by Taki Drake
Moving instinctively, the Witch ignored both her Magic and her blade, instead choosing something that would disrupt the blow immediately. In reflection, Zhanna realized later that if she had tried to delay enough to throw a spell or draw her knife, Petra would have been injured, possibly killed. Her immediate response saved Petra from that injury and had the advantage of moving the Witch out of the way of the swing that would have skewered her back on the blade of the second attacker.
Zhanna’s shout had warned Petra, and the Guardian spun in time for her enemy to come crashing down at her feet, disrupted by the unexpected blow from the Witch. Ignoring Zhanna’s nearby sprawled body, the Guardian grabbed their opponent by the head and swung his body to smash into the second attacker. This creature had recovered from his missed lunge at Zhanna and was charging forward. Thinking to take advantage of the vulnerable Witch, the second enemy never saw the blow that hammered him sideways and into the ground. Zhanna heard the audible crack of bones as Petra’s improvised weapon hit with great force.
For the skeletal being that had been used as a weapon, the result could only be death. The sickening snap of bones and the limpness of the body as it collapsed onto the ground when Petra released the neck, told Zhanna that one of their enemies had been defeated. However, this battle was not over. Her mind started to clear, and she could feel her body once again. Reminding herself to learn better ways of disabling an opponent as soon as possible, the young Witch reached out a hand and let Petra pull her to a standing position.
The screech of an enraged cat bellowed out, rattling the maze walls and sending Zhanna scrambling forward. Her Familiar was under attack, and she wasn’t going to rest while that was happening. The sight that met her concerned view drew a rush of Magic once more as fiery light licked out from her hands and forearms.
Dascha was pinned between two of the creatures, one with another glowing staff and the second with a web covered in small crescents of metal. From the evidence that Zhanna could see, the mesh had been dropped from above. Parts of it were snagged in Dascha’s fur with a splattering of blood on the ground to show the presence of hooks. The rest of the net flopped free, creating a constant danger to Dascha’s mobility and giving her attackers a clear advantage.
The giant cat spun with tremendous speed, catching the enemy with the staff by the shoulder and dragging it toward her. Only a desperate lurch of his body kept the skeletal creature from destruction. He tore free of Dascha’s claws and bounced against the vegetation of the wall. Undeterred, he grasped his staff more securely and returned to the melee.
Snarling her fury and defiance, Zhanna reached for her Magic and fried the web of the net to ashes in a corruscation of fire-tinged light. The power flowed from her hands and enveloped the entire surface of the mesh. Sensing that Petra was guarding her back, Zhanna moved toward the remaining attackers in the sliding glide that Stefan had drilled into her subconscious.
The two creatures were now caught between the Familiar and Witch. The skeletal creatures moved so that their backs were against the opposite walls of the maze. The one with the staff spun it in an intricate pattern of arcs and whirls, leaving a trail of glowing lines in the air. Zhanna could feel the draw of that pattern and shouted a warning to her companions, “Don’t look at the light! He’s trying to mesmerize you and make you vulnerable to his blows.”
Yanking her eyes away from the staff wielder for a split instant, the young Witch could see that the other enemy had pulled what looked like a shell horn out of his belt. He was just raising it to his mouth, and his lips were pursed to blow air. Operating on intuition, Zhanna’s free hand snapped to the blade at her belt, sending it flying with a sharp flick of her wrist. A split second later, the knife pierced the shell, sinking its tip into the mouth of the wielder releasing a spray of viscous fluid.
The attacker with the staff let out one short disbelieving scream, and the world seemed to come apart in a pair of explosions that ripped the very breath out of Zhanna’s lungs and launched her through the air. Desperate to protect her companions, Zhanna flung what shielding she could over her Familiar and the Guardian. Just before her own body smashed into an unyielding wall, Zhanna thought, This is going to hurt.
<< <> >>
Zhanna woke to a sense of déjà vu. Here she was again, body aching and exhausted. The places in her brain where her Magic normally lay were sore and stretched feeling. Intensifying the impression that she had been here before, Dascha’s purr surrounded her and the warmth of her Familiar’s fur was soft against her skin.
<< Time to wake up, dearling. You certainly need to open your eyes enough to see what your redecorating has done. >>
Fumbling her hand up against her face to wipe the grit from her eyes, the young Witch slowly and carefully sat up. It took a while for her eyes to focus, but when they did Zhanna gasped in astonishment at the devastation around her before exclaiming in protest at the sharp pain that resulted.
“Ribs bruised, not broken. Good fall! Next time, shield first.”
Zhanna responded shakily, “You are absolutely correct, Petra. That is what happens when you get the order wrong.”
<< We survived. That means that we didn’t fail. It also allows us to learn from what happened and do it differently next time. >>
<< You are right, but forgive me if right now the idea of doing it again is not terribly appealing. I suppose we have the rest of the maze to go through before we can be done. >>
<< What maze? >>
Reminded of her surroundings, Zhanna looked at the area in which she lay. As far as she could see there were pieces and parts of the hedge and ripped vegetation. Scattered in and out of the debris, Zhanna could see bits of bodies and carvings, rock and artifacts.
