Compelled

by Shawntelle Madison

  I got nothing.

  Yep, that’s dirt and it’s as disgusting as I imagined.

  Other than that initial feeling, I drop-kicked what I usually worried about into a steel trap and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  Listen this time, Tamara would tell me. Say the words and believe them ‘cause you don’t have a choice in the matter.

  I waited and waited. It will come, I reminded myself. I didn’t dare move.

  And that was the key.

  Something tugged at my fingertips from the east. I wasn’t sure about the mileage or whether I’d have to break into a building to get to the jump point, but I’d sure as hell do anything necessary.

  The march east was long, taking me back into Russia. Walking all alone, with no cellphone for direction, felt strange, but I kept going, one foot in front of the other. By the time the sun began to set, the vibrations turned into a rough yank along my arm.

  I was close. The forest at twilight cast too many unfamiliar shadows. The noises here weren’t familiar.

  Caw caw.

  The chorus from a flock of crows joined the crickets.

  A branch snapped behind me, but I didn’t turn around. My hand touched the goblin blade on my hip for reassurance. A hum resonated from the blade’s hilt and vibrated in my palm. With the wind blowing into my face, I didn’t have the advantage of being downwind. I kept walking. Was my mate foolish enough to follow me or had I stirred up another kind of trouble?

  My steps quickened as the rumble of broken brush kept following me. I reached for the nearest pine tree, its pungent scent growing stronger as I pressed my body against it.

  The warning signal from my blade bounced off my side like a painful slap. The sensation was jarring to say the least. The sounds of water falling along rocks sounded louder. My stride turned into a full-out run. The wolf in me urged me to run faster. Footsteps came from the far right now, too.

  I leapt over a rock formation and landed with a roll on the other side. The forest opened into a clearing, exposing a cloudless sky and a peppering of bright stars. Instead of taking in the beautiful sight, I made a run for it toward what called to me, a single pine tree in the middle of the field. The need to look behind me was strong, but I ignored it. Only a damn fool would check behind them to see what was about to tackle them and potentially eat them for lunch.

  By the time I sprinted to the middle of the field, my pursuers had to be no more than ten feet or so behind me. My thoughts bounced around my head, but one in particular rang true: whatever you plan to do, you better make it fast.

  As I approached the tree, it bounced up and down in my vision as I ran. I extended my hand reaching and hoping that by the time I collided with it, I would figure out whatever mystery Nick had known and I would teleport.

  The vibrations increased with each step. I was almost there. The pine filled my nostrils. In one inhale, I hit the tree hard. But instead of bouncing backward, which the laws of physics dictate should happen to geniuses who run into trees, I continued forward, every limb twitching as something pulsed through me. My tongue rattled around my mouth as something built quickly in my belly and spread outwards.

  I was flung from one place to another and landed with a hard thud on the ground. Twilight became day and the sand on my hands—and in my mouth—told me I’d gone a lot farther than I intended.

  The open sky as far as my sharp eyes could see was a vivid blue with flecks of white clouds. No more than ten feet or so from me, waves rolled onto a white-sand beach. Somehow, I jumped from a dense forest to a single palm tree sitting near the shore. In the distance, I spotted tropical vegetation waving with the breeze.

  It was all so refreshingly beautiful.

  I even laughed a bit. Hadn’t I told Thorn I wanted to visit the beach? Maybe even the Virgin Islands? Not like this, though.

  The wind whipped my hair about as I managed to stand. Sand clung to my clothes, but I reminded myself I was alive. I had teleported. I’d done something I’d only seen spellcasters do.

  I turned and glanced at the tree where I’d come from. Not a single thing grew near the beautiful palm. Only the seashells kept the tree company. My watch said it was nine p.m. on the dot, yet it had to be at least midday. Quite a jump forward in time.

  The sounds of movement pricked my senses along the tropical tree line. I darted to what little cover I had and pressed my back against the rough, still vibrating surface of the tree.

  One voice whispered, then another responded.

