by N M Thorn
“I! AM! A GOOD! WITCH!” shouted the young woman.
She let go, dropping her mother on her bed like a worthless pile of rags and grabbed her pillow. For a moment she stared at the pillow in her hands, shaking with fury. Then she lowered the pillow down, pressing it over the face of her dying mother. The old woman thrashed feebly, struggling for the last breaths of her almost extinguished life. A couple of minutes later, she stilled, but Valeria was still holding the pillow over her face.
“I’m a good witch,” she kept repeating over and over, staring down at the body of her dead mother.
Circles spread over the mercurial liquid inside the crystal orb and the image disappeared. Aidan stood silent, horrified. Over thousands of years of his life he saw evil in all sorts of shapes and forms, and yet he felt shaken to the core by everything he just witnessed.
“Is that—?” he exhaled.
“Yes,” replied Gwyn ap Nudd. “That was the daughter of Countess Demidova. Valeria Demidova.”
“Did she—”
“Yes, she murdered her dying mother in cold blood,” said Gwyn ap Nudd. “And this woman is the mage you’re dealing with. The mage you will have to face soon in battle. Your adversary.”
Aidan swallowed hard, staring at his mentor. “How did you come by this… whatever this was?”
“A memory. It was someone’s memory,” said Gwyn ap Nudd, twirling the crystal orb in his fingers. “Someone stored it in the Destiny Council archives.”
Aidan rested his forehead against the cold surface of the window and sighed. “Father, you have no idea how much I wish to be home right now.” Even though he loved and respected his mentor as father, he hardly ever called him that.
“Aidan,” Gwyn ap Nudd called him, a sad smile hiding under his black mustache, “are you afraid of what’s coming, my boy? You can tell me, there is no shame in that. The Lord of Chaos is rising and stopping him is not going to be easy. The fight will be brutal and deadly. Not all of us will survive it. I know I’m terrified of what may happen if we lose this fight.”
Aidan dropped his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if I’m scared or angry or tired. I don’t think I feel anything at the moment. The Zmey will be rising on Samhain, Father… I was wondering if you would—”
“Wondering? You have to ask?” Gwyn ap Nudd chuckled, running his fingers over the window that separated him from his son. “Count me in. Wouldn’t miss this fight for the world.”
Aidan smiled, feeling a slight relief from the knowledge that Gwyn ap Nudd will support them. Suddenly, he felt that the chain on his neck got warmer. Something buzzed in his ears and the world around him spun. The persistent ping of the summoning call was giving him a headache. He grunted and seized the chain on his neck ready to yank it off.
“Aidan, stop!” yelled Gwyn ap Nudd, slamming his massive fist against the window. “You can’t take this chain off! What you feel is a summoning call of the Guardians. You must go, my boy. Keep me updated on everything that’s going on.”
Aidan nodded and touched the mirror, closing the window. For a moment he saw his own reflection and shuddered. His face was glistening with sweat and his eyes were bloodshot from the splitting headache the summoning call was giving him.
He snapped his fingers and vanished from the dojang.
Chapter 23
~ Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz ~
Kal’s portal took Gunz straight to the backyard of his Coral Springs house. Kal didn’t go with him and returned to Kendral. With surprise, Gunz found Mrak Delar sitting on the steps next to the backdoor. As soon as he walked out of the portal, Mrak got up and greeted him with a tired smile.
“Your guests are asleep,” said the Master of Power, opening the door and letting Gunz inside. “Karma is a handful, is she not?” He chuckled, putting a k-cup inside the coffeemaker and gesturing for Gunz to sit down.
“Thank you, Master,” said Gunz, sitting down. “Yeah, she’s complicated. I still don’t know who she is and what she was doing in the Land of Dreams. But she did save my life. More than once. And she is a fighter. With everything that’s going on, we need everyone who can wield magic and hold a sword or a gun.”
Mrak Delar touched the coffeemaker to speed up the process and a moment later placed a cup with steaming coffee in front of him. Gunz closed his eyes, inhaling the bitter-sweet scent of hot coffee. His body was healed, and his mind was more or less cleared, but he felt broken down. He took a sip of coffee and smiled at Mrak Delar over the rim of his cup.
