Rise of the Firebird (14 page)

“Only Anya,” Yvan sighed, his cold demeanour finally broken.

“Trajan and I have always had to compete for Anya’s affections,” Aramis said gently. “She makes it hard to get to know or understand her. We both knew that we can’t have anything with Anya without having Yvan as well. You’re the one person she trusts explicitly. She has never believed or listened to anyone but you, Prince Yvan.”

“Because I’m the Hero,” he murmured softly.

“Go to her, Yvan. Bring her back. Find out what Ilya’s instructions are so that we can put an end to all this and she can be at peace.” Yvan held out his hand and Aramis took it, as they gripped each other’s forearms.

“Thank you for hitting me. You are a good man.”

“As are you. Now go and save her.”

A wave of guilt crashed into Yvan as he saw the state of Anya’s rooms.
You shouldn’t have been so angry at her,
the firebird said. Yvan ignored it as he always did when he knew it was right.

She was still in the bathtub where Aramis had left her. Half buried in books and clothes, as if she was trying to surround herself with Trajan’s presence. Her green eyes were far away. Yvan pulled a chair close to the tub, but didn’t try to touch her.

“Anyanka,” he whispered softly, “are you in there,
shalosť
?” She blinked once but didn’t reply. “I’m sorry I walked away from you when you needed me. I have been such an angry fool. I don’t know if you can hear me, but you should know something, something that I haven’t told anyone.”

Yvan took a deep steadying breath. “Helena betrayed me, sold me out to Vasilli. When he got what he wanted from her and left her in a distraught heap, she told me that he had put her under a spell. That he’d made her betray me, our wedding vows, our trust, but it was a lie. When I saw you, so distraught and so pleading like her, I thought you were lying too. I saw her, not my
shalosť
. Something in me broke with Helena’s betrayal and you bore the anger of it. I’m
so
sorry I abandoned you.” Yvan reached down and stroked her cold cheek.

“Help me, Yvan,” she said so softly he thought he had imagined it. “Get the voices out.” Her eyes rolled back into her head and closed. He leaned down and lifted her from her nest of memories. She felt light in his arms, as if she was a shell and all that was Anya was gone. Yvan sat on the floor, holding her limp body close to him.

Kiss her
, the firebird instructed,
I will touch her with fire and scare the forest from her mind
. Yvan touched her pale lips and hesitated. She still hadn’t opened her eyes.

What if it doesn’t work and she wakes while I am taking liberties?

Stop thinking of your own pride, you foolish boy!

“Forgive me,” Yvan whispered before tilting her head back and kissed her softly.

Heat from the firebird poured through his lips as they moved against her. It pulsed its way through her and Yvan lifted from the embrace as colour flushed back into her cheeks. Her hand moved up into his black hair and instantly Yvan was pulled into a vision. Anya was alone and surrounded by darkness. Glowing eyes watched her, a whisper of voices all around her as they were closing in. Above her, a light started to grow and Yvan looked up to see the firebird descending. It hovered in the air above Anya’s head like a vengeful halo. The voices ceased as the firebird began to burn brighter until it was white with heat. A terrible screeching panic ensued as the light exploded all around until only Anya remained, standing in the ashes of her tormentors.

Her hand fell away from Yvan’s head and he was back in her bathroom, gasping for air. Anya shuddered in his arms before her eyes opened, dark and heavy but alert.

“
Moy geroy
,” she whispered. He hugged her tightly, squeezing her with joy and relief.

“I’ll always be your hero,” he promised. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“I’m sorry I failed you too.”

“What happened, Anya? Where did you go?” Yvan asked.

“I gave up on myself. Not to be me for even a moment seemed like a dream. I let the memory of the forest take me. I didn’t question it, I didn’t fight it.”

“And then it didn’t want to give you back.”

“Yes. It left when you commanded but traces remained hidden. I was inside watching myself. I was Anya and I wasn’t. The firebird…”

“It burned them out,” Yvan finished as he stroked her forehead. “I saw. You touched me and I saw.”

“How did you bring me back?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Magic,” he answered quickly. “The firebird knew what it was doing.”

“I can’t remember…Aramis…” she touched her head.

“I’ll go and get him if you like.” Anya nodded and Yvan helped her stand. She looked around disorientated.