  “Is someone there?” one man asked. They spoke Russian, but the words were older in origin—like Old English. Once in a while, Grandma slid into speaking Old Church Slavic, her mother tongue and a precursor to the modern Russian language. I knew enough bits and pieces to understand what they said.

  “I can smell the female.” The second voice came from farther down the beach.

  My mouth opened and snapped shut. What could I even say? I peeked around the tree and didn’t see anyone, but I could hear them. Branches rustled from one spot and then another.

  The wind shifted and I sensed someone behind me. So they played the diversion game, eh? I palmed the goblin blade, which had been silent on my hip. Why hadn’t it changed to a new form? By now, its Spiderman-like warning system had become rather handy.

  I looked up to face my attacker—only to discover I should’ve looked down. An amber-haired, burly man, who, by far, wasn’t as tall as my massive father, pointed a spear in my direction and stared me down.

  His brown-eyed gaze flicked to my weapon. “That maiden’s blade wouldn’t even open one of these hairy fruits on the beach,” he said in Old Russian.

  The wind brought his scent to me and fed information without words: he was a werewolf, he was about my age, and his health was good.

  His clothes screamed that he was either a historical period reenactor or I’d taken a very wrong turn during my jump. Something about the way his long-sleeved, white shirt reached his knees and the fitting of his red trousers made me pause.

  “Good day to you,” was all I managed.

  He glanced at the tree, and then took in my jacket, jeans, and backpack. “What kind of old magic is this?”

  “I-I was in one place and now I’m here,” I stammered.

  Three other werewolves cautiously approached us from down the beach.

  “That’s what happened to us, but how as a werewolf did you do it? My friends and I have been trapped here for over five thousand moons.”

  Holy shit. I did the rough mental math: around 400 years. Dread shot into my gut. Was I trapped here, too?

  “Blazh, it wasn’t an accident,” the tallest one claimed. He marched right up to us and his violet eyes formed slits at the man he called Blazh. “You were trying to send us to Kyjev before we were ready.”

  Kyjev was an older name for Kiev, the capital of the Ukraine. That definitely dated them.

  Blazh made a rude snort. “You and your brother always drag your feet—”

  “Don’t bring Radomir into this again,” the tall man snapped. He pushed a man with similar features back. That must’ve been his brother Radomir.

  “Oh, shut your mouth, Dragomir! We were this close to finding a new master, but you always hold us back!” Blazh said.

  “Hold us back?” Dragomir growled and closed in on Blazh. “We’ve been held back for endless moons on this forsaken sand-covered oven thanks to you!”

  They continued to argue, and I glanced to the fourth man, who gave a half-shrug as if to apologize. His narrow black eyes danced with amusement. While they went on, he bowed to me.

  “Greetings, lady. I’m Chestibor. These are my arguing companions.” He gave their names and pointed to them as Dragomir shoved Blazh to the ground. Fists flew as the two men swore. Radomir could do little to keep them apart.

  Chestibor just stood there.

  “Are you going to do anything?” I asked him.

  “I used to. Now I let them release their anger that way.” He l
ed me away a bit. “Are you an old magic master? We’ve seen countless wizards and warlocks arrive, but they left soon after.” He appeared so hopeful. Was I the first werewolf to come?

  “A master? Not at all. I’m a beginner.” I walked over to the tree and touched it. The vibrations I felt before weren’t as strong. “Why can’t you just leave like everyone else?”

  “We’ve tried countless times. It’s past the point in the day when the sun is in the middle of the sky. We even made a sundial, but it’s not that accurate. We only see others show up at that time.”

  “Noon,” I murmured. “So it only works then?”

  He nodded.

  The warm sun made me uncomfortable, so I shrugged off my jacket and pulled my hair into a ponytail.

  “You’re an acolyte like us.” Disappointment pushed Chestibor’s shoulders down, but he perked up when he spotted sweat gathering on my brow.

  “Do you have discomfort?” he asked. “We have a meager shelter in the woods.”