“I missed it in the Dark Nav,” he said quietly. “Not only the coffee, but this”—he waved his hand around—“you know, just sitting in the kitchen and talking to a friend. Peace… as short-lived as it is. Mrak, thank you.”
Mrak Delar’s obsidian eyes warmed up and a light smile curved his full lips. Gunz observed his face with interest. The Ancient Master was almost three-hundred years old, but he didn’t look a day over thirty. With his raven-black long hair and attentive black eyes, he was the embodiment of a fairytale prince-charming, or at least a knight of King Arthur’s court.
Walking next to him on the streets of South Florida was always a challenge. People were stopping to gape openly at him. Women were turning around to do double-takes. Well, and some men too. His male-model worthy appearance was completed by a charming but complex personality and manners of a medieval knight.
Gunz always liked and respected Mrak Delar, but he never forgot how dangerous and powerful this man truly was. Smart and sometimes a little reckless, he was afraid of nothing and was ready to step into most dangerous situations if he felt it was the right thing to do. The Ancient Master had a complicated past, but one thing Gunz knew for sure—should he ever need his help, Mrak Delar would always be there for him.
“It was my pleasure to assist you, young Salamander,” said Mrak Delar. He threw a quick glance to the living room. “Voron elected to sleep on your couch in the living room. He is a true warrior, you know. I don’t know what happened between you and him in the Dark Nav, but he respects you deeply.”
“Nothing really happened,” replied Gunz with a half-shrug. “I hardly got a chance to know him. He is loyal to Chernobog, but he tried to help me when Morena was… Like you said, he’s a true warrior. I have no hard feelings toward him.”
“Good to know. If you don’t need me, I should get going. I miss my wife.” A dreamy smile flashed through his face and quickly disappeared. “And you need to take a shower and put something on. Something other than the trench coat that belongs to Death.” He laughed and got up.
“Are you trying to say that I stink and am pretty much naked?” Gunz laughed, looking down at his bare feet, covered in dirt.
A wide grin split Mrak Delar’s face. “I’ve looked worse, trust me, and had a few occasions when I had fewer clothes to cover my body than you have right now,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Go, you need a good night’s sleep. And if anything happens, call me.” The Ancient Master winked at him and vanished from the room.
Gunz finished his coffee, put the empty cup in the sink and silently moved through the living room toward the stairs, hoping not to wake Voron up. But as a trained warrior, Voron was awake as soon as Gunz stepped into the room.
“Zane,” he said quietly, sitting up. “That is your name, right?”
“Yes, Voron,” replied Gunz, stopping with his hand on the rail. “I’m sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep.”
“My gratitude, Zane,” said Voron, slightly inclining his head. “Thank you for allowing me to stay in your home. After the way I treated you, I did not expect this kindness.”
“You’re a soldier. You did what you were ordered to do,” replied Gunz, ready to leave. “No hard feelings here. Good night, Voron. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“One more moment of your time,” Voron called after him and Gunz turned around to face him. “I have something that belongs to you.”
He outstretched his hand and Gunz saw hi
s Swiss Army knife in his palm. He walked back to Voron and took it.
“Thank you for returning my pocket knife,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“Do not insult my intelligence, young Salamander,” muttered Voron, shaking his head. “It is not a pocket knife. It is a sword. A mighty blade worthy of a great warrior.”
“You’re right. Sorry,” whispered Gunz. “It was a gift from my Father, the Great Salamander. Thank you for returning it to me.”
Voron inclined his head and lay back down, closing his eyes. Gunz walked up the stairs and quietly slipped into his room. Finally, a shower with hot water and his own bed. He took Angel’s trench coat off and threw it on the chair. Then he put his knife on the stand next to his bed and headed to the bathroom.
Gunz felt a soft touch to his shoulder and woke up with a start, his hand immediately reaching for his Swiss Army knife. Someone’s hand heavily pressed against his mouth, but he wasn’t going to scream. In the darkness of the room, he saw the silhouette of a man, leaning over him with one knee on the edge of his bed.