“Why is the bath full of Trajan’s things?”

“Now that I can’t answer for you,” Yvan smiled. “I’m sure wherever he is, he doesn’t mind.”

“It must be bound with some kind of spell,” Aramis said as he turned the rolled up piece of leather in his hands. Anya had bathed, dressed and eaten by the time Yvan had fetched Aramis. She was wearing one of Trajan’s dress shirts over a pair of jeans and it looked surprisingly good on her.

She always did prefer the men’s clothes
, the firebird commented. Yvan remembered the baggy jumper of Eikki’s he had met her in and a small smile touched his lips.

“I couldn’t figure out how to open it,” Anya admitted. “I’ve tried everything from magic to physical force. I know it’s only leather, but I couldn’t even make a scratch in the bindings. I haven’t been thinking very clearly in the last few days though…” She frowned and Aramis touched her shoulder reassuringly. Their magic was moving between them in glittering waves of light, twisting and combining in an endless flow. Yvan had never seen it so visible and bright before. He still didn’t completely understand it, but it seemed to calm Anya and that’s all he cared about.

“What was it that Ruthann said about it…something to do with Ilya…?” Aramis mused aloud.

“He said blud taf…something,” Yvan tried to sound out the shape of the words but his tongue seemed reluctant to wrap around them.

“That’s it!” Aramis exclaimed, “
Blođtaufr
! It is bound by a blood spell. You need blood to open it.”

“Wait…you mean my blood? How much blood?” Anya asked nervously.

“It makes sense. Ilya learned his spell based magic by secretly watching Yanka and her power is predominately blood magic.”

“But still…”

“Maybe try a single drop,” Yvan suggested. “I doubt it would demand much more than that.”

“Fine, but you better do it.” Anya opened a drawer and offered him a knife. “I will chicken out.”

“A prick on the finger worries you, but you closed the gates fine,” Yvan pointed out as he took the knife.

“That was different. I was myself then and I don’t really trust myself right now. The next time I go back, I’ll close without any blood. It was Yanka’s way, not mine.” Yvan saw the edges of panic in her eyes.

There is no trace of the forest left in her
, the firebird reassured him. He took her hand and made a small cut in her index finger. Aramis held out the leather scroll and Anya let the blood drip onto it. As the third drop fell, the pressure in the room dropped, making Yvan’s ears pop. The fine leather thongs began to unravel. Anya rolled the circular piece of leather out on the bench top and peered over the faded writing.

“What does it say?” Aramis asked eagerly.

“Something like ‘Pride will be her undoing, break her power and strike her down using the Sword of Ukko wielded by the servant of heaven. Stand together at the crossroads between worlds, Firebird prince, Ljósálfar guardian and Ilya’s blood. Together you have enough power to take the world back’.” Anya turned the leather over in her hands searching for more writing.

“Prophets,” Yvan muttered.

“I’ve never been written into a prophecy before. No wonder you find it so unpleasant, Anya,” Aramis said as he sat down.

“It’s more like directions than a prophecy. So, we know that we have to stand together, us three.” Anya paced. “But does it mean in the magical or literal sense? I can join power with Aramis but I have never tried it with you, Yvan. And this Sword of Ukko reference…”

“We should tell the others,” Yvan suggested. “The more minds the better.”

“Trust Ilya to be this cryptic,” Fox said as she studied the piece of leather.

“It’s a requirement for prophets,” Isabelle added. “They don’t believe in an instruction list.”

“Prophecy is like catching smoke with your hands. It isn’t accurate or straight forward,” Søren muttered but Anya was surprised he contributed at all.

Ruthann paced slowly, his hands steepled to his lips. Yvan had managed to gather everyone with the exception of Mychal. Aleksandra had mentioned that he was out training but was unsure where. Most of them where trying not to stare at Anya or bombard her with questions. Izrayl had sniffed her cautiously as he hugged her but she didn’t mention it.

Anya wished she had slept, as Aramis suggested, before getting the loud group together but she needed to be around them. Despite their differences in nature, they were as human as she could get.

“It’s nice to see you have gotten out of your Howard Hughes moment, Anya,” Cerise purred as she ran her red nails affectionately through Anya’s fair hair. She was smiling, but her eyes were genuinely worried. Anya tried to smile but she knew she didn’t have to. The keres understood her grief for Trajan better than anyone in the room did. “Although I think it’s a ruse to get all these strapping men to kiss you. Next time I have a headache, I’m calling you, Yvan,” Cerise teased making him turn as red as the firebird.