  Should I go off alone with this guy? Technically, he was still a stranger, but as I watched the other acolytes continue to fight like a bunch of rambunctious high school boys, I suspected I didn’t have many options.

  Either way, I had a maiden’s knife, and I was willing to gut any guys who got a little too friendly.

  So we left the beach and ventured into the jungle.

  What Chestibor had referred to as a “meager” hut was an expansive island hideaway with two stories, a covered patio, and even a creek as a fresh water source. I held back a laugh. They didn’t have windows, per se, but with all the time on their hands, they’d built something grand.

  “This is…amazing,” I blurted as we walked into what appeared to be a common room with a central fire pit. It was like visiting the set of one of those castaways-on-a-deserted-island movies like the Swiss Family Robinson.

  Everything set the scene, except for a far wall, filled with written words. They’d burned the words for spells into bark slabs and attached the pieces to the wall. Many phrases I recognized as the basics for manipulating the elements, but there were many longer spells I hadn’t seen or heard before.

  And they called themselves acolytes…

  “It isn’t much. I hope you like it.” The look that flashed across his face reflected a little interest. It had probably been a while since he’d seen the opposite sex.

  Time to make things crystal clear. “Whoa, there! I’ve got a mate, buddy.”

  “Who is buddy? My name is Chestibor.”

  “It’s what you can call someone other than their given name.” I sighed. “Don’t worry if I’m not making any sense. What I’m trying to say is that I have a mate back where I came from.”

  “That’s too bad.” He nodded with understanding.

  Chestibor offered me cool water, a coconut (the hairy fruit—ha), and some tasty fish jerky. They hit the spot after a long night—or should I say afternoon?

  The other guys joined us a bit later, one with a black eye and the other with a ghastly split lip. As werewolves, they’d heal soon enough, though. They settled into a routine, doing chores around me, only glancing my way once in a while.

  What else could I do until tomorrow at noon when the tree “activated?”

  A question came to mind as I finished my food. “Why haven’t you guys built a ship?”

  Radomir stopped what he was doing first. He was in the middle of braiding his long, brown hair. They all looked at each other, and it was Chestibor who spoke first. “We’re not too good at shipbuilding.”

  “The last three attempts never made it past the reef,” Dragomir said quietly.

  “Two shark attacks,” his brother Radomir added.

  Dragomir shook his right leg as if something dreadful had happened to it. “You mean three.”

  Radomir shuddered. “I’m trying to forget that attempt.”

  “Awww.” Poor guys.

  “Old magic can only do so much,” Blazh remarked. “We’ve cast countless spells, but none of them have helped us escape this prison.”

  I tried not to let their words sink in, but the feeling was there. Would I regret leaving Thorn behind for the years to come on this deserted island?

  The day stretched on into the late afternoon. Dragomir and his brother left with fishing poles while Chestibor had disappeared elsewhere. After Blazh finished gathering firewood, he settled next to the fire pit and mumbled to himself.

  At first, I thought he was crazy and talking to his imaginary friends, but I caught a few words in the ancient tongue.

  After some time, curiosity got the best of me, so I found a spot to sit nearby and asked, “What spell are you reciting?”

  “A special one.” He grinned. “For the longest of time we searched the land for a master, but we couldn’t find one. Luck found us when a traveling merchant told us of a legendary band of old magic spellcasters. During Batu-Khan’s invasion they had been called to Kyjev to offer reinforcements for the wizards stationed there.”

  “Fascinating.” I’d never heard of these people before.

  “They never made it, though, and Batu-Khan destroyed Kyjev. Legend says there was deception of some kind in their ranks, and, somehow, they were imprisoned.”

  “Where?”

  “To the northwest of Kyjev. I don’t know if the site is still there, since so much time has passed, but my friends and I wanted to set them free. We thought maybe they would be grateful and teach us what we’ve wanted to learn for so long.”