“What happened?!”
An amused voice answered her, saying, “It appears that I owe Mazza an apology. I thought she was exaggerating when she talked about how greatly your powers had grown. I didn’t believe that the blending of the teaching you are getting from the spectral mentors in Blagogarsk, Mazza’s Witchcraft, and my Sorcery would produce such interesting results.”
Strolling into view, the Sorcerer, Roz was smiling as he spoke. He seemed immensely amused at the situation, and strangely pleased. The man was accompanied by an older Mongolian woman of slight stature who took one look around and then focused on the exhausted Witch and her Familiar.
The older woman’s expression was sad, and her eyes were gentle in a face that proclaimed her heritage. The traces of great beauty were still present, overlaid by the passage of time and the tracks of unfathomable loss. The young woman’s appearance appeared to startle the Sorcerer’s companion, stopping her abruptly in her tracks and halting her guide. He looked down at her and said, “I believe I mentioned her tendency toward enthusiasm.”
The woman remained silent but glanced searchingly at Zhanna and Dascha before releasing the Sorcerer’s arm and waving a brief goodbye. The young Witch’s strangled, half-formed question was cut off when the woman dissolved into a speckled splash of light. Roz smiled with great satisfaction and resumed his stroll toward the young woman still lying on the ground.
“This is certainly one way of passing a test. I think next time I’m going to have to create a stronger testbed.”
Zhanna was speechless, staring first at Roz and then at the area where the Mongolian woman had stood just a short time before. The young woman could smell the sharp, acrid odor of torn vegetation and the metallic taste of blood was thick in her throat. Overloaded and overwhelmed, the young Witch was incapable of speech momentarily, forced to just look at the Sorcerer numbed confusion.
Realizing her condition, the man briefly clasped her shoulder and said, “Well done. Crude, but effective. We definitely have to work on your finesse.” Turning to her companions, all friendly aspect was wiped away from his face as he ordered them in the voice of ultimate command, “Take her back to the campsite and allow her to rest. Do not move on until she’s recovered.”
C
hapter 29 – Rest and Quick Recovery
Most mornings Zhanna woke with a cheerful frame of mind and a rested body. This dawn was different. The first clue was the difficulty that she had in convincing herself that she needed to move, or even that she wanted to. It felt to the young woman that she had gotten no sleep at all, with muscles still aching from the previous day and eyes that felt like they had sand inside of the lids. Coming to a sitting position with a groan, the Witch was conscious of the battered state of her body.
<< I feel like I’ve been used as a punching bag, or perhaps somebody’s horse ran over me. >>
<< That’s a pretty good explanation of what happened yesterday. Or don’t you remember? >>
With that question, the events of the previous day came flooding back into Zhanna’s mind. She snapped to a bolt upright position, moaning at the sharp pain that started at her lower back and slipped around her ribs like the hand of a cruel god. << Oh no! Did I really tell off one of the gods? I can’t believe I called him a two-year-old having a tantrum! >>
<< It was undoubtedly a first in my experience, and I’m pretty sure it was also one for even Mazza. Although she looked proud of you at the end, for a while there her expression was more like watching someone slip into insanity. >>
<< I’m sure you felt the same way. It must have appeared that I was going off the cliff and you were watching me fall. >>
<< No, dearling, I was right there with you. Wherever you go, I go. >>
Feeling like an ancient woman, Zhanna climbed painfully to her feet and got dressed. She could hear people talking on the outside of the tent and knew that the day would bring big changes that could not be delayed.
Every move hurt. Each time the young Witch lifted her arms, it felt like someone was stabbing her ribs with a ragged knife. Even her breathing sent shockwaves of molten fire down her sides and into her knees. Every time Zhanna’s feet hit the ground, the ache drove up through her core muscles and echoed a hollow throbbing against the back of her skull.
Dascha watched her Witch slowly get dressed and readied herself for the day. Zhanna could feel the concern that came across the bond, reassuring her and blanketing as much of the pain and weakness as the cat could manage.
<< What happened to your arm? >> Dascha’s mental voice was sharp and abrupt enough that Zhanna quit moving, other than to turn her head and looked at her Familiar.
<< My arm? My arm is fine. Why do you ask? >>
<< I can see lines on the lower part of your arms, right below your elbows. They are glowing a little bit, but only to my other sight. >>
Zhanna looked down at her right arm in surprise. At first, she didn’t see anything wrong or different about her forearm, but the longer that she looked at it, the more she could see a very faint tracing of a curving pattern under her skin. Poking the flesh with her left forefinger, the young Witch realized that the area was not especially painful, nor did it feel any different.
It seemed to Zhanna that the lines might be a type of writing. Trying to focus on those lines and images wasn’t working. Every time the young woman started to make sense out of them, the tracing would get misty as if it were actively resisting her observation. Shrugging, she resolved to watch and see if something further developed. Deciding that the urgency of the day would force her to delay further investigation, Zhanna once more focused on getting herself ready to start their travel and strategic positioning.