“What kiss?” Anya asked.

“The Sword of Ukko is a blatant reference to Finnish mythology,” Fox interrupted the argument about kissing and crazy prophets they had all known at one time or another.

“Ukko is the Finnish equivalent of Thor, isn’t he? I thought he had a hammer too, not a sword,” Katya asked as she tossed an apple from one hand to the other.

“Depends,” Anya said quietly. “He’s a sky god, but he is the chief of the gods too. The only real reference I know of a sword is the magic talking broad sword that Ukko gave to Kullervo.” She turned the battered copy of
The Kalevala
over in her hands. “The story is in here. Eikki used to tell it to me.”

“A magic sword,” Hamish chuckled. “All we need is a quest and a few dwarfs and we will be set.”

“Anya has a quest,” Ruthann said, failing to understand the joke. “She has to find this sword and use it to kill Yanka.”

“The only reference I have is mythology!” Anya said. “The stories don’t mention what happened to the sword after Kullervo kills himself.”

“Then that is where we need to start,” Aramis shrugged. “We trace the steps and hopefully we’ll find it. Ilya wouldn’t have told you to find it if it was impossible.”

“Like he wouldn’t give the prophecy to the
Groenn Skaer
if he was going to rape Anya?” Yvan muttered. Anya’s stomach churned and Yvan took her hand, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine. There are no secrets between any of us anyway,” Anya said as she squeezed his hand. “I don’t even know if it was rape. I can’t remember much.”

“The most important thing is you are back,” Aleksandra smiled softly at her before smoothly changing the subject. “Do you think that Kullervo killed himself in the real world or Skazki?”

“I’m assuming it was the Karelian Otherworld,” Ruthann said as he paced, “though I’ve never ventured into it in my travels. How about you, Aramis?”

“Not for over a hundred years. It isn’t very tourist friendly, I’ve been told.”

“Well, sounds like you guys have it under control,” Harley laughed nervously. “As for me, I’m going home.”

“We should all go to New Orleans first,” Isabelle suggested. “Not that I don’t appreciate your hospitality, Lord Ruthann, but living here has put us in a bubble. New Orleans would be a relatively safe place to find out what has been happening in the real world. I doubt Yanka would’ve been idle.”

“So we are all going to jump on Finnish Airways and go from there?” Hamish asked. “Because you can bet your sweet asses the enemy will be all over those channels.”

“I’ve been studying a lot of Álfr gates magic,” Aleksandra suggested. “I might be able to help use gates to get us there.”

“The toll on you would be monstrous,” said Katya. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m not suggesting we gates jump to Karelian Otherworld in one go, Katya. but I’m sure I could manage it over a few days.”

“Change of subject right now,” Katya demanded.

“Even if you do find the mystical magical sword of Ukko, the only person that can wield it is a servant of heaven, and I don’t see anyone here that fits into that particular category,” Fox said with perfect queue.

“Aleksandra,” Ruthann said and the dark haired gypsy squirmed in her seat, “you have to tell them.” The tense silence was broken by Katya’s loud laughter.

“I would know if my sister was a servant of heaven. I know she’s pretty innocent but not exactly saint material!”

“I wasn’t referring to your sister.” Katya opened her mouth again when the door opened and Mychal stepped into the room. Eleven faces turned to stare at him.

“What?” Mychal asked, instantly defensive. He sat down next to Aleksandra.

“You’ve gotta be shittin me,” Hamish exclaimed. “He is a servant of heaven?”

“Have I missed something?” Mychal said through gritted teeth. Anya’s heart jumped to her chest as the tone turned to anger.

“The obscure writings of an ancestor of Anya’s,” Søren said. “At least now I know why you can keep up with me in training.”

“They know, Mychal,” Aleksandra took his hand but Mychal brushed her away, leaving the room quickly.

“Aleki?” Katya was pale, “You knew?”

“Yes, but he’s private and that’s understandable.”

“So much for no secrets among the group,” Isabelle muttered.

“Well, would you have told anyone?” Aleksandra shouted. “He doesn’t even know what he is!”