“Do not scream,” whispered the man. “I mean no harm.”
Gunz recognized Voron’s voice and gave him a sharp nod. Voron lifted his hand, freeing him and gestured to get up. Gunz threw the blanket to the side and softly slid off the bed, soundlessly stepping on the floor. Dressed only in his pajama pants, he found his shoes and quickly put them on. Then he grabbed the first shirt that came into his hands out of the closet and pulled it on. Voron pressed his finger to his lips and waved toward the door, asking Gunz to follow him.
On the way out of the room, Gunz grabbed his cell phone and checked the time. Five o’clock in the morning. What the hell is going on? As soon as he walked downstairs, he didn’t have to ask. The stench of dark demonic energy washed over him, and he stilled, staring at Voron with wide-open eyes.
“You sense it too,” whispered Voron, unsheathing his longsword with a thin metallic sound.
Gunz nodded. It was hard to miss. He sharpened his Salamander senses and probed the area around the house. He could feel the presence of hostile demonic energy in every direction. But the energy signature wasn’t pure demonic. He felt the presence of vampires mixed in with demons, which was quite unusual.
“Demons and vampires,” hissed Gunz. “Unusual. But they can’t come inside. I have wards and protection spells on the house.”
Voron sheathed his sword and spun in place, turning into a large raven. He flew to the kitchen and landed next to the window. Gunz carefully cracked the window open, letting the bird out. Voron came back a few minutes later. He turned back into his human form, breathing laboriously and heavily leaning on the kitchen table.
“Too many… all around,” he whispered between breaths and made a circular motion with his hand. “You were right, demons and vampires… together.”
“They can’t come inside,” repeated Gunz. “And vampires can’t cross the threshold uninvited.”
“You are forgetting something, Salamander,” whispered Voron. “Your statement about the threshold would be true if you were human or even a Wizard. You are not human. Not since you discovered the Fire. You are the creature of Elements. They can, and they will cross your threshold uninvited, and your wards won’t be able to hold such a massive attack for long.”
“Dammit,” Gunz swore quietly, slamming his hand on the table. “You’re right.”
“You are a Great Fire Salamander,” said Voron. “Revert and use your elemental power. You can burn them all to ashes in a matter of a few seconds.”
Gunz shook his head. “You’re forgetting that you’re in the realm of the living, Voron. How many humans will be killed if I revert? I can’t use my elemental power.”
“How many humans will die if we leave this evil herd outside?” asked Voron. As proof of his words, they heard a loud shriek coming from the street. The voice of a woman was filled with terror.
Gunz cringed and headed toward the door, but Voron seized his arm, stopping him.
“We need to go outside and fight them,” hissed Gunz.
“There are only two of us,” replied Voron. “We are outmanned. Severely. We cannot win this fight.”
“Three, not two.”
Gunz spun around and found Karma standing in the doorway. She was still wearing pink pajamas with white poodles printed all over them that belonged to Mrak Delar’s wife and didn’t look too threatening, but he knew better. It didn’t matter how Karma looked. She was powerful, and she was dangerous. She approached Voron and tapped him on his shoulder.
“Hey, old man, can I borrow your dagger?” she asked, pointing at the blade sheathed in the leather scabbard, attached to Voron’s belt. Voron pinned her with a killer-look but unsheathed his dagger and handed it to her, holding it by the blade. Karma took the dagger, checking the balance and the comfort of the grip.
“Ready?” asked Voron, putting his hand on the door handle, ready to open it.
Voron is right, thought Gunz, sensing the amount of demonic and vampiric energy outside his house walls. If we go outside, guns blazing, we’re going to get wiped out. I wonder where all these vampires came from and why they’re working with demons.
“Voron, wait. How many vampires are out there?” asked Gunz.
“I did not count the evil beasties,” said Voron with a shrug. “But it seemed to me that there were more vampires and their toothy kind than pure demons.”
“Perfect,” muttered Gunz.
Pulling his cell phone out, he dialed a number. The dialing tone sounded like a church bell in the dead silence of the night. After five rings, a woman answered the phone with a short “speak”.