  A sliver of hope pulsed through me at that moment, but I tried to ignore it. Blazh’s tale could be what he called it: a legend and nothing more. But what if they really existed? What if there were werewolf spellcasters who had the strength and bravery to face an army as formidable as Batu-Khan’s?

  Blazh continued. “In preparation to set them free, I’ve been reciting a spell to manipulate the earth to pull them from their prison.”

  “Amazing. Can you teach it to me?”

  He nodded and began again, tapping his knees with each syllable.

  “Ndinae kodo maeda maeda…”

  The spell went on and on, and I had the impression there was no end to it, yet when that first word came up again, I recognized it since he always said it with flourish.

  After some time I couldn’t resist smiling. “You’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

  “We’ve practiced simple spells, but we banded together in the hope that we’d find a proper master.”

  “I’ve had the same problem,” I admitted. I told him about my husband’s curse and how my grandma and Tamara were the only old folks who knew anything.

  He was surprised at how much the attitude toward old magic had changed due to the Code.

  “So only women are interested in old magic now?” Blazh sputtered, his short torso stretched considerably. He still didn’t reach my chin, but his spirit towered over me.

  “Pretty much. My mate learned a thing or two, but he’s the only one I know.”

  We continued to chat and Blazh even tried to teach me a few more spells as the sun set. It was refreshing for once to have a kind teacher like Grandma.

  Dragomir and Radomir soon returned with our dinner: fresh fish. The hot coals in the fire pit crackled as Dragomir placed the fish on heated rocks. The enticing aroma floated over to me and I sighed.

  At noon tomorrow, I better get us out of here or I’d have many more dinners by the fireside.

  Chapter 16

  I was thrilled to leave. The acolytes not so much. How many times had they approached the tree filled with hope, only to walk away in defeat?

  How the hell was I supposed to get us all out of this? What did I know that they didn’t?

  Nick had told me there were all kinds of jump points. To travel from place to place, magical folks like fairies and other mystical beings, had punched a hole in the fabric of magic and these places had been what was left over.

  While the guys took their time to get here, I sat under the
tree’s shade. A few coconuts had fallen overnight, but I stepped around them. Blazh was the first to show up, but doubt touched his features. He probably expected me to become the island’s newest resident. The others followed, not carrying much with them except a weapon and a meager sack over their shoulders.

  I almost reached out and touched the rough bark, but I stopped and laughed. Hadn’t I gotten myself into trouble when I didn’t think things through last time? I hadn’t had a choice, but this time was different. If I remembered right, when Nick and I used a jump point that connected Jersey to New York, he hadn’t just touched the rock. He’d taken a moment to really pause before he did the deed. Maybe he thought about his destination. Perhaps it was that simple—along with the timing factor.

  Now all I needed to do was think about the nearest jump point to St. Petersburg so I could accomplish my next mission: contact the local packs and rally them to help me. I hesitated, thinking about what Blazh told me.

  What about the legend? Could I take them there to fulfill what they wanted to do, and, in turn, the old magic spellcasters could help me? My fists clenched in frustration. I didn’t want to make this choice right now. Thorn’s life hung in the balance if I got this wrong.

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

  “Natalya?” Blazh said.

  “Everything is fine,” I whispered. “If this tree does its job, we’ll reach Kiev in no time.”

  So I had made my decision.

  But what if there wasn’t a jump point near Kiev?

  Damn it! Don’t think that way!

  I’d have to take that chance.

  “It’s almost time, Natalya,” Chestibor said. The sundial must read noon. I checked my wristwatch. The hour was wrong, but the timing to the minute was accurate. We didn’t have long to wait.

  “Everyone take each other’s hands,” I instructed. “Blazh, grab the bag on my back and hold on tight.”

  Once everyone had a good grip to form a chain, I placed my hand on the smooth sand near the base of the tree. The pull was there, growing stronger every second. The timing had to be damn near perfect. I looked at the watch again, staring intently. A gal like me made sure any timepiece I used was accurate to the second. Atomic clocks could be set with the damn thing.