yaran language, another gift from Rowan. "I have a few ideas. But first, did you learn anything about the dragon?"
I explained what we'd found on our expedition east. That the cloud dragon was really an airship was welcome news.
Franklin quirked a smile as he spoke. "This revelation plays in our favor. It is much easier to understand the mind of men, rather than a mythical beast. During the journey here, Haida explained the layout of the Aerie."
Haida blushed when Franklin's gaze fell upon her. I sensed there had been more than a little "discussion" in the hut, which brought a tinge of jealousy. I wasn't sure why I felt that way since Ben and I had never been romantic. He'd been more of a wiser older brother, or revered teacher, rather than anything that involved the meeting of sweaty flesh.
Franklin continued explaining, which for the most part, was for my benefit since everyone else knew about the Aerie.
The Aerie was an impenetrable natural fortress amid the mountains east of Ice Lake. When the tribes had been united, the Aerie was used as a protective base that couldn't be assailed by any sized force. Even back in the days when the Golden Horde spread across the land of Rus, the Aerie had stayed untouched. When the great khans realized they couldn't take the Aerie, they left, only bothering the tribes if they ventured too far from its safety.
The Aerie couldn't be reached by a path. Long ago, some hearty souls had climbed the cliffs and installed a manual lift worked with pulleys. In the days of the united tribes, oxen provided the energy required to move the platform up the cliff. Now, given the knowledge of the steam-powered airship, we assumed they used mechanical means to move the lift.
Once up the cliff, there were still additional means of protection to get past. A narrow canyon stretched between the cliff and the village. It'd been created by a waterfall in ancient times when the snows melted enough to form moving water. At the end of the canyon, a gate had to be overcome while rocks, arrows, and bullets rained down.
The village was composed of a couple of hundred warriors, which meant that any attack force, even if they could commandeer the lift, would be easily overwhelmed before reinforcements could make their way up the lift.
It was clear why the great khans had left the Aerie. But if even a massive horde couldn't touch it, how did Ben think we could defeat them?
"What about the hut?" I asked when Ben paused. "Couldn't we use it to reach the Aerie without having to risk the cliffs?"
Rowan smoothed out the ruffles of her skirt, her grin indicating she'd expected this question. "I tried to reach the Aerie before I came here. A powerful presence blocks the hut, just as the Great One does here."
"So there is a dragon," I said sullenly, realizing I would have to face the beast after all.
Franklin clapped his hands softly. "Do not fear, Kat. Better that we face it upon land than in the sky."
Koryak spoke up. "So it could have been the dragon that attacked us on the way here?"
"I suppose it's possible, but that means we must prepare for both an airship and a dragon," I said with a sigh.
Brassy appeared beside me, rubbing my back. "I'm here to help."
"For that I thank you," I said. "Though I do not wish to see you hurt so soon after recovering from our last adventure."
A bit of darkness passed through Brassy's eyes, but she pushed it away.
"Tell us your plan, Ben?" I asked.
Ben Franklin turned to Anton. "I understand your warriors brought back a load of furs for the winter, for replacing old clothing and patching hide tents."
Anton crossed his arms. "Our stores are low, and it wasn't a good harvest."
"Yes," said Ben. "Well, I need all of them. Every last one. Including any you have that can be repurposed."
Anton's gaze fell upon Haida as he realized where the information about the furs had come from. Haida was reduced by his searing look.
"I was the one that
told him about the furs," said Rowan nonchalantly. "Don't blame her."
"Fine," he said. "But why should I hand them over? My people need clothes. You can't venture into the Siberian winter without the proper precautions. Without those furs, we'll freeze to death on foraging expeditions."
"My apologies, khan. We must have them if we're going to succeed," said Ben.
"And if you don't?" he asked, a hard edge to his voice.
"You aren't going to survive much longer anyway," said Ben. "Everyone here knows it. The Nenet are wearing you away to nothing. If you don't strike now, there won't be anything left."
Anton looked away, lips squeezed to a thin line. Pain wrinkled his forehead. He wasn't used to failure.
"What else do you need?" he asked, his face turned to the mask of a soldier.
Ben opened his mouth, but paused. "You have to leave, Kat."
"Why?" I asked.
Ben shared a glance with Rowan. "We talked about it on the way here. What's in your head is too dangerous."
"But there's been no prophecy," I said. "It's been silent. Nothing at all."
"And how long will that last?" he asked. "It's a precaution we must take. If you're gifted with a vision, then everything we do will be cast in that light. Remember your gifts came from the Gamayun, who had nothing but chaos in mind."
"Am I to sit on my hands while you put yourselves in danger?" I asked, my voice cracking.
The smoke in the room seemed to catch in my throat. I found it hard to breathe.
"Kat. Do not mistake me. We'll need you when we go, but we do not want to chance complications," he said.
"So you'll leave me in the dark until you throw me at the dragon, hoping I can kill it?" I asked.
"We'll tell you the plan, but only at the last moment, when it's too late for the prophecy to change us," he said as he spread his hands. "You said it yourself: a strong will can change a prophecy."
"That was Rowan," I replied.
"Wise words, just the same," he said.
When no one spoke another word, I realized they were waiting for me to leave. As a former princess of the Russian court, I did not let this change upset me, visibly at least, and strode out of the hall with my shoulders back and my chin held high. But even famously stoic princesses have feelings, and when I returned to the run-down cottage that was my abode, I curled on the bed and cried myself to sleep.
Dragons of Siberia (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 7) Page 9