<< <> >>
Less than 30 minutes after Zhanna emerged from her tent, their team was on the road again. There had been very little talk around the campfire as they hurried through their breakfast. The Hidden Folk were visibly tense and anxious to find out how their friends and families had feared in the few days they had been gone. Zhanna and the mercenaries were considerate, not insulting them by needless conversation and meaningless platitudes.
As the armored vehicle carried them closer to the destination, Zhanna announced, with a firm tone and determined posture, “I do not know what today and tomorrow will bring. We will do all we can to rescue and protect those that you have left behind. I stand by my oath, both because I gave my word and because I know that this is right. Should this effort cause me to fall, Stefan and the rest of the team will do their best to carry out my vow.”
<< Very well done, my Witch. >>
The atmosphere inside of the vehicle felt different. Zhanna’s statement of intent and rededication to the rescue of their families had visibly affected the Hidden Folk. The young Witch was also conscious of repeated glances from the mercenaries in the car. She had seen Mikhail glancing up several times at her using the rearview mirror. Tolya, who was riding in the passenger seat beside him had turned completely around and was staring at her, mouth slightly agape.
Confused, the young Witch looked up to realize that Pavel, Kasha, and Stefan were also looking at her intensely. The range of expressions on their faces added to her confusion. Stefan had a small smile, and she got the sense that he was proud of her. Pavel and Kasha, however, were staring at her in encompassing shock. The younger mercenary’s face showed astonishment and disbelief in equal measure. Contrastingly, the subcommander’s expression combined amazement and a hint of challenge
<< Why are they staring at me, Dascha? >>
<< I think it’s because you didn’t say anything about staying within the terms of a contract. You talked about keeping your word and doing something because it was right. Can you remember anyone talking like that, anyone at all, other than your grandmother? >>
Zhanna thought for a while, but could not recall ever having heard said heard someone saying that they were going to act because it was correct or just right. Instead, small, predatory behaviors were explained by phrases like “it’s just business” or the assertation that it was up to the other person to protect themselves. Perhaps that was one of the reasons that she had never truly felt comfortable with many of the other villagers. Deep inside, she had always been uncomfortable with that stance. She had always known that there was a different way to act, a different way to guide behavior.
There have been many times as a young girl that Zhanna had cried herself to sleep because of her lack of friends. As a child, she realized that if she disagreed with her peers that she would be left out, pushed to the side as someone who was less important. However, an innate stubbornness and belief in the value of what she had been taught by her grandmother and reinforced by her brother, had kept her to her chosen path.
When the other young women in the village had been courted, and no one had even shown mild interest in her, Zhanna had both wept and raged, “Why does no one want me, Baba? Am I too ugly or not skilled enough in the things that men desire in a wife?” She still remembered both the hug that had comforted her and the words that helped her find a bright beacon for her own behavior.
“I have seen your path, child, and it is not an easy one. However, your spirit would wither and die in a pairing such as offered in this village. You will find your own place, your own fit. It just needs to come from a greater distance. Be patient, my little one. It takes time, distance, and effort to travel to find the one or ones that are right for you.”
“Is that what happened to you, Baba? Did it take time for you and Grandfather to find each other?”
“Your Ded and I had a long time to wait and a vast distance to travel before we could find each other. Without that, I’m not sure we could have even appreciated what an amazing bond we would have.”
“Was it worth it? It has been so many years since his death. Sometimes, I see you when your cheeks are wet, and your eyes are red. I know from your expression that you’re missing him. I can also tell when your heart aches for the loss of my mother and father. Were all of the journeys and struggles worth it?”
“They were and continue to be. The joy and brightness that Lya brought to my life are impossible to wipe out by his death.”
Zhanna still remembered her younger self wistfully hoping that sometime she too would have a person in her
life or an avocation that would make all of the difficulties seem worthwhile. With a half-swallowed chortle, the young Witch realized that the cherished hope of her youth had come true. She had a relationship with someone that she could depend on, someone who was bonded to her at a profound level. And she had a cause. Something to believe in.
<< I think your grandmother was right, and you are just beginning to see exactly how clear her foresight was. Consider this, would you have bonded with a Familiar if you had been the usual village girl? >>
<< No… I know with every fiber of my being that it has been worth the wait, and worth the tears and agonies that I lived through. The feeling that I was part of the village while not being of it, the many weddings that I attended, and the pitying looks from the other women as they celebrated marriages and births. >>
<< After all, where would you be without me to watch out for you? >>
<< Probably nibbled to death in my sleep by mice. >>
<< Brat! >>
Chapter 30 – Battle Nerves
Stefan had insisted on them stopping a kilometer and a half away from where he could best estimate the Hidden Folk had left their endangered group. They had agreed earlier that rather than starting out the rescue mission at the end of the day when the travelers were tired and low energy, that they would use the remainder of this day to scout the path of their mission and the conditions of the most likely battle scene.
Noma hoped that they would be able to make contact with at least some of the people they left behind. If they could, it would provide invaluable intelligence for what everyone knew would be a desperate battle.