“I need your help. My house. Now,” said Gunz quietly and hung up the phone. “Ready now.”
Voron opened the backdoor letting Gunz out first. Gunz walked out and stopped. It was still dark, and the coolness of the October night enveloped him. But it wasn’t the cold air that made him hold his breath. The cloud of malignant evil energy invaded his senses, fogging his mind with its toxic presence. In the shadow of his backyard he saw at least twenty dark shapes. The vampires’ eyes were glowing with the bloody-red light, betraying their presence and separating them from the demons.
Gunz channeled the fire, transforming his knife into the sword and the blade went up in bright flames. Adding more power, he allowed his fire to surface. His eyes burned with the scarlet light like two torches and flames wrapped around his arms. Karma and Voron stopped behind him, avoiding the smoldering heat his body was emitting.
His fire illuminated the backyard and now he could see that he was dealing with a lot more than twenty demons. Maybe they arrived from the front of the house. Demons could shimmer, stealthily teleporting from place to place, and vampires could move so fast that he wouldn’t notice the movement. But possibly, he just miscalculated before, given the darkness, and if that was true, then there were more demons in the front of the house.
Gunz extended his arm with the sword forward, toward demons. “What are you doing here?” he growled.
The demons shifted, exchanging looks and snickered. One of them stepped forward. He was a tall man, dressed in jeans and a black shirt, with a massive sword in his hand. Gunz gave him a quick once-over, wondering what a demon was doing with a sword. Usually, they resorted to use of their dark magic and occasionally knives or guns.
“We’re here for you, Child of Fire,” shouted the demon, pointing at Gunz with his sword. “Come with us and we will let your friends leave with their lives.”
Gunz chuckled, channeling more fire, now his whole body ablaze. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that one, dumbass? You would think that by now your kind would come up with a new line.”
“Why change something that has been working for years?” The demon shrugged, a menacing smirk spreading on his face. “You’re a cocky little lizard, aren’t you?” he seethed, taking a step forward. “But before you get too smart for your own good, look around.” He waved, pointing with
his sword above Gunz’s head.
Gunz pivoted around and glanced up. At least ten vampires were standing on the roof of the house, staring down at them, carnivorous red light glowing in their eyes. More demons were arriving, grouping outside the fence. They were surrounded in a tight circle and the monsters were holding higher ground. Shit, what do we do?
“I hope you are not considering going with this distinguished crowd,” said Voron. He calmly observed the wall of demons and then turned around to check the roof.
“Any better ideas?” hissed Gunz.
“Yes,” replied Voron, pulling his sword out. “We fight!”
The air around Voron shimmered as he started the transformation. But this time he transformed only partially. He still looked like a man and was his normal height, but giant raven’s wings sprung out behind his back. He pushed off the ground and flew up to the rooftop, swinging his longsword as he did it.
Who the hell is this man? A thought flashed through Gunz’s mind, but he had no time to contemplate on it. “Mishka,” he shouted, and the wyvern materialized in front of him. “You’re with Karma. Take care of her!”
Then he grabbed Karma’s arm, pushing her slightly behind as he moved toward the demons. “Stay behind me and watch your neck! Mishka will give you some fire advantage.”
“I say, it’s them who need to watch their necks.” Karma raised Voron’s dagger up and laughed coldly, her eyes blazing with the excitement of the fight. “I’m going to take this group of cuties on the left. The ugly ones on the right are all yours. Mishka, come on!”
“No, we’re stronger together,” shouted Gunz, but it was too late. Karma ran to the left, screaming something in Dragon tongue and jumped at the first vampire in line, cleanly cutting his head off. The wyvern followed her closely, spitting fire at the heads of the monsters.
“Ignius,” shouted Gunz, spraying the first row of demons with fire.
The demons howled in pain and anger and a few dark shadows separated from the burning bodies of their hosts. The front line fell apart, shying away from the smoldering flames and Gunz used this opportunity to break deeper into their lines. He stepped into the fire, feeling refreshed by the touch of his element, and then pushed through, into the middle of the crowd. Spinning around, he swung his sword, cutting and setting on fire as many demons and vampires as he could.
